Part 6 (2/2)
This is soon to be thy doom. Before thou art conducted to this place of torment never more to emerge--for there is no hope for those who enter there--thou shalt be permitted to remain in this open plain, where it is granted to all the lost to behold what they might have enjoyed, instead of what they must suffer.' With this I was left alone. Whether the result of the terrible fright through which I had pa.s.sed I know not, but now I became stupified. A dull languor took fall possession of my frame.
My strength departed from me. My limbs longer refused to support my body. Overcome, I now sank down a helpless ma.s.s. Drowsiness now took control of me. Half awake, half asleep, I seemed to dream. Far above me and in the distance I saw the beautiful city of which we read in the Bible. How wonderfully beautiful were its walls of jasper. Stretching out and away in the distance I saw vast plains covered with beautiful flowers. I, too, beheld the river of life and the sea of gla.s.s. Vast mult.i.tudes of angels would pa.s.s in and out through the gates of the city, singing, oh, such beautiful songs. Among the number I saw my dear old mother, who died a few years ago of a broken heart because of my wickedness. She looked toward me, and seemed to beckon me to her but I could not move. There appeared to be a great weight upon me that held me down. Now a gentle breeze wafted the fragrance of those lovely flowers to me, and I could now, more plainly than ever, hear the sweet melody of angel voices, and I said, oh, that I could be one of them. As I was drinking from this cup of bliss it was suddenly dashed from my lips. I was aroused from my slumbers. I was brought back from happy dreamland by an inmate of my dark abode, who said to me that it was now time to enter upon my future career. He bade me follow him. Retracing my steps I again entered the dark pa.s.sage way, and followed my guide for a time, when we came to a door that opened in the side of the pa.s.sage, and, going along this, we finally found ourselves pa.s.sing through another door, and lo!
I beheld the lake of fire. Just before me I could see, as far as the eye could reach, that literal lake of fire and brimstone. Huge billows of fire would roll over each other, and great waves of fiery flame would dash against each other and leap high in the air like the waves of the sea during a violent storm. On the crest of these waves I could see human beings rise, but soon to be carried down again to the lowest depth of this awful lake of fire. When borne on the crest, of these awful billows for a time their curses against a just G.o.d would be appalling, and their pitiful cries for water would be heartrending. This vast region of fire echoed and re-echoed with the wails of these lost spirits. Presently I turned my eyes to the door through which I had a few moments before entered, and I read these awful words: 'This is thy doom; Eternity never ends.' Shortly I began to feel the earth give way beneath my feet, and I soon found myself sinking down into the lake of fire. An indescribable thirst for water now seized upon me. And calling for water, my eyes opened in the prison hospital.
”I have never told this experience of mine before, for fear the prison officials would get hold of it, think me insane, and lock me up in the crank-house. I pa.s.sed through all this, and I am as well satisfied as I am that I live, that there is a Heaven and there is a h.e.l.l, and a regular old-fas.h.i.+oned h.e.l.l, the kind the Bible tells about. But there is one thing certain, I am never going to that place any more. As soon as I opened my eyes in the hospital, and I found that I was alive and on earth once more, I immediately gave my heart to G.o.d, and I am going to live and die a Christian. While the terrible sights of h.e.l.l can never be banished from my memory, neither can the beautiful things of Heaven I saw. I am going to meet my dear old mother after awhile. To be permitted to sit down on the banks of that beautiful river, to wander with those angels across the plains, through the vales and over the hills carpeted with fragrant flowers, the beauty of which far surpa.s.ses anything that mortal can imagine; to listen to the songs of the saved--all this will more than compensate me for living the life of a Christian here on earth, even if I have to forego many sensual pleasures in which I indulged before coming to this prison. I have abandoned my companions in crime, and am going to a.s.sociate with good people when I am once more a free man.”
After he got through with this wonderful story I asked him if he was going to tell others of his experience when he got out. His reply was that people would not believe him, and he would keep it to himself.
Should this little book fall into his hands, and he should read of his experience while in h.e.l.l for forty-eight hours, it will no doubt surprise him. We give the account to the reader just as we received it from Lennox. We do not pretend to solve the mystery.
CHAPTER X. STOLEN HORSES
Justice should be meted out to many who, though guilty, are shrewd enough to evade it. From one of the most notorious horse-thieves in the Kansas penitentiary I learned of the manner in which stolen horses were disposed of.
