OCR Interpretation


New York dispatch. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1863-1899, January 27, 1867, Image 1

Image and text provided by Library of Congress, Washington, DC

Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn85026214/1867-01-27/ed-1/seq-1/

What is OCR?


Thumbnail for

1 th /
VI dr iriTl 5 - I1 l< SMWHWt 'a I HOlzM l u I b
j I lIIJI ■ > I-lIV, Itiw ftOOPB il InHUi I t
JU, \j Az Ik IBBBL wife ‘ -
VOLUME XXII.
T he New York Dispatch,
PUBLISHED
ETERI SATIRDAY HORSING
/‘ATNo. II FRANKFORT STREET,
A FEW DOOBS BELOW TAMMANY HALL.
SUBSCRIPTION PRICE, $5 00 A YEAR.
A SECOND EDITION, containing the latest news
Irotfl all quarters, published on Sunday morning.
W The NEW YORK DISPATCH I isiraid by' att News
Agents in the City and Suburbs at PEN CENTS PER
COPY. All Mail Subscriptions must be paia in advance.
‘Canada Subscribers must send 25 cents extra, to prepay
American postage. Bills of alt specie-paying banks taken
tetpar.
TERMS OF ADVERTISING.
Hereafter, the terms of Advertising in the Dispatch
will be as follows:
WALKS ABOUT TOWN 30 cents per line.
BUSINESS WORLD 20 “ ’* “
SPECIAL NOTICES 18 " " *’
REGULAR ADVERTISEMENTS..IS “ “ “
Under the heading of “ Walks About Town” and “Bus
iness World” the same prices will be charged for each in
sertion. For Regular Advertisements and “Special
Notices,” two-thirds of the above priceswill be charged
for the eeeond insertion. Regular advertisements will be
taken by the quarter at the rate of one dollar a line.
Special Notices by the quarter will be charged at the rate
of one dollar and twenty-five cents per line. Cuts and
farcy display will be charged extra.
aiul
Osric.—“ A friend and myself hav
lug had a discussion with regard to ‘ My Policy,’ we have
concluded to leave the decision to you. If Congress
should impeach Johnson, and should he call upon the
army and navy to support him, would such an act be
constitutional? My friend contends that Johnson, as
commander-in-chief of the army and navy, has a perfect
right to order them as he pleases; while I contend that
he has not the right. My friend also contends that Grant
will support him with his services; and that, even sup
posing he should not wish to do so, he will be obliged to
obey -Johnson as a superior officer. He also contends
that Johnson will view Congress as rebels, and that he
will be able to try them for treason against the Chief
Magistrate.” Should Congress impeach President John
son, -and find him guilty of the charges preferred
♦gainst him, it has power to remove him from office and
40'diequalify him from holding any office thereafter. Any
•attempt of President Johnson to resist the action of Con
gress by force would be clearly unconstitutional, and it is
the supremoßt nonsense to imagine that General Grant
and the army would undertake to sustain the President
in any attempt to revolutionize the government. Did
•Congress see proper, they could disband the army to
-morrow, and the President has no power, under the
‘Constitution, to call out a military force without the
authorization of Congress. The President is commander-
In-ohief of the army and navy of the United States, and
■of the militia of the several States when called into
service by Congress ; but Congress is the reaj
power which creates and disbands armies, and provides
funds for their payment. Not a dollar can be expended
by the President without authorization from Congress.
The opinion of your friend, that Johnson would have a
• constitutional right to regard the members of Congress
*s rebels, is simply ridiculous. The Constitution distinctly
gives the House of Representatives power to impeach
the President, and the Senate, the Chief Justice pre’
tiding, the power of trying the case. If two-thirds of the
Senators present concur in a conviction, what then
becomes of Johnson’s power or right, under the Consti
tution, to command armies ? He can be stripped of all
power, and, if the act for which he was impeached wa®
criminal, he may be indicted, tried and punished in a
court of common law, the same as any other individual.
"Osric’fl” friend will find just such a republic as he
appears to think this in Russia or France. In his opin
ion, the President is not the chief executive, but a desC
pot, uncontrolled add untrameled.
Abbie F. B.— “ Would you advise a
young oouple to keep house, and would it be cheaper
than paying sl6 for board every week? We would like a
cottage in the country, and, as now is the time to think
©f hiring a house, could you give us an estimate of what
It would cost ? We are sick and tired of boarding. I
could lessen my expenses by taking a few boarders. And
also tell me, if a furnished house, at a moderate rent,
would be cheaper than hiring a house and buying the
furniture for it? I have been a reader of the Dispatch
for years, and do not want you to answer at random, but
look into it, and give me full particulars with regard to
keeping house.” We would advise you by all means to go
t o housekeeping. We can understand why unmarried
persons board, but never could comprehend why married
people would content themselves with existing as board
ers. We think it possible for a couple to keep house on
Jess than sl6 per week, but the style of living would not
be as pretentious as that of the boarding house, although
infinitely more comfortable. A cottage in the extreme
suburbs of Brooklyn, say East New York, could be leased
■at from $250 to S3OO a year. A furnished house, at a
moderate rent, is something we never heard of. Abbie
will find it much the cheapest to buy her own furniture.
The rent paid for a furnished house—over and above the
Tent of the house itself—would in two years purchase
furniture sufficient for the whole -house. We hope we
have replied to Abbie’s satisfaction.
Pierre.— The accounts of those who
have returned from Brazil are not flattering as to the
prospect for American emigrants. However, we think
there is little danger of a mechanic who i goes to that
■country with the determination to succeed, failing in the
attempt. Undoubtedly, a stranger in Brazil will see
hard times at first, but temperance, industry, enterprise
and an unwavering faith in final triumph over all obsta
cles, must, in the end, lead to success. If "Pierre” does
not possess these qualities, he had-better remain where
he is.
Subscriber.— “A bets B that Lady
Jane Grey signed her own death warrant; this being dis.
iputed, all parties agree to be satisfied with your decis
ion.” Queen Mary signed the death warrant of Lad y
Jane Grey. The signature of Lady Jane Grey would
have had little effect, as she was confined in the Tower
for a short time previous to her execution.. It was evi
dently not the intention of Queen Mary io punish th©
unfortunate Lady Jane with death .when she first im'
prisoned her; but Wyat’s her fate.
Orctf. — Ist. A person, convicted of
keeping a “ faro ” b&mk the law says •"•shall be sentenced
to not less than ten days hard labor in the Penitentiary
or not more than two years hard labor, Jin the State
Prison, and be fined in any sum not more than
2d, It makes no difference whether the Jxeper of the
gambling-house does or does not play, the penalties are
the same in either case. 3d. It is one of th», mysteries of
©ur judicial system which we are unable tc fathom, that
persons arrested fur keeping “faro” barks, are npvc
. brought to trial.
T. M. K.—“ Have the kindness to
-decide the following bet through your valuable paper: A.
< bets B. that he has got a horse which can t-rot in the
•twenties. His horse trots in Does he run ?” A
.wins. In betting fractional numbers are included with
the numbers which precede them, not with those which
.-ahoy precede.
11. J. Tl<—“ Will you please inform
/•.member of the Thirteenth Now York Cavalry, who en-
for three years or the war, but was discharged .after
a service of two years and two months, how much bounty
he is entitled to?” If "H. J. W.” received no more
hountj than SIOO heretofore, and was discharged in cou
«Bequence of the war being at an end, he is entitled te
#IOO additional bounty.
iTuesday.—“ Will you unform a cou
i: slant reader of your valuable paper, is the author,of
1 the poem commencing, •‘There was asound of revelry by
slight,’ .descriptive of a ball give,n by the Duchess of
Brunswick, at Brussels, the night previous to the battle
of Waterloo?” Lord Byron was the author. The ‘poem
in which the line occurs is entitled "Waterloo.”
