The Monitor. [volume] (Woodstown, N.J.) 1884-1892, 1891-12-18

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the judges last words to me were. And
the first day thereof shall be in solitary
confinement"
Everything had been a dream up TO
this moment, but the awakening is ter
rible. As | hear the last echo of the re-
treating footsteps | comprehend my posi-
~tion-alone in prison. 1t seems as if |
shall go mad; a feeling Of suffocation
oyercomes me, as in vain | attempt to
cry out and clutch at the bare stone
walls. Ny head throbs as if it would
burst, the widest thoughts crowd to my
brain in a confused mass, | do not COM
prehend them. Ny blood courses through
its veins like rivulets of molten fire.
burning the flesh at each pulsation
How long the paroxysm lasts ! know
not. as in the darkness | can take no
note of time, but when / grow calm /
think out the course of the trial.
review my past life, live over again
my childhood, watch the purling brook
that in the summer kept me from my
books; | can remember every angry
word that Parsons and / have spoken,
and groan in anguish; then the days of
our eourtship rise before me: how proud
was | on the day Laura promised to be
mine; how happy our brief married life
had been. | realize that no farewells
have been spoken, but she must visit
me. How long must | wait before we
should meet again?
The long hours pass away until it
seems as if the night had come; | find a
can Of water and gratefully cool my
parched throat; then | seek to lie down
for the night, but the cell is too small.
The light apparently grows dim, and in
a cramped position l try to get a little
sleep; again wild thoughts surge through
my brain, but at last | lose conscious
ness.
Again / am wide awake. How long /
have slept | know not, but / am cold
and doze until it seems as if the night
would never end. l never experienced
M SO long before; the silence is oppres-
siye. There is a rush of cold air, and |
feel that another day had dawned. !
remember that | have eaten nothing
3ro entering the prison, and also that
a loaf Of tcead lay beside the can of
water. clutch it ravenously, but the
csouthfuls choke me. Must | go on, day
after day, in this prison? Is there nc
help for me? How slow the hours pass;
have they forgotten me in my solitary
cell, and would it become my grave:
Oh, for the sight of a living face or the
sound of a human voice, ever if it was
but to urge me on to harder tasks; will
lingly would / work if / could only be
among other men.
After | have almost lost all hope of es-
cape, l hear footsteps approaching. At
last the hour Of my deliverance is at
hand. How long it takes the jailor to
reach my cell; he IS walking slowly. He
halts before my door, deliberately inserts
the key, the bolts move slowly, the door
swingsCpen and | step forth. deyoutly
offer a mental prayer ofsthankfulness. ]
follow my conductor and soon stand in
the presence Of the warden, WHO grasps
my hand, saying: II have good news for
you-you are free"
tortored and would have fallen had
an officer not assisted me. l cannot re-
alize that my imprisonment is at an end.
Ny amazement is even greater when
George Parsons ome forward, but in
the hearty handshake that follows we
became friends. His story is soon told.
He had received a letter stating that his
uncle was seriously i'll in a neighboring
state and wished to see him; at first he
determined to start the following day;
but found that walking across to a juno
ton he could take an express train that
night.
Hastily preparing for the journey he
wrote a letter of explanation for his
clerk, but it was laid in a book and not
found until his return. He found his
uncle dying, but arrived in time to re-
ceive his blessing and a fortune. II now
became necessary for him to make a
journey west, and he left Immediately.
Not until his return home did he learn
Of the supposed tragedy, and lost no
time in coming to the prison to release
me.
Il have telagraphed to the governor"
the warden said, 'and if you gentlemen
will step in AID take dinner with me
you may take the afternoon train for
home. 1t viii be an unusual sight" he
added jocularl:%.
But | asked. How can we reach
home tonight? There is no train to our
place on Sunday"
They looked at me in astonishment.
How long do you suppose you have
been in priscn" asked the warden
About t~venty-four hours"
you vera in the solitary forty-fve
minutes" WIS the reply.
But it was the longest day Of my life.
-Merrimac Budget.