The Abilene reflector. [volume] (Abilene, Kan.) 1883-1888, 1886-09-02

, laws euth-houRds. But there is some
!. thing in the air tonight which affects him
strangely. It impresses itself upon him
| vaguely as the shadowy form OF a dream.
He tosses restlessly about in his hiding
place, uneasy under this influence. he
can not shake il of. Some memory with
in him is stirred; he knows not how OF
| why.
Ho is not given to analyizing his feel
| ings- He knows when he IS hungry, Wnen
he is tired, when ne wants to drink; he
knows even (but this only indistlnctly)
when be 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! it. He suddenly
starts up as the thought flashes across his
mind. Now he knows what affects hlm-lt
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 choruSss OF companions when eX-
hilarated with liquor and not yet brutal
lied by it: and for him flowers ordinarily
have little attraction. l. IS the COM
bination of these, with the thought OF that
sad face. that brings back in an instant a
recollection. He listens, and as he listens
his thoughts turn back to the little village
IN which he was born. lie walks through
lane of howerS-ah! that perfume-they
are roses, and they border thu little path
way up to the church door. Some one
holds his hand. 1t is that sa1-faced m other.
A sound is in his ear-it is the glorious
burst of choral song pouring forth throug1
| the open door OF the church. All those
memories, how they uunerve 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
| StllIed as the first low-toned notes of the
succeeding song fall upon his ears, and soft,
sweet and tenderly sad as the dirge of the
| diving 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 aud her shame to the tender
! mcrcieS of a world that showed her no
mercy, aud never asked whether in her one
! fault she had been most Sinned against or
| the sinner. None other extended prot9c
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 a vision
| there come to him remembrances of long
| forgotten precepJs learned at the sad-eyed
! mothers knee. Long after its fainteSt
ecEO 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 Strug Cling into exist |
ence within him. As vet his mind is con-
fused, but one thought has seized upon it |
and dominates all others. He viii be /
mau-no more 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 a 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 knowl-
edge of what to do, and the opportunity
will come to him.
II he can only get away from the con-
sequences of this last crime for which he is
being pursued he will do som ething that
will take away the reproachful look from
those sad eyes. II he can eluds the vigi- |
lance of the laws officers and get away
somewhere where he can work out his rep
- You ara my pris-
oner. Put on the bracelets. Jimr'
Rudely as this is his dream broken in
upon. Almost before he is aw are of it he
is manacled-in the clutches Of the law.
ITO think that that dreadful man should
have been lettering about our grounds last |
night. It's shocking, John; do look around
and sse if any thing has been stolen. Dear
me, wish the police would protect peoples
better. | trust the judge will see
to it that an example is made of this man."
Thus rattles on the hostess of the last |
night she who invoked the genius of song |
which enthralled this dangerous criminal, |
when on the day following she discusses
the arrest made in the grounds of her
soma time after the departure OF |
her guests.
CHAPTER II.
How say you, priSoner-guilty OF not
guilty!"
The Judges tones are sharp. There is a |
bus;uess-lil1e ring to his words. He is
anxious to get through with this case, as
there can be but one ending to it, the evil
dence is SO clear. Why then should there
be any delay over a mere form ality! 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-ouly one man to b9 taken away
from these fresh fields, that bright snn-
shine, the songs of the birds tine sweet
s cents 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 not guilty"
That also is mere form, followed only at
Un6 SuL0SSUiUU VI JuS ndll-HSuSbu dbDOTuel
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 anv hope, but with a dull sort of
resignation, as one stage to be passed. He
has already sound I'D the blacklist depths of
despair and today lies in the abyss with
upturned eyes waiting for the inevitable
waiting as might have waited some hope
ab Ardoned victim of the In1uisition. who
with daily terror watched the walls of
his cell close IN about him, and hourly
counted the fractions of the inches of
breathing Spacs yet left him:
A strange metamorploSiS has been
wrought in him since he came into court
this IN orning. He has become poSsSessed
of a double consciousness He stands hsre
other self is far away, out OF the reach of
turnkeys and gives, beyond the limita-
tiouS of iron bars and stone walls One of
his two selves is trammeled by the body
and remains in the dock; the other ranges
ths universe. One is mechanically atten-
tive to all that is going or in the court
room: the other is cognizan. of occur
renceS OF the past and reviews the present
and future. With this last self at one mo-
ment every thing swimS about tAs spec
tatorS, judge and Jurors wnirling in wild,
mad dance; at another thu crowd presses
in upon him until he gaspS for breath now
he is at the bottom of deep pit where the
death-like stiffness almost makes his brain
giddy; anon. a confused mIrmur is borne
to his ears, at first like the pattering of the
rain drops on a dusty road then like the
crash of thunder in a forest. He is look
ing at the spectators and the hundreds of
faces seem to be blending into one huge
with myriad eyes glinting
and glisteniug and sending darts to his
very soul
He, while he is racked with this mind
torture, is physically awake to ths slightest
in the court room. He notices
that the iudgs's whisSers are longer and