Cribbage.— “ Will you please in
form me how many two fours, Ijro fives and two sixes
will count in cribbage ? There is j bet pending on you r :
decision.” No such hand can be held in cribbdtge, as the i
one described; but the hand, counted by the rules <f ,
cribbage, gives a total of forty-six; Fifteens, 16; Se- i
quonces, 24; Pairs. 6.
C. AL— lt is impossible for its to
©omply with your request. We do not give manuscripts
to any but the persons who left them with or sent them
to us, or their authorized agents. Correspondents
to us in good faith, and wo cannot do otherwise tbs».
show ourselves worthy of their confidence.
I J. Ji.— The thermometer has not
ranged below zero this season. Saturday morning, Jan
19ttL. it marked six degrees above zero, the lowest figure
winds the thermometer has shown thia season.
1 L. Al.— Mauve is a color, in the
conoral acceptation of the word, although not one of the
cardinal colors. It is not blue, nor anything like it. Tho
•hade is nearer a gray tfian a blue.
Sam Weller. — The article headed
Dof-e Beer Icipxicate?” appeared in the Dis- |
of July 15th, { q {he “Gossip Department,” j
PBMffl BY A. J. WBIAMffI.
A. B.— Can any of our readers in
form us as to what is the post-office address of Wn.
Beach Laurence, formerly U. S. Consul at London, Eng
land?
GIFT IWOTtWEIINS.
One Dollar Enterprises -Their Trne
Character-How the Swindling is Done—
The Men and the Places—The Duties of a
Steercr, Finger-Post, and Roper-In—The
Profits—The Somber Engaged in the Busi
ness—The Capital for such Business and
Rents. j'
Of all the swindles in this city, the One Dollar Gift
Enterprise seems to bo about the most barefaced that
has an apparent license. The Mayor knows that such
places are gambling saloons—he knowL that from the
frequent complaints that are brought before him; the
Commissioners of Police, the Police, the Captains of
Police of the various Precincts, in fact, every one in
authority, knows of the existence of the sixty frauds
that infest our s reets, that have before their doors
walking auton.at )us sticking posters in the hands of
passers-by, yet they still exist.
Like the lottery offices, these institutions are li
censed, and they receive a permit from the Internal
Revenue officer to follow their calling; but in this
they differ from lottery and policy playing—there is
never a chance to win. Who ever heard of a man in
a one dollar gift jewelry establishment, playing at
their loaded dice, their envelopes, or three-card
monte, winning? Never.
AN EXPOSE.
these gift enterprises, on Broadway, the Bowery*
Chatham, South, West, Courtlandt, and other streets,
can easily be discerned by the cosmopolitan; but, to
the stranger, they seem legitimate concerns, while
they are only licensed Peter Funks resuscitated, car
rying with them in their show-cases, a patent air of
houesty. A’ery dangerous institutions they are. In
appearance, outside, ostensibly hondst; inside, full of
villainy. Let ua suppose for a moment that a visitor
from the Celestial Kingdom, should come and return
to the CclesVals with the following report:
" I was passing through Chatham street, one day,
when an uncivilized fellow, who stood at the head of a
basement, seized me by the arm, thrust a programme
or bill in my hand, then another fellow coaxed me to
go down below, to this underground den. There was
a lot of sparkling jewelry below, and they said I
could have my choice for a dollar. I got my choice,
and what I thought a nice set of gold buttons,
turned out to be worth not a sou. Then they
took me into a back room, and coaxed me to throw
dice for a gold watch till I lost all I had, when I was
told I might go. I met an officer on the steps as I
came up and asked if he didn't think I had been
cheated. He said he supposed I had, (but what do
you think he said) Suppose you had won, you wouldn’t
ha\e made a complaint. Of couree I said no, but I
said it was a burning game, and I asked if the Mayor
would not close the place up if I complained of it
* Lor bless you said this fellow with the buttons up
all in front of him like a mandarin, why they are
licensed, it was no good.’ ”
Suppose such a report should be published out
side of this city, many would think it an exaggeration,
yet it is a fact.
A CASE IN POINT.
A youngster, a minor went into the gift enterprise
next door to Matt Gooderson’s old place on Printing
House Square, facing the Mayors office, and had lost
sls. The mother couldn’t see her son’s wages
squandered in that manner, and on Friday last she
went down to this dollar concern and demanded
back the lost money. The bill man at the door didn’t
know her, the man inside did not know her, a
crowd collected, and the man of straw called;an officer
to remove the insane woman from his place and dis
perse the crowd. Woman left the store. She asked
officer if she couldn’t make the swindlers refund the
money stolen from her boy. No, was the reply.
Couldn’t she go before the Mayor and have the place
closed so that others might not be swindled; no was
the reply, they had a license, and if her boy had won
instead of having lost, no complaint would have been
made. It was no use to go before the Mayor. This
ia a personal fact, the other is a supposition; but
wherein is the difference ?
THE BILL DELIVERER
stands at the landing of these basements, like Owens’
"Live Indian,” with outstretched hand, proferring a
bill to every apparent greenhorn passing by. If tho
bill bait takes, another clownish looking fellow, who
has been looking on, smoking a pipe, knocks the
ashes out of it, and comes up and also takes a pro
gramme while the finger-post is talking to the victim.
" An’ it’s an auction yese going to have ?” asks the
man of the pipe outside, wjfch great Emerald gxeen
ness.
" of course it is I” replies the flnger-mjst
"An does yese say we can get a gold ring or a silver
watch for our choice for a dollar? Be gorra, count
me In. Come and let us try our luck;” and as the
man of the pipe says this, he takes hold of the willing
victim, and partiaßy drags him down Btairs.
BELOW.
!r The appearance of the basement has nothing very
extraordinary about it. The stranger, on entering,
sees a counter, on which there is a glass case, and
under it a lot of jewelry, glittering with gilt, but
nothing solid. The highest priced article given for
your choice i« worth about forty cents'. The man
who stands behind the counter, as soon as he sees
the two enter, says:
" Gentlemen, any article you see here, you can
have for a dollar, and a prize beside.”
The roper-in and the greenhorn are both tempted
to invest a dollar, and they "gets their money’s
worth.” The next move is to go Into ite back room
to draw for the present. Here tho genuine swindle
begins. The back room has got a show-case filled
with gold and silver watches, silver-plated pitchers
and other articles of jewelry, costing from twenty to
fifty dollars apiece, while there are-other articles that
are not worth six cents. The prizes are drawn, and
the roper-in gets a prize worth forty or fifty dollars.
Mr. Greeny tries next, and gets a highly-burnished
brass locket, that probably cost fifteen or some
other article of the same value.
Tho dice, or the "broads ” are brought out, or the
envelope is-proposed according tw the temperament
of the victim. The man that 13 to beaeen smoking a
pipe outside of these establishments and who sud
denly ijoeketis it at the appearance -of a -victim ia al
ways a judge of human nature. The man who thinks
’ himself an adept at cards, jumps at three card monte,
{ ;-md is«©<m cleaned out, tho man ignorant of cards
.can throw the dice, if he won’t thro w the loaded dice,
.or be swindled by the legerdemain, of changing the
; cards in three card monto, he is tecnpled. to try the
iuno<wut<u;vc>iopa gutno. If tho victteci 4-la.ysi th/»ee
t.ard monte or throws the dice, he i« usu&Uy cleaned
mrt inside of half an hour, as after tach throw of the
dice or turn of the card tho stakes become higher;
b»it if the victim prefers the envelops, the swindling
l>aoasf*B is longer. Greeny gets an invitation to in
vefitA dollar in the envelope, business; after he has
given Iris tinri, he draws some apparently- valuable,
but in readily worthless article. He invests again
atd gets a trifle. His blood ia warmed up and they
show him an envelope with a certain number, which
they .<iay draws a thousand dollars. Victim .sees as
he sujrposes—but over the left—the envelope ( >put in
the pile, and is tempted to invest all he has., fifty or
a hundred dollars, knowing that he cannot help
drawing the prized envelope. The tempter .has, in
above the others. But-apart as be Is he does not see
tfeat in transferring the marked envelope to its place,
another envelope, with slight of hand is slid into tjie
fojd. £he victim draws the envelope which he has
kef ♦ his eye on, when 10, it ia a blank.
