Year: 1877




The question, "What becomes Of the
pins?" is not half so interesting as the
inquiry, What becomes OF those no
torious offenders that escape hanging
by law or mob? Do they change their
names, and, having sinned as Smith, do
they die as Jones? Or if not, then
what? There are caverns and dens and
parlors for the reporter still to pry into
with the intent of knowing who is there.
What ever became of that preacher who
beat his child to death for not saying
Alright its prayers? The child would
pray until its little brain and terrified
heart would make some error, and then
its reverend father would beat the innO-
cent thing for a half hour. When at
last the disciple of Christ had gotten
through with his method OF instruction,
his child was dead. The name of this
most infamous man was Lindsay, and
his home was in New York. Now,
what has become of this once famous
Clergyman Of course, if he is dead,
all would know where he is; but is he
dead? If so, who or what kindly killed
him? and if not dead, where is he, and
what would he now have to say TO an
interviewer were he asked about the
best method of teaching men and chill
dren how to pray?


And there was that Richmond clergy
man who made Indiana sick by Sun
day morning exploit which consisted b
chaining his son to post in q stable
and then whipping him with a horse
whip, all for reading novel. The
father himself read sermons, ,and was not
willing to have his sons mind corrupt
ed with romance Hence this beat
ing almost to death, of a Sunday morn
ing. The police took the father to jail,
but one may well be anxious to know
whether this clergyman is still preach
ing, and whether he has had D. D..
conferred upon him by any learned uni
yerSity?


Old Lactantius, one Of the Christian
fathers, published a book once to show
that all bloody men came to violent
deaths. Our times need a similar kind
of historian, for there is now a large
number of names whose owners ought
to have come by this time to bad end,
and about whose end, come or coming,
something ought to be said. 1t is
rather strange that those daily papers
which send inquiries to the worlds con-
fines, and which employ men who
would interview Satan himself if they
could find his front door bell, are doing
ii Jthing toward keeping the world post
ed as to the final result of certain
fellows of the baser sort.


While on this topic, what became OF
that Pittsburg preacher who used to
throw hot coffee and sometimes a whole
hot beefsteak into his wife's face? Does
he still do 50? If so, how does his Sec
ond or third wife like such modes of ex-
pressing disapprOval? What is the use
of having morning papers if they will
never tell their readers that some one Of
these fellows has been removed to an.
other world? Some Lactantius of the
present must show himself and make
the hunting up Of lost villains a special.
ty. The old Sunday-school books used
to keep the world informed about the
destiny of each bad boy, and the des-
tiny was swift and frightful; but after
Mark Twain found a few instances in
which the good boy got drowned OF
burned or bitten, the study of the fnali-
ty of bad boys fell off, and thus is the
world without any adequate history of
old or young rascalS at large.


Murder will indeed out, but once it has
gotten out the zeal over it suddenly
dies. The affair becomes as empty as a
guessed conundrum. Thus all crimes
are huge when first seen, but all men
who commit them and who barely es-
cape the mob become wonderfully in
visible after a time. Nothing about
them will ever out afterward. Excep-
tiOnal cases occur. Mr.. Harlowe Case,
who enticed a Mrs. Frances from her
home and who attempted to plant a
Mohammedan heaven with the beauty
on the island of Ceylon, found the Sc,
quel to his flight too large for his own
bosom, and he wrote a full confession
to leading paper Of this city, but he
then disappeared from sight, and what
became of the man who ruined two
happy homes all the reporters have for,
gotten to inquire.


May it not be that there is q disposi-
ton in reporters and Ietter-writers to
let alone those who, having once COM
mitted some great wrong, are seen to
be living in obscurity? Perhaps, when
they find upon some farm or in some
menial office man who once murdered
a fellow or once forged a note, the
kinder feeling prevails and their pens
pass by the incident without remark.
If so, the public ignorance about these
notorious ones may be a proof of the
public kindness. The more probable
explanation may perhaps be found in