The morning star and Catholic messenger. [volume] (New Orleans [La.]) 1868-1881, 1868-10-25
NUMBER ss.

night, that hour used to recur to her with
| curious vividness
Z" 1t was the last of my girlhood's unreal
stupor," she would say. 81 woke out Of
| it to live in earnest"
She woke with q confused sound of sub
dued voices in her ear, q changing of doors,
cries Of anger and horror, and then sudden
pauses, such as fall ON q terrified crowd.
The sounds were without the gates. Within
the Jail all was silent, save now and then a
smothered football outside of her door.
the street, threw reddish, uncertain glares
upon the wall and on her bed.
1t is some criminal they are bringing
here" she said. $3.50 the new year comes
in ~
And she hid her face in her hands, sick
of slime and vice, and plying herself.
Don't blame her! She was only a girl,
not far from a child, and would have liked
an innocent, foolish life, just as other girls
do.
At first she tried to shut out the noises
and the lights; then she gotup and, wrap
dow.
They had taken the prisoner inside; the
gates were fastened; but she could catch
gllmpses of the swaying mass Of faces under
the ieafiess poplars on the dark street, red
and angry. Overhead was the wide, cold
winters night, catching the sickly palor of
dawn; beneath, the drifted snow, foul and
muddy already with the trampling feet.
The whole world was cold and foul, the
girl thought, standing there with chilled
feet and sick heart, trying to understand
the sullen muttering of these men without.
She heard it at last. 1t was murder they
talked OLA murder that had been done
tonight; not drunken street brawl, but
some deed that shamed the coarsest there,
touching him in his thought of home and
decency.
Heaven help us when such things as
this can bel" said one that she knew--a
tipsy thief, but he was sober now.
The crowd scattered slowly, going in
groups down the streets but few men
remained huddled together, talking it over,
leaning against the iron ratings, and
stamping their feet occasionally to keep
them warm. In the dead stiffness she
could hear them distinctly; she could not
go from the window, angry at herself as
she might be. She had a strange fancy
that she had something to do with this
nights work.
SSeven times he stuck the knife in him.
said bloated little Dutchman in a dog
matte voice. az was there the first after
the murderer and Joe Stiles. Seven times
The man must have been dead with the
first stroke. That went to the heart.
After that he went on cutting like n
butcher"
,sBah!"
1t was Phil Hoy's voice.
"The boy as did this is no butcher.
Daddy Heiner. If 80 be as twas fight, il
was fair fight. There was an old grudge.
That I'll acknowledge" pointing off his
sentences with one finger on his palm. eliot
blood and young blood that I'll acknowl-
edge. want to be fair, though I'm q friend
TO this boy as you have in the jug, and to
be plain, don't think the other fellows
much loss"
There was an angry murmur.
"No. Not loss" raising his voice. "T
ices lots in my beat of work-you know
nothing about. Well, they two, hayin' this
yrudge, as said, an meetin' in this dark
corner, words begins it, blood gets up, am
here's the end. Is that unnatural? Ia
here one here AS it mightn't have happened
into 7n
There was pause after this argument.
Most of his hearers had their own reasons
or treating the constable with respect.
They chewed their tobacco more vigorously,
hufiied their feet, and looked askance up
1t the Jail windows. ar
= /" Yon's Squire Lynn's," said one at last,
after q difident cough. " haze heard saw
rs him as was killed in this fight Tonight
was agoin' to marry the squire's girl"
"Likely he was" growled Hoy; that
ion'S alter the case, does itf I've nothing
against it. But I've good deal against q
fellow bein' howled at to the galIows, a.
you had all made up yer minds to. do with
this chap indoors
[coNrNUED ON THE EIGHTH PAaEl