' TAKING THE. VICTIM OUT.
. Th’jre is fhe rub. Tread oa some men’s toes apd
they, won’t take an apology; pick a man’s pocket And
if hfti’ees yon, it takes considerable ingenuity and
talk t< mt(ke him believe that you are the “ wictim
of else lunjßtftnces.” The thief and the confidence
man th'\t can get rid of £ dupe with the ease of Beard
Brumell, *hook his paying boon companions off
with a s pativnizlng, graceful air of dignity, when
, they could n v longer treat him, Je .master of his bush
' Mess. The shaking off a victim, is the really only
; science in villainy. How it is dor e iu the Dollar
I Gift Prize places Is this: The man who stands with
I fh,3 sham rceerwhaum pipe in his check ov®r the baeo
i me§t. entrance of the establishment, until a victim
; looms up, takes hold of the victim by the arm and asks
I him out to have a drink, sympathizing strongly with
the «ictiQi on his loss, while carrying ouJ a silver
! pitcher in his hand quite jolly at.his own success. If
I the .victim kicks against the swindle, the msuey is
generally psid back to save trouble, but with what
j is called a first-class stall-—who gets $4 a day, there
j is .seldom or ever trouble. After the drink has been
; taken at Jlhe. expense of the lucky winner—othenvise
, the confederate of pipe smoking notoriety—who can
■ be seen.any day in front of tho places in C-?athasn
street, the.adieu is given,
STEERSMEN.
There is >.dass of loungers around our hotels who
follow the occupation of what is called •" Steersmen.”
These men hang around the reading-room, and bar
rooms of hotels and piek up confidential country
men, induce them to take# walk around the city, and
finally coax them to enter a gift enterprize establish
ment. The profit of these Steersmen is twenty-five
on the dollar. These scamps seldom allow
their new-made acquaintances to be fleeced out of
over a hundred dollars, except in very special cases.
Thd Steersman is satisfied to find his customer beat
out that, and over a glass at the hotel, he finds
that h£ takes his loss like a philosopher; but he the
next da/ introduces his victim to a ball-player who
steers nifij over to Hoboken and there the black
leg fleecerf him out of all he poaseses. Thus
it is that sc* many men whose names are not to
be found in the directory now, or when the draft was
anticipated, can h® seen leading the life of gentlemen
at the entrances to hotels, picking their teeth, and
tippling in the bar-rooms, without j>n ostensible
means Of making a lirfog.
NEW FORK, SUNDAY, JANUARY 27, 1867.
THE PRINCIPAL GIFT CONCERNS.
It would only be flattering the small gift concern®
to give their names among the leaders or these gigan
tic swindles, therefore we only give a lew of the
chief men in the business.
No. 109 West street is kept by a man so rich that he
says—so say the police—he can buck against the
whole police force. If he were arrested, before he
was tried, if ever an indictment was found, he would
have the indictment put under a hydraulic press and
there would be nothing seen of it when you come to
look for it. This place in West street is a half-and
half gift concern, and partakes more of a gambling
establishment than a gift enterprise. It is the prin
cipal support of all the ropers in around the Jersey
Ferry. , x ,
In Courtlandt street there are two places kept by a
man named Piser. Three-card monte, the dice and
the envelope game are played there.
Under the Howard Hotel and right opposite are
kept by* - a man named Harriso^. v Nothing but the en
velope dodge is carried on there—so say the police.
Tho police hold him in high esteem; even the very
men that get stuck on the envelope have been known
tp the ropers in to go out and have a drink with
them, tfhere is nothing like behaving like a gentle
man to a man after you have robbed him. The way
some thieves now go it, ere long there will be a Vigi
lance Committee. These men will tell you we can
stab, steal, do what we please, but we can always get
out on bail, and then where’s the prosecution ?
No. 9 Chatham st., kept by a man nampdßaker,is the
harmless institution where a youngster lost sls, and
when the mother, next day, tried to reclaim it, a po
liceman told her it was no use, the man was licensed,
and her son, if he had won, never would have said a
word about it.
No. 29 Chatham street is kept by one Eugene Val
entine. He has another place of the same kind in
Broadway, where the envelope, dice and three-card
monte are dabbled in more or less according to cir
cumstances
No. 46 Chatham street, close by Leggett’s Hotel, is
a joint stock operation, in which Jews and Gentil.»s
are interested. Any one who should stand at Leg
gett’s door for ten minutes, when all hands are not
down stairs fleecing a victim, would find the players
borrowing the solitary pipe from each other. If the
celebrated novelist, James, had ever seen a gift en
terprise establishment, his novels would have started
differently. Instead of talking of a solitary horse
man, he would have written a solitaire roper-in, with
short meerschaum in mouth, thrusting his head
through the drifting sleet, seeking in vain for a lonely
traveler, into whose hands he could thrust a bill of
fare, and know the cost of seeing the elephant.
On the corner of Roosevelt and Chatham streets
there is a similar establishment kept by a men named
jew Hickey. Tho envelope game is played here.
No. §3 Chatham street is owned by McCabe & Co.,
who have another establishment on Broadway, where
the "broads” and the dice are throw, uhtiljthe victim
is so cleaned out that they would leave him without
his boots. Did the law allow it, after Chinese fash
ion, they would permit a customer to gamble for his
heatd. f
Near HoWard street, ou Broadway, Russell & Co.
keep a similar concern.
There are many other establishments of similar
character in the basements on Broadway, now taking
the place of concert saloons. Rascality, it seems,
must find some way to thrive.
In Chatham street, three clothing stores adjoining
each other have gift enterprises, which you enter
through the store. A man is Induced to go inside to
look at a coat; they manage, if possible? by exciting
his curiosity, to get him to go into the gift depart
ment', where, ten to one, he is cheated of all he ha-s in
pocket. The same establishments swarm down on
the river-side, to catch the eye of the paid-off sailor.
Opposite piers Nos. 36 and 39, North River, there are
two. On South street, affairs are no better.
THE CAPITAL
invested varies from SSOO to about ’52,000, and the
rents paid vary in the same proportion. The lowest
rent paid for a basement is $75 dollars a month; the
highest about $l5O a month. As all is profit that is
taken in, or nearly, it is a rich placer that draws in
S2O a day. Throe victims a week can support any
ordinary establishment.
The capital invested is, say about SSOO, by the re
sponsible proprietor of the place, who undertakes all
risks, arrests ana abuse, pays the rent, and hires the
ropers-in. If he gets on an average three customers
al week that can be fleeced to the tune of S3O, he has
for himself about $-10; but they are poor workers in
deed for an establishment that, in a city like this,
cannot take in more than three men. All this the
police know; and they also know that when the bill
distributor is away from the door, there is a victim
below, and that the game is in full blast; yet nothing
is done by the authorities to break up the swindle,
with all this knowledge staring them in the face.
BLOOBY MIDNIGHT TRAGEDY.
Brutal Murder near Valparaiso, Ind.—A
Fiend Kills His Wife and Mother-In-Law,
and Attempts the Life of a Young Girl—
He Sets Fire to the House and Flies from
the Scene—Full Details of the Horrible
Affair.
