THE CRIME OF MAN.

Otago Witness, Issue 2685, 30 August 1905, Page 82

THE CRIME OF MAN.

By H. M. F.

(For the Witness.)

It was a bleak November evening. The cold, muddy November fog spread itself over the City of London. It rolled in one mighty bank over the housetops and down to the lowest nooks of the streets and Janes, as if it were its fixed intent to hide from all humanity the immorality and crime that were engulfed in it. The yellow, dirty glare of the street lamps and shop windows seemed to mock the passers-by, who jostled each other as they ielt their way along the sidewalks, bespattered with the filthy slush that covered the streets. Baie-footed urchins were collected in groups at the corners, who eagerly rushed up to each dark figure that loomed up close to them in the thick mibt, offering their services as guides to those who were not sure of their way. The wheeled traffic crawled unsteadily along the street.", and the drivers shouted themselves hoarse warning those who might be in their way of the hidden dan-

ger. The great clock towers boomed out the quarters and the bourn, as if they alone defied the cruel fog ; but their great voices sounded hoarse and feeble, as if they were being choked, as if they were dying, to the people in the streets, ?s the echo of their notes melted into silence.

As evening' closed in, and the streets became deserted, except by their tenants, who loafed -about gazing with eager cyeb at the little coffee stalls that stood here and there, or crouched into some cold, miserable recess for shelter, the fog became denser. Its great arms seemed to fold themselves around those to whom ;t was a home and to fondle the half clad children — who wondered why thf damp fog was ever made, and what good it did — as if it dearly loved them. The cruel cold fog — who knows better than they to whom it is a home what this fearful fog is? Who knows better than they who live in i<-, bleep in it, and die in it ? To those who are warmly clad and have a home to shelter them it is simply a disagreeable fog — a nuisance, and is forgotten when the door closes it out from the cheerful blazing hearth. But there arc many who have nothing, who are halfstarved, ill-clad, and homeless, and to them it is a. time of fearful misery and suffering : a hell of torment and wretchedness.

Jt was not a night for any one to be outside ; it was a tiin-s for people to be charitable, and show pity towards their fellow-beings. It was a time for street preachers to cease their idle prattle rfc .street corners, and show the workings of the God they expound to. these miserable, degraded beings by actions. God to these people is known only by name, and to them that name is one of profanity. It descends like a. hereditary disease from the parents to the chi.'dren. It is lisped by babies in arms, when tlie little tongue first sounds the word that loving mothers eagerly wait for. Such cruel, hard times tend to make the body soulless, to cause the hearts in wasted breasts to cry out against the idea of a God watching over them and their helpless little ones.

Scarcely visible in the fog a woman stood leaning against the dripping, cold &tone Avail that separates the street from the East India Dock. She gazed vacantly up at a murky glare that marked a lamp post, and the faint light showed a child, wrapped, in a thin shawl suckling at her half-naked breast. A handkerchief covered her head, and its ends were tied in a knot under her chin. Her clothes were thin and scanty, and great beads of moisture clung to them. Her feet, sore and blistered, were protruding through her almost soleless shoes, and her whole appearance showed that she had journeyed far that day.

