Burlington hawk-eye. [volume] (Burlington, Iowa) 1845-185?, 1849-10-04
A Hishwayman's COME ssioa.

Some twenty years ago, two young men
were hung at Baltimore for robbing the
great Southern mail, and killing the dri-
yer. One Of the highwaymen was boy
nineteen years Of age, the son of a re-
spectacle physician at Utica. in tine State
Of New York. The other was an older
offender. The following is an extract
from the confession Of the latter, which
was published at the time in pamphlet
My first exploit on the highway was to
rob an old Scotchman l had perceived in
the afternoon from my lurking place, driv-
ing fatted COW to neighboring market.
As he was returning "a little in liquor,)
l placed myself in his way and saluted
him with Good morning old dad
How do ye, how do We, said he.
Sold your COW, Ell?
Yeas (hickup.)
Too leetle, too lee,le only twenty sill
yer dollars
well, she'll, said l.
Shell =
Yes she'll out ; and do it quickly too,
or I'll make daylight shine through you
with an ounce BALL
oh! for Gods sake you wadna rob
me?'
No, but for my own sake-to be brief
Il am gentleman in distress, and will
take your money as a loan from YOU
well, aweel, dinna hurt me, said he,
apparently sobered, and will count it out
til ye.'
so saying, he put his hand in his coat
pocket behind, and drawing forth large
pistol ready cooked, lie presented it at me,
observing very coolly
Il haze hearit oslo borrowin' as this afore
now and sac haze gone provided wi the
ready plank doun.'
Such novice was in this new bust
ness that had not taken my pistols from
my belt where they were confined under
a button coat besides, il had, it would
not have availed me, for l had neglected
to provide fints for them.
But continued he, as ye say We are a
peur gentleman, (and peur enough Guide
kens, just slap aft few yards futher,
and dance Scotch jig, or hornpipe, and
make the music wi yere ain whistle too,
or ye're dee mon."
'Oh my friend, impossible Surely,
you do not insist on my dancing jig in
in sand half way up to my knees
Gif We dinna at it wi a. yere might in
less time than can snap my fingers three
times, by the son of Elihu, (wha I'm fond
to thenk they cad Mosey,) wi the help
O guld load o buckshot, III make as
money holes through ye as ye could count
in an old Ten lanthorne-a and III make het
led run through ye, for a the world like
quicksilver throuth the reddle O. Scotch
fan, an ye dinna dance right aft the reel,
like hen upo' net griddle.' Moo
them
What could l do? Feeling it was no
time TO trifie, and almost fancying the
buckshot were already perfora,ing me, |
bethought me Of waltz, and whistling
it, in less than three minutes, beabored
myself into perfect foam Of perspiration,
in the deep sand. Tired TO death, l paus-
ed 10 breathe and asked the old tyrant il
that would not do for this time.
Ma, ma, dinna flash yourself dear. l
am ma tired O. lukin on, gif ye are ma tired
o scollopiur. Sa gale us twa or three
jerks more, and whom ye haze dune I'll
reward ye wi twa or three o the siller
dollars
renewed the dreadful heat, and when
l stopped again out Of wind, he pitched
the silver at me, and recommending an
honest mode Of borrowing, he babe me
clear myself-which it is needless TO say,
/ did.