The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1890-06-11

\ as lie S3t 81 liiS tciCSialit S''iloi > "S7Ni
his ewes ycrc caught Ivy special which
had iust como in. Ii was the story of
tho murder of William Harris. the father
Of Lucy. He hal bcea found dead and
by poison. A dispute, 4 peculiar will,
and other circumstances indicating mo-
tive, pointed to the newly married huS-
band OF Lacy Harris as the murderer.
| Arthur Brooks hal haea arrested and
was now in the county Jail. The dis
patch spoke Of smotucred ,aik Of lynch
inc, and said the ai! was IN old one and
not strong. john Long easily pictured
the violence with which the old love for
Brooks would turn into an overwhelming
wave Of wrath; he knew there would be
no stopping to weigh the evidence.
John Long walked out into the early
morning air. He drank in the charm of
life The shadows lay long, and there
was Il thrill and JOY in every breath.
| How hard for Brooks, with the blood of
Youth in his veins. to yield his life. How
could Lucy live without him2 Never be-
fore had John so felt the pride of life as
he did now that it seemed that his rival
was about 10 lose his. The earth was
never so bright, the earth was never so
fair. If you will look in the Atlanta
&c of that day you will ind this from
his pen:
The china trees are hanging out their
banners, yellow, golden, glorious, bright
signals of the changing season. The
hickory and the maple are blushing a
little and the dogwood has lighted his
torch in the still embers of dying sum-
mcr. The persimmon is taking on a
color that fills the eyes of old Br'er Pos
sum. The honcysuckle blossoms again
around the porch, there is no touch OF
change in the wistcria vine, and the au-
tumn flowers in the garden borders are
gray. The change lacks the melancholy
aspect of the North-the saddened skies,
the haze hidden hills that seem to stretch
into some far country. where lies the
longed for carcassome. The birds have
for the most part broke up housekeeping,
and arc frolicking with their families IN
the woods. In tine summers interlude
the mocklng bird is renewing its mclo-
dious utteranceS, and there is an added
sweetness in its note. And the change
will 60 on. growing richer and more
wanton in coloring, till the cold hand OF
winter tears down the whole royal pano-
rama"
It was no little thing that the man
that could appreciate life thus should
give it up.
Noon found him on the north-bound
train; by the next noon he was in Gin
cinnati; and by night homo. The village
was quiet; he went to his old room and
went to bed. During the night train
went laundering through the valley; he
heard the whistle and the roar of the
fires when the furnace door was opened,
he heard it cross the bridge and so down
between the hills till the sound faded in
to an echo, and then died. And, as in
years before, his fancy followed 1t
through the night, out of the valley, in
to day and the warm and cheerful world.
The morning came; the light crept
through the little panes as it had done
before. John Long had been thinking
as he rolled homeward on the train; he
had laid another scheme, and he felt
sure this one would not fail: And the
last twenty years had passed from his
mind, and he was living again his old
innocent childhood. He walked out
through tae village and stopped at the
house Oh the hill, where he had come to
live with his aunt when his father in the
city died; he looked from its veranda far
down the dusty pike, and remembered
how, his first spring there, the waters OF
the river rose and covered it as far as the
eve could reach. He stood long and
watched the shadows chase each other
across the hills on the other side of the
valley, as he used to do, long summer
days
There was no mistaking the temper Of
thc people with regard to the murder of
William Harris. With the night shadows
fell hush on the town. Mothers gath
cred their children into the house. and
closed fast the doors. Men might have
been seen struggling down the east pike,
on horse and afoot. They stopped on
the first bridge out, snd at midnight,
from out the shadows of its ancient raft
ers, troop OF silent men marched forth.
Straight t. the jail they went; they never
asked for the keys, no one wanted them.
A stout stick on the shoulders Of dozen
mon broke down the doors at a few
blows. They knew the cell: it had but
| frail bars, and they were soon down. In
thirty minutes after the lynchers left
their rendezvous Arthur Brooks was in
their hands.
The preparations were simple. A short
rope hung from the sign of the Hamble
house, and underneath it was 4 store box.
Upon this Brooks was hoisted.
"Shal! he die?' said the man who held
the rope. These were the first words
spoken.
s'Let him die" answered hundred
voices in a terrible bass. And thrill of
horrid interest ran through them as they
waited for the final moment.
But third figure was upon the box. 1t
was that of John Long. He took the
moose from of Brooks neck and placed
it about his own. He said not word
but stood with folded arms and head
thrown back. And one of them told me
that, standing so in the moonlight, some
thing of his old boyish beauty came into
his face and made him look like the noble
man he might have made.
''Arc you guilty instead of Brooks?"