Barton County democrat. [volume] (Great Bend, Kan.) 1885-1915, 1888-07-19

1uenched for ever. He got to trust me
sufficiently by and by to tell me his
story; and here it is:
II don't see much use, parson, in
troubling you with my story; it isn't a
long one, and there's nothing interest
ing in it for any one to hear, God
knows. know I'm young man; and
I don't doubt but you fancy 1 should
be doing better than wasting my time
in prison; but the fact is, parson, 1
don't care what becomes of me now,
for I've lost all heart for every thing
ever cared for. What am here for?
Attempted murder, they say. I've put
in four years for it now, and owe the
Queen six yet. What was it all about?
l can't tell you that myself; couldn't
explain it to the judge, and the jury
wouldn't have understood it either. l
was always a wildish chap, parson,
though 1 had never harmed living
soul, that l know of. OccupationP
Well, used to be a printer. Drink?
Yes, used to drink, and pretty hard
to; but / gave that up. l gave up
every bad habit 1 knew had for the
sake of a girl 1 loved. No matter who
she was or where she came from. If
would see how blue her eyes were and
how sweet her smile; and she would
bring back hope and sunshine to me.
That girl was a beacon-light to me, and
for her sake I turned my back on all
my old companions and foolish ways.
She was never weary of encouraging
me, and the hours few by when we
were together as if they had wings.
loved her better than loved my own
life-better than 1 loved God. We
were to be married soon, and worked
merrily all day, and whistled as l set
up the types; soon we would have a
cottage of our own; soon she would be
my own for ever; soon life would be a
long and happy dream. How distinct
ly l remember all these things now,
and how often hear her voice still!
THE time wore on, and at last came
our wedding morning, and when the
words were spoken that made us one,
there was no man on earth who was
happier than /. We lived together for
a month, and every day seemed far too
short. They speak of things being
too good to last, don't they? l sup
pose it was that way with US. She
ran down the river one day in a
steamer for breath of fresh air, and
1 promised to meet her on her return.
She kissed me goodbye so gaily when
1 left her, and told me that the hours
would seem long till we were together
again. There isn't much more to tell
now, parson. l was working that
afternoon, when the foreman gave me
a headline to set up for the evening
edition of the paper; it read: Fearful
CATASTROPHE and as 1 glanced at it, [
saw it was an account of the collision
of her steamer with another on the
river that forenoon. D Godi the anx-
iety of that moment, the sickening
doubt and dread! I rushed to the
river, hatless, coatless, just as left the
workroom, and 1 shouted her name as
1 ran. The river-front was crowded
with people, and I could hardly make
my way amongst them; then l was
turned back several times by the pO-
lice, and it seemed as if would never
get near enough to learn the news.
''At last l got near the water, and
saw that they were bringing bodies to
the land in boats close to where 1 was.
Have you got my Nelly?' cried as
each load passed me; and the dead
faces would be uncovered for a mo-
ment, in the hope that they would be
recognized. But evening came, and
there was no one like her in all
the long procession that had passed
me, and by and by night came, and it
became too dark to search any longer
or to see. Suddenly the thought
flashed across me that Nelly might be
at home. OF course that was where
she was. She would be waiting for
me, and wondering at my absence,
perhaps afraid for me. How foolish
not to have thought of that before!
How fast I ran back. But the little
windows were all dark when l got
there; and when 1 opened the door and
called her name, there came no an
swer! l went back to the river after
that, and sat there all that night, cold
and hungry, and full of despair; and
the night-winds must have beard me
crying for my Nelly whilst the blind
ing tears ran down my face.
Early the next morning they be-
gan again dragging for the bodies; and
by and by they found her. Not a
bruise or mark or cruel cut upon her,
but her face so still and white, her
eyes so tightly shut, and her little
hands so cold! remember looking at
her as she lay there cold and wet, and
1 could not think that she was really
dead. Would the blue eyes never look
at me again and the dear lips never
speak? Were the little hands never
to lie in mine, nor the willing feet
to patter beside me? 1 could not be-
lieve it. went and whispered in her
ear and kissed her, and waited to see
her smile at me. Then all the world