A fearful tragedy, rivaling in ks details the terri
ble massacre of the Deering family at Philadelphia,
during the past year, was enacted at midnight, be
tween Tuesday and Wednesday, the 15th and 16th,
says the Chicago Times, The scene ■of the horrjble
affair was oh the line of the Pittsburgh, Fort Wayne
and Chicago Railroad, in Union township, Porter
counry, Ind., about four miles north of the village of
Valparaiso, and 36 miles south of Chicago. The
murderer is named Chauncy F. Page, a young man
of hitherto good standing and considerable means;
the victims are his wife, her mother, and a young
lady named Miss Ludolph. The two former were
not only instantly killed, but their bodies were par
tially consumed in the burning dwelling set on fire
to cover the fiendish deed; the latter is fearfully mu
tilated and not expected to recover. The contempla
tion of murder in any of its phases is revolting, but
the feeling of dismay and. terror is heightened ten
fold when the tragedy is the result of family differ
ences and infelicities, and involves in its tragic re
sults the lives of the wife -and mother of the perpe
trator. Powerful indeed must have been the incen
tive and potent the determination which leads the
. intelligent mind to the commission of a deed of cru
elty and barbarity like the one tinder consideration.
A man in the prime of life, with an unclouded fu
ture before him, blessed with a competency of wealth,
and reveling in the health and strength of maturity,
ruthlessly imbrues and ensanguines his hands in the
blood of his wife, her mother and innocent little
girl, and then, gloating over his fiendish act, applies
the incendiary’s torch to the family habitation, hop
ing thereby to conceal the evidence? of his crime,
and efface from all minds the remotest Suspicion of
his guilt. This is a phase of crime which shocks the
sensibilities of the most blunted and perverse, and
excites a thrill of horror and dismay in every breast
at the crime, tvu<i »ut>
perpetrator. Such was the deed which was enacted
Tuesday night. A husband, hitherto respected and
esteemed, whoso domestic infelicities had occasioned
a separation from his wife, acting upon tho impulses
of an unrestrained imagination, wrought up to a par
oxysmal intensity by the sense of family troubles,
took the life of his wife and her mother, amt then
fired the house where they resided, leaving nothing
to indicate, as we supposed, his connection with the
crime. Providence, however, determined otherwise,
and, through its friendly interposition, one of the
victims survives to relate in detail bis crime, and
expose its enormity and cruelty to those who will not
relax their effort) until his apprehension and execu
tion expiate the offense against the law and hu
manity.
THE SCENE OF THE MURDER.
About four miles from Valparaiso, on what is known
as the "Chicago road,’’ has stood for 10 years a low
yrame farm-house, occupied by Benj. Long and his
wife Emma. The house was situated about forty rods
from the Pittisburg and Fort Wayne railroad, and
.atout ten ro4s from the turnpike in. Unio- township.
• The country around is exceedingly hilly, and on the
verge of a deep ravine, surrounded by stunted under
growth, stood the house. Standing ca the spot the
scene is beautiful. Coursing along -slowly at yqur
feet in Salt creek, a sinuous stream, which loses itself
in the forest far beyond. North of you is a dense for
est reaching to the limit of vision, while away to the
south is a level plateau extending to the town of
Valparaiso. On the east is a hill about fifty feet in
height, through whose centre a passage has been cut
,for. the railroad. Op the western slope of .this hill
•stood the domicile within whose walls was enacted
the murder. The house itself was, like most farm
houses, constructed with a view to the comfort and
convenience of the occupants, and consisted of tyro
rooms, a bed-room and kitchen. The surroundings
of the house are in a high state of cultivation, the
result of sears of patient labor, In the kitchen the
murder was perpetrated.
THE DEAD.
During the evening, Page, the murderer, visited
Valparaiso on horseback. The last that was seen of
him was between 1<? and 11 o’clock at tho Gould house,
in that village. Here he left iris horse, also his scarf,
saying he would return in a short time, and started
away on foot;- He reached his residence about mid
night. The inmates had all retired. The dwelling is
a large farm-house, the nearest avrelling being about
twenty rods distant. Stealthily lie entered by the
back door, and silently approached the room occupied
by his wife and her mother, Mrs. Long. Both were
evidently sound asleep, as the first sound heard by
Miss Ludolph, who occupied a room up stairs, was
tiie firing of shots with a revolver, fired rapidly in
succession. Both were shot through the body, in
the .region of the heart, and instantly killed. Not a
ghtitrf or groan was heard to escape, but a terrible
silence succeeded the reports of the revolver. Miss
LudtflXb hearing the shots, and ignorant of the
cause ch£roof, hastily threw a wrapper over her per
son ant! descended the stairs. The moment Paje
etpiei hef, &e fired again and again, each ball taking'
eiifict in her' person. Not satisfied with this, and
fearful that life was not extinct, after she had fallen
to tle floor, he frantically seized a chair and bela
bcre-l her bcsy, unL.l like in death she lay insensibly
cn the d?\d ci davilieh oremedi-
fearless anil srttjtniJtirL
tation. The fearful tragedy was committed, and he
Was too cowardly to face the consequence. To hide
•11 traces of the terrible affair, he set fire to the
building, and fled from the scene.
The heat of the burning building brought Miss Lu
dolph partly to her senses, and on hands and knees
she succeeded in effecting her escape from a terrible
death in the flames. The conflagration attracted the
atteneion of the neighbors, and from all parts men
were soon hurrying to the scene of the tragedy. From
the incoherent statements of the wounded girl, the
neighbors at least received an inkling of the terrible
truth, and at the risk of their own lives they suc
ceeded in recovering the charred and crisped bodies
of the unfortunate women. Although an effort was
made to save the building, It proved futile, and only
a mass of ashes now remain on the site where the
fearful scene was transacted.
After the first feeling of horror had someyrhat sub
sided, men hurried in every direction to give the
alarm, and, if possible, effect the capture of the mui’-
PERSONNEL OF THE MURDERER.
C. F. Page, the demon who committed this fearfu 1
act, is a man of about twenty-eight years of age. He
is of light complexion, and about five feet ten or
Inches in hight. He is a jeweler by trsde, and a
short period before he perpetrated the fiendish crime
—to avoid the consequences of which fee UQW flies
from the avenging sword of justice—worked at his
trade in the village of Valparaiso. For the past twelve
or fifteen months, however, he has led the life of an
itinerant peddler, who hawks his wares about the
country, from door to door. By habits either of in
dustry and application, or of pinching penuriousness,
he had succeeded in amassing considerable of this
world’s goods, and was accounted among his acquaint
ances as a man possessed of a competence, if not en
dowed with absolute wealth.
METHOD IN MADNESS.
At 8 o’clock in the evening, four hours before the
commission of the crime, Page called at the room ot
the most prominent photographic artists in the vil
lage of Valparaiso, and inquired of the proprietor of
the establishment as to whether ho had any photo
graphs or negativei of him in his possession. At that
hour of the night the artist did not feel inclined to look
for either one or the other any great length of time,
and he informed Mr. Page that he had not either of
the articles desired in his possession. But, on the
following morning, after the sad news hid been re
ceived, and when wails of lamentation were mingled
with shrieks for vengeance, the operator instituted a
minute search, and found that he had a negative at his
rooms, from which pictures have bean taken, and
have since been sent to the Superintendent of Police
of this city, and also to the different detective agen
cies.
DOMESTIC DIFFICULT7ES.
It doe» not seem possible that a monster capable
committing such an atrocious crime should have
ever succeeded in captivating the affections of a being
of the opposite sex, and of leading her to the hy
meneal altar. Such, however, was the case. Four
years ago, C. F. Page was married, and a short time
after the honeymoon had waned, he left the bride of
his bosom, and went to seek his fortunes on the Pa
cific coast in the El Dorado of the New World. Some
time since he came back, and from that period his
acquaintances had noticed that there were domestic
difficulties existing between himself and the woman
whom he had sworn to love, cherish and protect.
The wife in a short time applied for a divorce, and
the suit would have been determined during the
present month,
CAUSE OF THE CRIME.
The immediate cause which led to the commission
of tne tragic deed which has cast a pall over the com
munity where it occurred, is not definitely known.
