City Crimes - or Life in New York and Boston
200 pages
English
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City Crimes - or Life in New York and Boston

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200 pages
English

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The Project Gutenberg EBook of City Crimes, by Greenhorn This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net Title: City Crimes or Life in New York and Boston Author: Greenhorn Release Date: January 7, 2009 [EBook #27732] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CITY CRIMES *** Produced by Suzanne Shell, Linda Hamilton and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net City Crimes; OR LIFE IN NEW YORK AND BOSTON. A VOLUME FOR EVERYBODY: BEING A MIRROR OF FASHION, A PICTURE OF POVERTY, AND A STARTLING REVELATION OF THE SECRET CRIMES OF GREAT CITIES {First published 1849} CHAPTER I A Young Gentleman of Wealth and Fashion—a noble resolve— the flatterers—the Midnight Encounter—an Adventure—the Courtezan—Temptation triumphant—how the Night was passed. 'What a happy dog I ought to be!' exclaimed Frank Sydney, as he reposed his slippered feet upon the fender, and sipped his third glass of old Madeira, one winter's evening in the year 18—, in the great city of New York. Frank might well say so; for in addition to being as handsome a fellow as one would be likely to meet in a day's walk, he possessed an ample fortune, left him by a deceased uncle.

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Publié le 08 décembre 2010
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The Project Gutenberg EBook of City Crimes, by Greenhorn
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net
Title: City Crimes
or Life in New York and Boston
Author: Greenhorn
Release Date: January 7, 2009 [EBook #27732]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CITY CRIMES ***
Produced by Suzanne Shell, Linda Hamilton and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
City Crimes;
OR
LIFE IN NEW YORK AND BOSTON.
A VOLUME FOR EVERYBODY:
BEING A MIRROR OF FASHION,
A PICTURE OF POVERTY,
AND A STARTLING REVELATION
OF THE SECRET CRIMES
OF GREAT CITIES


{First published 1849}
CHAPTER I
A Young Gentleman of Wealth and Fashion—a noble resolve—
the flatterers—the Midnight Encounter—an Adventure—the
Courtezan—Temptation triumphant—how the Night was passed.
'What a happy dog I ought to be!' exclaimed Frank Sydney, as he reposed
his slippered feet upon the fender, and sipped his third glass of old Madeira,
one winter's evening in the year 18—, in the great city of New York.
Frank might well say so; for in addition to being as handsome a fellow as
one would be likely to meet in a day's walk, he possessed an ample fortune,
left him by a deceased uncle. He was an orphan; and at the age of twenty-
one, found himself surrounded by all the advantages of wealth, and at the
same time, was perfect master of his own actions. Occupying elegant
apartments at a fashionable hotel, he was free from any of those petty cares
and vexations which might have annoyed him, and he kept an establishment
of his own; while at the same time he was enabled to maintain, in his rooms, a
private table for the entertainment of himself and friends, who frequently
repaired thither, to partake of his hospitality and champagne suppers. Withsuch advantages of fortune and position, no wonder he exclaimed, as at the
beginning of our tale—'What a happy dog I ought to be!'
Pursuing the current of his thought Frank half audibly continued—
'Yes, I have everything to make me truly happy—health, youth, good looks
and wealth; and yet it seems to me that I should derive a more substantial
satisfaction from my riches were I to apply them to the good of mankind. To
benefit one's fellow creatures is the noblest and most exalted of enjoyments—
far superior to the gratification of sense. The grateful blessings of the poor
widow or orphan, relieved by my bounty, are greater music to my soul, than
the insincere plaudits of my professed friends, who gather around my hearth
to feast upon my hospitality, and yet who, were I to lose my wealth, and
become poor, would soon cut my acquaintance, and sting me by their
ingratitude. To-night I shall have a numerous party of these friends to sup with
me, and this supper shall be the last one to which I shall ever invite them.