This convict's name is John Watkins. He served a term of three years in the Missouri penitentiary, and is now serving out a ten years' sentence in the Kansas State's prison. He is the chief convict steward in the hospital, and an able a.s.sistant of the prison physician, by whom his services are highly appreciated. This prisoner has immediate care of all the sick. His heart is tender as that of a woman. To listen to this man, as he sat with tearful eye at the bedside of the dying prisoner, and spoke words of cheer to him, one would scarcely believe him to be the most daring and one of the shrewdest horse-thieves that ever visited our State. In conversation with him one night as I lay on my sick bed in the hospital, he gave me an outline of his life's history that reads much like a romance.
I said to him, ”John, tell me how many horses you have stolen during the time you have been engaged in that line of business?”
His reply was, that if he had stolen one more he would have been successful in having stolen an even two hundred.
”What did you do with them after you had stolen them?”
He told me his headquarters were in Kansas City; that he would go up in the neighborhood of Omaha and Lincoln and get his horses, and tie them in the woods until he had picked up a number of them, and then he would make his way to the south. Horses stolen in Nebraska he would run south to sell. Those stolen in Missouri and Kansas he would take to the north.
He told me that in Omaha, St. Joseph, Atchison, Leavenworth and Kansas City there were dealers, usually keepers of livery stables, who would purchase these stolen horses. He gave me the names of a number of these men, some of whom I know personally. Little would I ever have suspected that these men were engaged in such a wicked traffic as knowingly to deal in stolen property. ”When I had a number of horses,” he continued, ”and wished to dispose of them in St. Joseph, for instance, I would ride into the suburbs of the city and send a note to the man who usually purchased my stock. I would never be seen about his barn. After night he would make his way to where I was and purchase my horses, paying me about one-half what they would really bring in the general market. I would get about fifty dollars for an average horse. After purchasing my stolen horses he would not take them to his livery barn, but to a private stable, usually at his residence. When he would pay over the money for this stolen property he would make out a bill of sale for each one, and would step into a store or grocery, and in the presence of some business man he would say to me, we will sign the bill of sale for that horse I bought of you, and have this gentleman to witness the transaction. I gave you fifty dollars at the barn, and now here is fifty dollars more, which makes the hundred, the sum I was to pay for the animal.” I would take the money, sign the bill of sale, which would be witnessed by the business man in whose presence the trade was consummated. We would then go to another place of business and sign a bill of sale for another horse, and have that witnessed by another business man, and would continue this until all the horses I had sold were paid for. In this manner he would s.h.i.+ft all responsibility of crime upon me. Securing my money I would rest for a time until 'I went broke,'
and then I would make another trip. The horse merchant would sometimes keep his horses until he had picked up a car load, and then he would s.h.i.+p them out of the country to Chicago, St. Louis or some other horse market. Sometimes the horse buyer would run stolen property out into the country and exchange it for other property in which he would have a good t.i.tle and which he could take to his livery barn and feel safe with it there.
”What did you do with your money, John?” I inquired.
To this question he answered that in Kansas City he had a suite of rooms fitted up in elegant style, and kept a mistress. Upon this woman he squandered all his money, obtained honestly and dishonestly. In addition to his horse-thieving raids he had several other sources of criminal revenue. One of these sources he described as follows: ”I kept a horse and wagon, the wheels of which were covered with india rubber. The feet of the horse were also encased in the same material. I could move about the streets of the city in the late hours of the night without making any disturbance, and would pick up anything I could lay my hands on that I could convert into money. I have carried away many a stove and broken it up and sold it for old iron. I would also make my way out into the country and pillage. Often I would enter small towns and load up my noiseless wagon with stolen goods, which I would take out of the stores.
All of this money I would foolishly spend on the woman I loved.”
”How did you happen to get caught?”
”One day on the streets of Kansas City I accidentally met an ex-convict whom I knew while in Jefferson City penitentiary. He was penniless and somewhat shabby. He suspected me of crooked work, and wanted to go with me on a 'horse raid.' At first I refused to take him with me, as it has always been my rule to go alone when in the crooked business. He persisted and urged me to let him go along. At last I yielded to his appeals, and we started from Kansas City. I have never been back since.
My 'pal' was caught on this trip and offered to turn State's evidence if he could regain his liberty. He was allowed to do this. I was tried and got a ten years' sentence. He went free.”
”What became of the woman?” I asked.
”When in jail at Leavenworth and in need of money to pay my lawyer, I wrote her a letter informing her of my trouble, and begged her to send me some money. She forgot to answer that letter, and I have never seen or heard from her since that time.”
”I suppose when your time is up you will hunt her up and fit up another suite of rooms, won't you?”
”Never,” said he. ”When I get out I am going to lead an honest life and take care of my money. It does not pay to get money by crookedness. Such money never does one any good.”
Having imparted this information he bade me good night and went over to another part of the ward, where he took his place beside the cot of a dying convict.
CHAPTER XI. CANDIDATE FOR THE STATE SENATE
<script>