It is supposed, however, that it was induced by cer
tain allegations in the bill filed for divorce. The un
happy victim of devilish malignancy, could she speak
from the bloody shroud in which she is now en
wrapped, might well exclaim:
“ Oh! may my fate
Give warning to our easy sex’s ears,
And strike them deaf to man’s dissimulated love.”
EXCITEMENT AMONG THE CITIZENS.
The excitement in Porter county, as can well "be
imagined, is intensely fearful. If the fugitive should
be captured at all within the reach of this infuriated
populace, Judge Lynch would instantly be enthroned
by acclamation.
Before her marriage, which took place about four
years since, at seventeen years of age, lira. Page was
considered, the most beautiful girl in the county, and
was the acknowledged, belle of that section. Since
her marriage she has ever maintained the mott amia
ble and pleasant relations with her neighbors, and
was admired and esteemed by all who knew her.
Her parents were also highly esteemed, and Mr.
Long is one of the most respected, oldest au.d wealth
| iest citizens of that section.
LATER.
Since the above was written, Chauncey F. Page
has delivered himself into the custody of the police
authorities of Chicago.
I A LAWmIyROIIBLE.
; An Interesting Criminal Record-Calvin M.
Northrup, a New York Lawyer, Convicted
of an Attempt at Wife Poisoning.
A criminal ease of some interest has just been tried
in Westchester county, the villian in which is Calvin
M. Northrup, a lawyer of New York city who figured
in the courts some years ago in a divorca suit with his
f ormer wile, now deceased (a Miss Vedder), whose
family Jreslde in Schenectady, this State. Prior to the
death of Miss Vedder, Northrup became counsel in a
divorce suit for a woman named Humphreys, against
her husband, which he succeeded in obtaining, and
then brought his client to live with his family. Th e
intimacy between client and counsel became so ap
parent, that Mrt. Northrup became disgusted, and
made her parents acquainted with the facts, who in.
stituted proceedings in the Supreme Court of this
State against Northrup, on the ground of adultery.
Pending the suit, the wife died, and Northrup, within
a few months after her death, made the acquaintance
of Miss Eliza Vlilte, and by professions of religious
education and sincere attachment, won the heart and.
hand of the victim of his cruelty. A brief narrative
of the evidence, as developed on the trial last week,
at. Bodford, Weschester county, before Hon Judge
Gilbert, is as follows :
Northrup married Miss White in the month of July,
.1864, something less than five months after the decease
of his first wife, and proceeded on their wedding tour
to Saratoga, where he introduced Miss Humphreys to
his wife as a young iady of great respectability and
possessed of a large fortune, and for whom ne was
transacting large law buai»x*«*»» His wife received
YTiao a f-i-nd* and invited her to call
on Ker at New York, where they lived together at va
rious places—at tho Bancroft House, Fifty-fourth
street and Twenty-fourth street, when Mrs. Northrup
discovered an intimacy between her husband and Miss
Humphreys, which caused her to separate from him
and reside with her parents in Brooklyn. Northrup
on this separation-became penitent and requested his
wife to raturn, and promised that he would purchase
a house for her in Morrisania for $1,509. Both took
possession of the house in April, 1565, when Mrs.
; Northrup was delivered of a child. After the birth of
; the child, Northrup brought Bourbon whisky to the
j house, and endeavored to make his wife drink it.
I She tlrank at his request twice, and found that the
■ whisky did not agree with her, and refused to drink
any more. Six days after her confinement, he urged
; her to drink half a tumbler of what he called " Plan
i tation Ritters she drank about half the quantity
j urged on her, when she suffered severe pains.
j About two weeks after, when Mrs. Northrup had re
l covered strength, she was invited by her husband to
1 go down stairs to breakfast. She did so, and found a
cuj) of coffee poured out for her, which he informed,
her wae prepared by himself. She drank the coffee,
; and returned to her room, when she was seized with
I the same feelings as when she drank the Plantation
I Biiters, but much more intense, and she fell into a
: profound stupor, which quite exhausted her, and in
’ , the presence of her servant suffered intense agony.
; Northrup, after administering the coffee, went to
New York, and returned earlier in the evening than
usual, admiuisterefl a powerful dose of morphine,
which relieved her considerable Two weeks further
on, the girl, Susan O’Hara, by the direction of North
rup, took to Mrs. Northrup a bowl of tea, which she
drank, and shortly after fell into a stupor, which did
not pass off for five hours, when she called for a doc
tor, but Northrup refused to go for one. The doctor
called about noon, next day, and found the patient
suffering under all the symptoms of poison. He told
his patient that she was suffering from the effects of
belladonna. Northrup shortly after presented his
victim with another cup of coffee, which she did not
■ drink, but preserved for Dr. Horton, who gave it to
. his dog, which, after drinking it, presented all the
symptoms of having been poisoned. Mrs. Northrup
then procured a key which opened the trunk of her
would-be murderer, and there found a vial half full of
a liquid. The vial was taken to the doctor,' who pro
nounced It to be tincture of ballad nna. The doctor
removed the contents of the vial into a vial of his
own, and replaced it in the trunk of Northrup. A few
mornings after Mrs. Northrup entered her kitchen,
when she saw her husband emptying the contents of
a bottle into a cup of coffee filled out for her, and he
’ then went to New York. Mrs. Northrup gave the
coffee to her dog, which was afterward seized with the
same symptoms as the doctor’s dog. In July after
Mrs. Northrup rejoined her stepfather, John Taylor,
a well-known member of the Methodist church of
Brooklyn. Mr, Taylor put the matter in the hands of
Chauncey Schaffer who consulted Dr. Joseph Heine,
on tho effects of belladonna, and then put the matter
in tho hands of District Attorney McClellan, of West
chester county, who indicted Northrup for an attempt
at poisoning. The case has excited more interest m
Weshchester counly than any case within the mem
ory of the oldest citizen. The court house and court
vard were crowded during the progress of the trial,
p'/ofessors Doremus and Budd, Dr. Horton and
other eminent physicians were examined. The pro
se was conducted by John T. Bates, the pre
jjoSt Pfskrict Attorney of Westchester country, and
Chauncey Schaffer. Thejdefence was condnctedby
Robert Cochran and Levi S. Chatfield. The case was
submitted to the jury at four o’clock on Friday even
ing, the 18th inst., at five they brought in a verdict of
f uilty. The prisoner was remanded for sentence to
the first Monday of February next. The penalty is
Imprisonment in the State Prison for a term of not
less than ten years.
PHAO~OF cm LIFE.
Tenement Houses —Their SanltaTy, Social
and Moral Condition—A High Opinion
from High Authority—A Visit to ths
Abodes of Poverty—A Policeman’s Story—
The History of a Family—lncidents of
Metropolitan Life.
THE STOBY OF DB. HABBI9.
In A professional way, I have seen a good deal,’ •
said Dr. Harris, in answer to an Interrogation, wehad
put to him in regard to the the tenement houses of
New York, "and maudlin sentimentality is not
among the weaknesses of which I stand charged.”
” And I do Bay without fear of contradiction that the
present tenement bouse system of New York is an
abomination, a nuisance, and a shame, and a more
prolific source of moral and social degradation than
can be found in any similar oity in the universe.
The hovels of Ireland, the lazzaroni of Naples,
the gaunt want of England and the meretriciousness
of France, together, make up tenement house life in
New York. "And,” he continued, if there is anv
mxo matter more than another that should invoke
public attention and judicious legislation, it is the
means of mitigating this evil. The church, the
Faculty, the Bench and the Bar, and every friend
of moral and physical reform should blend their ef
forts in this one direction, and root out from our
community these contaminating causes of misery,
disease and death.