Yes! My wealth shall be employed for a nobler object than to pamper these
false and hollow-hearted parasites. From this night, I devote my time, my
energies and my affluence to the relief of deserving poverty and the welfare of
all who need my aid with whom I may come in contact. I will go in person to
the squalid abodes of the poor—I will seek them out in the dark alleys and
obscure lanes of this mighty metropolis—I will, in the holy mission of charity,
venture into the vilest dens of sin and iniquity, fearing no danger, and
shrinking not from the duty which I have assumed.—Thus shall my wealth be
a blessing to my fellow creatures, and not merely a means of ministering to
my own selfishness.'
Noble resolve! All honor to thy good and generous heart, Frank Sydney!
Thou hast the true patent of nature's nobility, which elevates and ennobles
thee, more than a thousand vain titles or empty honors! Thou wilt keep thy
word, and become the poor man's friend—the liberal and enlightened
philanthropist—the advocate of deserving poverty, and foe to the oppressor,
who sets his heel upon the neck of his brother man.
The friends who were to sup with him, arrived, and they all sat down to a
sumptuous entertainment. Frank did the honors with his accustomed affability
and care; and flowing bumpers were drunk to his health, while the most
flattering eulogiums upon his merits and excellent qualities passed from lip to
lip. Frank had sufficient discernment to perceive that all this praise was
nothing but the ebullitions of the veriest sycophants; and he resolved at some
time to test the sincerity of their protestations of eternal friendship.
'Allow me, gentlemen,' said Mr. Archibald Slinkey, a red-faced, elderly man,
with a nose like the beak of a poll-parrot—'to propose the health of my
excellent and highly esteemed friend, Frank Sydney. Gentlemen, I am a plain
man, unused to flattery, and may be pardoned for speaking openly before the
face of our friend—for I will say it, he is the most noble hearted, enlightened,
conscientious, consistent, and superlatively good fellow I ever met in the
course of my existence.'
'So he is,' echoed Mr. Narcissus Nobbs, a middle-aged gentleman, with no
nose to speak of, but possessing a redundancy of chin and a wonderful
capacity of mouth—'so he is, Slinkey; his position—his earning—his talent—
his wealth—'
'Oh, d——n his wealth,' ejaculated Mr. Solomon Jenks, a young gentleman
who affected a charming frankness and abruptness in his speech, but who
was in reality the most specious flatterer of the entire party. Mr. Jenks rejoiced
in the following personal advantages: red hair, a blue nose, goggle eyes, andjaws of transparent thinness.
'D——n his wealth!' said Jenks—'who cares for that? Sydney's a good
fellow—a capital dog—an excellent, d——d good sort of a whole-souled devil
—but his wealth is no merit. If he lost every shilling he has in the world, why
curse me if I shouldn't like him all the better for it! I almost wish the rascal
would become penniless tomorrow, in order to afford me an opportunity of
showing him the disinterestedness of my friendship. I would divide my purse
with him, take him by the hand and say—Frank, my boy, I like you for yourself
alone, and d——n me if you are not welcome to all I have in the world—That's
how I would do it.'
'I thank you gentlemen, for your kind consideration,' said Frank; 'I trust I may
never be necessitated to apply to any of my friends, for aid in a disagreeable
emergency—but should such ever unfortunately be the case, be assured that
I shall not hesitate to avail myself of your generous assistance.'
'Bravo—capital—excellent!' responded the choir of flatterers, in full chorus,
and their glasses were again emptied in honor of their host.
It was midnight ere these worthies took their departure. When at length they
were all gone, and Frank found himself alone, he exclaimed—'Thank heaven,
I am at last rid of those miserable and servile fellows, who in my presence
load me with the most extravagant praise and adulation, while behind my
back they doubtless ridicule my supposed credulity. I have too long tolerated
them—henceforth, I discard and cast them off.'
