Our New York Letter.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 930, 27 December 1889, Page 9

Our New York Letter.

An inquest took place here on Thursday last which has no parallel in our criminal records, and which bub for a criminal interpretation of the iaw by an imbecile coroner and jury might have sent a young girl of fourteen to States Prison for the rest of her natural life.

The inquest reveals a state of affairs on the east side of town which is a blot upon our city’s record and a disgrace to our civilisation. We talk about the ignorant masses of Europe and plume ourselves on our superiority, and yet nothing more shocking could be seen in the purlieus of White, chapel or the slums of the Faubourg St An. toine, than the crime which was committed in the Eighteenth Ward,‘right in the heart of the city. What makes the offence particularly appalling is, that all the participants were young girls, the oldest of them only sixteen years of age, and the girl accused of the brutal killing was under fourteen. Julia O’Connor and Maggie Miller were cash girls in Herne’s great drygoods storeandhad beenfriends. On theirway home from work they began to talk of the relative merits of their bloeks, Julia O'Connor asscerting that the block on which Maggie Miller lived was a very tough black, and declaring that she would not live there on any account ; and Maggie Millar asserting they wouldn’t have such a character as Julia O’Connor on their block, for if she came they would knock her out. Then Julia said there wasn’t a girl on the block that could knock her out, and that she could lick any girl of her size in the Eighteenth Ward. And right here let me add that the Eighteenth Ward contains some of the toughest and hardest characters in the city, It begins in the Sixth avenue and runs on the lines of Fifteenth and Twenty, fifth streets right across the city to the east. From the Sixth td the Second avenue the quarter may be called aristocratic. It takes in Union sod Madison Squares, many of

the leading theatres, hotels and great stores ; Tiffany’s, Lord & Taylor's, Brooks, Sloan’s and many others, but after you pass the Second avenue the panorama changes. Whole streets are lined with tenement houses that swarm with a low class population. It is largely foreigu, and oa every floor day and night is heard the whirr of the sewing machine and the beating of hammers, for the inhabitants of this uncanny hive are fighting a hard battle for life, and it is either work or starve. 3n these tenements there is a state of continual warfare between the occupants, and it is no uncommon thing for people living on the same floor never to exchange a word for months, except in anger. Of a summer evening boxing and wrestling bouts are the principal amusements of the young men and boys, aud many a lively scrap on the sidewalk has to be stopped by the police ; nor are these bouts exclusively confined to the young men, young women and girls are infected by the ■ state of morals there and desperate encounters among them are not uncommon, while men and boys stand by’ to urge on tha disgraceful battle. It waa in this community that Julia O’Connor and Maggie Miller lived, \\ hen it was known in the Eighteenth Ward that Julia O’CoDnor bad said that she could lick any girl in that classics locality, there were lots of female Sullivans ready to try conclusions with her. So a number of girls set themselves to w'orlt to bring about a battle. Julia O’Connor bad just gob home from work and had fallen asleep in a rocking chair. Maggie Miller met Maggie Quinn on the corner and told her to get Julia O’Connor to come out, she wanted to fight her. Maggie Quinn went into the house and roused the young girl from slumber, telling her that some frierds of her 3 wanted to see her down at the corner. Unsuspectingly she started out and as soon as she turned the corner Maggie Miller, who lay in waiting, flew at her like a tigress, and then commenced a struggle for life and death, the young girls standing around urging them on, and at last when the Miller girl was getting the worst of it. four or five of them pitched upon Julia O’Connor and killed her. She did not die immediately, bub lingered through a few miserable weeks and then passed away. What a scene to record as having taken place on a crowded sidewalk in the first city of the Union ! A pack of savages at Ugando or Zambesi could do no worse. The villainous pirates of the Straits of Malacca could imagine nothing more bloodthirsty or cruel. The names of the combatants and the lookers on are suggestive—Julia O’Connor, fMaggie Miller, Mary Ann Muldoou, Masgi&Quinn, Maggie Hoacb, Maude McMahon, Julia Kelly, Bridget Me Carty, Honora Lynch and Katy Monahan. These young girls had heard .their fathers and their .brothers talking about Sullivan, Kilrain, Faddy Ryan and Muldoon; they had seen their favourite beaus try conclusions on the sidewalk, and they longed to emulate them, and this it is that has demoralized and brutalized the lower classes of New York city. The police for which we pay millions annually, have been detailed to protect these disgreeful exhibitions, and John L Sullivan with bis associate ruffians and blackguards has had better police protection than the members of the Episcopal Council who sat here last week. Maggie Miller acknowledged tlgb fight and took all the responsibility of it. A dozen witnesses testified to the brutal beating the girl received, but the coroner’s jury, made up of the same material as the fighters, acquitted Maggie Miller, and she walked out of Court free. The verdict is a shock and a disgrace. Bourke Cockran is preparing an elaborate appeal for Kemmler, sentenced to die by electricity, urging firstly, that electricity will not certainly kill; and secondly, that it is a cruel and unusual punishment. While the trial has been going on and the different appeals have been listened to we killed seven men right here in the streets and injured a great many more. On Thursday a man was killed in the middle of the day on the corner of Chambers and Centre-streets, and in addition to being killed was terribly burned. It was a shocking sight as his body hung in the network of wires over an hour before he could be taken down, and the very next day another man narrowly escaped death from a falling wire, being knocked senseless by the shock. Why this sudden interest in Kemmler is a mystery. A more worthless vagabond can scarcely be imagined. He killed his sweetheart in a fit of jealous rage, and if ever man deserved, death he deserves it. I suspect that the funds for tha fight are furnished by a rival electric company which wishes to throw discredit on the instruments which the State propose to use. I would suggest that they try the experiment first on Kemmler, and then if it don’t kill him, appeal bis ca?e.

