The Cambria freeman. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1867-1938, 1885-08-07
A MINISTER'S CRIME.
RecoIIecIionE OE a Memorable EU-
ocutiOn In HeR Jersey Years Ago.

RecollecIionE OE a Memorable EN-
ocution I'm Hew Jersey Years Ago.
I know good deal about ministers. I
believe them to be very much like other
men, with ends and aims and purposes
similar TO those Of their fellows in other
walks Of life. circumstances have much
to do with the morality Of all OF us. A
circus rider may be iust as honest, Just as
kind-hearted, inst as tree 10 himself and
to his duty as clergyman. but he Is likely
20 be more profane, less careful in hts walk
and conversation. because the circum-
stances OF his calling permit it. while the
circumstance of the clergyman's calling
absolutely forbid It not only. but the in
diligence of such would destroy
him and his usefulness forever. You see
the point, of course. There was a pleas
ant-faced little minister Ia New Jersey
about whom the 1oCks gathered with
great delight. His teachings were simple,
his singing delightful. and the voca bulary
OF his prayers iervid TO n degree. His wife
grew old faster than ne did. and It occurred
TO him that she was too good for life this
side Of the grave, SO he poisoned her and
one night when she was particularly low
returning from his prayer-neetluE, he en-
tered her bedroom. Smoothing back the
wet hair from her aching head he called
her loving names and presented her with
an apple. She ate it: It's arseniC-charged
solidities did their final work upon her
fragile frame, snd ere the morning dawned
her spirit stood upon the further shore.
waiting the coming Of her lord and master.
Harden, that was his name, aud hard
eped scOundrel he was, was tried. con-
viCted, and hanged. never shall forget
that picture. 1t was the first execution
ever saw. Being in New Jersey, a mob
dominated the place. From the windows
of the Jail the women and the men looked
out upon the courtyard packed to suffoca-
tion with smoking, shouting, swearing
rOughs. It was the old style scafTold
toward which the singing parson moved.
heading a procession Of officials and
brother ministers. With = perfectly irm
step be sscended the ladder. and stood ur-
on the drop. he was dressed in neat black
bonn mbazine, with prunela gaibsrs. His
black hair was carefully combed and
brushed, and be smiled a sweet and saint
y smile AS he looked about upon the last
congregation he could ever address and
asked permission to lead theEn I'm PRAYER
That man was as quiet and a. calm Hs a
sheep In the hands OF bis shssrer. Death
had no terror for him. He was the picture
Of self-satisfactiun, the very personifcstion
OF individual content, and In that frame Of
mind be stood until the bolt was drawn
and he and the drop fell together. while
those Of MS who looked on. broiling In the
sun, shivered at the sight. Now, there
was man. who for ten or fifteen years
bad been sane enOugh to preach the gospel,
10 give advice, TO listen with patience to
tales of domestic misery. but he wasn't
sane enough to see aud to understand, to
appreciate the certainty Of the detection
of the arsenic in his wife's body, and to
have traced 70 him and his final fruity
gift the commission of a crime which In
sured his death upon the scsffold--Joc
HotCdrb IN Boston Globe