The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1886-09-04


suit Pausing here, he has unknowingly
taken step towards working out his
problem of life. The artist has sung with
in the house to the surfeited ears of an au-
dience to whom such entertainment is
not novel, but floating out beyond them
through the open windows her song has
reached this man crouching low among
| the trees, and heedlessly and carelessly as
it may have been sent on its mission, the
| accomplishment of its purpose has begun.
Awakened from restless and fear
haunted slumber by the first burst of song
the fugitive's earliest feeling is of annoy
ance at being disturbed. 1t is warm
balmy night, and the air is laden with the
perfume of roses, but he has been indiffer-
emit to their sweets. What are roses to
such as hel More inviting would be the
sitting atmosphere of some greasy, swell
tering den in the city's slums-that is now
associated with the idea of safety from the
laws sleuth-hounds. But there is some
thing in the air tonight which affects him
strangely. 1t impresses itself upon him
vaguely as the shadowy form of a dream.
He losses restlessly about in his hiding
place, uneasy under this influence. He
can not shake it off. Some memory with
in him is stirred; he knows not how or
why.
He is not given to analyizing his feel
ings. He knows when he is hungry, when
he is tired, when he wants to drink; he
knows even (but this only indistinctly)
when he looks back to his childhood, which
| is seldom, that he is troubled as he is now,
and that this trouble is the consciousness
| of face associated with those early days
"a woman's face, sad eyed and weary-his
mothers face. All that's it. He suddenly
starts up as the thought flashes across his
| mind Now he knows what affects HINT
| is that song, it is the odor of those flowers.
| He has heard other songs, not so well sung
| perhaps, but just as full of life and spirit
| the gay choruses of companions, whenFex-
| hilarated with liquor and not yet brutal
| lied by it; and for him flowers ordinarily
| have little attraction. 1t is the com
| blnation of these, with the thought of that
sad face that brings back in an instant
recollection. He listens, and as he listens
his thoughts turn back to the little village
| in which he was born. He walks through
lane of flowers-ah! that parliamentary
| are roses, and they border the little path
way up to the church door, Some one
holds his hand. 1t is that sad-faced mother.
A sound is in his cart is the glorious
burst of choral song pouring forth through
the open door of the church. All those
memories, how they unnerve him He is
PROSTATE on the sward now, and as he
buries his face in the fresh green grass the
| burden of the song pours into his ears. 1t
ceases. There is murmur of voices audible
even to him, and then comes a pause, and
then the beating of his heart is almost
stilled as the first low-toned notes of the
succeeding song Ldll upon MS ears, ana SOU,
sweet and tenderly sad as the dirge of the
dying swan the melody is borne out to
him.
The sad-eyed mother has long since
passed away from earth, leaving the child
at once her all and her shame to the tender
mercieS of world that showed her no
mercy, and never asked whether in her one
fault she had been most sinned against or
the sinner. None other extended protec
ton to him or claimed his duty. He knows
not the meaning of love, and never in
Cured an obligation of gratitude. Yet
this song opens his heart, and as in vision
there come to him remembrances of long
forgotten precepts learned at the sadeyed
mothers knee. Long after its faintest
echo has died away he remains prone upon
the ground. In the train of confused emo
tions that crowd upon him there is not
only the memory of long-forgotten pre-
cepts but the awakening of feelings that
have never before found a place in his
heart.
Hours after the singers voice has ceased
this man rises, changed in heart, with the
germ of better life struggling into exist
ence within him. AS yet his mind is con
fused, but one thought has seized upon it
and dominates all others. He will be a
man-no more a criminal. He will try to
follow out the precepts, the remembrance
of which has thus lately come to him. He
is young yet, and strong. He can labor
and reform. But that is not all. He has
been criminal; he has wronged society
and owes it some reparation. That debt
must be paid and then he will start clear
again Just how he will pay it he can not
think now, but he has no doubt the kuowl-
edge of what to do, and the opportunity
will come to him.
If hs can only get away from the con
sequences of this last crime for which he is
being pursued he will do something that
will take away the reproachful look from
At,,.-sa 4 L. ~, IL -f5rf
lance of the laws officers and get away
somewhere where he can work out his rep
aration-if-ah!- ''You are my pris-
oner. Put on the bracelets, Jim''
Rudely as this is his dream broken in
upon. Almost before he is aware of it he
is maRacled-in the clutches Of the law.
''To think that that dreadful man should
have been lettering about our grounds last
night. It's shocking John; do look around
and soc if any thing has been stolen. Dear
me, wish the police would protect peoples
property better. | trust the judge will see
to it that y example is made of this man."
Thus ratJles on the hostess of the last
night, she who invoked the genius of song
which enthraled this dangerous criminal,
when on the day following she discusses
the arrest made in the grounds of her
mansion some time after the departure of
her guests
CHAPTER II.
Glow say you, prisoner-guilty or not
guilty."
The judges tones are sharp. There is
businesslike ring to his words. He is
anxious to get through with this case, as
there can be but one ending to it, the evil
dcnce is so clear. Why then should there
be any delay over q mere formalitys The
dingy little court room is crowded, its
atmosphere not the most congenial while
outside there is the summer air, the bright
sunshine. Why then linger over this case!
1t is only one criminal who is to get his
desertS-only one man to be taken away
from these fresh fields, that bright SIM
shine, the songs of the birds, the sweet
scents of the'meadows, and immured behind
stone walls and iron bars Here he sits
Replying to the formal inquiry of the
judge, he has just pleaded mot guilty.
That also is mere form. followed only at
the suggestion of the half-fedged attorney
appointed by the court as a matter of form
to look after the prisoners interests. He
knows there is no chance of escape and he
knows also how merciless the law is to such
as he. He has waited for this hour, not
with any hope, but with a dull sort of
resignation. as one stage to be passed. He
has already sounded the blacklist depths of
despair and to-day lies in the abyss with
upturned eyes waiting for the inevitable
waiting as might have waited some hope
abandoned victim of the Inquisition who
with a daily terror watched the walls of
his cell close in about him, and hourly
counted the fractions of the inches of