Year: 1873

The Walworth parricide shocked the com.
munity, and now its reverse, in an humber
GLASS; IN the shape of the murder of son by
father, comes before US. The particulars
Will be found elsewhere. They will cause .
thrill OF horror; for the crime is unnatural, no
matter what the provocation. Michael Brode-
rick' the murderer. sobbing at the Tombs,.
half-excusing his horrid sin and then bitterly
lamenting the frenzy which Redeemed his
hands in the blood of his bows is a picture
which the rude walls that have framed SO
many episodes Of heart-breaking remorse
have never, perhaps, enclosed with so many
concomitants of nature outraged and
ashamed. The stolid boy who shot down his
father and believed himself hero left to the
world the pointing of the Nervousness of his
crime. The wretched creature Broderick by
turns blames the son that may escape death
from his fathers stabs, and even mingles his
protestations Of love for the lad he murdered
with slight. Brutalized human nature in
agony has some elements of the
man left in the very possibility of
remorse Shuddering, we must turn
away from the picture in the cell, and wish
that the gallows could wipe away even the
memory of the creature and his deed. "An
for a button!" he groans, as be wrings
his hands Not so. Drunken, demoral-
lied, stripped of all the good Of
his humanity, this man had familarized
himself with the thought of murder.


Hounded, perhaps, by o glib-tongued
scold, he may have rushed on the eve of his
crime to the human brute's refuge-drink.


Angered by the thought that others could enjoy
themselves abroad, it is more likely that he
vented the degraded envy Of his nature by an
orgie at the dram shop. Whatever his i'm
pulse, does it not force itself upon the mind
that he went sullenly to his drunken sleep
with a moody, vague hungering for
revenge in him that the missing button
furnished him with pretext to assuage? We
cannot very well at present, out of the con-
ficting statements, exactly gauge the dis
ordered state of the family relations. The
mother, the two sons and two daughters had
been to q picnic. The man and his mother
in-law were left at home. The goodness
or badness of the sons we cannot
estimate; but that the demon of
hatred poisoned all the feelings
Of parental love on the fathers side
and flial affection in the sons, or at least one
Of them, is evident. The bloody knife, the
corpse, the wounded young man in the hos
pital, the grief and terror-stricken family, the
father whining and groaning in prison, tell
the rest of the tale Not to missing button
can the man lay his guilt It lies on deeper
and broader grounds Of moral perdition
which, we fear, are widespread in the midst of
our boasted civilization. What long reckless
ness of conduct and example could make o
father so despised and feared in his house? :?
What moral contagion could strengthen that
disrespect in the son until it bubbled from
his lips in foul speech at moments warningp
Lay the blame to q brutal nature to O
lack of moral surroundings, to vicious
temptations to drink, or wherever in the ar
cana Of human turpitude you may, but do not
accept for o moment the wretch's plea that 1t
was all for a button Let those surrounded
by similar promptings to crime remember the
eve of the murder as well as the murder itself