He approached the window, and drawing aside the curtain, looked forth
into the streets. The moon was shining brightly; and its rays fell with dazzling
lustre upon the snow which covered the ground. It was a most lovely night,
altho' excessively cold; and Sydney, feeling not the least inclination to retire
to rest, said to himself:
'What is to prevent me from beginning my career of usefulness and charity
to-night? The hour is late—but misery sleeps not, and 'tis never too late to
alleviate the sufferings of distressed humanity. Yes, I will go forth, even at the
midnight hour, and perchance I may encounter some poor fellow-creature
worthy of my aid, or visit some abode of poverty where I can minister to the
comfort of its wretched inmates.'
He threw on an ample cloak, put on a fur cap and gloves, and taking his
sword-cane in his hand, left the hotel, and proceeded at a rapid pace thro' the
moon-lit and deserted streets. He entered the Park, and crossed over towards
Chatham street, wishing to penetrate into the more obscure portions of the
city, where Poverty, too often linked with Crime, finds a miserable dwelling-
place. Thus far, he had not encountered a single person; but on approaching
the rear of the City Hall, he observed the figure of a man issue from the dark
obscurity of the building, and advance directly toward him. Sydney did not
seek to avoid him, supposing him to be one of the watchmen stationed in that
vicinity, but a nearer view satisfied him that the person was no watchman but
a man clothed in rags, whose appearance betokened the extreme of human
wretchedness. He was of a large and powerful build, but seemed attenuated
by want, or disease—or perhaps, both. As he approached Sydney, his
gestures were wild and threatening: he held in his hands a large paving-
stone, which he raised, as if to hurl it at the other with all his force.
Sydney, naturally conceiving the man's intentions to be hostile, drew the
sword from his cane, and prepared to act on the defensive, at the same time
exclaiming:'Who are you, and what do you wish?'
'Money!' answered the other, in a hollow tone, with the stone still upraised,
while his eyes glowed savagely upon the young man.
Sydney, who was brave and dauntless, steadily returned his gaze, and
said, calmly:
'You adopt a strange method, friend, of levying contributions upon
travellers. If you are in distress and need aid, you should apply for it in a
becoming manner—not approach a stranger in this threatening and ruffianly
style. Stand off—I am armed, you see—I shall not hesitate to use this weapon
if—'
The robber burst into a wild, ferocious laugh:
'Fool!' he cried. 'What can your weak arm or puny weapon do, against the
strength of a madman? For look you, I am mad with hunger! For three days I
have not tasted food—for three cold, wretched nights I have roamed thro' the
streets of this Christian city, homeless, friendless, penniless! Give me money,
or with this stone will I dash out your brains.'
'Unfortunate man,' said Sydney, in accents of deep pity—'I feel for you, on
my soul I do. Want and wretchedness have made you desperate. Throw down
your weapon, and listen to me; he who now addresses you is a man,
possessing a heart that beats in sympathy for your misfortunes. I have both
the means and the will to relieve your distress.'
The robber cast the stone from him, and burst into tears. 'Pardon me, kind
stranger,' he cried, 'I did intend you harm, for my brain is burning, and my
vitals consumed by starvation. You have spoken to me the first words of
kindness that I have heard for a long, long time. You pity me, and that pity
subdues me. I will go and seek some other victim.' 'Stay,' said Sydney, 'for
heaven's sake give up this dreadful trade of robbery. Here is money, sufficient
to maintain you for weeks—make a good use of it—seek employment—be
honest, and should you need further assistance, call at —— Hotel, and ask for
Francis Sydney. That is my name, and in me you will ever find a friend, so
long as you prove yourself worthy.'
'Noble, generous man!' exclaim the robber, as he received a fifty dollar note
from the hands of Frank. 'God will reward you for this. Believe me, I have not
always been what I now am—a midnight ruffian, almost an assassin. No—I
have had friends, and respectability, and wealth. But I have lost them all—all!
We shall meet again—farewell!'
He ran rapidly from the spot, leaving Frank to pursue his way alone, and
ponder upon this remarkable encounter.
Leaving the Park, and turning to the left, Frank proceeded up Chatham
street towards the Bowery. As he was passing a house of humble but
respectable exterior, he observed the street door to open, and a female voice
said, in a low tone—'Young gentleman I wish to speak to you.'
