San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1889-01-16

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 a rat breaks
the unending silence. Hour after hour
toyed with the broken pieces of the lantern.
Each one had its name; each to me was a
living thing with 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 a new
sensation when | failed to find it.
Wearied with this, | would count the
hairs of my beard. separating one from an
other and then beginning over again, as
summing that the count had been II correct
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 rear
son, had never visited me before kept it
and sharpening it against the stone, began TO
dig away the wood on the edge of my bed.
| struck something hard
Joyl The pinions were Of iron Here was
hope, here was an occupation, here were
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 l
picked and scraped and dug at the stone wall
# my cell until at last loosened a 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 q mother would call child that had been
lost and restored. Using the fragments Of
stone to save my hands, | loosened the soil,
filled the broken lantern and brought it back
into my cell, filling the corners, slowing il
away under the bed and spreading it on 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 the
wall opposite the door. The spikes were
almost worn away before the opening was
made, but my efforts were not unavailing,
for beyond the wall there had been, at some
distant time, four cells like my own. These
had been thrown into one. The doors had
been walled up with solid masonry, and it
remained, | suppose, only as support to thu
structure above.
Into this walled Enclosure packed away
the earth as fast as | could loosen it and
bring it back.
had proceeded but twenty or thirty feet
when | found treasure of inestimable value
to me, a broken sword, rusty and crlmbling
at the end and edges but still substantial
enough to serve in place of the worn oai
spikes.
The hilt had once been richly jeweled, bu,
most of the gems were gone. The few re-
naming | removed with piece of broken
stone, and, wrapping them IN a fragment IF
my clothing, treasured carefully in the fond
hope that some day should see the streets of
London again. With this new implement
my work proceeded more favorably, and
using my own length as a measure, 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 the surface. Onward and upward ]
crept, and yet no sounds to tell me that was
nearing my goal | had slowed away ali
that could. | would now dig straight up
and press the waste against the sides of my
tunnel by placing my back agains- size.
Then came the thought, MAY / not be
under the Thamesl Will the swift influx Of
water flood my cell and bear to them ths
unwrtten story of my strugglesY'
knew that must be beyond the moat and
beyond the double wall, if | had come out on
the side with the gates. 1t was my only hope,
and that failing me, death would he welcome,
so pushed upward.
How my heart throbS as | recall that
instant, when, pushing through the turf, |
felt the air of heaven again blowing across
my facet had come out into the open space
diagonally across from the tower gate The
stars were shining in the sky, and now and
then a cloud swept over the moon as though
to shroud my escape.
Grasping what was left of the broken
sword, climbed up to the level ground Not
a soul was in sight Lame and weak as |
was, some strange, new found power i'm
PEELED me onward, and l fed, not knowing,
naught caring whittier | was tending. II |
met any one do not know it. My 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 |
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 the jewels from the sword
hilt TO compensate the innkeeper for his care.
| shall see him tomorrow, and then | shall
know If those who love me still live; il those
for whom have cared will 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 againf
Shall | ever
Here the MS. breaks off, incomplete, and
In q scra wiling hand nrnhahlv that Of tina