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Page 2
My name is John Brenwalter. My father, a drunkard, had a patent for an
invention, for making coffee-berries out of clay; but he was an honest
man and would not himself engage in the manufacture. He was, therefore,
only moderately wealthy, his royalties from his really valuable
invention bringing him hardly enough to pay his expenses of litigation
with rogues guilty of infringement. So I lacked many advantages enjoyed
by the children of unscrupulous and dishonorable parents, and had it not
been for a noble and devoted mother, who neglected all my brothers and
sisters and personally supervised my education, should have grown up in
ignorance and been compelled to teach school. To be the favorite child
of a good woman is better than gold.
When I was nineteen years of age my father had the misfortune to die. He
had always had perfect health, and his death, which occurred at the
dinner table without a moment's warning, surprised no one more than
himself. He had that very morning been notified that a patent had been
granted him for a device to burst open safes by hydraulic pressure,
without noise. The Commissioner of Patents had pronounced it the most
ingenious, effective and generally meritorious invention that had ever
been submitted to him, and my father had naturally looked forward to an
old age of prosperity and honor. His sudden death was, therefore, a deep
disappointment to him; but my mother, whose piety and resignation to the
will of Heaven were conspicuous virtues of her character, was apparently
less affected. At the close of the meal, when my poor father's body had
been removed from the floor, she called us all into an adjoining room
and addressed us as follows:
"My children, the uncommon occurrence that you have just witnessed is
one of the most disagreeable incidents in a good man's life, and one in
which I take little pleasure, I assure you. I beg you to believe that I
had no hand in bringing it about. Of course," she added, after a pause,
during which her eyes were cast down in deep thought, "of course it is
better that he is dead."
She uttered this with so evident a sense of its obviousness as a
self-evident truth that none of us had the courage to brave her surprise
by asking an explanation. My mother's air of surprise when any of us
went wrong in any way was very terrible to us. One day, when in a fit of
peevish temper, I had taken the liberty to cut off the baby's ear, her
simple words, "John, you surprise me!" appeared to me so sharp a reproof
that after a sleepless night I went to her in tears, and throwing myself
at her feet, exclaimed: "Mother, forgive me for surprising you." So now
we all--including the one-eared baby--felt that it would keep matters
smoother to accept without question the statement that it was better,
somehow, for our dear father to be dead. My mother continued:
"I must tell you, my children, that in a case of sudden and mysterious
death the law requires the Coroner to come and cut the body into pieces
and submit them to a number of men who, having inspected them, pronounce
the person dead. For this the Coroner gets a large sum of money. I wish
to avoid that painful formality in this instance; it is one which never
had the approval of--of the remains. John"--here my mother turned her
angel face to me-"you are an educated lad, and very discreet. You have
now an opportunity to show your gratitude for all the sacrifices that
your education has entailed upon the rest of us. John, go and remove the
Coroner."
Inexpressibly delighted by this proof of my mother's confidence, and by
the chance to distinguish myself by an act that squared with my natural
disposition, I knelt before her, carried her hand to my lips and bathed
it with tears of sensibility. Before five o'clock that afternoon I had
removed the Coroner.
I was immediately arrested and thrown into jail, where I passed a most
uncomfortable night, being unable to sleep because of the profanity of
my fellow-prisoners, two clergymen, whose theological training had given
them a fertility of impious ideas and a command of blasphemous language
altogether unparalleled. But along toward morning the jailer, who,
sleeping in an adjoining room, had been equally disturbed, entered the
cell and with a fearful oath warned the reverend gentlemen that if he
heard any more swearing their sacred calling would not prevent him from
turning them into the street. After that they moderated their
objectionable conversation, substituting an accordion, and I slept the
peaceful and refreshing sleep of youth and innocence.
The next morning I was taken before the Superior Judge, sitting as a
committing magistrate, and put upon my preliminary examination. I
pleaded not guilty, adding that the man whom I had murdered was a
notorious Democrat. (My good mother was a Republican, and from early
childhood I had been carefully instructed by her in the principles of
honest government and the necessity of suppressing factional
opposition.) The Judge, elected by a Republican ballot-box with a
sliding bottom, was visibly impressed by the cogency of my plea and
offered me a cigarette.
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