The Northwestern standard., 1886-04-10
SERVING A llIF b SCI N I EN CE.
GROOVE or a CoNyICT's MIND.
The Events of His Last Day in 1he
W0ridare Fresh In His Mind.

| GESDO3E OF a. CUNSAClsS M ~ -
The Events of His Last Day in th.
world are Fresh In His Mind.
| The iron doors in the high stone wal
| which enclosed a prison yard shut with {
1 resonant snap behind a small party o.
| visitors.
! Entering the premises one of the party
fell back with the turnkey, and five min
1 utes later stood in a marrow cell, locked in
| with a man whose body the law would re
lease only when death should free his soul
| s.You want to know something Of my
| life,n began the convict, taking without
1 comment the visitors tobacco and repeat
| ing his question, something of my men
| tai life 7 as you put it, something Of the
| thoughts and feelings OF a life convict,
suppose. You're q newspaper man, yotl
say. You would put me on the rack ike
! Prometheus of old and paint pen pic.
ture of my agony that the public shall see
and gloat over while it admires your skill, =
he went on, with 6 curious expression that
had in it no despair, but Il certain grim
apathy, as if the features set themselves
mechanically to an emotion the soul no
longer evolved.
"Well," after moments pause, while
the visitor stared in astonishment at the
prisoners language and fuency, u am
willing but warn you that shall not
writhe under the process: you will find no
quivering in these barred nerves, no shrink
ing in these exposed and handled sensi-
biilities. Emotionally, sir, I am as dead
as shall be when, sooner or later, shall
leave these narrow quarters for another
cell not SO very much narrower and darker
than is this one whose earthly door shuts
no closer and no more inev itably than that
iron one there.
sIt is D. month now,' he continued,
cover twenty years since | crossed the
threshold of this prison andWas entered
upon its records rs a life con vict 1t was
a little past midsummer in the year, and
we came a days journey from the country
seat Of the scene of my crime. I am in,
as you know, for homicide. Every inci-
dent of that day, my last in the world, is
indelibly printed upon my memory. We
started very early The dew was heavy
upon the grass as we drove from the Jail
and over the hills to take the train. I
remember just how the sun shown through
the gray mist rising from the river, and |
hoped the fog rolling SO swiftly up from
the valley would lift before we reached a
certain elevation whence a f1eeting and
distant view of my boyhood home could
be had 1t did lift l looked down the
vista of forest and river, and saw distinct
ly the wooded hill against whose side and
at whose feet nestled the little village
where was born. White stones in the
graveyard glistened in the oncoming sum
light; on one headstone was sure the
rays were falling like benediction, glad
to shine on her grave that day rather than
on the living face of one whose life would
be forever sunless had she lived to greet
that mornings light.
ssThe day grew hot toward noon; the
fresh ride of the morning was followed by
tedious railroad trip. We seemed al
ways to he rushing through dry and
uninviting country. The bushes and
grass by the meadows by which we sped
were dusty and gray, the streams were
dried, and the barred stones lay white and
hot in the midday glare The men who
accompanied me were gruffiy kind, re-
member. and the people, on the cars did
not bother me much with their curiosity.
felt all day as if were lifted away from
the mass of lnankind-we had nothing liza
common, and at that time was not inn
pressed that the balance was in their favor
At nightfaM we reached-here. / had q
little sense Of curiosity and excitement at
the novelty of my ex perience during my
official reception and initiation--evem
when, duly recorded, bathed, shaved, and
clad i'm the prison suit. l stepped out into
the STONE corridor a life convict / eX-
amined the interior arrangements with
much the same feeling of curious inspec-
ton that you did to-day in your walk to
my cell, and suffered myself to be locked
in still possessed of that sense of uniIn-
personal interest in what was going ON.
1T was not much after O'Clock when 1
reached my cell clock on a Thursday
evening in late summer Of the year 1865
repeated the prisoner without q rising
infection, 4that began my first night IN
he'll. For as the sound Of the turkeys
retreating footsteps died away, and the
long corridor settled into the nights still
ness ali the shadowy drapery of my fate
fell away, and for the first time the truth
presented itself in all hts awful strength.
am college-bred nnsn, and was the
athlete of my class, WAS % years od,
and as [ stood that night clinging in my
despair to the iron rods of my cell door,
every nerve and muscle of my frame
thrilled with physical power Mentally,
too, was not deficient / had my hopes
and ambitions like other men, and little
while before had looked forward to the
years which should bring me the gifts of
fame and Torture on no meagre scale. My
guilt was not OF a nature to grant me even
the solace of ren1orse. [ scarcely knew
the man had killed. 1t was barroom
braWl, sudden flaming OF temper, a
furious onslaught in hot blood. and all was
done The deed ] could deplore; the
man deed I could not mourn. There
was nothing to temper or even direct my
despair. Like a wise it held me while the
hours crept on, my strong frame trembling
in its force, with only an occasional moan
breaking from my lips"
The prisoner paused He moistened his
lips little and passed one hand lightly
down his face
ssThe first year such nights were many
My perfect health was against me. The
regular hours and constant exercise kept
me strong of limb and clear of head. It
was hard to crush ME down, and grew to
dread the hours after dusk, when the
struggle was fierce and long. 3
ssDnce thought saw q chance for my
self conld get books from the prison
library, and at certain times pencil and
paper. would write, / thought; pour
out something of my pent up force in this
way, and / tried it. The second attempt
showed It's futility. A bird may sing in I
its cage poor fool but strong man