sor of wealth and not
needing the money--turns a tenant from his roof because she is
penniless. I say nothing against him for doing so, for it was an
indisputable right of his, but when we view the brutality of the
act--when we think of the hardness of the heart that could not
commiserate with the situation of Mrs. Wentworth--that was deaf to the
appeals of a mother--blind to the illness of her child--the soul
sickens with horror at the knowledge that a mortal so debased--so
utterly devoid of the instincts of humanity which govern a
brute--should exist on the earth. But the mask of religion is now torn
from his face, and we see his own lineaments. Henceforth the scorn of
all generous, minds will he receive, and turned from the respectable
position he once held, must reflect on the inevitable exposure of the
hypocrite some day, sooner or later. I shall leave him to the scorn
and indignation of all good men. From them he will receive that
punishment which his brutality, caused from his extorting spirit,
deserves.

"And for Mr. Swartz, the accuser of this lady, I can see but little in
extenuation of his conduct. If his business is even illegitimate,
there are so many speculators in the South that it should not cause
surprise that his refusal to aid this woman necessitated her taking
his money. The speculator cannot be expected to have a heart tender
enough to perform a charitable act. The man who will speculate on the
necessities of the people, is not likely to feed the hungry. It is too
true that many good men have been drawn into the vortex of
speculation, but these are few in number and are isolated cases.

"Mr. Swartz has been among us long enough to imbibe the spirit and
sentiments of our people, but from his action towards this lady, he
does not seem to have profited by their example. A foreigner by birth,
he has cast a stigma on his nation, for, with all their faults, I do
not believe there is a more charitable people than the German. I have
found it so, in many years of familiar intercourse with them. But his
last act is the one deserving unqualified condemnation. To tear a
mother from the bedside of her dead child--to incarcerate her in a
prison, while the hands of strangers were performing the last sad
rites over the dead, is an act that Christianity could never believe,
were the evidence not before us, too forcible for denial, too truthful
for contradiction. It is an act that calls for withering rebuke, but
w