Frank was not much surprised at being thus accosted, for his long
residence in New York had made him aware of the fact that courtezans often
resorted to that mode of procuring 'patronage' from such midnight pedestrians
as might happen to be passing their doors. His first impulse was to walk on
without noticing the invitation—but then the thought suggested itself to his
mind: 'Might I not possibly be of some use or benefit to that frail one? I will see
what she has to say.'Reasoning thus, he stepped up to the door, when the female who had
accosted him took him gently by the hand, and drawing him into the entry,
closed the door. A lamp was burning upon a table which stood in the
passage, and by its light Frank perceived that the lady was both young and
pretty; she was wrapped in a large shawl, so that the outlines of her form were
not plainly visible, yet it was easy to be seen that she was of good figure and
graceful carriage.
'Madame, or Miss,' said Frank, 'be good enough to tell me why—'
'We cannot converse here in the cold,' interrupted the lady, smiling archly.
'Pray, sir, accompany me up-stairs to my room, and your curiosity shall be
satisfied.'
Frank (who had his own reasons) motioned her to lead the way; she took
the lamp from the table, and ascended the staircase, followed by the young
gentleman. The lady entered a room upon the second floor, in which stood a
bed and other conveniences denoting it to be a sleeping chamber; a cheerful
fire was glowing in the grate. The apartment was neatly and plainly furnished,
containing nothing of a character to indicate that its occupant was other than a
perfectly virtuous female. No obscene pictures or immodest images were to
be seen—all was unexceptionable in point of propriety.
The lady closed and locked the chamber door; then placing two chairs
before the fire, she seated herself in one, and requested Frank to occupy the
other. Throwing off her shawl, she displayed a fine form and voluptuous bust
—the latter very liberally displayed, as she was arrayed in nothing but a loose
dressing gown, which concealed neither her plump shoulders, nor the two fair
and ample globes, whiter than alabaster, that gave her form a luxurious
fullness.
'You probably have sufficient discrimination, sir, to divine my motive in
inviting you into this house and chamber,' began the young lady, not without
some embarrassment. 'You will readily infer, from my conduct, that I belong to
the unfortunate class—'
'Say no more,' said Frank, interrupting her, 'I can readily guess why you
accosted me, and as readily comprehend your true position and character.
Madame, I regret to meet you in this situation.'
The lady cast down her eyes, and made no immediate reply, but for some
minutes continued to trace imaginary figures upon the carpet, with the point of
her delicate slipper. Meanwhile, Frank had ample leisure to examine her
narrowly. His eyes wandered over the graceful, undulating outlines of her fine
form, and lingered admiringly upon the exposed beauties of her swelling
bosom; he glanced at her regular and delicate features which were
exceedingly girlish and pretty, for she certainly was not much over sixteen
years of age. When it is remembered that Frank was a young man of an
ardent and impulsive temperament, the reader will not be surprised that the
loveliness of this young creature began to excite within his breast those
feelings and desires which are inherent in human nature. In fact, he found
himself being gradually overcome by the most tumultuous sensations: his
heart palpitated violently, his breath grew hurried and irregular, and he could
scarcely restrain himself from clasping her to his breast with licentious
violence. His passions were still further excited, when she raised her eyes to
his face, and glanced at him with a soft smile, full of tenderness and invitation.
Frank Sydney was one of the best fellows in the world, and possessed a
heart that beat in unison with every noble, generous and kindly feeling; but hewas not an angel. No, he was human, and subject to all the frailties and
passions of humanity. When, therefore, that enticing young woman raised her
eyes, swimming with languishing desire, to his face, and smiled so
irresistibly, he did precisely what ninety-nine out of every one hundred young
men in existence would have done, in the same circumstances—he encircled
her slender waist with his arm, drew her to his throbbing breast, and tasted
the nectar of her ripe lips, which so plainly invited the salute. Ah Frank, Frank!
thou hast gone too far to retract now! Thy hand plays with those ivory globes
—thy lips kiss those rounded shoulders, and that beauteous neck—thy brain
becomes dizzy, thy senses reel, and thy amorous soul bathes in a sea of
rapturous delight!
