West-Jersey pioneer., 1870-04-15
A BLIGHTED HOME.

One Of the best engravers in the coun-
try, if not in the world, was arrested at
his Office, engraving counterfeit bills. He
was fine, gentlemanly looking man,
though dissipated, owing to the wretched
business in which he was employed. Not
withstanding his dissipation, and the
great crime of which he is guilty, he. has
been a kind father and husband, and
never carried his sin into his home. Bad
men tempted him with large profits, for
his genius was invaluable to the regular
counterfeiters, profits, however, that he
never realized, for, once in their employ
and power, he must remain SO, and take
his chances of immense gains along with
possible discovery, conviction, and the
State Prison.
After his arrest, in company with the
chief of the secret service and two SUBJ
ordinates, he was escorted to his home, a
ruined, disgraced, guilty wretch, and the
scene that ensued was indeed heart-rend-
ing. A beautiful daughter of sixteen
lifted white, horrifed face beyond her
mothers; another Of ten shrank against
the wall bright, intelligent boy of six
stood transfxed in wonder, and smiling
infant confronted the miserable father
and husband. The officers needed not
to search the house for traces Of his evil
deeds Wife and children were innocent,
and the officers knew this at glance.
The unhappy wife sank into chair.
Clasping her hands one over the other,
and swaying to and fro, she moaned, 90
God o God why can't / die p Her
wet face was livid beneath its tears, and
shrank and sharpened like face that is
dying. Tears fell from her staring eyes,
and rolled down her palled cheeks. The
look she turned on the guilty man was
utterly broken hearted The young
daughter sobbed frantioally-
20 father, father! what have you
done ?" Then turning to the chief, ooh
don't believe it, sir; my father could not
do it."
The children clung to the officers knee
in childish entreaty. "Don't take my
father SO prison ; please, please don't"
The boy hid under the bed, and the
baby crawled at the mothers feet crying
in fright UNDECIDED.
He looked upon the ruin he had
wrought, the grief he had brought upon
his loved ones, and sob after sob broke
from his bosom. Dashing down his grav-
er, he cried, -
"God cursed me in my genius, and I'll
never lift it again." He covered his
face. and in his tears those who loved him
hushed their cries.
The poor wife found her strength and
voice at the piteous sight, and came and
put her hand gently on his shoulder.
ssMy poor, poor husband How could
you, how could you bring us such sorrow
and yourself such dreadful misery? Its
Saturday night, and there's neither food
nor fire {; they will take you to,-to,-
away from us, and oh, what shall l do for
the children 2 Who will pity or help us
after this p
sI,-I expected some money tonight" :"
he replied, taking from his pocket a torn
half dollar "this is all l have; take it
and get little bread for them tonight" !"
He put it in her hand, but the trem-
bling fingers dropped it unnoticed. "My
husband in Jail, my children starving !!
O God what have l done that must
suffer SO 2"
Here the chief stepped forward. "You
shall not suffer; III see that you and
your children are made comfortable"
She lifted her streaming eyes. "I am
SO full of trouble that | don't know how
to thank you; he is guilty, guilty, but
my husband"
eyes," burst out the prisoner "1 an
guilty. You have the presses, plate,-
everything and know it; but before AL
mighty God the are innocent; they knew
nothing of it."
81 am perfectly aware of it," said the
chief; and they soon departed with the
prisoner, leaving the desolate home to its
tears and anguish.
If ever mortal grief was written on
woman's features, it was stamped on the
ghastly face of this counterfeiter's wife,
when she looked around on her weeping
children-no reproach; only, Chow could
you, how could you 2" have seen the
law forced into many loving homes,
where crime brought sudden woe, but |
never witnessed SO narrowing scene as
this miserable engraver's dwelling. She
She kept twisting her fingers together,
and sobbing and moaning. Tomorrow
is Sunday, oh, what Sabbath for me,
my children, my husband p She was
lady by education, birth and associations.
She could eudure and conceal hunger
and poverty; but this prison crime the
world must know, and the horrible grief
and shame was hers to bear as best she
might.
The States prison surely awaits the
father, and death the mother, if the face
she carried to his cell that Sabbath morn
ing was an index to the suffering within.
And the bright-eyed boy, the creeping
baby, and the beautiful girl, will
become of them ?-N. Y. Sun.