The Arkansaw traveler., 1885-02-21
LET rRR wos1.p KNOW.
lExshanDgel

lExehange.l
 In the year 1871 there was living iu Paris Polish iady, the countess of K She wore a very singular brooch. It uas enclrcied by twenty precious stones, on . ground of dark blne enamel, covered in the centre by glass. And what did this brooch containI A portrait or lock oi hair1 No, only four common pins, ben. together in the form of star! And she sore this in memory of her husband, a
 Polish nobleraSn, who had been put into prison because he was thought to be a secret enemy to sh government. It was a dark, deep dungeon, far down usdez the ground He had no one to speak to, for no one was allowed to see him but the keeper of the prison, and he of course was not permitted to converse with the prisoner. Days, weeks, months passed on, and he vas still lef in his dungeon.
 He was msst miserable, and feared that he should lose his senses, for his reason seemed to be giving way. Oh, if he had only some hope, some one thing to re- lieve his misery. Feeling over his coat one day, he found four pins. He took them from hts coat and threw them on the floor of his dungeon, and then he vent down on his Hands and knees and felt all over the floor till he found them again. When he had succeeded in this he scattered them again on the floor, and could you have gone into his dungeon you would have found him groping on his hands and knees for his four pins When, after six years imprison nent, he was set free they still found him groping in the dark for his four pins. It was all hisNsork. Nor would he leave his prison without taking his pins with him. They were his best friends, because they had given him something to do in his so1i-
 ude, and his countess had them made into brooch, which she valued more than gold. They had preserved her husbands reason.
 The following is from Count Con- falonieri's account of his imprisonment in the fortress of Spielberg, Moravia for a political ofense in 1855: "I am an old man now, but by fifteen years my soul is younger than my body! Fifteen years existed in the selfsame dungeon, ten feet square. During six years 1 had a com panion. During nine years was alonei never rightly distinguished the face of him who shared my captivity in the eseT- nal twilight of oui cell. The first year we related our past lives over and over again. The mex: year we communicated to each other our ideas on all subjects. The third year we had no ideas to com. municate. We were beginning to lose the power of reflection. The fourth, at the interval of a month or so, we would open our lips to ask each other if it were indeed possible that the world went on as gay and bustling as when we formed a portion ofmankind. The fifth, we were silent. The sixth, he was taken away-l never knew where-to exeeu eution or to liberty. Even solitude was better than that dim, vacant face. After that was alone. Only one event broke in upon my nine years misery. Oae day-it must have been year or two after my companion left me-the dungeon door was opened, and a voioe-from whom proceeding, l know not-uttered these words: By order of his imperial majesty l intimate ts you that your wife died year ago. Then the door shut, and I heard no more. They had but flung this great agony in upon me, and Jeff me alone with il"
 Count Andryane adds the touching in- cident that for a time Count Conf alonieri was allowed to receive letters from his wife, and when she ~as dying she wrote several letters, dating them at different future periods, that he might, when de livered, think she was still alive. This tender loving-kindness was, however, cruelty frustrated by the sudden informa- ton of her death, so bruiaIly conveyed by order of the emperor.