" Especially,” said the doctor, • should the press,
that great engine of reform thunder its heaviest ar -
tilery against the nuisance, until every vestige of it is
wiped out. "But is it not,” we ventured to sug
gest, "an inevitable condition of the crowded condition
of the city, the aggregation of such vast numbers—is
ft not an incurable evil?” "No,” tho doctor an
swered, with some show of asperity. "It does not
form any excuse for the heterogeneous massing of un
fortunate humanity in confined barracks, in the
midst of filth and noisome odors, without air or sun
light, to which the very meanest of God’s creatures
are entitled. Nothing can excuss the shocking loss
of life which has occurred in tenement houses during
this winter, and the constant liability to similar
disasters. To call such occurrences accidents, is to
falsify; they are the enevltable results of criminal
carelessness, and it is the fault of the body politic
that their repetition is even possible. Great hu
man hives are erected in the most densely populated
portions of the city, and into these, hundreds, abso
lutely hundreds of people, men, women, and children
are packed like sardines in a box, all under a single
roof, and in all the stages of poverty, hunger and dirt.
In the erection of these houses the only matter consid
ered is that of profit to the proprietors, which is
‘ secured by furnishing simply a shelter for the lar
gest possible number of people. No regard is given
to sanitary conditions, ventilation is not taken into
account, and the health and comfort of the inmates
is considered of far less consequence than the prompt
payment of the rent, Comorant Speculators, who
have neither hearts to feel nop souls to save, with
conscience seared by long familiarity with iniquity,
with no ambition beyond « ‘big ntuuant, and to
whom piracy or the slave trade would be jus
tifiable if they "paid,” are for the most part
the kind of people who own these barracks,
aud they are permitted to defy not only the law, but
every sense of decency, and enrich themselves at the
expense of the best interests of the whole com
munity.”
•"WHAT IS THE REMEDY?”
we inquired. "Simple enough,” answered the doc
tor. " Enlarged powers for the Board of Health,
placed in the hands of men who know, and have
the courage to do their duty. A rigid enforcement
of sanitary measures, clean streets, plenty of water
and ventilation, and condign a.nd summary punish
ment for those who willfully transgress the laws. It
is also demanded which the existing pens that deface
much of our city shall be renovated, limited in the
number of their occupants, and so managed that
I they eball no longer be plague spots from which to
disseminate disease and death broadcast through the
I community, afflicting alike the innocent and the
guilty. To improve the character of such places as
do exist, to the fullest possible extent, should be
the first care. To prevent by the strong arm of the
law, the erection of others of the same kind, is a
duty which society owes to itself. It is true we must
have tenement houses, and poor souls enough will be
found to fill them. But none should be built unpro
vided with the essential elements of safety. Light,
ventilation, and possible means of escape in case of
fire, and a moderate degree of cleanliness, these can
all be secured even In the abodes of the most lowly.
The present condition of this class of structures is
wholly indefensible, and could be perpetuated only
iu the worse governed city in the world. To their
existence maybe directly traced 20 per cent, of the
disease and death in our city. They are the nurse
ries of small-pox, typhoid and typhus fever, and
finally the readiest abiding-places for cholera when
ever it comes to our shores. They poison the sir of
the whole Island, and swell our bills of mortality. The
remedy for all this is in the hands of the people
through their Legislature.”
A TOUR AMONG TENEMENT-HOUSES.
Well satisfied with the correctness of the views ex
pressed and maintained by the worthy doctor, but
resolved to possess a more intimate acquaintance
with the subject, we invoked tho services of a police
man to be our guide through some of these abodes
of poverty. ,
"We will go first,” said the officer, "to some of
j the hives in the Sixth Ward,” and he pointed out a
row of tumble-down, two-story, dilapidated shanties
on Baxter street, which he informed me were ten
{ anted by the merest off-scourings of the Metropolis,
; thieves, burglars, pickpockets, and male and female
; ruffians of the worst description, all of whom even
I tho little t?hild»uk pursued a me or infamy, and
i abandoned themselves to the lowest prostitution.
I as we passed by these hovels, we noticed that the
windows and door-ways were tilled with dirty, blear
eyed women, low-browed, besotted men, and dirty,
sore-hoaded, unkempt children, all thinly clad and
shivering in the cold. " Gome this way,” said our
conductor, and we followed him up a long enclosed
rickety court, that was noisome with foul smells.
With difficulty we made our way up .a rickety flight
of stalra, that creaked and groaned beneath our
steps. Ail was perfectly dark, but reaching the head
; of the stftirs we entered an apartment that was
I dimly lighted by 3 single dirty window. The
| room contained a long deal table, three or four
• broken chairs, an old flock bed, covered with some
wearing apparel, but no inmates.
" They are all out now,” sold the officer, "but this
room is occupied by four women and three men,
who have no other shelltor. Come this way, sir.”
And he tfttempted to open a door which led into an
inner room. A chair had been placed against it to
keep it closed, but the officer removed the obstruc
tion to our entrance, and we peered into the opening.
The apartment was about seven by five feet iu size.
A mass of ragged dirty garments lay upon the chair
that had obstructed our entrance, and on the floor
was a quantity of dirty straw. Wo were about to re
turn, when our attention was attracted to some mov
ing object. It turned out to be a woman, but a more
hideous object could scarcely be imagined. The only
clothing she had on was the remnant of an old
chemise, which no more than covered her neck and
shoulders and her long, gaunt arms, leaving her ex
tremities perfectly nude. She exhibited neither em
barrassment nor surprise at our presence, and in
answer to the question of the officer, "Where are
your folks ?” she replied, “ they hate gone out to get
warin I”
As we left, she commenced to crawl into the few
rags we had seen lying on tho chair. We descended,
and entered the cellar of the seme house. The en
trance to it was from the roar, and it was completely
under ground—the ceiling being even with the sur
face of the street Here, crouched round a smajl
coal stove, which appeared to emit but little warmth,
were five women. They stared at our entrance, but
recognizing the officer by his uniform, they subsided
into their original position, and maintained a glum
silence.
We visited three other houses in the same row, met
with about the same reception, and witnessed about
the same scones.
" They know me,” remarked the officer, " and keep
still; but if you were alone, they would soon clear
you out. They are always ready for any crime, from
pocket-picking to manslaughter.’’
POLICE DUTY IN THE SIXTH WARD.
We suggested to our attendandant that police duty
in that Ward must be attended with considerable
difficulty and danger, considering the terribly rough
and reckless class inhabiting the district.
" Well," he answered, " one might think so, but it
is quite the contrary. It is the easiest precinct in the
city for a policeman, and one of the most quiet and
orderly. It is abominably dirty, and the society is
not good, but that is the worst that can be said of it.
In the first place, the criminals do not commit the
crimes hero; and in the second place, the police sur
veillance is so perfect that detection is positive, and
resistance to an officer is so certain of punishment,
that it is never attempted. If a man or a woman is
wanted, in nine cases out of ten, a policeman knows
just where to go, and by continual and unrelenting
enforcement of tho law, the residents, bad as they
are, are awed into a ready submission to its man
dates 4 **
m NO. 11 BANKPORT ST.
"The Plug Uglies and Dead Rabits did,
years ago, make a demonstration, and by kick
ing up a row, blockading the streets, as they
do in Paris, and killing a dozen
or so of people, alteffipi to get tho upper
hand, but they failed. The police showed them
no mercy, and the Justices did their duty, and the
disturbing elements were subdued so far aa the Sixth
Ward was concerned. Later experience has proved
this, for in the riots of 1863, when the city was under
a reign of terror, when the Fifth avenue and Broad
way had to be guarded by artillery, when helploss
negroes were hung by the neck to the nearest lamp
post, and inoffensive citizens were maltreated to
death, when the public conveyances were stopped,
stores and banks closed, and private property pro
tected at the point of the bayonet, and some of our
streets up-town were swimming with blood, the Sixth
Ward was unmolested, the regular vocations of the
people uninterrupted, and evon the public schools
allowed to hold their regular sessions. Nothing could
better attest the potency and supremacy of the law
when properly enforced."
