Wausau pilot. [volume] (Wausau, Wis.) 1896-1940, 1903-11-03


ION the second night they visited me
about midnight, and. merely saying:
All is now ready for your reception,
rise and go with u.s. they placed me in
a wagon as before and took me back to
the Hall
! Leaving the wagon concealed outside
the grounds, they between them carried
me TO the ruined part, and, entering,
conveyed me into this, my prison, which
they had secretly arranged for my use.
was not brought here at once, it seems,
because on the very night of their daring
outrage they had discovered that some
revolving iron shelves they had fitted to
the entrance could not be securely fast
ened, as the large screws to be inserted
were too short Not wishing to postpone
the horrible business, they had hastily
prepared the cave, and held me there un-
til other screws could be procured.
Now all was ready and here, Just
| eighteen years ago, / was thrust and kept
a prisoner by means of long Chain fast
ened from my ankle to an iron bolt in
| the wall. l was securely fastened, then
the gag was taken from my mouth, and
the ropes from my limbs.
From that hour | have seen no human
face, heard no human voice. These walls,
l know. are several feet thick, built so
that no sound can issue from them. Not
a movement can be heard. unless the pan
els are open, and then but family.
"Oh. innocent, ruined brother! Oh,
forgetful Constancei When shall | cease
to think of these two?"
Earle Elfenstein paused when he
reached these last words, and large tears
of sympathy still rolled over his cheeks,
I as they had often done during the read
ing, while every one of his intent listen
ers were similarly affected. Conquering
his emotion by an effort, he again read
| on:
May "a, 1S-Nearly seven years
since l last wrote on these pages. Not
once during that time has there been a
change in my lot until tonight.
Tonight a different hand opened the
panels. l knew instantly that it was not
Reginalds. Something certainly must
have happened to him. The jerk was
| wanting.
"A soft, uncertain way of pushing
| them apart attracted my attention. There
was a longer pause. a seeming study of
the modus operandi of the revolving
shelves, and a slighter push made them
turn more slowly. Yes, l am sure a
stranger has been let into the secret of
my confinement; and that stranger, |
| think must be a timid woman
June @, 1S-Something terrible has
| happened to my brain. l am wild l am
undone! l can remember nothing! Who
am L? Where am j? All, yes; have it.
| was peer; 1 am so no longer.
II am poor minister of the gospel.
| confined here for the sake of religion. l
4 am. in short, Rev. Edwin c.. Stiles. How
strange that 1 am herei 1 can remember
nothing.
but l have Bible, and / read and
preach long sermons, and pray continu-
| ally. Yes, some day l shall, | think,
be released.S | shall preach the gospel.
How strange my head feels. Sometimes
1 think l going mad"'
July Isl am preaching and pray
ing constantly. Night and day l plead
with God to send me a knife. Will my
prayers be granted? Shall ever have a
/ knife? Can l ever cut my way out of
this weary prison, out to liberty, and
preaching?"
July 19.-Hallelijah! My prayer is
| heard! A knife came to me with my
food; sent me, I presume, by accident
1t was forgotten, and now il is mine.
l shall write no more. l shall instantly
get to work; l shall soon be free man.
But these pages, written as it We're.
with my hearts blood, l shall never once
| leave out of the reach of my hands. l
am Rev. Edwin C.. Stiles, a minister of
| the gospel. and these lines are my diplo-
mas, my badge of office. Ha, ha; knife
is mine; my owni And now l shall work
myself freep'
Elfenstein paused and passed his hand
over his forehead in deep thought. A
sudden idea had seized him; it was this:
| Ethel Nevergail and he must have been
| in the corridor when this poor creature
escaped! Yes; poor creature! These
last lines told that he must have been
insane, or nearly so, at least. when he es-
capped.
But he had no time to think few
more words remained to be read, and his
audience were eagerly waiting These
were written in pencil. and the letters
were crooked and feeble. as though done
in great weakness.
August Isl am sick. dying per-
haps. o JOY! if this should prove to be
death, l am weary. tired. worn out. but
thank God l am again myself.
Now | know | am Sir Arthur Glen
denning Lately | have been confused.
and thought myself a minister. My brain,
my poor brain. was unstrung. AT last
l am myself.
"A knife came to me and / took out
the screws from the shelves, opened the
panels after pushing the shelves aside.
and escaped from my prison.
I'm the corridor l came upon young
girl and q man. Strangers: l knew that
at once Both were strangers. Yet /
feared recapture.
Il rushed forward. dashed the light
from them, and then another frenzy seiz-
ed me, and my poor head nearly burst
with pain. l uttered a cry in my agony.
Then another. as l rushed through the
well-known ruins.
The night air revived me. l had not
felt its cheering influence, drawn a fresh
mouthful of outside air. in twenty-five
years. l opened my mouth, | expanded
my chest, l drank il all in.
What cared for the storm. the howl
ing wind, the falling rain? 1t was de-
light, it was rapture. l was free!
was freei
II knew not where TO go. but sped
away, away. and rested not until l was
hidden in the cave in Demons wood.
There l slept and rested There quiet
ed my overwrought nerves. and thanked
God for the blessed knife.
Morning came. and again | tried 70
think. Ny brain seemed heavy, and l
could scarcely remember my own name.
But it came 10 me after awhile. Rev.
Edwin c. Stiles. a minister of the Cos
pei But how could / preach in these
threadbare clothes? ! must get suitable
garments. / had money; | always had
had money. l had 1t in my pocketbook
when cast into prison. Ny prosecutors
did rot rob me.
so l took the cars and went to I.iv-
erpool where | bought a suit of clerical
clothes. and books. and papers TO sell.
l bought also q little wallet. in which
TO lock up these pages. Something tells
me must never part with these my pa
pers.