Truly, Frank Sydney, thou art a pretty fellow to prate about sallying forth at
midnight to do good to thy fellow creatures!—Here we find thee, within an
hour after thy departure from thy home, on an 'errand of mercy,' embraced in
the soft arms of a pretty wanton, and revelling in the delights of
voluptuousness. We might have portrayed thee as a paragon of virtue and
chastity; we might have described thee as rejecting with holy horror the
advances of that frail but exceedingly fair young lady—we might have made a
saint of thee, Frank. But we prefer to depict human nature as it is not as it
should be;—therefore we represent thee to be no better than thou art in
reality. Many will pardon thee for thy folly, Frank, and admit that it was natural
—very natural. Our hero did not return to his hotel until an hour after daybreak.
The interval was passed with the young lady of frailty and beauty. He shared
her couch; but neither of them slumbered, for at Frank's request, his fair friend
occupied the time in narrating the particulars of her history, which we repeat
in the succeeding chapter.
CHAPTER II
The Courtezan's story, showing some of the Sins of Religious
Professors—A carnal Preacher, a frail Mother, and a lustful Father—
a plan of revenge.
'My parents are persons of respectable standing in society;—they are both
members of the Methodist Episcopal church, and remarkably rigid in their
observance of the external forms and ceremonies of religion. Family worship
was always adhered to by them, as well as grace before and after meals.
They have ever been regarded as most exemplary and pious people. I was
their only child; and the first ten years of my life were passed in much the
same manner as those of other children of my sex and condition. I attended
school, and received a good education; and my parents endeavored to instill
the most pious precepts into my mind, to the end, they said, that I might
become a vessel of holiness to the Lord. When I reached my twelfth year, a
circumstance occurred which materially diminished my belief in the sanctity
and godliness of one of my parents, and caused me to regard with suspicion
and distrust, both religion and its professors.
'It was the custom of the pastor of the church to which my parents belonged,
to make a weekly round of visits among the members of his congregation.
These visits were generally made in the middle of the forenoon or afternoon,
during the absence of the male members of the various families. I observed
that 'our minister' invariably paid his visits to our house when my father was
absent at his place of business. Upon these occasions, he would hold long
and private conferences with my mother, who used to declare that theseinterviews with that holy man did her more substantial good than all his
preaching. 'It is so refreshing to my soul,' she would say, 'to pray in secret with
that good man—he is so full of Christian love—so tender in his exhortations—
so fervent in his prayers! O that I could meet him every day, in the sanctity of
my closet, to strengthen my faith by the outpourings of his inexhaustible fount
of piety and Christian love!'
'The wrestlings with the Lord of my maternal parent and her holy pastor,
must have been both prolonged and severe, judging from the fact that at the
termination of these pious interviews, my mother sometimes made her
appearance with disordered apparel and disarranged hair; while the violence
of her efforts to strengthen her faith was further manifest from the flushed
condition of her countenance, and general peculiarity of aspect.
'One afternoon the Reverend Mr. Flanders—for that was the name of our
minister—called to see my mother, and as usual they retired together to a
private room, for 'holy communion.' Young as I was, my suspicions had long
been excited in regard to the nature of these interviews; I began to think that
their true object partook more largely of an earthly and carnal character, than
either the pastor or my mother would care to have known. Upon the afternoon
in question, I determined to satisfy myself on this point;—and accordingly, as
soon as they entered the room and closed the door, (which they always
locked,) I stole noiselessly up-stairs, and stationed myself in the passage, on
the outside of the room, and listened intently. I had scarcely taken up my
position, when my ear caught the sound of kissing; and applying my eye to
the key-hole, I beheld the Rev. Mr. Flanders bestowing the most fervent
embraces upon my mother, which she returned with compound interest. The
pious gentleman, clasping her around the waist with one arm, proceeded to
take liberties which astonished and disgusted me: and my mother not only
permitted the revered scoundrel to do this, but actually seemed to encourage
him. Soon they placed themselves upon a sofa, in full view of my gaze; and I
was both mortified and enraged to observe the wantonness of my mother, and
the lasciviousness of her pious friend. After indulging in the most obscene
and lecherous preliminaries, the full measure of their iniquity was
consummated, I being a witness to the whole disgraceful scene. Horrified,
and sick at heart, I left the spot and repaired to my own room, where I shed
many bitter tears, for the dishonor of my mother and the hypocrisy of the
minister filled me with shame and grief. From that moment, I ceased to love
and respect my mother, as formerly; but she failed to perceive any alteration
in my conduct towards her, and at that time was far from suspecting that I had
witnessed the act of her dishonor and disgrace.
