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Under Careful Treatment and Kind Nursing is Convalescing. She is at the Home of her Unnatural Par ents, who are Content to Provide for her as Long as the Trustees Pay the Bills. A Courier Reporter Goes Over the Weary Road through Wind and Sleet, to Interview the People Connected with the Tragedy. The dark and lowering skies, the muddy roads, and the dreary landscape of snow-clad hills and swollen streams of last Monday, together with a threatening storm, were not sufficient to deter the Courier from making a trip across country in the interest of its readers, for news, the objective point being Goshen. The residence of John Kipp, who lives about a mile and a half from Goshen near the Woodville road, was reached a little after 20’clock. His home is a log cabin of three rooms. It is surrounded by a large yard and truck patch, both of which are in fairly good shape for this time of year. In front of the house was a small pile of wood, near which were some fresh chips, a log chopped half in two by frequent strokes of the axe in splitting sticks upon it, and the axe itself, struck part way into the log for safe keeping. Near by stood a reach for making that ingredient which is the life and soul of soft soar, and handy to it a large iron kettle, sitting on two parallel sticks of cord wood, and some cross sticks of smaller wood piled underneath, ready for kindling. A sort of rail pen, thatched with straw, for the accommodation of a family of shouls, flank the woodpile and other outdoor signs of civilization on the right, while in the rear was a comfortable outbuilding or two. There was nothing to be taken poverty. On the other hand the evidences were those of thrift. The reporter was admitted to the cabin by a rather smartish-working, keen eyed, Ger man woman, who talked broken English, but as the reporter is always more or less broken himself, he was able to understand her. “Could he see Miss Louisa? ah, yes, step right in this way, sir,” and she drew us into a room, neatly, but plainly furnished; a bright fire was burning in a sort of grate stove, fashioned for either wood or coal. Several stiff backed chairs stood guard around the walls, which were unrelieved by picture or hanging, though the small win dow, which had a dreary outlook on the woodpile and leach, was draped with a neat muslin curtain, ornamented with an elabo rate tasselled fringe, possibly worked by the girl herself in her hours of monotonous coun try existence, with all the world looking askance at her. She was seated in a com fortable rocker, and a tray containing the fragments of a dinner, tasted and untasted, setting beside her, betokened that she had dined. She was doing very well, she said—as good as could be expected. The Courier which she had heard read, had not “put down” things exactly as they had happened, but the leading features were correct, the only error was as to the time, the event hav ing occurred in the afternoon, and the whole matter having been traced by her father and Milt Elliott, a township trustee, by clots of blood, from field to river, and from river back to her door yard, where she was found by the trustee, and her father forced to admit her into the house and provide for her. No, her father, nor yet her Mother had been kind to her in the development of her troubles. Both had told her that she could not shelter under their roof, though both were amply able to provide for her. Mr. Kipp owned the place, and instead of feeling bad for her, as stated in the Courier account had been cross and disagreeble, but not more unfeeling than her mother. In short her trouble had been precipitated by these two, they having written to the trustees informing them of her condition, and asking for her removal. She feared they would come and drive her out of town, and do some horrible thing, she was not fully satisfied what, not appear ing to have much idea of the meekness of trustees in general, and not knowing that their mission is to help rather than to hurt. At any rate she feared them, and when she heard that Elliott was coming, she imagined she would be taken to jail or—or somewhere, she said, sobbing. Her father was in front splitting wood when Elliott rode up. She had seen him and departed across the fields. They supposed she had gone to Kirby’s. Ellis rode rapidly in that direction; he would have to go perhaps a quarter of a mile to reach Kirby’s; he did the distance, but she was not there; he rode back to Kipp’s. Louisa was standing in the front yard, when Kipp came back. She did not fear him now. The thing for which he was coming to trouble her she thought was floating in the river clear out of sight by this time. The unfortunate girl did not appear to know she had committed a crime. Then “Mr. Kipp”? whispered some thing to Elliot, looking at the girl in a peculiar manner. Together they pursued the track across fields that she had taken, and brought something back in a basket. Here the poor girl again broke down, and the reporter fear ing that he was too greatly testing her strength, bestowed upon her such few words of comfort and consolation as he thought might soothe and help her, and turned to the mother. The reader is left to infer the manner of woman she is by the remarks she authentically reported to have made to another party. “Louisa,” she sad, “Was a come by chance, and vas not much goot;. too much like her father, who was goost dat ornery!’’ Yes,she had married him, not because she loved him, but because her “moder” had told her to take him, or she’d never get “a mother’’ No she was not turned out of doors, like Louisa; she had care. Why had not her maternal instincts turned more closely to her own daughter, since she of all others should be charitable? “Well Louisa was too much like her father; besides that she didn’t own the place, and te bapy beefness was expensive.’’ It is the testimony of the neighbors that the girl is now having all necessary care, but it is because the trustees have demanded it, and will pay for it, and not from any warmth of natural affection or a decent regard for the proprieties. Louisa Levy is by no means an ill-looking girl, though her features have a peculiar ex pression by reason of a crown of light flaxen hair, surmounting a pair of very dark eyes. Her hands bear the impress of toil, though they are now, like her cheeks, comparatively delicate and refined by reason of her late severe trials. She was dressed in a loose wrapper, and her hair was brushed smoothly back from her forehead, and she, with her surroundings, looked eminently respectable. Her feelings are apparently by some kindly interposition of nature, greatly benumb ed, she not appearing in the least to realize the magnitude of her offense, nor to under stand its results. She is to be pitied for her ignorance and the sad plight into which it has betrayed her, but the mercenary parents whose lives and actions are far from exempla ry have nearly as much responsibility for the tragical affair as the poor girl herself. She will probably be brought to Batavia and placed in jail this week, her offense being un bailable. During the course of the interview the girl acknowledged that she had com promised with young Ertle for $8.00. This fact alone should stamp her as of unsound mind.
Newspaper Details
The Clermont Courier
Batavia, Ohio, US
Wed, Apr 02, 1890
Page 1
Full Page
Clipped by
Anonymous
USA 15 Jul 2026
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