We listened with considerable interest to this rhap
sody of the policeman as he conducted us to a well
known tenement house known as
THE SYNAGOGUE,
situated in the same street, and nearly opposite to
those we had lately visited. It is a building of im
mense capacity, and divided into as many as fifty
apartments, and occupied by more than two hundred
persons. A single staircase furnishes ingress to all
the inmates; the roof is used for drying purposes,
and is accessible to all. It is much more pretentious
than many similar places, and there is about it at
least an affectation of decency. Some attempt is
made to keep it dean, but the attempt is rewarded, by
very poor success, and every possible predisposing
cause of sickness and disease, abounds from cellar to
roof. It furnishes a lively illustration of "animated
nature;” the Blairs, from top to bottom, the entries
and landing places, are constantly crowded with men,
women, and childrea, but especially children, of all
ages and sex. The poor are prolific, and these house
u.ia a<.iu~K> ax* tixv ixvxxiuß or mu ruuigem.
For the most part the occupants of this building were
honest, hard-working people, who are compelled to
submit to the fflscqmfor|g of such a residence on ac
count of its contiguity to the scene of their daily or
nightly labors. The rent they pay would secure them
clean and comfortable places in the suburbs. But
the synagogue is one of the least objectionable of the
tenement houses. Its occupants are all foreigners,
and mostly of the Jewish persuasion. Hence its
name. Tenement houses abound in this neighbor
hood, none of which are beitei*, but many worse than
the one we have referred to.
"In what direction do you now wish to go ?” in
quired our companion.
" Wherever you think there is sufficient matter for
reflection and subjects for the illustration of the evils
of the tenement house system.”
" Then it will not mako much difference what places
we vißit, for you will accomplish your purpose in any
of them," was the answer.
"THE STUDIO
is the nearest; let’s visit that.”
We were puzzled to know what was meant by the
"Studio,” but followed our cicerone, and were taken
to a tenement house in Roosevelt, near Chatham
street. It was an immense structure, five stories in
hight. More than half its rooms were impene
trable to the sunlight or pure air; and yet 170
persons abided within these walls. The best thing
that could be said about the place was, that It was
comparatively clean, the inmates being, for the most
part, less vicious and meretricious than the class
usually found in tenement houses. Some families
occupied one, others two, and some three rooms, and
the house was occupied in every part, and must have
yielded an enormous profit to the owner. Many of
the occupants had lived there for years. On tjfe very
top floor we came to a door on which was iDscriped we
FRANK CARTER,
AUTIST AKD AUTHOR.
On entering, we found its single occupant, a man
of about fifty years. He was in undress, having on
an old teded dressing-gown, that ought long since to
have been consigned to the paper-maker. The man
received us civilly, and even with some show of dig
nity, bidding us walk into the " studio.” The apart
ment contained a narrow bed, two broken chairs, a
table, and a battered candlestick which was evidently
«, w«uo <i«y« lA-ngf gnnfi. Ha informed us that ha
had lived in that house for eighteen years, though
not always in that apartment. When he first came
he had three rooms—the best in the house, he said—
and he had a wife and daughter; but now he was
alone, and one room was enough for him. The officer
explained to him that we were on a visit of examina
tion to the house, and, wishing him good-day, we re
turned to the street, and on the way back to the sta
tion-house from which we started, were favored with
THE POLICEMAN’S STORY
concerning the strange man we had met at the
studio.
"He was living there," he said, "ten years ago,
when I first went on the police, and had managed to
inspire a good deal of interest and curiosity, and, lit
tle by little, I picked up fragments of his history. It
seems that he is a native of Providence, R. 1., and his
name, as you already know, is Frank Carter. He had
been well brought up, receiving an excellent educa
tion, and was never entirely self-dependent until he
got married. He could draw and paint tolerably well,
but not half as well as he thought. He had a penchant
for literature, but no ability beyond stringing toge
ther doggerel rhymes. While living in Providence he
got married, and was in time blessed with a child, a
daughter, who grew to be very pretty, but very ignor
ant and indolent. Frank and his little family had a
hard time of it, for they were all shiftless and prodi
gal, when they had anything to ba prodigal on. These
abits and Frank’s pride led, in time, to a perfect
estrangement from his family and friends, and he
coidd with difficulty pick up a precarious living. At
length, feeling himself desex*tedaud alone, he resolved
to leave the home of his youth, and venture out in the
great world, and, as he used to say, grow rich and re
spected. For this purpose he came to New York with
wife and child. They had but little money, few
effects, and no acquaintance. His first care, as, in
deed, bis first necessity, was to procure a shelter.
He found it in the house where we lately saw him. He
got three rooms at a low rent—one quarter, perhaps,
of what is demanded now, and with his family moved
in. In a few days he obtained employment in painting
window-shades. For a time he was doing extremely
well, but the desires of his wife and daughter were
always in advance of his income, whatever that
might be, and he was as imprudent and infirm of
purpose as they were careless. By-and-by he was
taken siok, and it didn’t take long for them to part
with what little money they had, and a lew days ex
hausted their credit. Then the family were helpless
indeed. The man suffering in the delirium of fever,
the weeping wife idly bemoaning her hard fate from
morning to night, without one effort to mitigate her
troubles, and the daughter, now in her fourteenth
year, lett to pick up her living in the streets as best
she could.
" It was under these circumstances, when steeped In
poverty, hopeless and helpless, and soon, as she be
lieved, to be homeless, that some conscienceless roue,
under the guise Of an intention to befriend her, in
duced the woman to leave the bedside of her sick
husband, and give herself up to his lustful embraces.
This she did for a promised rich reward, and for the
first time in her life got drunk. When she regained
her senses she went back to her husband who had re
ceived some little attention from the neighbors, and
was sufficiently improved to sit up. He upbraided
her for her cruel desertion. She said she had gone
out to get bread. High words and harsh vitupera
tion parsed between husband and wife, and so
alarmed the child that she fled for safety into the
street. Presently the woman went too, and before
she had been out long, some male monster, unac
quainted with her grief and trying situation, invited
her to accompany him. Thinking little, and perhaps
caring less, for the consequences, she did so, and to
gether they entered one ot those vile dens to be found
deep under the ground in tho Fourth and Sixth
Wards. He supplied her with liquor and an oyster
stew, and in this vile company she passed a night of
beastly debauchery.
" In the meantime Frank had experienced a re
lapse of his fever, brought on by the altercation with
his wife. A policeman entered the apartment, and
found him in a dying condition, and he was taken to
the Bellevue Hospital. A vigorous constitution car
ried him through the crisis, and in. a few weeks he
was discharged cured. He went home, but neither
wife nor child were there. The woman had been back
onoe, but finding the place deserted, had gone off
and yielded herself to infamy, and become the in
mate of one of the many dens of iniquity that are
carried on, even now, without let or hindrance, by
the Police or Excise Commission, and which it is
proposed to Auction by legislative action.
"At the first breaking up of the family, the daughter
had fallen an easy victim to a procuress. The transi
tion from the mode of life she had lived to one of
shame, was not difficult, and being very young, and
rather prettv, she was petted, patronized and caress
ed, to an extent that made her feel that she had done
well, and would be loth to go back to the old life.
"Mrs. Carter died at the age of thirty-three years, in
less than a year from the commencement of her
career of prostitution. The daughter went to Cali
fornia some ten years ago, and has not since been
heard from. Frank resumed his former residence,
but was removed from one apartment to another as
it suited the convenience of the landlord, until he got
possession of the little cupboard tn which we found
him. He manages, sometimes, to pay a little rent;
he earns enough by painting and writing to procure
sufficient rood, and, it is said, to hoard up quite a lit
tle store, the knowledge of which, however, he keeps
a profound secret, ana stoutly denies, if questioned
on the Bubject. He never speaks of the past, and is
not known to have communicated with any of his
relatives or friends since he removed from his native
city. He is quite an old man, now, and looks much
older than he is, and as people jostle him in the street,
and cast a hasty glance at his shabby raiment, grizz
ly looks and haggard face, they never give a
thought to his strange eventful history, and never
think of their contact, with an artist and an author,
who occupies a ’ studio’ in the upper part of a tene
ment house in the Fourth Ward.”
