Clinch Valley news. [volume] (Jeffersonville, Va.) 18??-2019, 1890-09-12

the murder of William Harris, the fathcr
of Lucy. He had been found dead and
by poison. A dispute, u peculiar will,
and other circumstances indicating mo-
tive, pointed to the newly married hus.
band of Lucy Harris us the murderer.
Arthur Brooks had been arrested and
was now in the county Jail. The dis
patch spoke of smothered talk of lynch
ing, and said the Jail was an 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 carly
morning mir. He drank in the charm of
life. The shadows lay long, and there
was thrill and u 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 to lose his. The earth was
never so bright, the earth WAS never so
, fair. If you will look in the Atlanta
- of that day you will find this from
his pen:
The china trees arc hanging out their
banners, yellow, golden, glorious, bright
signals of the changing season. The
hickory and the maple are biushing II
little and the dogwood has lighted his
torch in the still cmbcrs of dying sum-
mcr. The persimmon is taking on n
color that fills the eyes of old Brcr Pos
sum- The honeysuckle blossoms again
around the porch, there is no touch oil
change in the wistcria vine, and the nu-
tumn flowers i'll the garden borders are
gray. The change lacks the melancholy
aspect of the North-thc saddcncd skies,
the haze hidden hills that seem to stretch
into some fur country, where lies the
longed-for carcassomc. The birds have
for the most part broke up housekeeping,
and are frolicking with their families in
the woods. In the summers intcriudc
the hooking bird is renewing its mclo-
diOus uttcrances, and there is an added
sweetness in its note. And the change
will go on, growing richer and more
wanton in coloring, till the cold hand of
winter tears down the whole royal piano.
rama"
1t was no little thing that the man
that could appreciate life thus should
give il up.
Noon found him on the north bound
train; by the next noon lie was in Gin
cinnati; and by night home. The village
was quiet; lie went to his old room and
went to bed. During the night a 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 90 down
between the hills till the sound faded in.
to I'M ccho and then died. And, rs in
years before, his fancy followed it
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 pancs rs it hael~donc
before. John Long had Gen thinking
as. he rolled h0mcward 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 the village aud stopped at the
house on the hill, where he had come to
49, '" i'b bilt MIcu HIS lHLtlCT Ill HE
city died; he looked from It's veranda far
down the dusty pike, and remembered
how, his first spring there, the waters of
the river rose and covered it rs far rs the
eye 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
crcd their children into the house, and
closed fnst the doors. Men might have
been seen struggling down the east pike,
on horse and afoot. They stopped OH
the first bridge out, and mt midnight,
from out the shadows of its ancient raft
ers, troop OF silent men marched forth.
Straight u the Jail they went; they never
asked for the keys, no one wanted them.
a stout stick on the shoulders of dozen
men broke down the doors at few
blows. They knew the cell it had but
frail bars, and they were soon down. In
tAirty minutes after the lynchcrs left
1901 SAItuul DTDOkS WAS III
their hands.
The preparations were simple A short
rope hung from the sign of the HANDLE
house, and underneath it was store box.
Upon this Brooks was hoistcl.
"Shnll he die?" said the man who held
the rope. These were the first words
spoken.
''Lct him die" answered hundred
voices in u terrible bass. And a 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 off Brooks neck and paced
1t 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.