er housekeeper, and probably the the next
thing will be to steal some farmer's horse.

This convict is now serving out his eighth term in the penitentiary.
It is fearful to contemplate these human wrecks. A wasted life, golden
opportunities unimproved, a dark and dismal future will constitute the
death knell of such fallen beings. Young man, remember the life of this
convict, and shun such a course.

SKILLED LABOR

William Hurst.--Some of the narratives in this book read like the story
of Aladin's Lamp, and we have no doubt some of them so reading are
absolutely true, while for the Lamp story nothing is claimed. For
many ages men, and particularly those engaged in the literary field
of thought, have discanted on the baseness of the passion of jealousy.
There is no sense in being jealous. You are either loved or you are not,
and hence the absolute foolishness of indulging the passion.

William Hurst, whose history we now relate, is a man of rough personal
appearance, Irish descent, and his age is now about fifty-five. Coming
to Kansas at an early day, he settled in Doniphan County, and there
courted and subsequently married one of Doniphan County's pretty girls.
Time went along as usual, and in a few years there were several little
cherubs that blessed the household of Hurst. But, as sometimes happens,
the husband began to drink, love grew colder, the necessities of the
family hourly grew greater, poverty in all its hideousness came to curse
the home once so happy. The poor, distracted wife and mother did all she
could, by taking in washing and ironing, to prevent the starvation of
her little ones. The husband through his bleared eyes imagined he could
see that other men were too friendly to his wife. He charged her
with unfaithfulness to the marriage vows. She denied the charge. Only
incensed by this he would beat and mistreat her out of all reason. For
protection she had him arrested, intending to bind him over to keep
the peace, but on the advice of officers, who are so full of it, she
withdrew the charge and he was set at liberty. For a few days he was
quiet, but soon the red liquor poured down his throat, and like a
mountain devil stirred all the dark passions of his lost and ruined
nature. He attempted to debauch his own daughter, and was only prevented
by the physical force of the ever-watchful mother. The father (great
God! is such a human being entitled to the endearing term?) turned upon
her, and again, a