CHAPTER XIII.

I have frequently, in the course of this work, had to notice the very intimate connection which those concerned in the administration of justice, or ostensibly in the suppression of crime, had with those who perpetrate it.  In all of our large cities, this occasionally forces itself into public notice.  Anxious as the authorities always are to conceal any thing of this kind, it accidentally leaks out.  The opportunity for concealment, and the advantages afforded by official station, have not been overlooked by the Brothers, and the police of every city contains several of the fraternity.  In all fairness, however, the great mass of crime connected with such establishments ought not to be laid to their charge.  The very wish to be connected with the police, indicates a morbid disposition of the mind—­a desire to be familiar with crime; for it is necessary to detect it successfully, to come in contact frequently with the criminal.  In consequence, by familiarity, crime loses its enormity:  the police officer sees how seldom the perpetrator is detected; how often, when detected, he escapes unwhipped of justice; he connives at some petty offence, in the hope of entrapping the criminal in some more flagrant act, and tampers with crime, till the little moral sensibility he had when he entered the service is destroyed.  This is obviously a true picture of human nature; but I must proceed with the story, which suggested these remarks.

In no city of the Union has the depredations of the Band of Brothers been more extensive than in Cincinnati, Ohio, yet there seems to be a prevailing wish, entertained even by those who have witnessed their ravages, to doubt the existence of any such organization.  Nor am I surprised at this incredulity—­the thought that we are surrounded by hundreds of individuals, sworn to protect and assist one another in their ravages upon our lives and property, is no very pleasant prospect for contemplation.  Sincerely I wish it were merely a dream of the night, but the unaccountable and sudden downfall of some of the most respectable and talented families of that city convince that it yet exists in all its awful realities.  In confirmation of this I will introduce the history of one family, guarding myself as much as possible from saying any thing that might hurt the feelings of any of the relatives yet living.  It consisted of five boys—­at least that number is all that has come under my notice; the eldest, at the age of sixteen, connected himself with bad associates, was committed to the jail on a charge of theft, and convicted.  In a short time the next brother followed in the same course, and shared the same fate.  The remaining children were yet young, and to preserve them from the vicious habits of the elder ones, the father kept them at hard labour every day.  We are not intimately acquainted with the character of the father, but we never heard any thing laid to his charge but that