"PAPA WASN'T ALWAYS BAD. DRINK MAKES HIM BAD."
IN a press despatch dated, New York, September 21, a touching story is told of a ten-year-old girl's testimony against her father, who was charged with having killed his wife on August 28. The scene was in a coroner's court, where an inquest was being held over the body of Mrs. Kate Walsh, and little Rosie Ann was the only witness. Her testimony is said to have been a struggle between a conviction of duty and a child's love of her father. After the accused husband and father had been held by the coroner to answer for the murder, on the strength of his little daughter's testimony, the child rushed to him and kissed him lovingly. Afterward she is reported to have said:11"I suppose my papa must die, too, but he killed my mama. I hate to talk against papa, and I hated to get up in the court; but I took the oath, and I must tell the truth." "I suppose my papa must die, too, but he killed my mama. I hate to talk against papa, and I hated to get up in the court; but I took the oath, and I must tell the truth." The reporter says that the little girl, who may soon become an orphan because of her own truthful words, is small and pale, and was dressed in becoming fashion for the duties of helping mother. She speaks with a studious effort at correctness, and in the eighth grade of the public school, which she attended last session, she was accounted one of the brightest scholars. Since the day after her mother was beaten into unconsciousness and her father taken away to a cell, little Rosie has been living with her married half-sister, Mrs. Simons, in East Ninety-sixth Street, and yesterday she saw her father for the first time. Mrs. Simons and another married half-sister, Mrs. Tobin, accompanied her. In Mrs. Simons' house last night, in a sad and serious way, the girl told of the tragedy. "Papa wasn't always bad," she said, beginning her story with an excuse for her accused parent. "When he was working and wasn't drinking he used to bring me ice in the morning, and used to chop the wood and bring it up for mama and me. "But sometimes before this last time I have seen him, when he was ugly and drinking and not working, hit mama, but not with an ax. Mama was proud and told me never to say a word about papa hitting her to anybody, and mama stood it a great many times, but papa would promise to be good, and then would break his promise. I don't think mama ever thought he would hit her with an ax, because when he was in a good humor he loved her, and she believed he loved her, too. "I didn't like to go to court to-day, but they said I must, and when they asked me if I knew where the bad place was that people go to who don't tell the truth when they are under oath, I said it was hell, and the man said I knew what an oath was and must tell the truth. "And I saw papa, and he said, 'Help, Rosie,' and the tears came in his eyes, and I felt like crying, too, and was sorry for him, but I had to tell all about how he hit mama with the ax, and he looked at me so sad all the time I was talking, with the tears just pouring out of his eyes. "And then when I went back and told him good-by, and put my arms about his neck, we both cried until they took him away. "Sometimes when papa would hit mama I would run away and cry, but last week mama felt so bad, and I knew that she had been worrying about papa, because he wasn't working and had been drinking, and I said to myself, If he dares to strike mama again I'll stop him. "You see, it was this way. Papa had not been working for two days, and he was ugly and cross, and after he had had his lunch and a pint of beer he went into the bedroom to sleep. When mama was getting supper, he called her. She told me to tell papa she was too busy getting supper for our boarder to come to him then. He jumped out of bed, put on his trousers, but not shoes, and said he would show mama whether or not she would come when he called her. "I followed him into the kitchen, and he picked up a bottle from the table, and was going to hit mama with it, but I grabbed the bottle, and then took all the other bottles and hid them. "He hunted around the room and found the ax which mama used for cutting kindling, and then he hit her on this side of the face, and then on top of the head, and she called my name—Rosie—and fell on her face. "I ran in where our boarder was sleeping, and, shaking him, told him, 'Wake up, Mr. Carroll; papa has hit mama with an ax in the head!' And then I ran into the hall and screamed, and our neighbor came and she put a pillow under mama's head and washed the blood off, and said, 'Never mind, Rosie; she's still breathing.' "And then the policemen came, and they sent for an ambulance and mama was taken away, and she never spoke another word to anybody; she died without ever knowing me again." "If your father is set free, will you go to him again?" Rosie was asked. "I don't know. He'd have to promise to be very good, but I don't know then. He promised mama to be good, and then got cross and ugly when he was out of work and drinking. I love my papa, for he is my papa; but drink makes him bad."