s; my home desolate. As I pen these lines, surrounded by
the fogs and mists of time, the question comes to me ever and anon, when
the hour shall come for me to close my eyes to the scenes of earth, will
I be permitted to greet my sainted wife in the beautiful city above?
Yes. I have the faith that the loving Galilean--the man of sorrows, who
was acquainted with grief--will in that hour open the gates of pearl,
and let me in. Until that happy hour--until we meet in the land where
none of life's storms ever reach, my darling wife, farewell!

CHAPTER XIII. FREEDOM

To all things earthly there comes an end. Sixteen long, dreary months of
imprisonment finally passed away. The dark clouds of sadness and gloom
that for so long hung above me now parted, and folding themselves
together rolled away in the distance. The large iron doors swung upon
their hinges, and once more I breathed the air of freedom. Drowsy Nature
was just being aroused from her wintry slumber by the gentle touch of
Spring, as I began life anew. On that, to me, eventful morning the sky
appeared brighter than I had ever beheld it before. O liberty! No one
can ever appreciate thy blessings save him upon whose limbs have pressed
the cruel fetters of slavery. The sunlight of freedom falls with its
greatest refulgence upon him who has been surrounded for months and
years by the baleful mists and darkness of abject bondage. The air of
liberty comes doubly surcharged with the fragrance of the rarest flowers
to him who has inhaled the feted breath of serfdom. Grateful to God that
my life had been spared; retaining all the ambition of former years;
possessed of my manhood; conscious of no guilt, I felt that, under the
guiding hand of Providence, there was for me a bright future. With a
determination to succeed, that can never be satisfied short of success,
I returned to my home. I concluded that instead of going to some distant
place, among strangers, it was best for me to return to the locality
where all knew of my misfortunes and the true causes that led to them.
On my arrival at the depot I was met by a multitude of friends. By the
reception that was given me no one, ignorant of the facts, would have
for a moment imagined that I had but a few hours before vacated the cell
of a criminal. I pen these lines three months from the day when I began
life anew, and during that time I have met with no one so base as to
"snub" a man, who, having met with misfortune, is h