Democratic Sentinel, Volume 4, Number 27, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 August 1880 — THE IDIOT’S REVENGE. [ARTICLE]

THE IDIOT’S REVENGE.

1 4 Hey, there, old man ! Halloo ! ” “ Which way—traveling, or going somewhere?” 44 Where did you buy your coat?” “Quicken your gait, sir; show your mettle ! ” A group of rude youths lounging in the shade of a largo oak along one of the streets in the suburbs of a Western city. An • old man, crippled, duet-be-grimed, and ragged, hobbling along with the aid of a'crutcb, on the opposite sidewalk, the object of their shameless tirade. The poor cripple glanced reproachfully across at his youthful iqsulters, but gave them no other reprimand. Heedless of this silent reproof, and emboldened by his seeming timidity, the boys only became the more insolent, following him with their jeers and epithets until he passed around a corner out of sight. Passing out of sight, he soon passed from mind, and the boys had quite forgotten him, when, chancing to glance across the street, they saw him hobbling along back. At sight of him they resumed their insults, more shamefully if possible than before—some of the more insolent even throwing sticks and dirt at him as he approached them. Seemingly as heedless of their insults as before, the old man came painfully up the. street until he was opposite them, when, turning abruptly, he commenced crossing the street toward them. Conscious of guilt, and cowardly as all boys who insult their elders always are, the boys arose at his approach and began to scatter out of his reach. “Fear not, boys,” spoke the aged cripple, in a deep, sad voice ; 44 1 come not to chastise you, as perhaps you deserve, but to really befriend you. Return, and listen to a story—a sad, bitter one to me—which I will tell you.” And the old man seated himself on the rich, green grass a# the foot of the tree, and, removing his tattered hat, bared his flushed and feverish brow to the cooling breeze. Though wretchedly clad, careworn and infirm—God and himself alone knew what sore trials and temptations he had passed through—that brow bore no traces of crime, no furrows of dissipation or licentiousness. Naught but a life of purity and deep benevolence appeared recorded there, albeit scarred and furrowed by years of wasting pain.

Assured by liis bland voice and benign features, and prompted by curiosity, the boys returned, one by one, and seated themselves about him. The old man was silent for a few moments, and, as he slowly wiped his heated brow, seemed gazing backward along the thorny pathway of his life into his long-lost youth. “Once, boys,” he commenced, in a sad, dreamy voice, “once I was young and happy, like yourselves, with no care for the present* nor anxiety for the future. Blessed with robust health and the use of my limbs, no boy, the country over; was more agile and hardy and daring than I. Greatly priding myself on these accomplishments, and subjected to little parental restraint, I led a free, roving life of matchless happiness. Living in the country backwoods with my parents, having for companions boys of equal daring and restlessness, I roamed the woods up and down the river all the long summers through, scorning the staid, industrious life of other boys, and coming home only for my food and to sleep at night time. Books, as a mater of course, I despised, and what little education I had was gotten through coercion. Not but that I liked to go to school, for I really did, and was regular in my attendance, but, like many other boys, I went there altogether for another purpose than to learn. Too cold and dreary ill the winter to roam the woods, school was the best and most likely place for ‘ high times ’ I could find. And ‘ high times ’ I did have, too ; going there to create trouble, with the help of my comrades, I always succeeded. The terror of all the orderly, well-behaved children of the school, who feared and shunned us as a band of young outlaws, as we really were, wo were always in trouble ourselves, and bringing others in with us. Not a day passed without trouble of some kind with either some of the pupils or the teacher, until, our fame spreading far and near, our [directors were scarcely able to secure a teacher for our school at any price. Several teachers we had wholly and boldly driven from the school, while others we had so harassed and terrified that they were glad to quit of their own accord and leave us lords of the field. Almost unopposed, we carried all before us in the neighborhood throughout, all hating us severely, but dreading to brave us openly, fearing our secret revenge. Not one in our vicinity escaped our tricks in some way or another, and we were always on the alert to repeat them : not that we really committed any serious offenses, but from little tricks of robbing orchards and melon patches, and waylaying and frightening children, and throwing down gates and fences, we were fast approaching—l tremble since to think what. “But it was not always to be so." After a time a new family moved into our neighborhood with a large number of children, one of whom, a boy of some 17 or 18 years, was an idiot. Our greatest delight was to be tormenting some helpless, inoffensive thing. No sooner had we heard of him than we were beside ourselves with impatience to come upon him. Many weeks we roamed the woods through where he might most likely be found, but, to our chagrin, could never come upon him, the passing glances which we obtained of him at times only whetting our desires the more to do so'. God knows we had that desire gratified, for at least two of us only too surely and quickly I “ One autumn day, when the nuts were beginning to fall, we came upon him and his sister out in the woods nutting. With a whoop of delight we swooped down upon them, and, closely investing him so that he could n6t escape us, we commenced taunting and teasing him. His sister, a tiny, weak little thing, whose beauty and helplessness alone

