428 THE HORSE OF AMERICA. 



several different drafts were made, and sick and worried, and in 

 order to get rid of his tormentors, he signed, and the letter came 

 to me, and I published it as follows: 



"FORKS OF ELKHORN, June 12, 1883. 

 "MR. J. H. WALLACE. 



" DEAR SIR : In answer to your letter to my son, of May 21, 1883, there are 

 three points suggested. First, in regard to her produce (Maria Russell's). I 

 have no recollection any further. I have no data from which I could find out 

 concerning them. Second. I have no remembrance of her death nor the man- 

 ner of it. Now, in regard to the statement I made to Mr. John K. Stringfield. 

 I think he has made it too strong, for I told him my statement was from mem- 

 ory only, and that I could not nor would not swear to it. Since that time I 

 have had sufficient proof to overbalance my memory, and circumstances called 

 to mind that have convinced me I was in error. I simply stated what I 

 believed to be true at that time. I have no interest in the matter whatever 

 only want to be understood. I trust that you will oblige me by publishing the 

 above letter. Yours truly, 



"L. HOLTON." 



It must have been a most pitiful sight to see six or eight able- 

 bodied men, headed by the stalwart Brodhead, acting as chief 

 inquisitor, circling round the reclining form of a poor old invalid, 

 trying to convince him that he had no memory and that he was 

 a liar, prodding him with questions about horses that he never 

 had heard of, and when he failed to tell them, torturing him with 

 remarks that if he couldn't answer that question how could he 

 know so well about Maria Russell? But with all their tortures 

 they couldn't force him to say his father did not own Maria Eussell 

 all her life and that she did not die with two good eyes. It was 

 simply a little Spanish Inquisition on the waters of the Elkhorn 

 from which came the cry, ' 'Recant, Recant," dinged into the 

 ears of the helpless paralytic. Still, helpless as he was against 

 so many, he obeyed his conscience and maintained his integrity, 

 notwithstanding all tho satanic arts of Torquemada. When all 

 else had failed the war-cry was shouted in his ear: "New York is 

 trying to destroy the breeding interests of Kentucky, and all true 

 Kentuckians must stand by each other or we all go under." 

 The old man brightened up and said: "I'm a Kentuckian, but 

 you mustn't try to make me a self-convicted liar." The piece of 

 patchwork given above, in the shape of a letter, was then 

 shaped up by his tormentors, for the old man was not able to 

 write a line, and dispatched to the office of Wallace's Monthly, 

 where it was printed just as it was received. Each one of the 



