The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1895-11-14
MUSING OF THE DEAD

There was the sound Of trampling feet
above my head and the sharp click Of met
al against the sod, and /, a shape, vapor.
resting in my coffin, could distinctly hear
the digger at work on another grave beside
my own.
1t had never occurred to me In life that
the dead had ears to hear and eyes to see,
and even now there was nothing in the
demeanor of my cofined neighbors to up
hold me in my present theory. was
criminal when they buried me and my
soul seemed left within my body to grovsl
in the dust of horror and humiliation for
period at least before It's further evolu-
ton.
It was as If my own contempt for the
sublimity OF the soul was being Knocked
by f1eshly dissolution. was forced to wit
ness the filthy degeneration of what in life
had seemed to me of paramount impor-
tanoe. Vanity and csrnality had been my
ruling passions and all the higher attri-
butes of man, in which the soul took prec-
edence of body, aroused within my carnal
mind only feeling of sarcastic pity.
It was for this destroying of q mental
self that was finally hunted down and
brought to sudden justice.
For many years my wild debauches had
been carried on with fallen mortais and
men who scorned and loathed me-even
they were satisfied to let it so as thing
beyond their interference.
1t was only when won poor Nellies
love that they began shaking their angry
heads and pointing their warning fingers
at mo.
But had wisdom in my evil way. 1
feigned a reformation that 1 did not feel
and for a time behaved with rigid circum-
spection.
There were days even when the child s
sweet nature almost shamed me in my
wicked purpose, but to a heart grown old
in sin a woman's virtue only adds per
sistence, and after each brief moment of
relnorse the old desire crept swiftly back
with tenfold worse intentions added.
And day by day the foweret dropped
with the sun of passion beating Oh it, Day
by day truth took weaker hold upon the
soul that wavered in my power.
Warnings 1 had in plenty from the
friends that loved the girl, and although
there was no violence from me at any
time they called my deed a deed of crime
and lynched me like q common felon.
Whether it was just some did not know,
but to me, lying cramped and huddled in
this moldy box, there comes at times a
realization of my sin that makes the judg
ment seem most fair and even tempered
with that plea for mercy which doubtful
jurors often add.
Day by day, hour by hour and minute
by minute the scenes and sins Of my life
are creeping slowly through my soul, and
now, viewed by the light of disembodied
spirit, find how greatly the sins of the
flesh are at variance with the spiritual be-
ing.
Hope and desire, SO all important to the
carnal frame, shrink to the meanest form
Of guilt when viewed through nobler
purer lenses. Like a wornout husk, bat
tered and travel stained, my flesh lies rot
ting in this grave, while I, a soul, exist,
here, there and all about, able to penetrate
the very earth able to see the heavens
above, but totally unable to escape from
the dread proximity of my moldering clay
of this constant vision of decay in what
was once my fondest pride.
And now another silent form is being
lowered to my side. l hear the sound OF
falling sods. the creak of ropes, the tread
of feet and wish-oh coward that am
that it might be another soul so doomed
that it would bear me company.
They are going now, the mourners at
the grave above my head, and almost
touching my crumbling feet see the out
line of polished casket.
No one in all those silent tombs seems
wakened or disturbed but me. The advent
of another form into the gloom and horror
of this place brings not tremor to the
dust of those who sleep SO peacefully.
But now my soul seems pierced again
by one more venomed, ranking dart, and
through the power of spirit sight see the
limit of my doom.
There is no soul within this now made
tomb no clay freed spirit to condole with
mine, but low beneath the polished boards
a sweet, young face lies still and calm and
seems to mock my misery.
Once more trace my evil life in all
willful, sinful ways, and. turning, try
avert my gaze from that which almoe
naddens me.
This, then, is justice for the damned
To watch, perforce while all you love d,
Gays, while flesh, once fair, creeps vilel.
back to dust, and the immortal soul, de-
MED and scorned, rises from the very
grave to torture that which soorned it!
Yes, this is justice but the after plea.
the plea for mercy, is denied me- for here,
before my shrinking gaze, my victim lies
in peaceful slumber.
Powerless was I to harm her soul,
though friend and foe alike condemned
her, and now, in throes of bitter rage, ]
recognize a righteous vengcance.-Ex-
change.