The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1906-11-30
If only he could dull that brain.


| something that would keep mans
/ mind calm?
Afterward! How many thousand
/ times had he pictured that to him.
self in the darkness of last night.
The deed done, how the thousands
| of heads would turn upon him, howl
| ing for blood "Cowardly assassin"
the papers would call him with one
| voice Cowardly! He looked foInd
on the people, now pressing thickly
about him; an eager, hilarious crowd.
No doubt the police lining the route
would try to get to him; but he knew
something of London :nobs. There
! was no strength in him; he would
go down at the first blow, and then
-. But so long as the Cause went
| on! He would at least have added
heavy weight to tho load of terror
that was going to crush uniformed
| tyranny and robbery out of exist
ence.
EITHER society is right" mlrmured
1 Comrade Cruther with unctuous en-
! phasis. land we must submit to its
laws, or society is wrong, in which
| case we must fight it; and tight It
not with song and manifestations, tut
with everything thai will strike ter
| ror into the bloated bodies and
| scoundrelly minds of the usurpers or
our freedom"
He had written that as the perora-
| ton of an article that had appeared
\ H., arohicf y1GWC-
paper, since dead. His culture was
not very wide; but he knew by heart
everything of his own writing that
had been printed in the literature OF
| the movement.
His hand went 10 the place on bis
left breast where a slight bulge show
ed under the buttoned jacker.
Sebastian's devise was very pref
ty little piece of apparatus in its way.
| Its simplicity was it's great charm. a
medicine bottle of rather thin glass
was the basis of it. The bottle was
made into a neat parcel with one
| thickness of brown paper, tied round
with string. At the bottom Of the
bottle was about half an inch of faint
t ~ yellow. CredCly llQuiu
Inside the neck, fastened to the
! lower end of a cork, was piece OF
fine sponge holding small quantity
of another liquid not enough to cause
any to drip from the sponge and mix
with the liquid below. If any should
SO mix, nothing would necessarily
happen on that account; but the Union
| of the two liquids would have formed
| an explosive of fearful violence.
Olt of consideration for the nerves
of the comrade intrusted with the
bottle it was judged best to defer the
admixture of the liquids until the mo-
ment of action So the bottle was
to be carried upright in the pocket.
and a few moments before throwing
the parcel it was to be taken out ana
turned gently upside down After this
the parcel was to be thrown or tossed
en- the roadway anywhere near the
carriage.
It was time for them to appear;
tut az. yet there was no sign of q
soit Ter or a carriage, no round or
cheering. The crowd, now grown
| very dense, swayed and murmured ex-
pectantly; the helmets of the police
| holding the line of the curb kept turn
ing in the direction of St. Martins.
Again and again Comrade Cruther's
hand went to his breast. Once or
twice he helped himself from his flask.
On each occasion several persons near
humorously entreated him to leave
them a drop. A stout woman looked
around at his weedy figure and clammy
face, and said, "E amt WELL"
A heavy roar sprang up in the dis
lance. People rose on tiptoe and
craned their necps, and lold MUIR
muir of excited voices filled the air.
Some were showed off the pavement
here and there; constables shouted:
Back! Keep back!" futile alterca-
lions about pushing sprang up. The
roar grew nearer and louder.
Suddenly there were flashes of light
down by the church; flashes from
metal in the bright sun. A brisk
trampling of hoofs was heard;
squadron of cavalry we're coming at
quick trot. A great volume of cheer
ing rose up as carriage came into
view. A white-plumed silver helmet
could be seen turning from side to
side, white gauntlet rising to the
peak of it in recurrent salutes.
Comrade Cruther's hand darted to
his breast pocket.
The pocket was empty.
His hand came out ridiculously
through the front of his jacket, clutch
ing nothing; through a long silt cum
ningly slashed down the cloth as by a
stroke of a razor blade.
Comrade Cruther had put his hand
to that pocket too often. 1t had been
picked-E. Clerihew in London Daily
News.
q We TearSl