The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1891-09-16
PeccaTi-A Sketch.

more miserable than myself?" groan,
continuing my weary tramp, tramp up
and down the crowded streets to avoid
being run in by the police. All day
long without q mouthful to eat and not
one cent
"What is that"
Fastening to the middle of the street
as fast as my empty stomach and weak
ened condition will allow, at the risk of
my life, snatch up lsrge pocketbook.
Hurriedly showing it into my dilspidated
pantaloons pocket I retreat with my
prize.
Turning the corner of less frequent
ed street I pull out the book and pro-
ceed to examine it. A neatly folded pa
per first attracts my eye, and mechan-
ically hide it in my battered old hat
between the lining. A few dollars in
money, but nothing to indicate to whom
the pocketbook belongs. This fact I no.
tice in an absent.minded sort of way
strangely at variance with the futter of
expectation that causes my heart to beat
with unwonted vigor. Visions of food
and a comfortable place to rest my
weary body fit across my mind.
Suddenly I am startled by hand laid
on my shoulder. I glance around ap-
prehensively. Fear takes possession of
my soul, nervousness causes my teeth to
chatter as if chilled-my heart almost
stops beating. A stalwart policeman has
taken my arm.
"Young man, come with me-"
I go. Locked up in the Toombs,
charged with stealing a lost pocketbook.
Protestations of innocence are of no avail.
The minion of the law testifes that he
saw me in the act. I am convicted,
and sentenced to the penitentiary, but
in the meanwhile manage to hide that
paper, which have not yet had time or
opportunity to examine, in safe place
in my old clothes. know I will be
searched when my civilian dress is ex'
changed for the prison garb, but if tie
paper remains undiscovered during ny
term of imprisonment it will again
come into my possession when released
from custody, and the ragged raiment
once more restored to me.
X
Discharged! The prison has been open
ed. ANA free man again. Back in the
great metropolis, hour after hour and day
after day walk the streets endeavoring to
gain an honest livelihood. Failure stalks
by. my side, desperation's iron enters my
soul. Why should I attempt an honest
life ? is the question constantly recurring
to me. Unjustly convicted in the first
instance, why not revenge myself on SC
ciety in the only way in my power-be
a professional blsckleg? Seriously I
think of this course.
Despondent and hopeless, with life at
its lowest ebb, physically and morally,
one morning after sleepless night spent
in the area way of magnificent palace
of some rich man on Fifth avenue, 1 sud.
denly became conscious of some one
standing on the steps above me
"The wages of sin is DEATH" mourn
fully said the man. "When will this
feeling of impending evil pass away and
my life become serene and happy once
more"
"Here is one as miserable as myself"
I thought. Arising from my brick hard
bed, accost the gentleman and tell him
my story, reserving the tale of the pock.
etbook.
I am given employment. The tran
sition from ahject poverty to compare
tive ease is novelty I have not yet en-.
loved in a long time. My employer in
time makes q confdant of me, and ex-
plains the reason of his unhappy ejacu-
la.ion on the morning of our acquaint-
ance. Some time ago he had lost a val
liable paper.
Suddenly the remembrance of that
paper secreted In my clothes over q year
ago flashed through my brain like an
electric shock. Seeking my room, take
it from its hiding place and read. Star
tied at its contents, their full significance
at last takes possession of my mind. 1
realize that road to fortune opens be.
| fore me if choose to walk it.
The manuscript is confession OF my
benefactor of swindliug practices perpe-
trated in business failure some years be.
fore. 1t gives full particulars of his
failure, the amount of money fraudu-
lently retained from creditors, the diff
ferent banks in which it was deposited
and the many aliases assumed. The