Human Devils.
Some $10,000 have been expended in building fences, and improving the forest grounds at the corner of Fourteenth and Fifteenth streets and the Sixth Avenue? We have received a card, heralding a “Palace Garden,” signed by De Forest and Tisdale, Proprietors. Mr. De Forest was the Treasurer of the Crystal Palace Ball, and Mr. Tisdale is the Treasurer of the Hunter Woodis Benevolent Society. A few loaves of John Hecker’s bread, distributed among the poor, was the only charitable result of the Academy of Music Ball, and none of John Hecker’s bread, nor of any baker, nor any necessaries of life were distributed among the indigent, as the result of the mighty and lucrative Crystal Palace Ball. Both of those Balls were given by the public—for the benefit of the Poor—in the name of the self-constituted members of the Hunter Woodis Society, and De Forest and Tisdale, who control the vast receipts of that Society, now open an Ice Cream and Lager Bier Saloon on a scale of unprecedented magnitude and magnificence, while the poor creatures are starving, who own all the surplus funds in the vile grasp of the Hunter Woodis Society, and of the outside scamps, who partially control those pauper funds. De Forest and Tisdale (who thrice cunningly assured me that all the members of the Hunter Woodis Society were Know Nothings) beckoned me last week to their gorgeous chariot on Broadway, and told me that they were “snags,” and through dagger eyes, and ferocious gestures, and stunning declamation, threatened my utter annihilation, for my recent exposure of their plunder of our generous citizens, and the private paupers, whose funds they withhold and squander. If one of the huge villains of these devilish days in which my lot is cast approaches me with menacing look or attitude, he will be a dead thief before he can implore the God of truth and justice and mercy to forgive him for his awful crimes. Where the $40,000 that were doubtless received by the Managers and Treasurers of the Academy of Music and Crystal Palace Balls; and where their vast private collections have all mysteriously vanished, will never be disclosed to the poor of this, nor of coming generations, but, at the Throne of God, these consummate villains and infernal scamps will have to confront the famishing creatures they have robbed and starved, when they will be convicted, and condemned, and hurled from Heaven’s resplendent heights into a gulph of yelling devils, who will pinch them, and prick them, and bite them, and lance them, and roast them through wasteless ages.
O, what I hear, and what I see,
Makes me from earth yearn to be free.
James Gordon Bennett’s Editorial Career.
Bennett and John Kelly.
Bennett—John, the wall cracked again yesterday, and I fear this old ruin will soon fall, and bury us in death. So, after you have folded those papers, you can take them and the broom, and I will take my memorandum book and easy slippers, and we will go to the new quarters that I hired yesterday in Broadway. The rent is very cheap, and I am not to pay it until the end of the month, which is a godsend in these days of poverty.
John—I have only got fifty papers to fold, and I will soon be ready.
Bennett—Hurry, Johnny, for the building may fall before we get out. (John folds papers mighty fast.)