Strolling down Broadway the other day I stopped on the corner of i Twenty-second street and Broadway to take a look at Mrs Lynch's new store. Her windows are always interesting to me. They are full of domestic and foreign history and romance. Rare diamonds, rubies, and pearls, glitter in the cases and windows, every one of which has a story. Here is a pair of rare solitaires, old mine stones of purest water. What are they worth 1 Mrs Lynch says six thousand dollars, but she will sell them for five, for she wants money. Who did they belong to ? Well, now, you must not ask me; I never mention names, but the gentleman who presented them was a rich banker, and the lady who received them, I can’t tell you her name. He defaulted in his bank and went—to prison. She fell sick and sent for me, and I bought them at fall value. There is a pair of diamond studs that glistened on the breast of a great bookmaker. By the way, it has been an unlucky season for the bookmakers, and scores of them have gone to the wall. Here are the earrings and bracelets of a fine lady who followed the races and who parted with these when everything el?o was gone. Prominent in the window was the opera glass of the Empress Eugene, and several other souvenirs of that ill-fated lady. Right next door a genuine Turk sat in a window making one of those rugs for which his country-, is so famous. The loom was the same pattern which was in use in the days of Moses, a rude, clumsy affair made of the young trees just

as they are out down in the forest with the bark all on. The making of these Turkish rugs is a slow and costly operation. I have stopped to see the weaver tw.ice, but his progress in a week was scarcely visible.

The week has been a most brilliant one theatrically. The Kendals at the Fifth Avenue scored a phenomenal success ; I say phenomenal, for the piece in which they appeared and which has run all the week to crowded houses was played by Wallack here years ago and was supposed to be worn out. At least one half of the people had seen it before and many of them several times, but it really seemed to make no difference, it answered all the purpose of a new play. This week they play the * Master of the Forge ’ which we have had in several different shapes the last by Jane Hading the favourite of Paris, who came over here with Coqueliu. ‘ Eichlieu, 5 well worn but good, rendered by Booth assisted by Modjeska, Joffer3on, Mrs Drew, and Billy Florence in * The Rivals.’ If we had John Gilbert for the Sir Anthony the cast would be perfect. All the houses are doing well, and the ‘ Old Homestead 5 at the Academy has renewed the suecess of last year. One of the most.pathetic incidents of the week is the death of an old gentleman from Boston, who had come to Now York on purpose to see the play. He was deeply interested in Uncle Josh from the start, and when the old man got in trouble it waa too much for him ; he fell back in bis seat and died when they got him in the lobby. The night before an excellent actor, C. B. Bishop fell dead just after leaving the Btage at the Madison Square Theatre. The destruction of Dr. Talmage’s Tabernacle on Sunday morning has left the eloquent pastor free of foot for bis excursion to the Holy Land. It is said that Dr. Talcaage appeals to Christendom to help him to rebuild his church, though why he should do so I am at a loss to conceive. The entire loss, is less than forty thousand dollars, the rest is covered by insurance. He has tha largest congregation in Brooklyn, between three and four thousand. Many of them are very rich men. The Doctor himself is worth at least one hundred thousand dollars. With their insurance, §130.000, and twenty thousand raised by the Doctor himself and his congregation, he can build one of the finest churches in Brooklyn. Our Saviour, nor any of the apostlos, never had a hundred and fifty thousand dollar church, and that ought to be good enough for our eloquent friend Doctor Talmago. , Broadbrim. 1