She was a young girl, not more than 18 years of age, and her face, which was strong and handsome, had a ghastly, forlorn look about it. Great heavy dark rings surrounded her lower eyelids, and her eyes, though expressing acute suffering, were almost lifeless. As she stood thus she murmured in a soft, trembling voice, "My child, my poor child," then looking down at the child, and holding the shawl up from its little face, she I stooped and kissed it. The hot tears j rolled down her pale, hollow cheeks, and her wasted breast sobbed bitterly. A ! little naked arm rose up, and a small hand! grasped her firmly by the teeth. She kissed it and pressed it gently back to its place, and after kissing the little face again she replaced the shawl over it. '" Oh, what is to become of him? What, can I do for him? God, if thou art really a God, the God in whom we are taught to believe and trust, have pity on him and spars him." As she spoke, her tear-stained eyes wandered up to the muddy glare again, then turning, she wandered with a heavy, unsteady step, along the slushy sidewalk. Alone, alone, save for her little child. ■ Alone she wandered the streets of the greatest city in the world, with none to comfort her and give her warmth. Only a mere girl, pure in heart and soul before all this. Once comfoii;able and happy, a lady's pretty waiting maid ; respected by all, and loved ; now turned out, hated and despised. Where is he who brought about this mischief? Why is he not here to lend assistance to the innocent sufferers of his foul work? Oceans, wide oceans, separate him from the victims of his passions, his cruel promises, and block out all thought which might otherwise have moved the inner man to pity of the result of his gratifying his selfish pleasure. The tenants of the condemned cells of our prisons, who have foully slaughtered their victims, do pay the x>enalty of their crimes themselves. But what about the offenders against the great moral code? They whom you deem not fit to live upon this earth, and so destroy their lives, are almost angels compared with these treacherous seducers of poor innocent girls. Honourable members of society ! It is these foul seducers who degrade women and qualify them for the sphere of debauchery and prostitution. It is these who cause children to be brought into this world to grovef in the gutters and beg for crusts of r bread ; who breed our criminals, our thieves., our murderers, the tenants of our prisons. And yet they go scot free while the innocent victim of their wiles bears all the shame and punishment. On, on she trudged, not knowing where she went, and, turning the corner, sought shelter and rest for her weary limbs on the hard, wet pavement beneath the dock gates. She lay silently crouching against the stone wall of the great arch, holding her child to her breast. Several times she heard footsteps passing close to her, but she was afraid to ask for assistance. All her pleadings had been in vain, and now her life was at such a low ebb that she scarcely felt her own miserable suffering', and thought only of her child. There she lay in the thick suffocating fog and slush, unseen and unheard by the wellmuffled policeman, who almost trod upon her ragged garments as he passed. The tide of life within her was ebbing fast, and her soul was going with it into the great ocean of eternity, homeward bound, laden with an innocent cargo soiled by another's sin. She knew her end

was near, for her own helplessness told her that she would never rise again. Shewas not afraid, lor she knew that her suffering would then bo ended ; but she did not want to die — she wanted to live bo that her child might live, and she prayed fervently for its protection. She tried hard to make herself believe that blie was to blame for all this trouble, although she well knew in her own heart that she was innocent of these things when they happened She thought of her seducer, and k^ed him dearly. To her he was a granrl, manly fellow, and she loved him with a greater love because he wos> the father of her child. fSho forgave him everything from the bottom of her heart, and a. faint ?rnile played around the corners of her mouth as she wondered if her boy would be like him. Then these dreams would vanish, and her Ihoughts would dwell upon the child, and she would tremble in fear as she felt it move against her breast, lest it might be its last feeble little struggle for existence, and murmur in bitter sobs, " Oh, Gcd ! spare my child ! Spare him, spare him !"' As the night wore on to the early hours of morning a cold, strange feehug began to creep over her. Her chest was tioht, and ifc was with difficulty that she breathed. Sho tried to Hit the child towards her lips so that she might kiss its sleeping face, but her limbs were stift and she could not. nor could she bend her head towards it. The faint haze of dawn slowly pierced through the fog, whicli seemed to tnicken, as if it were trying to hide fiom the eyea o^ God the wretched dying woman. Violent burning pains shot through her body afc intervals, which were so agonising that she could scarce forbear from crying out aloud. The continual dripping from the wall on to tho pavement seemed to mock her in her agony, and irritated her to such an extent that she became demented. She thought someone was holding her to tho ground, and tried to free herself, but her limbs and body were immovable. A hand seemed to be closing slowly about her neck, and she thought she was being stranded. At last, with a desperate effort, she threw off her supposed assailant and cried aloud with a fearful shriek, "God save me, save me !" A heavy groan, followed by a gurgling sound, issued trom the corner, mingled with the laint moaning of a startled child. . , ... People who were sleeping in the buildin os close by were awakened from tneir slumbers by the piercing shriek. Ihey sat up in their beds and gazed nuo the murky darkness with an expression oi horror in their eyes, as the thought passed through their minds, "Surely someone has been murdered." Yes, your thoughts are right, and the victim of the ghastly crime, the thought of which fills your hearts with dread, lies yonder beneath the arch of the great dock gate. The soul was launched on the mighty ocean traversed by the spirits of the dead, and was homeward bound to its maker. '