Sunday dispatch. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1845-1854, 1852-04-11
NEW YORK, SUNDAY MORNING, APRIL Ill, 1862.

ter, were crowded aside by such remem-
brances az these they came slowly and tur
gidly foaing through the current Of my
mind
A wilddespairing shriek--it rings in my
ears nov !-roused me from my reverie. Oh,
that terrible cry it was the agony Of a bro
ken hearted wife--of soul crushed to pow
der, by one stroke
She breathed nv name - whispered it
family and lovingly Her CHASTITY face, with
fyightful dampness upon it, turned toward
me, and yearningly in the weakness Of her
sinews, endeavored to reach up TO my own
Sweating features. I lifted her, pressed one
long tight kiss upon her lips, and then re-
signed her inanimate form to those, who bore
her to the bed where she lay unconscious Of
life or sorrow foY twice twenty hours. Then
this pure souled creature died as flower
might wilt Of chilly evening, silently, and
without complaint.
made no effort to escape, and think did
not utter word to the officers who guarded
me to prison. An awful blank seemed to
spread through the mental part Of me cold
cold as ice, githout any sctlon, or OBJECT,
or warmth It was nos painful--at least,
not beyond a dull, deadsned sense Of some
thing like fulness which oppressed my head
One hour! what q change it had made for
me.
was not treated with any roughness, Ell
ther by the crowd who gathered quickly to
the spot, or by the policemen. Some OF the
work people gave q true statement OF the in
science Of the poor fellow had slain, and
how it was done in the sudden fury Of the
moment. They made the case as favorable
to me as they could, and the appearance,
and overwhelmed sorrow Of my poor wife,
completed the work of compassionate feeling
toward me. Tears fell down many weather
beaten cheek, and haply many silent pray
er was offered up for the wretched young
man whose days were darksned with even
drearier fate than had befallen the poor VIC
tim there.
And so, was in prison, murderer.
For my wife's death l fell no deep regret;
to die was less grief than to live, knew, in
her case. All was it not 80 in my own'
The law, which is often cruel in minor ac-
cusations, is seldom so in great ones. have
been treated fairly and honorably here in
my prison Whatever indulgence could pro-
perly DO given has not been denied me-
There is a noble pity that frequently actu-
ates jailers and officers Of the law, toward
the Wretched ones who come under their
charge, on their path to heavy punishment
"a pity, beautiful and honorable to their
characters, and showing well in them. This
compassion experienced throughout, and it
made me think better Of my kind
After the first -o51d0rlng uumDlng nlghU
passed, the next morning, when the day
dawned upon me here where am now writ
ing, was a changed man. l felt composed
enough, and indeed was without any Of that
anxious dread which might be supposed ma
tural to one in my situation. At the same
time, was fully conscious Of that situation
It was all present to me, and comprehended
every point Of it, The crime, its legal pun
ishment, the poor victim, my family, the
lamentable violence of my former temper,
the scene and incidents Of the murder, the
best points in my behalf-all were clearly
arrayed before my thought. My former
temper, l say for looked back, now, upon
that as pertaining 10 separate existence
kkneW that, under any conceivable circum-
stances, it was mine no longer The SER
pent had cast his slough.
A legal agent whom ! had formerly en-
ployed, 1 picked out from several whose
names l turned over in my mind, and sent
for him. He was an honorable man, felt
sure, from his conduct when l employed
him. Much to my sorrow, he was absent on
a voyage of considerable distance. An an
swer to this effect has been brought me by
a lawyer, who, some years ago, had studied,
he tells me, in the office Of the absent attor-
ney. Would it not be a good thought to en-
gage this man, for some Of my small com
missions st least questioned myself. His
countenance is impassive; but he is Qua
AvIs anu eirut hs'-- %
'* 1 have commissioned the man, whose
| name is Covert, to see TO the decent burial OF
my poor victim, and have given him written
authority, and command Of funds, for that,
! and few other purposes
Many of my hours are occupied with the
arrangement Of my worldly affairs for there
has come to me a notion, amounting to a
certainty, that l am dying Friends to
whom l have mentioned this fear, endeavor
to chase it away by saying that it is the re-
suit of nay brooding thoughts; and that such
Vagaries often come into the minds Of people
under great dread. do notanswer them,
but feel none the less the certainty Of my
death Nor is it painful to me
Here blank, the next part Of the man
uscript being on another page
My will has been duly drawn up with
minuteness. I have left the bulk Of my for
tune to my daughter, and goodly portion
Of it, properly secured, to the child Of my
victim
Covert comes to me every day He strongly
! advises me to make preparations for my trial,
to engage the best legal talent, and so forth
He almost sneers at me, when / answer that
nothing of the sort is needed.
He is q doubtful creature-this, neither
old nor young lawyer; hardly know what
to make of him. Upon the whole, however,
have concluded to trust him; he is now
thoroughly advised of my intentions and
affairs. / am particularly induced, to make
him my friend for his wife, much older
than himself, who is gentle and good, if there
be any such qualities on earth, has shown
the tenderest affection for my little child,
whom she has consented to take charge Of
She hes no children, and treats my poor
helpless one with all mothers affection.
The day approaches l have made
all nv preDarations, and | feel now oalmer
than at any time since have dwelt in this
prison. Should / think Of any thing more 1
will add it; if not, let whoever reads this
dark story know that ! experience, while
write, more composure and rest than any day
recall during the years Of my ordinary life,
with the exception Of ny marriage time
do not doubt that am dying.
My little daughter; may Heaven protect
her unprotected childhood. May God pity
me, and may continue to feel this soothing
calm to the last.
[Here was long blank; and the para
graph that follows was written evidently by
another hand, at another time.
The prayer uttered in the last lines by ny
dear and unfortunate friend was not in vain
He retained his equanimity, and his forebOd-
ings were strangely verified The day set
down for his trial found him dead that very
day he was committed to the grave. He
charged me with the narrative ne had writ
ten, and intended for his daughter, should
she live, as he had every confidence she would,
and grow to womanhood.
1.-THE remaining part Of the paper, which
filed several pages, in the same hand as the
last paragraph, consisted of some references,
legal data, and religious advice; all Of which
would not be Of interest
Concluded nert loeek.