'I had always regarded my father as one of the best and most exemplary of
men; and after my mother's crime, I comforted myself with the reflection that
he, at least, was no hypocrite! but in every sense a good and sincere
Christian. Nothing happened to shake this belief, until I had reached my
fourteenth year; and then, alas! I became too painfully convinced that all his
professions of piety and holiness were but a cloak to conceal the real
wickedness of his heart. It chanced, about this time, that a young woman was
received into our family, as a domestic: this person was far from being
handsome or in the slightest degree interesting, in countenance—yet her
figure was rather good than otherwise. She was a bold, wanton-looking
wench; and soon after she came to live with us, I noticed that my father
frequently eyed her with something sensual in his glances. He frequently
sought opportunities of being alone with her; and one evening, hearing a
noise in the kitchen, I went to the head of the stairs, and listened—there was
the sound of a tussle, and I heard Jane (the name of the young woman,)exclaim—'Have done, sire—take away your hands—how dare you?' And
then she laughed, in a manner that indicated her words were not very
seriously meant. My father's voice next reached me; what he said I could not
clearly distinguish; but he seemed to be remonstrating with the girl, and
entreating her to grant him some favor; what that favor was, I could readily
guess; and that she did grant it to him, without much further coaxing, was
soon evident to my mind, by certain unmistakable sounds. But I preferred
seeing to hearing; creeping softly down the kitchen stairs, I peeped in at the
door, which was slightly ajar, and beheld my Christian papa engaged in a
manner that reflected no credit on his observance of the seventh
commandment.
'Thus having satisfied myself as to the nature and extent of his sanctity and
holiness, I softly ascended the stairs, and resumed my seat in the parlor. In
less than ten minutes afterwards, the whole family were summoned together
around the family altar, and then my excellent and pious father poured out his
pure spirit in prayer, returning thanks for having been 'preserved from
temptation,' and supplicating that all the members of his household might flee
from fleshy lusts, which war against the soul; to which my chaste and saint-
like mother responded in a fervent 'Amen.' From that evening, the kitchen
wench with whom my father had defiled himself, assumed an air of bold
insolence to every one in the house; she refused to perform any of the menial
services devolving upon her, and when my mother spoke of dismissing her,
my father would not listen to it; so the girl continued with us. She had
evidently obtained entire dominion over my father, and did not scruple to use
her power to her own advantage; for she flaunted about in showy ribbons and
gay dresses, and I had no difficulty in surmising who furnished her with the
means of procuring them.
'I still continued to attend the church of the Rev. Mr. Flanders. He used to
preach excellent sermons, so far as composition and style of delivery were
concerned; his words were smooth as oil; his manner full of the order of
sanctity; his prayers were fervid eloquence. Yet, when I thought what a
consummate scoundrel and hypocrite he was at heart, I viewed him with
loathing and disgust.
'I soon became sensible that this reverend rogue began to view me with
more than an ordinary degree of interest and admiration; for I may say, without
vanity, that as I approached my fifteenth year, I was a very pretty girl; my form
had begun to develop and ripen, and my maiden graces were not likely to
escape the lustful eyes of the elderly roues of our 'flock,' and seemed to be
particularly attractive to that aged libertine known as the Rev. Balaam
Flanders.
