"It Will Ruin My Life!"

&Quot;Oh, my God! Don't send me back to that place. It will ruin my whole life."

These were the words of young George McGovern, who has just been taken back to the State Reformatory, so called, at Elmira, on the flimsily technical ground that he had violated the regulations in regard to a release on parole. It was charged that he had reported to the Prison Association once a month for only three months instead of six as required.

Previous to May 10, 1885, George had been rather wild and unsettled, and for an indiscretion which came under the legal definition of larceny he was committed to the Elmira Institution. At that time he was but eighteen years old.

His record while at the Reformatory was exemplary. He never broke a rule, but was ever diligent and obedient. His term of service was much shortened on account of his good behavior, and early in 1888 he was paroled.

He at once joined his father, who is a truckman in this city, and devoted himself wholly to furthering his father's interests.

He worked early and late, getting up with the first glimmering of dawn and trudging away to the stable at [...] street to cut everything in readiness for the day's work. He was the last to leave the stable at night, too, after putting all to rights about the place.

When rallied by his former companions on his changed mode of life and asked by them to join in their frolics he invariably refused, saying that he had left his frivolity and unsettled habits behind him at Elmira. Henceforth he proposed being a different man.

About 6 o'clock Tuesday afternoon Owen McGovern, who had just arrived at the stable from his day's work, noticed a strange man loitering on the opposite side of the street.

Presently the man crossed the street and entered the stable, inquiring for George, whom he wished to see "about a little matter."

George drove up shortly and was at once accosted by the stranger: "How is it that you have not reported for the last two years at the Prison Association, according to rule?"

"Why, I didn't suppose it was necessary," answered the young man, his cheek paling. "I did report for three months after leaving the Reformatory, and thought that was all that was necessary."

"Well, I'll straighten you out. You ought to have let us hear about yourself for six months instead of three. However, I'll go around there with you to-morrow and tell them it's all right. You needn't be frightened. We shan't take you back."

But George and his father were nervous. They boded no good from the stranger's visit.

On Wednesday evening the officer appeared at the home of the McGoverns, on Morton street, just around the corner from the stable, and asked to see George.

George came out. He had intended going back to the stable to finish some work.

"You are my prisoner," said the officer, at the same time slipping a pair of handcuffs on the young man's wrists. "Come along with me quietly, now, or I'll have a policeman help me take you away."

He took George to the Charles street police station, and explaining his case to the sergeant in charge, left the young man in a cell.

The father, meantime, was wild with grief. He and his wife had placed their main dependence on George. He was the pride of their lives. Their other son, John, was but seventeen, too young to be of material assistance. The distracted mother wept and wrung her hands. Neither she nor her husband closed their eyes during the night. With the first ray of light they were around at the police station to see their boy.

The Reformatory officer turned up early and the whole party went to the Yorkville Police Court, where the officer, Emmett Hildebrandt, charged the boy with violating the parole of his institution.

Justice White expressed sympathy for the prisoner and said he regretted that, according to the interpretation of the law, George must accompany Hildebrandt back to Elmira.

George pleaded that he was ignorant of the regulation requiring him to report once a month for six months after his liberation. He thought he had fulfilled every requirement by reporting to the Prison Association, on Fifteenth street, during three months.

When Justice White announced his decision the stricken father rushed away and secured a writ of habeas corpus from Judge Andrews, of the Supreme Court, but when he returned to the court-room the Elmira officer had fled with his prey.

Away went the almost crazed father to the Tombs, with a wild hope that he might find his son there, but he could not, nor could the boy be found in any of the police stations.

Unless some legal measure can be devised to make Supt. Brockway, of the Reformatory, release his prisoner, George will be doomed to a considerable term of incarceration.