Dakota farmers' leader. (Canton, S.D.) 1890-19??, 1907-11-29
CHAPTER XVII

has been kept up in all the old colonies
of that power--of placing persons con
demned to death in a chapel, requires ex-
PLANTATION, in order that it may be thor
oughly understood and appreciated, as
1t deserves to be.
Erenchmen, over whom the great revo-
luton of '93 passed like a hurricane, and
carried off most of their belief in its san.
culinary cloak, may smile with pity and
regard as a fanatic remainder of another
age this custom of placing the condemned
in chapel. Among us, it is true, matters
are managed much more simply q man
when condemned by the law, eats, drinks
and remains alone in his cell. If he de-
sire 1t he is visited by the chaplain, whom
he is at liberty to converse with, ii he
likes tx not, he remains perfectly quiet,
and nobody pays any attention to him,
during a period more or less long, and de-
termincd by the rejection Of his appeal.
Then, one fine morning, when he is least
thinking of it, the governor of the prison
to him, when he wakes. as the
most simple thing in the world, that he
is to be executed that same day, and
only an hour is granted him to recon-
mend his soul to the divine clemency. The
fatal toilet is made by the exccutioner
and his assistant, the condemned man is
placed in a close carriage. conveyed to
the place of execution, and in IA twiakfing
launched into eternity, before he has had
n moment to look round him.
When a man is condemned to death
from that moment he is, de facto, cut off
from that society to which he no longer
belongs, through the sentence passed on
him he is consequently separated from
his fellow men.
He is shut up in a room, at one end of
which is an altar; the walls are hung
in black drapery, studded with silver
tears, and here and there mourning in
scriptions, drawn from Holy Writ. Near
his bed is placed the coffin in which his
body is to be deposited after execution,
while two priests. who relieve each 9TH
er, but Of whom one constantly remains in
The room, say mass in turn. and exhort
the criminal to repent Of his crimes, and
implore Divine clemency. This custom,
which, If carried to an extreme, would
appear in our country before all, bar
barous and cruel, perfectly agrees with
Spanish manners, and the thoroughly be-
lieving spirit of this impressiona5le ma
ton it IS intended to draw the culprit
pack to pious thought, and rarely fails to
produce the desired effect upon him.
The general was, therefore, placed in
capilla, and two monks belonging to the
order of st. Francis, the most respected,
and. in fact, respectable in Mexico, en-
tered it with him.
The first hours he passed there were
terrible; this proud mind. this powerful
organization, revolted against adversely.
and would not accept defeat. Gloomy and
silent, with %frowning brows, and fists
clenched on his bosom, the general sought
shelter like a wild beast in a corner of
the room, recalling his whole life, and
seeing with starts of terror the bloody
victims scattered along his path, and sac
riiced in turn to his devouring ambition,
sadly defile before him.
Then he reverted to his early years.
When residing at the Palmar, his mag
nificent family hacienda, his life passed
away calm, pure, gentle and tranquil,
without regrets, and without desires,
among his faithful servants Then he
was so glad to be nothing, and to wish
to be nothing.
BY degrees his thoughts followed the
bias of his recollections thet present was
effaced his contracted features grew soft
er, and two burning tears, the first per-
haps this man Of iron had ever shed,
coursed slowly down his cheeks, which
grief had followed. He fell into the
arms open to receive him, exclaiming,
with nm expression Of desperate grief,
impossible to render:
"Have mercy, heaven; have mercy ~
The struggle had been short but terri
Bile ; faith had conquered doubt, and hui
nanity had regained its rights.
The general then had with the monks
conversation, protracted far into the
night, in which he confessed all his
crimes and sins. and humbly asked par,
don Of God whom he had outraged, and
before whom he was about to appear.
The next day, a little after sunrise,
n OF the monks, who had been absent
about an hour, returned, bringing with
him the generals capataz. 1t had only
been with extreme reluctance that Car
nero had consented to come, for he Justly
dreaded his old masters reproaches. His
surprise was therefore extreme at being
received with a smile, and kindly, and
on finding that the general did not make
the slightest Allusion to his treachery,
which the evidence before the court-mar-
tia\n had fully revealed.
Carnero looked inquiringly at the two
monks. for he did not dare put faith in
his masters words, and each moment ex-
pcctcd to hear him burst out into re-
breaches. But to his amazement nothing
of the sort took place; the general con-
tfnued the conversation as he had begun
It, speaking to him gently and kindly.
At the moment when the capataz was
about to withdraw, the general stopped
him.
"One moment" he said to him ..you
know Don Valentine. the French hunter,
for whom I SO long cherished an insen-
safe hatred?"
Yes" Carnero stammered.
b kim enough to ask him to grant
me the favor Of q short visit; he is a
noble-hcarted man. and I am convinced
that he will not refuse to come. l should
be glad If he consented to bring with him
Don Martial. the Tigrero, who has so
much cause to complain of me, as we'll
a. my niece, Dona Anita de Torres. Will
you undertake this commission, the last
! shall doubtless give you %
Yes, general" the capataz answered,
anected In spite of himself by such gem
tleness.
Now so: be happy and pray for me.
Tor We shall never meet again"
tn cnpataz went out in q very differ
mt frame Of mind from that in which
- had entered the capilIa, and FASTENED
ed to Valentine.
Ss11 will SO" said Valentine Simply.
md he dismissed him.
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