Raftsman's journal. [volume] (Clearfield, Pa.) 1854-1948, 1868-11-04
tives in New York. who were at once writ


geance might lie swift and sure. DIR. Wvlie'
brother offered reward of FIVE hundred
dollars for the discovery and apprehension
. OF the murderer; and Dashford, not to b,
behind IN the good work, offered a lik,
amount.
The offered rewards brought forth their
frult. Isaac Smith. laborer, emploved a,
intervals about the Red Mug, came before a
justice and stated that on the evening of the
murder, about six clock, he had met CLYDE
lrVlng-a young notwithstanding in great
haste from the direction of the garden at
the Red Mug. He had hidden him good
evening, salutation which was briefly re-
sponded to. Irving had appeared to be
powerfully agitated from some cause, and
anxious to escape. The next morning. feel
Ing curious, with the rest, about the murder
and everything connected with it, Mr.. Smith
had been over the garden, and on looking
benesth the hemlock which covered the sage
bed, he had found a small, exceeding sharp
chlsel, bearing on the handle the name of
Clyde Irving. The instrument was rusty
and stained with blood as he exhibited it TO
the justice-and the finding of this weapon
recalled the fact that, at the post D,orte,a
examination, the surgeon had expressed it
as his opinion that the fatal wound had not
been made by knife, but by some other
sharp pointed instrument.
Clyde Irving was young man of ire
proachable habits-poor, but honest, tenn
perate and virtuous-and the only son of
widowed mother. 1t was well known in
Dashtord that he had loved Lucy WaIbridge
from childhood, but that he had not spoken
to her on the subject, because his station in
life was SO much below hers
You all know how readily people find rea-
sons for the truth of what they desire to be-
lieve. Irving had not an enemy In the vii
| lage-but still it was necessary to have some
one on whom to throw the guilt, and they
were all glad that the murderer had been
discovered. 4 score of trihing circumstan.
ces were brought against the unfortunate
young man, and he was arrested, tried and
convicted of the murder of Charles Wylie.
on the evening of the 18th of March.
Lucy, who had in a measure recovered
from the shock she had received ON the death
of her expected husband, protested against
the course events were taking. She was
morally sure that Irving was innocent of the
crime charged upon him, and if the law con-
victed him unto death, it would slay one
who was wholly guiltless 1t did SO convict
him. and the terrible sentence passed upon
him, to take effect on the 10Th day of June
following. After the decision was known to
found melancholy, from which nothing could
rouse her, and at times her friends despair
ed OF her reason.
On the fatal 10th of June, Dashford was
overrun with people. The execution was to
take place in the open space in front of the
jail, the time II clock Just before the
hour, Irving was led forth, and with firm,
quiet manner, assembled the scaffold. His
face was pale, but serene the calm blue
eyes met the gaze of the vast multitude
without shrinking, and the broad white fore
head lifted itself to the soft south wind as
honestly and proudly as the brow of the no
bIest man among them all. He was asked
if he had anything to say. but he simply
shook his head and the black cap was drawn
over his eyes The Sheriff took the rope,
but before he could place it about his neck,
a tall, gaunt woman, clothed in black, step
ped forward, lifted bony white hand, and
uttered the single word 'ForbearH'
The Sheriff dropped the rope-something
in the air and manner of the woman COM
manded obedience. Silence fell upon the
assemblage-silence which was almost audi
Bile. The woman dropped the hood of her
cloak upon her shoulders, and revealed a
pale, haggard face, lit up by brilliant black
eyes, and framed in masses Of hair as white
as snow.
Listen to me" she said, in low, thrill
ling voice which reached the ear of every
person present-''listen to me, and witness
We every one, that, before God, | avow my
words TO be the truth Clyde Irving is in
nocent of the crime you charge him with
You all ought to feel sure Of it after looking
into his face. 1t is not the countenance of
a murderer.
''Three years ago I was left widow. My
name is Catharine Sinclair. My home is in
New York When my husband died, all
the affections of my heart centred in my
child-my beautiful Alice, then seventeen
years of age, and the lovliest creature the
sun ever shone upon. She was my all, and
loved her with passion which was almost
madness. All mine was she till he came,
Charles Wyie, with his fair, handsome face
and his smile which might have won an an
gel to sim Alice sewed for daughter of
one of his friends, and there he became ac
ouainted with her. She was facinated, poor
girl, and nothing could say had any effect.
She confded in him, trusted him entirely
and it was the old story over again. He
offered her marriage-lured her under that
promise to neighboring city, and there
compassed ruin. After few days he left
her-basely deserted her-and left her with
out money, to take her choice-starvation or
life of sin. Thank God that she preferred
death.
"He returned to New York to seek anoth-