Ottumwa weekly courier. (Ottumwa, Wapello County, Iowa) 1872-1899, 1878-10-16

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y "Whos there |" cried Sharpe.
"Covington," replied Beauchau
Covington was an intimate friend
Sharpe's).
The door opened, Sharpe appear,
and Beauchamp seized him by q
throat. He tried to escape.
= Mrs. Sharpe appeared at . re-
door.
Beauchamp tore of his mack ar
thrust his face close to his dooms
victim. "And do you know me :"
scoffingly sneered.
Sharpe drew back and cried, "Gre
God, 1t 10 he."
They were his last words.
Beauchamp plunged his dagg'
deep into his heart. The blood spu
ted upon the walls and dabbled Il
floor. "Die," was all Bcaucham
said. And he died.
The hue and cry was Soon rAisol
The assassin was followed by an eagl
crowd Of pursuers. Captured, d
rested. he was brought back and triei
He was convicted he was sentence
TO be executed. His wife remaine
with him to the last. She made n
attempt 1t concealing the fact that d
instigated and urged ON the assassina
tion. She gloried in it, and scoute,
ct the threats of indicting her - &C
cessory before the fact. The night be
fore the execution she procured aI
Iounce vial of laudanum and persusd
| ed her husband to cheat the gallow
IL he could. The laudanum was di
vidcd. She swallowed one-half. H,
took his portion. Then they knel
and prayed. They sang for joy !; they
shouted that their sins had been for.
given, and in . deliriuln of ecstacy
reused the other inmates of the pris.
ON. The poison did not work. She
swore that she would starve herseli
to death, die with her husband and
be buried In the same coffin.
june 8, 1926, was . great day in
Frankfort. The city was thronged to
see the last Of J. o. Beauchamp. The
black and ominous gibbet was erect
ed on . hilltop near by. The drums
beat mournful dirges from an early
hour. At IL O'Clock Mrs. Beauchamp
told the jailer to leave her few min
utes 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 stabbed themselves
with knife the wife had concealed.
His wound was not fatal. His wife
soon expired. Beauchamp was car
ried to her bedside, as her life's blood
was ebbing fast. He felt her pulse.
"FArewell, child Of sorrow, farewell,
victim of persecution and misfortune |!
You are now safe from the tongue Of
slander. For you I've lived, for you
l 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 Q covered wagon
and hauled him to the gallows.
He waved his hands to the ladies,
whose weeping eyes cheered him with
sympathy and consolation. They
were compelled to help him get on
his coffin. He was too weak to sit
upon itunsupported.
"Give me some water. Let the
drums play sBonsparte'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 were not
divided. Their grave is ct Bloom
field, KY, marked by modest shaft.
Before her death Mrs. Beauchamp
wrote the following epitaph, which
was engraved on the tom mbstone Of the
misguided pair;
Entombed below In each others arms
The husband and the wife repose;
Safe from life's never-eudinE storms
Secure from al their cruel foes.
kif vifls2lhhf n fxlt AAfe Me- lined iusa rruus.u-=-
The husband Of her heart revived
The happiness she long had lost.
He heard her tale Of matches woe,
And burning for revenge arose;
He laid her base betlayer low,
And struck dismsy to virtues fees.
Readsr. IL honor's generous blood
Fer warmed thy blood, here drop tear,
And let the sympathetic food
Deep in thy mind its traces wear.
A brother or sister thou
DishOnored see thy sister dear;
Then turn and see the villain low,
And let fall grateful tear.
Daughters Of virtue; grant the tear,
That love and honor's tomb may claim
In your defence the husband here
Laid down In youth his life and fame.
His wife disdained life forlorn,
Reft from her hearts beloved lord;
Then, reader, here their fortunes mourn,
Who for their love their ife-blood poured.
The excitement over the fate of
BeauchAmp and the tragic ending of
his wife has lent to the tragedy . ro-
mantle halo, and some years since
John Savage, q New York journal
ist and play-writer, worked the lead
ing Incidents of the affair into dra-
ma entitled "The Sybil," which, how
ever, was performed only twice.
Sharpe's son got out an injunction at
Louisville against the performance Of
the piece, and succeeded in suppress
ing 1t entirely.
Were the tragedy to occur in these
days, it is very doubtful il Beau
champ would have ever felt the hal
ter draw.