The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1888-02-08
HORRIBLE BUTCHERY.
Matthias Busch Nearly Sewers HIS Wife
Head From Her Shoulders.

matthias bu6ch nearly sewers HIS Wlte'9
Head From Her Shoulders.
CHICAGO. February 6.-The throat OF
Mrs. Matthias Busch was slit from ear to
ear this evening by her husband, a saloon
keeper. She dIed a moment later at the
feet of the murderer. The deed was done
at their home in the presence of their
child and aunt of the victim. Busch was
arrested, knife in hand, while the blood
was yet squirting from the corpse few
feet distant. Just as he was about to slay
his little daughter. The tragedy was
horribly cold: :blooded and premeditated.
1t had its origin In the chagrin of Bnsch,
who had been foiled in his desire to
control $40, 600 worth OF real estate that
had been willed his wife by her father.
Six years ago Busch, then twenty-five
years of age and keeping a saloon at 2511,
Cottage Grove avenue, married his wife,
then Nellie Schauk, the twenty.three-year.
old daugter of Peter Schauk, q well-kRown
and wealthy German saloon-keeper. 1t
was said at the time that Busch only mar
ried the girl for the money that would one
day be hers, and certain it is that
from the wedding day his treat
ment of her was harsh and cruel.
If money was his object, fortune favored
him, for soon hisfather-in-law,I ,Idied leaving
all his property to his wife. Mrs. Schauk sur
vived him but a few months, and three
of the entire property. Busch this evening
came home to supper and sat down at the
table with his wife opposite him.
"You made out your will to day, di d
your" asked the husband, scoWling at his
wife.
eyes" was the response.
"What did you do with it?'
81 left it to the children"
Damn you; what do you mean by
that?"
Finishing his supper in silence, he rose
from the table, picking up the carving
knife as he did so, and went toward his
wife, He stood with his left arm caress-
ingly around her neck, while the wicked
blade cleaned in his right hand. The poor
wife, unused to such caresses, looked into
his face in a frightened kind of way.
You had better give me that knife,
Matthew" sad the aunt, who was present,
reaching for it.
Damn you, take it." said Busch, and
with quick movement he cut her hand
to the bone. Then, without another word,
he turned toward his wife, whose pale face
was still upturned to his, and catching her
hair in one hand, bent her head back and
drew the sharp blade across her throat.
The warm blood spurted across the room,
and as the murderer released his grasp the
poor woman rose to her feet, threw up her
baLds, staggered forward two steps and
fell to the floor. The aunt rushed from
the room. Busch sat down, and took up
his three year-old child. One more mo-
meDt would probably have been the little
ones last, but just then two officers,
attracted by the screams of the fleeing
aunt, burst in the door. Seated in a chair
was Busch, with his three-year-old child
Oh his knee, and in his right hand carving
knife, from which the blood was dripping.
''See, see," laughed the child, pointing
to the shining knife as the officers entered.
With curse Busch threw the child to
one side and dropped the knife to the floor.
Then without another word he rose and
watched the officers as they bent over the
body of his wife, feeling the pulse which
had already stopped. The little child
began to cry, and the officers, taking
Busch by the arm, led him from the house
to the station.
Busch is an unattractive looking fellow.
Gray eyes peer from brow wrinkled
with seemingly perpetual scowl. He re-
fused to talk when taken to the station.