Democratic Sentinel, Volume 10, Number 6, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 12 March 1886 — STRANGER THAN FICTION. [ARTICLE]

STRANGER THAN FICTION.

Death, Shipwreck, Drink, Poverty and Murder in a Minister’s Family. Philadelphia Press: In Woodland eemetery, under a small marble monument that is only a miniature of the tall white columns that surround it, lies the body of Rev. William Lougkridge, a brilliant young divine of long ago.— In the dead room of the Episcopal hospital, with bruised and broken limbs, lies the body of the aged, gray-haired M s. Annie Lough-, ridge. She was the ‘‘young parson’s pretty wife” grown old. In one of the Twenty-second district station s narrow cells lies a young man crazed whh dissipatio . He is William G. Loughridge, the parson s only son, and is charged with murdering his mother. In different cemeteries lie the bodies of the parson’s three pretty daughters. Two of them became wives before they died. This is parson Loughridge’s family. Nearly forty-five years ago the young Presbyterian minister married in Ireland, near Belfast, and brought his pretty wife across thß ocean to Philadelphia. Rev. Geok Potts, an excellent man, as all Philadelphia’s old Presbyterian’ft will testify, invited the youn§p Irishman to preach in his church, at Fifth and Gaskill streets, and his debut won him laurels that made him Mr. Pott’s succesao*. Then when the congregation had greatly increased under his pastorate they built the Fourth Presbyterian church, the chunky old edifice that stands on the southwest corner of Twelfth and Lombard streets. During the popular pastor’s five years’ work there three children were born to young Mrs. Loughridge, whom all the congregation had learned to know was the daughter of a wealthy Irish gentleman. The little Loughridges were then Lavinia, Martina, Gussie and Willie.

One day thirty-five years ago there was great grief at the parsonage at Tenth and Brainbridge streets for Rev. William Loughridge died, leaving the Fourth church without a pastor. *The body was interred in the church burying-ground at Twelfth and Lombard, and that little white monument marked the spot until the bones of the Fourth church’s patriarchs were taken to Woodland. Mr. Loughridge had been dead several weeks when Mrs. Loughridge decided to return to Ireland with her children. There were no steamers in those days and passage was taken on the packet Thomas P. Cope. Many of the Fourth church’s people stood on the dock and waved her farewells, and some of them wept, for they loved the dead parson’s pretty wife. The good ship was doomed, however, and hardly was she outside the capes when a fire occurred on board and seamen battled with the flames for seven long days before the crew of a roving bark rescued all on board, and the Loughridge family was brought back to Boston.— Then Mrs. Loughridge gave up her trip to Europe, and the hospitable groc r, William Johnson, invited the family to make his place at the southwest cornerof| Eleventh and Lombard streets their temporary home. Everybody in that vicinity knows William Johnson. For fo'ty-nine years his sign, “Groceries and Provisions,” has flapped to summer and winter winds, and he keeps his flour-bags piled up against the Lombard street entrance, and whiffs his strong pipe and thunders “the other side” to the people who don’t know the way in. He is a vigorous old human landmark. He said last night:

After the burning <i' me ship Mrs. Loughridge and her children stayed with mi five months.” ~ yy- * at I wouldn’t tell him ' [f’ protested old Mrs. Johnson. But she did,” he replied. “My she was a haughty woman.” “Now, father!” i. was, said the determined Mr. Johnson, Then after they left here they went to live on Christian street near Twenty-second. I tell you there has never been a preacher like her husband; General Patterson used to go to hear him. “Mrs. Loughridge got into the niint, and she h d several hundred dollars a year from her father in the old country. The girls grew up. I hey were pretty misses.— Lavinia married a merchant here named Crawford. He and she are both dead. Martina married a Mr. . lyson. Hht’s dead, and he lives out west; and Gussie, she didn’t Quarry; she died.” Luf Hint t oy,” said the old man, ana he drew hard on Ins pipe, “was always had. He used to get his mother s money, make her give it to him, and drank it up. She was proud, and covered up his badness. •, B ft uir 1H turning'white, now,” said Mrs Johfison, kindly. Vv hue through rascality,” growled the old man. ‘Now, father.” “But it is,” he said. Mrs. Loughridge left the mint five years ago after her son’s debauches had the effect of putting him in an insane asylum. After gus release she was turned out of jjjeveral boarding-houses because have him with her and the landladies would not put up with him. Then she took the house at 2602 Sartaiu street, arcf<a mhimiing Fivne man robbed her. J Ins, coupled with her son’s bail habits, made her desperate, and Hhe began drinking with him.— i heir sprees together ended in the debauch on Luesday night a week, during which she rocetved fatal njurios, supposed to have been inflicted by her son.

Ex-Sheriff John \Y. Powell has leased the Halloran Livery and Teed Stables, and respectfully solicits a liberal share of the public patronage. '«♦- *»-- .... - n Kansas City Times: Wo are disposed to think that the kind of Democracy which upset Republican calculations- in 1884 and laid Brother Blaine on the shelf is pro? gressive nough to tie to for a few years more*.