would have appealed to more manly hearts, begged us most piteously to forbear and let him alone, that he was dangerous when aroused, and would assuredly hurt some of us badly if we did not. Scoffing at-her entreaties, we only aggravated him the more. At first he bore our taunts and thrusts in sullen silence, only growling and shaking himself like I have often seen an angry bull. At length one of our mob, making more bold at his apparent harmlessness, slipping up behind him, with a dexterous cuff knocked his hat spinning off onto the ground—nearly a fatal blow for him. Turning like a maddened beast at bay, the idiot sprang after him, and, had it not been for our united assistance, his life would have paid the forfeit of his temerity; as it was after a most desperate straggle of several minutes our superior numbers triumphed, bat only at the expense of many • severe . bruises and scratches. Maddened and made desperate by his sister’s cries, his strength was almost superhuman. After tumbling and beating him to our satisfaction, we let him go free, and, laughing at his dire threats of speedy vengeance, chased him out of the woods. Then we cracked nuts, and laughed, and boasted over our bravery in ihe encounter until night was suddenly upon us. Hastily parting from each other with the promise to meet again at our common rendezvous the next morning for new fun and stirring exploits, each went to his home. Reaching mine, I found my father absent and supper waiting for lack of fire-wood. Living right in the midst of timber, we never had a very large supply cut at any time ; consequently, as now, we were frequently out. tiecollecting a large dead tree which had lately fallen and been badly broken up, I gathered up a basket and ran to gather up its fragments. It lay upon the river-bank, quite a number of rods from our house, and, being surrounded by thick woods, it was quite dusk there by the time I reached it. I hastily filled my basket and had arisen to go when a cracking of dry twigs and a stealthy movement in the hazel brush just ahead of me attracted my attention. I was in an abrupt bend in the river where it was joined by another tributary, both with high and precipitous banks, and the only escape for me was the way 1 came in at, and from whence the noise proceeded ! Whatever it might be, to endeavor to escape was to run right on to it, and, with the cold sweat oozing at every pore, and my limbs quaking with terror, I stood helplessly glaring into the copse before me. The country was not yet thickly settled, and wild animals were not uncommon, some of them dangerous, and this might be one now crouched to l>ound upon me. After an age of agonizing suspense, it seemed to me, I beheld a dark object crawling surely but stealthily toward me. What I could not tell until, when it was within a few feet of me, it leaped to its feet and confronted me. Horror ! Not a savage beast stood before me, but, more direful yet, the gigantic idiot, his face aflame with fury and a large knife drawn in his uplifted hand ! Escape for me he knew to be impossible, and, crouching low, panther-like, with his breath coming in liot, quick gasps, he slowly approached me as if gloating over, and desiring to prolong, my agony, toying with me as a cat does with a fated mouse.

4 4 Great heavens! what could Ido ? In a moment lie would be upon me, and I, unarmed and much his inferior in strength ! These thoughts and the one hope of escape shot through my mind like a flash of lightning. Some chance of life was better than none ; there was but one alternative ; to escape one death I must invite another. I must leap the precipice behind me ! Scarcely had the thought flashed through my brain than lie sprung at me, and, turning, I plunged off into the darkness ! I heard a veil of baffled rage close above me, felt myself going down, down—a tremendous shock, a sea of meteors blazed about me, and all was oblivion ! “When I again became conscious I found myself in bed, with my father and mother and a surgeon bending over me. I felt a dazed stupor upon me, as if a great blank had crept into my life. I endeavored to turn my body a little and speak, when a liglituing-like pain shot to my brain, and the words died upon my lips in a groan of agony. Boyay” the old man added sadly, 44 1 was what you now see me, a miserable cripple for life. In alighting in my perilous leap, I had irreparably crippled myself, and, in the long dreary weeks which followed before I could leave my bed, looking away through the long weary years thait I would have to drag through life, God knows how I wished that my life had gone with the use of my limbs. Never more could I lend the wild, free life which I had led, never more feel the proud thrill in my heart as in my conscious strength and agility 1 bounded along, the envy and admired of every one. With my wild, restless spirit, chained down as it has been for life, the agony I suffered death’s pangs could scarcely equal. But thank God,” exclaimed the old' man, fervently, as the tears streamed down his shrunken cheeks, 44 He who watches and mourns the fall of even the sparrow has not deserted me, but aided and strengthened me each hour to bear as cheerfully as might be the great cross fput upon me. “Most dire and sudden had been the idiot’s revenge, and most dearly did I pay for those few moments of lawless sport. Not less dearly did my companion, who first struck him in that hapless assault, pay for his, though I envied him at the time ! He was sent out to a woods pasture that same night after the cows, and was found the next morning stabbed through and through, cold and dead. It seems the idiot was lying hid near us when we parted, and, after following me home with the dire result to me I have related, in returning had met my comrade and slain him on the spot. ■ Most effectually was our depredations brought to an end and our band broken up, and, although much sympathy was shown for me, I could not help but feel that all thought that a great deal of my punishment was well merited.

“And, boys,” the old man continued, slowly rising to Jiis feet and replacing his tattered hab “in passing here this afternoon, and hearing your heartless gibes, the bitter thought of the penalty which I have had to pay for lawless sport commenced in just that way came upon me so strongly that, abused by you shamefully as I was, I could not refrain from coming back and giving you warning from my bitter experience. Though your cruel words brought no malice toward you iu my heart, there are few others in whose hearts they would not. Let them be ever so poor and helpless, they will most assuredly lay up a store of bitter resentment against you, and when, through some freak of fortune, you are thrown upon their mercy, with tenfold violence will they return every unkind cut, every indignity given them. Though now your servants, you know not how soon "they may become your masters, how quickly your very life may rest in their hands. It is better to have the good-will than the ill-will of the lowest, most abject creature upon God’s green footstool, yea, even of a dog at your feet. Beware !” And -he hobbled away. No taunts followed him now, as they sadly watched him wend his peaceful way out of sight; only pity and a deep-lasting seriousness chasing away every trace of levity and lawlessness from their faces. Though wild, reckless boys, the old man’s story had sunk deeply into their hearts, and, though no vows, no words were spoken, afterward they were never the same rude boys. No more jeers and insults were ever heard from their lips to the poor, the old and maimed, but ever a

kind word and a helping hand; all the fruits of the old man’s story- of “The Idiot’s Revenge.” —Chicago Ledger.