Wichita eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1886-1890, 1889-01-02


and motionless sat upon my bed with my
head buried in my hands, hours, days, perhaps
weeks, for I could no longer measure time
Then came the revulsion Of feeling, the de
sire to be up and doing, tho thirst for com
partnership l would cry aloud, shrek, ~,
even curse to drive away the madness that
seemed to haunt the place, but all In vain; my
own vocs was not tho one l longed to hear,
and back would como that indefnabs dread,
that told me must savs myself from despair
or reason would desert me.
Obi you who wander forth into the
blessed woodlands and say you have been
alone; you who drift out from shore in an
open boat, with your eyes fixed upon the
skies above you and say you are alone, what
can you know of such solitude as mine,
where not even the gnawing Of . rat breaks
the unending silence. Hour after hour
toyed with the broken pieces Of tho lantern
Each one had its name; each to me was .
living thing with a personality.
The little pin that held its door In place,
would throw away and then search for it
Again and again would throw it, hoping it
would lodge In some crevice and bring q new
sensation when failed to find it.
Wearied with this, would count the
hairs Of my beard. separating ono from an
other and then beginning over again. as
Stunning that the count had been incorrect.
One day my food was thrust through the
opening to me and IN the meat bone Of pc
culiar shape, not unlike laborer's pick, gave
rise to thoughts which, for some strange rea-
son, had never visited me before. kept it
and Sharpening It against the stone, began 70
dig away tho wood on the edge of my bed.
l struck something hard.
Joyl Tho pinions were Of iron. Here was
hope, here was an occupation, here we're
the tools to labor with. Oil how worked,
and ere long held in my hands six spikes four
inches long Day after day with these
picked and scraped and dug at tho stone wall
Of my cell until at last loosened . stone,
then another and then another, and then
came to the moist earth. Again and again
kissed that soil. calling it by endearing names,
as mother would call child that had been
lost and restored. Using the fragments Of
stone to save my hands, l loossned the soil.
filed the broken lantern and brought it back
into my cell. filling tho corners, slowing it
away under the bed and spreading it OH the
planks where slept But my cell would not
hold all the dirt must move before could
hope to make an exit. must have place
for it or all my labors would be in vain.
Hoping against hope, began to dig at tls
wall opposite the door. The spikes were
almost worn away before tho opening was
made. but my efforts were not tnavailing,
for beyond the wall there had bean, at some
distant time, four cells like my own. These
had been thrown into one Tho doors bad
been walled up with solid masonry, and it
remained, suppose, only as a support to the
structure above.
Into this walled Enclosure packed away
the earth as fast as I could loosen 1t and
bring it back.
l had proceeded but twenty Or thirty fest
when found treasure of inestimable value
to me, broken sword, rusty and crumbling
at tho end and edges, but still substantial
enough to servo in place of tho worn out
spikes.
The hilt had once been richly jeweled. but
most Of the gems were gone. The few re-
naming ! removed with piece of broken
stone, and, wrapping them in fragment uf
my clothing, treasured carefully In the fond
hope that some day should SEQ the streets Of
London again. With this new implement
my work proceeded more favorably, and
using my own length as a measure, I esti-
mated that had pushed along 200 feet
then began to incline my course upward,
and ere many days had passed knew by the
quantity Of earth in the cells that must be
nearing tho surface. Onward and upward
crept, and yet no sounds to tell me that was
nearing my goal. l had slowed away all
that could. would now dig straight up
and press the waste against the sides of my
tunnel by placing my back against one side.
Then came the thought, MAY I not be
under the Thanesl VIII the swift influx of
water food my cell and bear to them the
unwritten story of my struggles!"
knew that must be beyond the moat and
the side with tho gates. It was my only hope,
SO pushed upward.
How my heart throbs as I recall that
instant when, pushing through the turf, 1
felt the air of heaven again blowing across
my facet | had como out into the open space
diagonally across from the tower gate. The
stars were shining in the sky, and now and
then cloud swept over the moon as though
to shroud my escape.
Grasping what was left of the broken
sword, climbed up to tho level ground. Not
a soul was in sight. Lame and weak a.
was, some strange, new found power i'm
PEELED me onward, and I fed, not knowing,
naught caring whittier was tending. If
met any one / do not know it. Ny blood
seemed on fire. was free. Let them take
me back tomorrow if they would. l had
tasted the air Of freedom again, and now
could die. On, on went until at last nature,
weak, worn and exhausted, left me painting
at the door Of an inn. | recall the keepers
burly form and red, good natured face, and
then my senses must have left me, for I
awoke to find myself in this bed where am
writing. l have seen only the little girl who
brought me materials for writing, and /
have sent down tho jewels from the sword
hilt to compensate the innkeeper for bis care.
l shall SEQ him tomorrow. and then | shall
know IL those who love me still live; II those
for whom have cared viii now care for this
broken reed that the storms Of life have
blasted. In the seventh house beyond the
wooden bridge at Herne Hill road left my
wife and children Shall see them againI
Here the Ms. breaks Oh, incomplete, and
in scrawling hand, probably that Of the
innkeeper, arc these words:
written by TEL old and Ragged man. with
long white hair and beard, who died in the
kitchen chamber Of the Blue Bird inn. We
have, as duty called, sent to the seventh
house from the wooden bridge, on Rsrne
Hill road. but q happy family lives therein,
who seek no aged, dying man, and know not
who he may bs.-Jsmss Clarence Harvey in
Pittsburg Bulletin.