10. SKILLED LABOR.
William Hurst.—Some of the narratives in
this book read like the story of Aladin's Lamp, and we have no doubt
some of them so reading are absolutely true, while for the Lamp story
nothing is claimed. For many ages men, and particularly those engaged in
the literary field of thought, have discanted on the baseness of the
passion of jealousy. There is no sense in being jealous. You are either
loved or you are not, and hence the absolute foolishness of indulging
the passion.
William Hurst, whose history we now relate, is a man of rough
personal appearance, Irish descent, and his age is now about fifty-five.
Coming to Kansas at an early day, he settled in Doniphan County, and
there courted and subsequently married one of Doniphan County's pretty
girls. Time went along as usual, and in a few years there were several
little cherubs that blessed the household of Hurst. But, as sometimes
happens, the husband began to drink, love grew colder, the necessities
of the family hourly grew greater, poverty in all its hideousness came
to curse the home once so happy. The poor, distracted wife and mother
did all she could, by taking in washing and ironing, to prevent the
starvation of her little ones. The husband through his bleared eyes
imagined he
could see that other men were too friendly to his wife. He charged her
with unfaithfulness to the marriage vows. She denied the charge. Only
incensed by this he would beat and mistreat her out of all reason. For
protection she had him arrested, intending to bind him over to keep the
peace, but on the advice of officers, who are so full of it, she
withdrew the charge and he was set at liberty. For a few days he was
quiet, but soon the red liquor poured down his throat, and like a
mountain devil stirred all the dark passions of his lost and ruined
nature. He attempted to debauch his own daughter, and was only
prevented by the physical force of the ever-watchful mother. The father
(great God! is such a human being entitled to the endearing term?)
turned upon her, and again, as had often happened, abused, kicked and
mistreated her in a most shameful manner. She had him arrested a second
time with the intention of binding him over to keep the peace. He
pretended, while in charge of the officer, that he must see his wife,
and together they started toward the hovel where they lived. They met
the wife and mother at the outskirts of the little village, had some
words, and before the officer could prevent it, Hurst sprang upon
the woman and cut her throat from ear to ear jumped away, and made good
his escape to the woods, the officer, meanwhile, deeming it more
important to aid the woman, not knowing, for a moment, that the cutting
was fatal. That fact was very soon apparent. Others were called who took
charge of the body, and the officer struck out in hot pursuit of the
murderer. He was followed to the woods a few miles from White Cloud, in
Doniphan County, there overtaken and conducted to the county seat,
tried, convicted of murder in the first degree, sentenced to be hung,
sent to the penitentiary to await the final execution, which, in our
State, never comes. He remained in there about twenty months when he
became insane, and was sent to the asylum; was there about three and a
half years, when he was pronounced cured and returned to the
penitentiary. He is now insane a second time. You have all in your
younger-days read the story of the maniac that paced his cell, repeating
"once one is two," and now comes the queerest part of this narrative.
Hurst seems anxious to talk to every one that calls, and especially
anxious to shake hands; but if you say anything to him, or ask any
question, his only answer is "skilled
labor," and keeps on repeating these words as he walks up and down his
place of confinement.
Who knows but the infinite God has destroyed reason to prevent
the power of darkness over this poor, unfortunate being. Or who knows
but the demands of justice are met in the terrible conscience blows
which have staggered and shattered that which originally was in the
image of God.
