Daily Ohio statesman. [volume] (Columbus, Ohio) 1855-1870, 1865-07-21
LOVE AND BLOOD.

FROM Iuo Oltoluuutl AAuiobS A1tn ihoel
The trial of q young woman In the Capt.
tai Of the country. for shooting her ioyel
) contains many points Of interest. IL Is not
the old, old story of love and seduction. It
lis case, though q somewhat aggravated
case we admit, of modern Irritation. Many
years ago, away out West, there was little
Irish girl, Mary Harris by name. She was
pretty, black eyed and roguish. She was
Door. Her parents were dead, and she lived
with some relatives, who treated her kindly,
and gave her such advantages as they were
able. Presently she met young man who
Took a fancy 10 her fresh morning face and
short dresses, and ingratiated himself into
the good opinion of the old people, and
visited her often, as a young man OF Two OF
three and twenty might visit child Qf
twelve. He called her his rosebud and his
playmate, and his puss-in=boots, we dare
say, They took long walks together, ana
sat BY the river side whole days, and read
fairy tales. And so they parted for time.
But our little Irish girl is poor and Is
growing to womanhood, and has to do
Something for living. She Is sent, there
fore, to neighboring village and becomes
saIesmaid for Jolly old shOpkeeper, who,
after while, is very fond of her, for she Is
young, honest and handsome. One day she
gets ailetter. The young man with the
brown moistache hasrnot forgotten her
and wants still to be her dear, dear friend.
And indeed he is that, for this bright, hearty
Irish girl has warm heart other own,
and Is grateful and constant. SO she writes
him ready answer, not very well spelled,
perhaps, but CHEEKY and robust, like herself.
She is sixteen; he is approaching thirty
tair contrast. He has education and an
air about him; she has no education to speak
Of but keen appreciation and ambition.
They write each other great many letters
all after the usual style--first friendship
next avowal-finally love. This must
have been a very sad case of love, too, for,
as the little girl progresses with her on
ward march to womanhood, the lithe and
buoyant spirit deepens into sentiment and
gradually becomes intense. She loves her
lover 10 distraction, and they meet once
more, and sheis his darling little Mollie.
" At thisltime Mary Harris must have been
what the young gentlemen call killing
little fascinater. She was just past seven
teen-a tidy Waist-a trim tigure-a swan
like neck-a comely face-not too tall, lux
uriant hair and natuete! All the larks around
town were half mad about her. She wore
bit of gray cloak and gipsey hat. But
she cared not fig for the whole Of them.
She was wrapped up in her old bachelor, as
she called him, and would follow him to the
end of the world, She said so, at least, and
he believed her, and began to prsetice upon
her love and trust. But Irish virtue Is an
article of stubborn quality, and often defes
the fjercest passion. In this case, at any
rate, it did so. The lover, falling tc carry
his point, gradually grew tired of his little
Mollie, after Irritation of five or six years.
Men very often, too often, we fear, weary
of their little Mollies through such long
siege of love, and II they have no mind
to make them their little wives, and are not
able to make them anything else, are quite
ready to give them over. The old bache-
lor, now getting into his thirties, was tired,
he wanted to marry somebody else; he did
not want to marry his little Mollie, so he
gave her over. Yes, he gave her over,
gradually, however, by neglect and alb
sence, and finally married another woman,
and went to Washington to hold an office
under the Government. l-.l -.- 80
What must have been the feelings of this
wild little Irish girl, with her warm heart,
her active spirit, her keen sensibilties, her
ardent love, to find herself cast off, like a
worn out garment, after five years of con-
stancy and devotion? Love is cruel pas
sion. Ii is bitter-sweet. 1t has its dark
lines at best, and to this prosecuted, aband-
oned girl, they must have been hideously
dark, for she took TO brooding, and grew
wan and pale, and suffered and was not her
self any more. 1t was thus that she resolv-
ed in her bitterness and wrath, In her mise
ry and inanition, that she would follow him
and kill him. Kill him yes, for had he not
killed love and life in her? Had he not mar
ried another woman, and how can youoffend
woman who loves you, more mortally than
by marrying some one else? ~ liS =. ilo' .1o'
~ She went to Washington. She sought the
department in which he was employed. 1t
was a dull, cold January AFTERNOON. The
janitor at the door showed her up the flight
Of stone steps, and through the long hail.
and pointed her out the very room, uncont
scious as Government janitor must have
been, Of her bloody purpose. just as she
reaches the door she meets her victim COM
ing out with friend. He sees her, and no
doubt aprophetic light flashes within him,
for he exclainis, "My God.n Two reports4
sharp, ringing pistol shots echoing and re-
echoing throughout those vast corridors
and columns-follow in quick succession,
and the false lover lies dead man upon the
gray mating of the floor. .Ai ioH % D9inI
u The deed is done. The deception of
years is expiated. The revenge of months
Of wild and lonely meditation is complete.
Alas, poor, trail humanity! Little rosebud
has done it. Little Mollie is murderer.
o, roguish eyes Of black! 0, pink and
peachen cheek! o, hood, and wimple, and
short frocks and pantalettes Never any
more peace, never any more innocence,
never any more calm, sweet sleep. Boots
it to, you, now that he is dead, that he was
the husband of smother woman, that he
wronged you and desertedyou? ij '''-
. :" Vows Of unheard Of and endless devotion.
100 How ye have faded awayP'u I'm ft4
So goes the mill. A little puff of smoke.
A little scent of powder. A few drops of
blood. And the little Irish girl is down
stairs sobbing, without shedding tear, and
crying "My God, why did do it? The
great Secretary comes, lord OF the nations
Treasure. She clings to him, and kneels
before him, and he, too, asks her why she
did 10? She knows no reason, except that
s'she loved him so much" There it Is. 1t
was not hate, but love. She loved him so
much that she would rather he were dead
than that another woman should have him.
"A woman to the last ! Who would have
her otherwise? lnGy;GF ~ iHpa 4" IytGd
2iThey took her away to jail. They lodged
her I'm dungeon. And there she has lain
ever since. Most of the time she has been
i'll, and when she has not been Ill, she has
been depressed, sullen and silent. They
have brought her out to try her for her life,
and the colirt-foomiis is crowded daily with
eager spectators! 1t Is the little Irish girl
no longer. All the bloom has gone. The
fire has faded from the lr0guish eyes. The
cheek rs pallid and sunken. She does mol
care t0live, but they will not let her die
They WIFI set her at liberty, and she will
lfve 4 htotren!bearted woman. OYluerish4 in