The Emporia news. [volume] (Emporia, Kan.) 1859-1881, 1870-03-25
A BLIGHTED HOME.


try, if not in the world, was arrested at
his Office, engraving counterfeit bank
bills. He was a fine, gentlemanly look
ing man, though of late dissipated, ow
ing to the wretched business in which
he was employed. Notwithstanding
his dissipation, and the great crime of
which he is guilty, he has been kind
father and husband, and never carried
his sin into his home. Bad men tempt
ed him with large profits, for his genius
was invaluable to the regular counter
feiters-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,
q ruined, disgraced. guilty wretch, and
the scene that ensued was indeed heart
rending. a beautiful daughter of six
teen lifted a white, Mortified face be-
yond her mothers; another of ten
shrank against the wall bright, intel
ligent boy stood transtixed in wonder,
and the smiling infant confronted the
miserable father and husband. The o.
ficers needed not to search the house
for traces of his evil deeds. Wife and
chiIdred were innocent, and the officers
knew this at a glance. The unhappy
wife sank into a chair. Clasping her
hands one over the other and swaying
to and fro, she mOaned, 80 God o
God why can't die ?" Her wet face
was livid beneath its tears, and shrunk
and sharpened like face that is dying.
Tears fell from her staring eyes, and
rolled down her pallid cheeks. The
To- ha I'M aa6 ha
utterly broken-hearted. The young
daughter sobbed frantically,
80 father, father! what have you
done?" Then turning to the chief, 80
don't believe it, sir; my father could not
do it,
The little girl chung TO the officers
knee in childish entreaty. 'Don't take
my father to prison; please, please
don't"
The boy hid under the bed, and the
baby crawled at the mothers feet cry
ing in fright, unheeded.
The father looked upon the ruin he
had wrought, the grief that he had
brought upon his loved ones, and sob
after sob broke from his bosom. Dash
ing down his graver, 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.
''My poor, poor husband! How could
you, how could you bring us such sor-
cry? It's Saturday night, and there's
neither food nor fire; they will take
you to-to-away from us, and oh,
what shall do for the children? Who
will pity or help us after this? ?"
81, / expected some money tonight,
he said, taking from his pocket torn
half dollar; ''this is all have; take it,
and get little bread for tonight"
He put it in her hand, but the tremb.
ling fingers dropped it unnoticed. MY
husband in Jail, my children starving
o God! what have l done that ! must
suffer so p
Here the chief stepped forward
You shall not suffer; Pll see, madam,
that you and your children are made
comfortable"
~ She lifted her streaming eyes. E'Fm
SO full of trouble that / don't know how
to thank you; he is guilty, guilty, but
my husband.
"Yes," burst from the prisoner Il
am guilty. You have the presses, plates
every thing, and know it, but before
Almighty Oou they are innocent; tney
know nothing of it,"
Il 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 q
woman's features, it was stamped on
the CHASTITY face of this counterfeiter's
wife, when she looked around on her
weeping children-no reproach; only,
GLOW could you, how could you!
have seen the law forced into many low
ing homes, where crime brought sud
den woe, but I never witnessed so har-
rowing a scene as this miserable engra.
ver's dwelling presented. She kept
twisting her fingers together, and sob.
bling and moaning. Tomorrow j:
| Sunday oh, what a Sabbath for me, my
children, my husbandl" She was a la.
dy by education, birth and associations
She could endure and conceal hunger
and poverty, but this prison crime the
world must know, and the horrible
griefa 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 of the suffering with
in. And the bright-eyed boy, the creep
ing baby, and the beautiful girl-what
will become of them ?-N. Y. Sun.