The spirit of democracy. [volume] (Woodsfield, Ohio) 1844-1994, 1886-02-02
THE SPIRIT OF DEMOCRACY
TUESDAY. FEBRUARY ?. 1885.
Serving q Life Sentence
GRooYE or A CONYICrs MIND.
The Events of His Last Day In the
- World are Fresh In His Mind.

otoSSuout ouop Vcutuu ooAsh pssJ
visitors.
Entering the premises one OF the part!
fell back with the turnkey, and i've min
'ntcs later stood In narrow cell, locked
i'm with man whose body the law would
'relesse only when death should free BIZ
ssoul. ss
"You wan. to know something OF nv
life" began the convict, taking withou
com ment the visitors tobacco and re
psating his question, "something of my
smensal life;' as you put 1t, something
OF the thoughts and feelings of Iift
convict, / suppose. You're newspaper
man, you say. You would put me or
the rack like Prome.beus OF old. and
paint pen picture Of nv agony that tht
public shall see and gloat over while i
admires pour skill,' he went On, with 9
curious expression that in 1t no despair
Int certain grim apahv. as II the fes.
lures set themselves mechanically to ar
emotion tie soul NO longer evolved.
& "Well," after moment's pause, while
the visitor stared 10 astonishment at ths
prisoners language and fiency. Il au
willing, but warn you that / shall mol
.wtithe under the process; you will dnd
no quiveringln these barred nerves, nc
shrinking 10 these exposed and handled
sensibilities. Emotionally, sir, l am as
dead as shall be when, sooner or later
i shah leave these narrow quarters foI
another cell not 40 very much narrower
aud darker than is This one, whose earth
sly door shuts no closer and no more IN
evitably than that iron one there.
SIT 10 O. month now" be contiaed
sover twenty years since / crossed the
threshold Of this prison and was entered
upon its records as . life convict. II
wss little past mid summer In the year
and we come days journey from the
country seat Of the scene OF my crime
] am IN, as you know, for homicide. -
.Evsry incident OF that day, my last in
the world, is indelibly printed upon my
memory. We started very early. The
dew Eas Leavy upon the grass ~ We
drove from the Jail and over the hills TO
take the tram. l remember just how
the sun shown through the gray mist
rising from the river, and ] hoped the
fog rolling 90 swiftly mp from the valley
would Lift before We reached . certain
elevation whence 6eetiDg and distsni
lev OF my boyhood home could be had
IL did iift looked down the vista oi
forest and river. and saw distinctly the
wooded,hill sgslnst whose side and at
whose feet nestled the little village where
] was born. White stones in the grave
Yard elistened 10 the oncoming sunlight
on one besdstone Nss sure the rays
were falling like henediction. glad to
shine or her grave that day rather than
on the living face OF one whose life
would be forever sunless had she lived
10 greet that mornings light.
sThe day grew hot toward noon: the
fresh ride Of the morning wss followed
nv tedious railroad trip. We seemed
ALWAYS to be rushing through dry and
uninvitiDg country. The bushes and
grass by The meadows bv which We sped
were dusty and gray, the streams we're
dried, and the bared stones lay white and
hot in the midday glare. The men who
accompanied me were gr, fns kind, re
member, and the people on the cars did
not bother me much with their curiosity,
! ] felt oil day as II were lifted awav
from the mass Of mankind-we had
nothing In common, and at that time ]
was not impress that the balance was
in their favor. At nighttsll We reached
here ! bad little sense Of curiosity
and excitement at the novelty OF my ex.
perience during my official reception and
iniiiaiion--even when duly recorded
bsibe'l, shaved, and clad in the prison
euii,, i stepped out into the stone corri.
do. q life convict. l examined the in.
ierior arrangements with much the same
feeling OF curious inspection that you
did to-day In your walk to my cell, and
] suffered nyself to be locked in stil
possessed OF that sense Of unimpersone
{ interest 10 what was goirg on.
1t WAS not much af'er s O'Clock wher
reached my cells o'clock on Thurs
day evening in late summer Of the yeaI
1865"-repeated the prisoner without /
rising Infection. 'thas | began my irs
night ia hell For as the sound OF the
trrnhey's Fetrestiug footsteps died away
End the long corridor settled into tbs
nights stiffness, all the shadowy drapery
Of my fate fell away. and for the frs,
time The truth presented itself in all its
awful strength. l am Q college. bred
mar. ard was the athlete OF my class
wss % years old, and ss ! stood iha,
night clinging in ms despair to the iror
sods OF nv cell door, every nerve and
muscle OF my frame thrilled with phys
ical power. Mentally. too. ] was moi
deficient. ] had my hopes and ambi
tions like other men. sad little while
before had looked forward to the years
which should bring me the gifts OF fame
and fortune on no mesgre scale. Ny
enilt was not OF nature to grant ns
even the solsce OF remorse. scarcely
knew the man had killed II was I
barroom brawl. sudden flaming of TEN.
per, inrious onslaught in hot blood
and ali wse done. The deed could de-
plore; the men deed could not mourn
There wss nothing to temper or ever
airect my despair. Like wise it heli
me while the hours crept on. my stronI
{, frame trembling In It's force. with onlj
an occasional moan breaking from mi
lips."
The prisoner paused. he moistenet
his lips q little and passed one hsnt
lightly down bis face.
~The first year such nights were many
NV perfect health was against me. Th,
regular bonrs and constant exercise KEEP
me strong OF limb and clear OF head. =
1t wss bard to crush me down, and
grew to dread the hours after dusk, wbel
the struggle was fierce end long.
"once / thought saw chance 10
myself. could get books from th
prison library, and at certain times pen
ell and paper. ! would write, ] thought
pour out something Of my pent up fore
10 this way, and / tried It. The secon,
attempt showed its futility. A bird ma,
sing In its cage, poor fool, but stron,
man locked iereyer in stone cell, th
. very aip be brssthes coming tbrougl
q. n q