The prison mirror. [volume] (Stillwater, Minn.) 1887-1894, 1892-03-31

known for many mOnths-we again set out
on our march.
We had not proceeded far on our way
when the road turned abruptly to the left
and skirted along the edge of swamp. We
halted and held a ''cOuncil of war" and as
a result we decided to cross the swamp at
that point. for, we reasoned, should we fol-
low the road it would bring us back to the
main column and the detOur we had made
turn to the main road the swamp would
have to be waded at that point. and as this
was no unusual experience in our lives. and
did not seem a formidable undertaking, we
did not long hesitate, but waded into the
cold, dark water. We felt our way eau
tiously along. the water growing deeper and
deeper, until it was waist high. Suddenly
my cOmrade-whO was in advance
sank down over his shoulders. We became
alarmed and decided to retrace our steps.
We made what haste we could. but at the
end of half an hour no land was to be seen
and the unwelcOme conviction forced itself
upon us that we we're lost. In turning aside
to avoid distractions we had lost our bear
ings and we're hOpelessly bewildered. We
hOllOOed again and again, hoping some one
would hear us and guide us to shore by an
answering cry; but not sOund--Save our
own voices. which seemed strange and un-
natural-broke the death like stiffness of
the place. Our limbs were becoming numb.
and night was coming on to add to the horror
of our situation. We now remembered the
tales we had heard of these large swamps.
miles in extent, where the repulsive alli-
gator and the venOmOuS snake held dOmin-
ion, and bitterly we regretted the fOOlhard-
mess that had brought us into such a predic-
ament.
At length Nights dark mantle covered
the earth. The solemn drapery of Spanish
moss, which hung from the tOpmOst bOughs
of the trees to the waters edge, unbrokes
by any opening, shut out the cleaning stars
of heaven, and made the darkness appall-
ing. The scene was gloomy and depressing
beyond my feeble powers of description.
The only sounds that arose on the night air
were the whip poor. willis melancholy notes,
the hOot of the owl, and the mOurnful
sougEing of the wind
Like the wall of a soul in the pit below,
Condemned to the nethermost hell"
We had given up all hope of finding our
way out in the darkness, and were plan
ming to climb into the branches of tree to
await the dawn of another day as best we
could, when near and clear on the night air
came the sound of negro melody.
Never did music sound so sweet to our
ears as did that plantation song. We
started in the direction of the sound. in our
haste stumbling and falling, bruising our
selves as we dashed against trees; but we
needed it not. and were soon standing on a
road beside an astonished and very much
frightened negro. In few words we told
our story. In return our colOred brother
told us he had been to the main road look
ing at the soldiers march by and was re-
turning to his cabin when. as is the habit
of his race, he began enlivening the road
with song.
We thanked our cOlOred friend most
heartily for his song. and then set out on
our weary night march. cold, hungry, and
with aching limbs, but with hearts filled
with gratitude to a merciful God who had
brought us safely out of danger. S.