merchant, a church officer, a husband, father, and citizen, of
irreproachable reputation, with enduring friendships. He was charitable,
liberal and kindly. For decade after decade he was the experienced, wise
and fatherly "fence" of professional burglars and thieves. Why, it would
be an education in itself to know that man, to shake his honest hand,
fresh from charity or concealment, and smoke a pipe with him and
hear him talk about things frankly. When he gave to the missionary
collection, rest assured he gave sincerely; when he "covered swag,"
into the melting pot for an industrious burglar, he did so only in the
regular course of business.

Strange as it may seem, even criminals have human feelings in common
with all of us. The old Thug who stepped aside into the bushes and
prayed earnestly while his son was throwing his first strangling cloth
around the throat of the English traveler--prayed for that son's
honorable, successful beginning in his life devotion--was a good father.
And when he was told that the son had acted with unusual skill, who
can doubt that his tears of joy were sincere and humble tears of
thankfulness? At least Bowanee knew. Can you not imagine a kind-hearted
Chinese matron saying to her neighbor over the bamboo fence, "Yes,
we sent the baby down to the beach (or the river bank or the forest)
yesterday. We couldn't afford to keep it. I hope the gods have taken its
little soul. At any rate it is sure of salvation hereafter."

* * * * *

Some twenty years ago I took the night train from Pineville to
Barbourville, in the Kentucky mountains, reaching the latter place
about 11 o'clock of a cold, rainy, dark November night. Only one other
passenger alighted. There was an express wagon to take us to the town,