San Marcos free press. [volume] (San Marcos, Tex.) 1877-1892, 1878-10-12

May I'VE 10 nBnt unothci u"!'
So before break of day he was on his
horse en- route for Bowling Green.
Bcauchamp returned to his home. Miss
Cooke now resolved to take vengeance
in her own hands. Daily she practised
with pistols till her aim became deadly.
She tried TO lure Sharpe to her house.
He avoided her. Beauchamp refrained
from any further attempt on Sharpe's
life TO give Miss Cooke the opportunity
she wished for. 1t never came, and
this desire to kill him herself gave to
Sharpe many day of life. In June,
1924, Beauchamp and Miss Cooke were
married. And then he claimed he had
the right to assassinate his wife's Sc
Queer. Sharpe was now candidate
for the Legislature, but his treatment OF
Miss Cooke added to his unpopularity,
so he announced that Miss Cookies child
was the offspring of a negro. He even
produced forged certificate to substan-
tate this unheard of villainy.
Beauchamp heard the tale, and re-
solved that Sharpe's hour had now
come. He repaired to Frankfort, and,
unable to obtain lodgings at the hotels,
passed the night with Scott, the keeper
of the Penitentiary. He retired early,
and prepared for his murderous deed.
Instead of shoes he put on yarn stock
ings. He concealed his face in red
bandanna handkerchief. He secreted q
long knife in his bosom. Stealthily he
crawled unobserved out of his lodgings,
and repaired noiselessly to Sharpe's
residence. Drawing his dagger, he
knocked three times.
"Who's there?" cried Sharpe.
"Covington, replied Beauchamp
(Coyington was an intimate friend of
Sharpe's).
The door opened, Sharpe appeared,
and Beauchamp seized him by the
throat. He tried to escape.
Mrs. Sharpe appeared at rear door.
Beauchamp tore off his mask and
thrust his face close to his doomed vic
tim. "And do you now know me?"
he scofiingly sneered.
Sharpe drew back and cried, "Great
God, it is he."
They were his last words.
Beauchamp plunged his dagger deep
into his heart. The blood spurted upon
the walls and dabbled the floor "Die,"
was all Beauchamp said. And he died.
The hue and cry was soon raised.
The assassin was followed by an eager
crowd of pursuers. Captured, arrested,
he was brought back and tried. He
was sentenced to be executed. His wife
remained with him to the last. She
made no attempt at conceallng
the fact that she instigated and
urged on the assassination. She
gl0ried in it, and secuted at the threats
of indicting her rs accessory before the
fact. The night before the execution
she procured an ounce vial of laudanum
and persuaded her husband to cheat the
gallows if he could. The laudanum
was divided. She swallowed one-half.
Then they knelt and prayed. They
sang for joy; they shouted that their
sins had been forgiven and in delirium
of ecstasy reused the other inmates OF
the prison. The poison did not work.
She swore that she would starve herself
to death, die with her husband, and be
buried in the same coffin.
June 5, 1926, was a great day in
Frankfort. The city was thronged to
see the last of j. o. Beauchamp. The
black and ominous gibbet was erected
on hilltop near by. The drums beat
mournful dirges from an early hour.
At II O'Clock Mrs. Beauchamp told the
jailer to leave her for few moments
with her husband The jailer left, but
was soon recalled by deep grOans from
their cell. He returned and found them
both weltering in blood. They had stab
bed themselves with knife the wife
had concealed. His wound was not
fatal. His wife soon expired. Beau
champ. was carried to her bedside as
her life's blood was ebbing fast. He
felt her pulse. Farewell, child of sor-
row; farewell, victim of persecution and
misfortune! You are now safe from the
tongue of SANDER. For you I've lived,
for you I'll die" He kissed her lips;
he was ready.
The blood was trickling from his
wounds. He was too weak to sit up, so
they laid him in covered wagon and
hauled him to the gallows.
He waved his hands to the ladies,
whose weeping eyes choered him with
sympathy and consolation. They were
compelled to help him get on his coffin.
He was too weak to sit upon it unsup-
ported.
"Give me some water. Let the
drums play 'Bonapart's Retreat from
Moscow" were his last words.
They buried the self-murdered wife
and the executed husband in the same
coffin, folded in each others arms.
Even in death they are not divided.
Their grave is at Bloomfield, Ky,
marked by modest shaft. Before her
death Mrs. Beauchamp wrote the follow
ing epitaph, which was engraved on the
tombstone of the misguided pair: