The Carbon advocate. [volume] (Lehighton, Pa.) 1872-1924, 1891-12-19

the street, straight TO the market place.
could not follow. What happened
there was told me later.
"Wild with agony at her husbands
. fate, my gentle, loving aunt had burst
into a food Of reproach of his murder.
In these days this was crime enough for
the heaviest punishment, and before
evening she had Jared the same fate as
my uncle.
"The Reign of Terror had indeed begun
with us. The girls had fed, terrified at
the fate which had befallen their pro-
tectors, and was meditating in a half
stupefed way the same measure, when a
knock came at the door, and two men,
who had often eaten and drunk at my
uncle's table, came in and made me a
prisoner, coufscating all the possessions
of the family to the state.
"In those days a mans foes were often
they of his own household. l offered no
resistance; the shock Of the day had
completely unnamed me. made GER
tain that /, too, should die that night
But my time was not yet come.
"In consequence of the lateness of the
hour / was taken to the town prison, a
dismal building, which had never
known to be occupied. There ! was
thrust into "a deep dungeon, and left in
total darkness till the morning, when ]
doubted not | should be conducted to
the same cruel fate as my poor relatives
had met But morning came, as l had
guessed by tine sound without, and still
no summons. Worn ont with suspense
and waiting, | fell asleep. When ]
awolke hunger and thirst oppressed me.
Happily | had stored some bread and
meat and a small bottle Of wine in one
of the pockets Of my coat preparatory to
my intended fight OF this l now ate
and drank. No one came nigh me, and
yet could hear sounds as if wretched
prisoners were being led forth out of
neighboring cells, doubtless to death;
for they wept and pleaded vainly as il
seemed to me.
"But the third day a great stiffness fell
on the prison. | could not understand
it; my senses We're enfeebled for want
of food, for my small stock had long
been exhausted and l almost lacked
strength to wonder why was left tC
i've ~ lOAAs L lGGtHNll hlOoG Nll hNlAA
terror, lest this should be my sentence
to perish miserlbly for want of food in
this damp dungeon. Death on the scat
fold appeared light by comparison.
clamored at my prison door. | shouted
as loudly as l could-all to no purpose
Then burst into an agony Of tears; my
fate was too dreadful to bear. With the
soft nature Of my youth pitied and be
moaned myself sorely. All at once
words came into my mind that hat
learned years ago as text in the school
Fear thou not, for am with thee; bC
not dismayed, for l am thy God.
"They came like a ray of light int
my prison, and | clung to the promise
as if it had that moment been made t
me by pitying God. | felt sootheC
and hopeful, and in this condition
sank back in dee or swoon.
} "How time passed l could not tell
day and night to me were alike in my
cell l woke up to find light and warmth
and kindly faces about me. Slowly
regained consciousness enough to under
stand what they told me. had laiI
five days forgotten, the stiffness l hat
noted the third day was accounted fo
} by the fact that the news had jus
reached our town of the death of one o
the greatest leaders of the revolution
and the consequent decline Of the party
In fear of his life, our terrorist mayo
had fed, and the old mayor, resuminl
power, had ordered the prison doors L
he set open. l, in my solitary cell, ha,
been forgotten, and but that some on
had been sent to examine all the cell
and collect the fetters used therein,
? might have perished most miserably
As it was, was carried out perfect,
senseless and brought to life with som
difficulty.
Il am safe now, as you see, comrades
in my own country, but the anguish O
those few days will never be forgotten
| l bear about with me in my face the re
5 membrance Of it, Daily | thank Go
r for light and air and food, and yet thes
t good gifts of his fail to make my hear
4 rejoice Still those dreadful days in tn
dungeon have given me firm relianc
{ on his mercy, and l know that 1 shal
, one day be joyful again in the city c
, which the gates are never shut an
where there is no darkness. New Yor
l Advertiser.