Abilene weekly reflector. [volume] (Abilene, Kan.) 1888-1935, 1891-10-29


the north which May ushers in with vio-
lets and the return of the song birds, but
the spring which comes creeping over
the landscape of the south, the vernal
season that follows the floods of Feb
ruary rains, which clothes the brown
fields with green almost before one
knows it, and brings swiftly in its train
the summers promise of fertility. Twas
still in New Orleans, where 1 had come
from Memphis, though my thoughts
were turning northward again. I had
been doing space work on The Picayune,
where Jones held desk in the city edi-
tors room. Some correspondence for
northern papers had fallen to me and
furnished pretty decent sort of iYeli-
hood.
Since leaving Memphis not word had
reached me of Jason Brigham. If the
river had swallowed him, as we con-
jectured, then it had not given up its
dead, or else had cast its prey upon some
forsaken shore, perhaps in a treacherous
eddy on the rim of some great desolate
sandbar, or among the twisted roots
dllu DIOhCu Ute u ullho III a CONC uIJOn
some wooded stretch where human eye
would never see it. The affairs had
ceased to be present memory to me.
thought with pity of Brigham, and of
the lonely woman whose heart had been
well nigh broken, but then there are
so many tragedies in a newspaper mans
life that his nature hardens insensibly,
and he comes to pessimistically accept
the cruel reprisals of fate with a fail
share of stoicism.
From the effects left by Brigham had
the photograph of Emily Percival. She
had told me to keep it as a mementc
when offered to return it to her. There
were few things beside that, and such a.
there were were left in The Avalanche
office in the hope that he might yet re
turn to claim them.
The winter hal been gay one in the
Crescent City-the season at the French
opera had never been better, the Mardi
Gras brilliant success, the town was
full of gay life, which renewed and re
fected the Latin graces among our Puri
tanical institutions. In the merry round
had had my share and borne my part as
well of the brunt of the work incidental
to the daily grind of journalism. So l
found myself upon the eve of starting
north in anything but pleasant frame
of mind, when the managing editor OF
The Picayune sent for me and said:
81 wish you would go up to Donaldson
vile and do that Nine Armand murder
case for US. You know have no man
here to send, and it is too big thing fcl
the Indifferent local correspondent we
have at that point to handle"
Of course 1 couldn't refuse-to have
done so under the circumstances would
have been objectionable. But criminal
affairs always nauseated me, and hated
the stuffy atmosphere of court rooms,
where ignoramuses make pretense Of
knowledge to befuddle stupid jurors, and
where the whole performance is a mock
cry of the solemnity of justice.
The case was famous or infamous
enough, as such things go. Nine. Ar
mand, who owned plantation down on
the Bayou LafOuche, had been murdered
in her bed, presumably for money which
she was popularity supposed to keep con-
cealed in the house. The criminal had
escaped detection for several months, and
then had been apprehended while en-
ployed in timber camp where he was
one of gang of loggers. Just what evil
dence there was against him the officers
of the state declined to make public, and
the poor wretch, having no money to
tempt cormorant of the law to under
take his defense, and no friends to inter
cede for him, had been kept in Jail to
await trial at the spring term. 1t was
understood in a general way that the
evidence against the accused was incon-
trovertible, and it was further under
stood, that as he was a stranger and the
law needed a victim, he was to be hanged |
in due season.
1 went up to Donaldsonville the day
before the one set for the trial, and |
landing at the miserable and forlorn |
place in the evening, hunted up the |
attorney. That worthy was
fully imbued with the Nervousness of |
the crime, the necessity of some ones !
being punished for it, with the convic-
ton that the prisoner was the guilty |
man, and with the assurance that he
would be hanged. Further than that he |
had nothing to communicate. If l
wanted information 1 must seek the
counsel for the prisoner, the judge hav-
ing recently appointed a member of the
bar to defend him.
This advice was good, and took it. 1
found the counsel for the defense mild
young man who was evidently
just breaking into the profession. But
if his legal acumen was not overpower-
ing he was to be commended for his
He had not yet acquired the
lnsolence or the vanity of the prosecut-
ing attorney and, what was in his
favor, he took some interest in his I'M
fortunate client.
81 do not believe him guilty" he said,
'and yet scarcely know why believe
n his innocence. The state, 1 under
stand, will bring witnesses to prove that
he was seen IN the vicinity of the muir
Ter, that he carries jewelry inconsistent
With his occupation as lumberman,
md, what is more effective in the eyes of
IN ignorant and prejudiced jury, that he
S not what he seems to be. This, think,
viii be themost effective weapon theywil
lse. The man is evidently of consider
Ible refinement. of good education, and
S not accustomed to the life he has
ately been living. Yet he stubbornly re-
uses to say anything about himself be-
TOnd declaring his innocence. The incon- !