The policemen’s story and our peregrinations
among the lowly, were brought to a close together.
We had witnessed some of the phases of life in this
great city. They may be familiar to many, but new
to some, and might be amplified to any extent,
without invoking the imagination for a single inci
dent ; and with this assurance we close by merely
quoting the old and oft repeated aphorism that has
lost none of its force by frequent use, " Truth, is,
than fiction,”
NUMBER 12. J
[Original.] ’ ,
RESIGNATION.
By B. Beralsmee.
There is no flock, however watched and tended.
But one dead lamb is there;
There is no fireside, howsoe’er defended,
But has one vacant chair.
The air is full of farewells to the dying,
And mournings for the dead;
The heart of Rachel for her children crying,
Win not be comforted.
Let us be patient; these severe affliction#
Not from the ground arise.
But oftentimes celestial benedictions
Assume this dark disguise.
We see but dimly through the mist and vftpore,
And these earthly damps,
What seems to us but dim funeral tapers,
May be heaven’s distant lamps.
There is no death; what seems so i« transition.
This life of mortal breath
Is but a shrub of the life elysian,
Whose portals we call death.
She is not d jad, the child of our affections,
But gone unto that school
Where she no longer needs pur protection,
And Christ himself doth rule,
In that great cloister’s stillness and seclusion,
By guardian Angels led,
Safe from temptation, safe from sin’s pollution,
She lives, whom we call dead.
Day after day we think what she is doing
In those bright realms of air;
Year after year her tender steps pursuing,
Behold her grown more fair.
Thus do we walk with her, and keep unbroken -
Tlio XkCvtxiTO, gIVOS
Thinking that our remembrance, unepcfeenj
May reach her where she lives. *
Not as a child we again behold her;
For, when with raptures wild
To our embrace we again enfold her,
She will not be a child.
But a fair maiden in her Father’s mansion,
O-oihed with celestial grace,
And beautiful with all the soul’s expansion,
Shall we behold her face.
And though at times Impetuous with emotion,
And a gush long suppressed,
The swelling heart moaning, like til#
That cannot be at rest.
We will be patient, and assuagt the feeling
We cannot wholly stay;
By silence sanctifying, not concealing
The grief that must have sway.
»**.**■**•»**»<*>•
THE ffIJNTHB PATH. •
B'S JOHN SAUNDERS,
AUTHOR OF “ GUY WATERMAN’S MAZE,” " SOUND
TO THE WHEEL,” ETC.
CHAPTER LII.
COOMBE VALLEY, ,
The wiv£s of the workmen in the ejlk mill
belonging to Coombe Brothers wore busy goj«
siping, one fine warm October evening at tfteyg
doors, some of them engaged in hand labo’d
connected with the silk, others scolding tneift
noisy children, and all looking to see the smokd
cease to pour out of the factory chjmneySipUjd
usual signal for the speedy return of their fius<
bands—when an incident occurred to dieturii
the ordinary placidity of life in Coombe Valleyi;
A farmer’s light cart drove up to the dodr o®
the only house that had the word “ Lodgfngyh
displayed on a card in the window, and art"
aged-looking gentleman in a violet suit. an®
wearing a light wig, asked if he could be ac«
commodatod there for a few weeks, as he ha®
been told the spring waters, for which thej
valley was famous in the neighborhood, though?
unknown to strangers, would be good for %
special complaint. . U
The woman of the house came to the cart/
her handsome face looking flushed,for she bid*,
been toasting Yorkshire cakes ready for heft
good man, and said, with a cutsey : ?
“ Oh, please, sir, we only lot a room for work/
men, or poor, but decent travelers. I
be ashamed to show it to a gentleman lika
you!”
“My good daifle,” was the reply, “if I am ft
gentleman I am a very poor one, I am s wry to
say—too poor to go to fashionable wa ierlngj
places; and therefore I hope you’ll take me in.
for lam sure—l see it in your face—you would
make me comfortable.” }
The woman looked pleased, and asked him at
all events, before the" farmer put down his bun
dle, to come in and see the room. y
“Yes, that will be best,” said the gentleman.
The room was up stairs, was long, of ver j
odd shape, through the slopes of the roof, but“ !
on the whole, convenient enough if the tenanfi
would only mind not to knock his head against?
the beams of the ceiling, or suddenly precipw
tate himself down a flight of stairs by overlook-,
ing the precise point where they began to de?
scend almost from the middle of the floor. )
It was scrupulously clean, had a faint smell?
of apples, which the hostess apologized for]
and said she would remedy—she would tagfl
the apples away, as they were over the oei!-‘
ing. and the roof at one part was open, Hfi
(the gentleman) said he liked apples, and tli&E
they might remain on the understanding th|C
he was, in revenge of the smell, to be at libertji
to taste. And then they both laughed heartily
at this harmless joke. ' $
The white bed looked quite luxurious to thq
late traveler, who said he was tired, and was s
bit of an invalid beside, so the bargain wad
soon made ; the gentleman in violet was to bd
boarded and lodged for twelve shillings a week]
and find his own ale, and have the use of thq
common sitting-room whenever he pleased, f
The new comer went to bed early that night!
and in came one neighbor after another, oacfif
with the pretence of some little bit of business
to transact, but really to gossip about thq
strange gentleman. ’ i
Everybody liked his appearance ; everybody
sympathised with his ailments; everybody
wished him good out of the water. But whilq
these comments were passing, an odd incident!
occurred up stairs : the strange gentleman was
lying as if in a fit, with his head just at the tori
of the stairs.
He had not fallen, for if he had he would hava
been heard. He did not call for succor, and?
yet he was by no means incapable of raising an
alarm, for when he heard the voice of his hostd
ess say something that interested him, he half
rose on his arm, listened intently, smiled, got!
up and went to bed.
Altogether a strange and unaccountable pro<
ceeding on the part of the gentleman in violet!
What was it the woman had said to interest!
him ? Merely this : that the gentleman didn’t)
seem so old after all as she first fancied him]
His voice was so cheery when ho joked, and hiq
eye so bright when he laughed; but there I
some men always do look youthful; her grr.iuU
father’s eye. everybody used to say. looked?
as roguish at seventy as most men at twenty/
five. ‘p
Next morning the gentleman was offered hift
meals in his bedroom if he liked.
“Oh, no," said ho ; “it will be a comfort tq
me to see what’s going on—in a family way
like.” s
“Isn’t ho affable?” said the wife to heft
husband, »*- Q
“ Don’t much like the looks on un,” growls®
the husband in answer, who, when he spoke®,
was rather afraid his own home comforts woulqL
be sacrificed by extra care for the stranger. 'jj
But when the man—who was one of the prin/i
cipal workmen in the mill—found the strange!
alter breakfast produce a lot of good tobacco
and offer him some, and when he found than
the stranger told capital stories, and didn’t;
seem too proud to eat just what they ate, an®
chat just as they chatted, he began to like bins
immensely; and before that day closed thq
gentleman tn violet was on the fairway to as
decisive a popularity among the artisans of tha
mills as among the artisan’s wives and daughv \
ters. '■ 1 --vj
When the Sun came out a bit toward noon.’
the invalid ventured out to look at him an®
whatever else there might be ty see at tha
same time. ' .jk
Coombe Valley, though pretty enough on 4c*
count of its grassy slopes and its pnh-pond for? ,
the use of the factory, had but One slngld off*
ject of sufficient importance to arrest the eya
of a gentleman and a traveler—-namely, thq
mill itself. Of course, therefore, he went t<3
look at and to walk round it, and once or twieq
he made himself uncomfortable bv fancying hr

xml | txt