The New York herald. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1840-1920, 1873-09-07
Who Struck Billy Patterson

This question was first started some years
ago, and we do not know that it has ever been
satisfactorily answered. Nay. the generation
which gave it currency is almost growing out
of recollection of it, and few Of those who
recognize it, and who will also de-
tect our purpose in recalling it, could offer
correct explanation of the circumstance that
gave it birth. Neither is it necessary that
they should, particularly since much graver
question, with no touch of lightness or humor
about it, is now on the lips Of every one who
has heard of the Huntington tragedy. "Who
tarred and feathered Kelsey ?" is the query that
shoots straight from the heart of every honest
man and woman in the Huntington commu-
nifty. Who in the midst Of prosperous lit
tie society, which religion and nature seem
equally to have blest, had the fearful audacity
to apply so barbarous q form of retribution?
Vain are the attempts which have been made
to insert an element of POPULARITY into the trag-
edy. 1t is an attempt against which oil the
other elements rebel. A shadow steals out
from the grim spot where the outrage
was performed and says, SNAKE jest of
me if you cam A voice by the
lonely shore where what was left Of
the dishonored body was found repeats in
hollow accents, ''Make light of me if you
dare" There is a phantom for the time being
in every moonlit grove of Huntington, and,
whatever may have been the vices or, mayhap,
the crimes of the murdered man, the ghostly
voice his fate has left behind him resounds
above the plant of the Sabbath bells and the
preachers platitudes of peace. The whole
village is transformed. 1t has risen up and is
divided against ITSELF The magnetism of crime
is on the community, and has produced upon
virtuous and vicious its due results. Not o
breath ruffles the changing leaves but seems to
ask, s'Who tarred and feathered Kelsey?" Not
a wave breaks upon the beach of Oyster Bay
but echoes the same refrain not shadow or
CLEAN of sunshine fecks the forest but joins
in the dismal chorus. The fatal November
evening of year ago makes its reverberating
murmurs heard through the sweet silence of
September. The crime and the suffering take
shape and groan like man in the agony of
nightmare. It is not often that beautiful
and fertile landscape is surcharged with q
preternatural influence like this. It is not
often that one is reminded that human
nature in some of its manifestations is akin to
devilishness, as life is akin to death or yester-
day to tomorrow. The moral and mental
elements of such community offer q
psychological study as rare as it is sad. One
can almost imagine that if q person wholly
ignorant that crime had been committed
at Huntington were suddenly to find himself
there he would feel in the air that baleful
something which would proclaim it the at
mosphere of outrage and murder. And yet
the sunlight falls as benignantly there as on
some pure and undiscovered island unpolluted
by the tread of man. The dews come out and
the stars shine and the rains descend, and all
the thousand sweet benefcences of nature ex.
press themselves there, and in the cleaning
the air is as fragrant and the breeze as tender
as though no murderous echo came breathing
from the forest, imploring Heavens justice
upon the doors of deed men blush to name.