'So far from being flattered by the attentions of our minister (as many of our
flock were,) I detested and avoided him. Yet his lecherous glances were
constantly upon me, whenever I was thrown into his society; even when he
was in the pulpit, he would often annoy me with his lustful gaze.
'A bible class of young ladies was attached to the church, of which I was a
member. We assembled at the close of divine service in the evening, for the
study and examination of the Scriptures. Mr. Flanders himself had charge of
this class, and was regarded by all the young ladies (myself excepted) as a
'dear, good man.' When one of us was particularly apt in answering a
question or finding a passage, he would playfully chuck the good scholar
under the chin, in token of his commendation; and sometimes, even, he would
bestow a fatherly kiss upon the fair student of holy writ.'These little tokens of his amativeness he often bestowed on me; and I
permitted him, as I considered such liberties to be comparatively harmless.
He soon however went beyond these 'attentions' to me—he first began by
passing his hand over my bust, outside my dress, and, growing emboldened
by my suffering him to do this, he would slide his hand into my bosom, and
take hold of my budding evidences of approaching womanhood. Once he
whispered in my ear—'My dear, what a delicious bust you have!' I was by no
means surprised at his conduct or words, for his faux pas with my frail mother
convinced me that he was capable of any act of lechery. I also felt assured
that he lusted after me with all the ardor of his lascivious passions, and I well
know that he waited but for an opportunity to attempt my seduction.—I hated
the man, both for his adultery with my mother, and his vile intentions towards
myself—and I determined to punish him for his lewdness and hypocrisy—yes,
punish him through the medium of his own bad passions, and in a manner
that would torture him with alternate hope and despair; now inspiring him with
rapture by apparently almost yielding to his wishes, and then maddening him
by my resistance—at the same time resolving not to submit to his desires in
any case. This was my plan for punishing the hoary libertine, and you shall
see how well I carried it out.
'I did not discourage my reverend admirer in his amorous advances, but on
the contrary received them in such a manner as might induce him to suppose
that they were rather pleasing to me than otherwise. This I did in order to
ensure the success of my scheme—I observed with secret satisfaction that he
grew bolder and bolder in the liberties which he took with my person. He
frequently accompanied me home in the evening after prayer meeting; and he
always took care to traverse the most obscure and deserted streets with me,
so as to have a better opportunity to indulge in his licentious freedoms with
me, unobserved. Not content with thrusting his hand into my bosom, he would
often attempt to pursue his investigations elsewhere: but this I always refused
to permit him to do. He was continually embracing and kissing me—and in
the latter indulgence, he often disgusted me beyond measure, by the
excessive libidinousness which he exhibited—I merely mention these things
to show the vile and beastly nature of this man, whom the world regarded as a
pure and holy minister of the gospel. Though old enough to be my
grandfather, the most hot blooded boy in existence could not have been more
wanton or eccentric in the manifestations of his lustful yearnings. In fact, he
wearied me almost to death by his unceasing persecution of me; yet I bore it
with patience, so as to accomplish the object I had in view.
'I have often, upon the Sabbath, looked at that man as he stood in the
pulpit; how pious he appeared, with his high, serene forehead, his carefully
arranged gray hair, his mild and saint-like features, his snow-white cravat,
and plain yet rich suit of glossy black! How calm and musical were the tones
of his voice!—How beautifully he portrayed the happiness of religion, and
how eloquently he prayed for the repentance and salvation of poor sinners!
Yet how black was his heart with hypocrisy, and how polluted his soul with
lust!
'One New Year's evening—I remember it well—my parents went to pay a
visit to a relative a short distance out of the city, leaving me in charge of the
house; the servants had all gone to visit their friends, and I was entirely alone.
I had good reason to suppose that the Rev. Mr. Flanders would call on me
that evening, as he knew that my parents would be absent. I determined to
improve the opportunity, and commence my system of torture. Going to my
chamber, I dressed myself in the most fascinating manner, for my wardrobe
was extensive; and glancing in the mirror, I was satisfied of my ability to fan