Morris tribune. [volume] (Morris, Minn.) 1880-2000, 1903-10-03
AMONG DEAD men
Was it a dream?

Of me was a scaffold supporting a
guillotine. A man was pinioned,
with his neck resting on the block,
the tall executioner standing ready
to pull the cord and liberate the
shining blade that hung aloft.
Around were grouped a priest and
state officials dressed in French cos
tunes of the last century, and the
pale moon shed its somber light over
all. In a moment recollected that
| must be in the chamber of horrors
Of PauPs waxwork exhibition.
was spending week in town,
sightseeing. The preceding day had
been very fatiguing one, but l had
promised myself an evening at the
waxworks, and I had made arrange
ments for every other night during
my short stay, so / went.
There is nothing so firing as an
exhibition, no matter what it's char
,acter may be, and after walking up
and down long galleries and climb
ing and descending stairs for several
hours I was completely !"dead beat"
Consequently when I found large
block of wood-an executioner's
block, l have since ascertained it to
have benin a secluded corner of
the chamber of horrors, sat down
to rest.
I must have Immediately fallen
asleep and escaped the notice of the
attendants when they closed the
building for the night. When l
awoke, the chamber was as still as
a tomb, and bright moonlight,
streaming in through the1tall win
dow, gave the place a weird and un-
earthly appearance as it fell on the
hideous throng of the worlds great
criminals.
4 1 rose from my seat and glanced
around. I am not superstitious
man, nor am l particularly nervous,
but a queer sensation swept over me.
Perhaps the night air was chilly.
Perhaps I had taken cold. I must
get out Of the place somehow.
The moon was now hidden behind
a, bank of clouds, and the place be-
came quite dark. l stretched out
my hand, and it touched something.
Ugh! Cold, like the flesh Of a dead
man! It was the face of one of
that murderous crew.
What a fool / was! They were
only wax figures; that was all, of
course. | tried to laugh at my alb
surd situation, but the attempt was
a failure and left me more uncom-
Portable than ever. Perhaps they
were smiling at me in the darkness!
Absurd! How could wax figures
smile?
And yet suppose that the spirits
Of these evil men and women haunt
ed their counterfeit presentments.
Living criminals, it was said, could
not resist returning to the scenes
of their crimes, and these mute stat
ues were clothed in the very gar
ments in which the crimes had been
committed garments from which
the guilty stains had never been
washed.
What was that?
l had taken hold of something
made of cold metal. Horrorl felt
it to be one of the knives with which
murder had been committed. | was
behaving like an idiot. | knew it,
and | told myself so. But it was
no use. | could not help wishing
we're anywhere else. A vault or a
crypt would be cheerful compared
with this horrible place. The very
air seemed to smell Of crime. crept
forward until came to some steps.
Perhaps this was the way out. |
went up and reached out into the
darkness.
A hand! A foot! A body kneel-
ing! Great heavens! Ihad ascend
cd the scaffold-was the one soil
tary living being present at that
awful mute mummery going on in
The darkness of the night.
"This sort of thing leads to mad
ness" told myself as / crawled
backward down the stairs. But what
was to be done? / must get out
or my nerves would not
stand the strain.
Never until now had | realized
how weak ones intellect really is.
f anybody had told me few hours
before that I had so much dormant
mbecility in me | should have been
indignant. | am, moreover, an i'm
sginative man, and Imagination is a
curse on such occasions.
However, | determined that
would not give way in this manner.
Advancing in another direction, /
vas stopped by wooden wall or
Il