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Caswell, H. S. (Harriet S.), 1834-

"The Path of Duty, and Other Stories"

What were our reflections when left alone? Your imagination
must supply an answer. But we did not entirely gave way to despondency.
We were young and robust, and our spirits were not easily subdued.
Instead of becoming disheartened our approaching fate emboldened us, and
by looks, whose expression made known our minds to each other, we
resolved to effect our escape or be slain in striving for it. Anything
was preferable to the fiery torture which awaited us. Our guard proved
just the man we wanted, for, having during the evening indulged rather
freely in drinking whiskey, he soon sank into a profound slumber. Long
and anxiously had we watched the man, and now our wishes were
consummated. I contrived with much exertion to draw my knife from my
pocket, and commenced sawing at the tough thong which confined my wrist.
My heart beat high with joy, and already we felt that we were free, when
the guard sneezed, opened his eyes, rolled them round the room, and
discovered that he had been asleep. I slipped the knife into my pocket
without his notice, and he discovered nothing to rouse his suspicions,
although he regarded us closely for a long time. He finally sat down,
lit his pipe and commenced smoking.


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