The Camden chronicle. (Camden, Tenn.) 1890-current, 1903-06-19

The following story was related to
me by a Russian gentleman, at whose
house l spent a few weeks last sum-
mer. He had been in the employ of
his government for some years as an
inspector of prisons, and it was on
the occasion Of one of his official Wis
It's to the famous convict establish
ment at Tobolsk that he heard the
story from the lips Of an old man, who
had spent upward of 40 years in pris-
on. Substantially it ran as follows:
Many years ago-how many, l
cannot tell you, sir-I was living on
the outskirts of the thriving little
town of Velna, in Russian Poland. l
was a blacksmith by trade, and my
forge stood at the angle Of two cross
roads, about a mile from the centre OF
the town. Adjoining it was my cot
tage, the neatest and prettiest little
homestead in all that countryside.
Many there were who envied me my
lot, and, indeed, it was an enviable
one. for few prospered as | did, and
none could boast a happier home.
Il had been married two years
when my wife gave birth to a boy-a
faithful copy of his mother-who, as
time went on, grew sturdy, bright
eyed little fellow, the darling of our
hearts and the brightest jewel in our
crown of happiness. What he was to
me no words can tell. l know only
that he became the very light OF my
life. and when some childish ailment
checked for brief space his merry
prattle was like to go mad with
grief and fear-so bitter was the
thought that some day, perhaps, he
might be taken from me.
One day l was at work when
heard a troop of cavalry approaching
the forge at full gallop. Laying aside
my hammer I went over to the half
door to catch a glimpse Of them as
they rode by. The leading files had
already passed when a piercing Shrek
rent the air and froZe the very mar
row in my bones-my heart stood
still. Oh, God! can l ever forget the
fearful sight that met my gaze.
see it now, as plainly as on that day
my darling, my hearts Idol, and his
angel mother, side by side on the
dusty road, trampled to death by
those cruel hoofs. With terrible
cry-a cry such as only a man infu
rated to the pitch of madness, car
utter-I snatched up my hammer, anc
whirIing it around my head, rushed
among the soldiers, now dismounteC
and gathered about the PROSTATE anC
mangled forms Of my darllngs. q
panic seized them and they struggled
furiously to get beyond the reach o
my wild blows. One there was, how
ever, that essayed to close with MT
and Wrest the hammer from M.
grasp. but hurled him to the grount
and struck him blow, that, had
fallen on his head, would have kille'
him outright. Happily for him ant
for my future peace of mind, his uI
raised arm saved him; and before
could strike again one OF his CON
rades dealt me blow that stretche
me beside him, bleeding and sense
less. When recovered conscious
ness I found myself lying on the hoo
of a cell in the Prison Of Velna.
ooh. the misery of that awakening
How shall I describe it to you, sir
How describe the awful sense Of de'
olation that crept over me with tn
first dawning of consciousness, an
SO laid hold of me that l prayed, an
prayed with all my might, to die
How describe the fortunes l suffere
when the remembrance Of all that ha
happened at the forge that day cam
back to me with redoubled force, ant
flooding my soul with anguish, create
in me a fierce thirst for revenge-bl
1 cannot, I cannot. To realize m
misery you must suffer as | suHere
love as loved-and that I pray yc
never will. But let me continue n
story. The daylight had faded in ID
cell. when two soldiers, bringing wit
them food and drink. communicate
to me the intelligence that 1 was
be tried on the morrow for attemI
ing to kill one of His Majesty
guards. l paid little heed to VIII
they said-so wrapped was in Il