The Somerset reporter., 1900-01-04

| Master Landlord and Ind teare4s
she'd. My aunt passed mo by and tFfnsl
| ed into the street. straight to the Dana
ket place. | could not follow WoIhi
happened there was told me later. M
"Wnd with agony at her husbal,rpd
fate, my gentle. loving aunt had bu,,l
into food OF reproach of his murd. le
err. In these days this was Griffin
enough for the heaviest punishment l
II
and before evening she had shared IT. 2
same fate as my uncle. Il
4 1.-THE reign of terror had indeed be /
gun with us. The girls had fed, terri
fed at the fate which had befallcf
their protectors, and | was meditatinl
In half stupefed way the same meas.
and two men who had often eaten andI
drunk at my uncle's table came In and
made me a prisoner contiscating all
the possessions of the family to the
state.
"In those days a mans foes were
often members of his own household.
| offered no resistance. The shock of
| made certain 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 pris
on. a dismal building which | had new
| er known to be occupied. There | was
thrust into a deep dungeon and left In
| do ri fi1I pAnrnin0 xvhnn
doubted not | should be conducted to
the same cruel fate as my poor rela-
! tives had met.
But morning came. as | guessed by
the sound without. and still no sum
mons. Worn out with suspense and
waiting. | fell asleep. When | awoGe.
hunger and thirst oppressed me. Hap
PLY | had stored some bread and meat
and small bottle of wine in one of
the pockets of my coat preparatory to
my intended flight OF this | now ate
and drank. No one came nigh me, and
yet | could hear sounds as if wretched
prisoners Wee being led forth out of
neighboring cells, doubtless to death,
for they wept and pleaded vainly, as
1t seemed to me.
But the third day great stiffness
fell on the prison. | could not under
stand IT, My senses were enfeebled
for want of food. for my small stock
had long been exhausted. and | almost
lacked strength to wonder why | was
left to live so long. Presently arose an
awful terror lest this should be my
10 icI too I,l For n
of food ID this damp dungeon. Death
on the Scaffold appeared light by COM
! parison. clamored at my prison
door shouted as loudly as | could.
All to no purpose! Then ] burst into
an agony of tears. My fate was too
dreadful to bear. With the soft nature
of youth pitied and bemoaned myself
sorely. All at once words came into
my mind that | had learned years ago
as a text in the school, Fear thou not
for | am with thee: be not dismayed
for | am thy God.'
They came like ray OF light into
my prison. and | chung To the promise
as if it had that moment been made to
Inc by n plying God. felt soothed
and hopeful. and in this condition
sank back in dOze or swoon.
How time passed | could not tell
day and night were alike to me in my
cell woke up ito find light and
warmth and kindly faces about me
Slowly | regained con seriousness enough
to understand what they told me.
| had lain five days \ forgotten in my
prison. The stiffness | had noted the
third day was accounted for by the
fact that the news HAD just reached
our town of the death of one Of the
greatest leaders of tile revolution and
the consequent decline of the party
In fear of his life. our terrorist mayor
had fled. and the old rhayor. resuming
power. had ordered th9 prison doors to
be set open. | in my solitary cell had
been forgotten, and buf that some one
had been sent to examine all the cells
and collect the letters fused therein
might have persisted maserably. AS il
was | was carried out perfectly sense
less and brought to life with some diff
Guilty
Il am safe now, as you see, com
rade. in nay own country, but the an
guish of those few days will never bt
forgotten. bear about with me ii
my face the remembrance of it. Daily
| thank God for light hnd air ant
food, and yet these goodl gifts Of his
fail to make my heart rdjoice. Still
those dreadful days in 1he dungeon
have given me a firm reliance on his
mercy, and | know that shall ont
day be joyful again in the city OF
which the gates are newer shut ano
where there is no dark mess. Elk
change.