The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1889-08-15
A PISTOL SHOT.


tnre him until he confesses tine accuracy of
the verdict. The more you reflect ON this
logic the more surprising it becomes.
1t is, however, the last act of the drama
of Chinese justice that is the great reve-
lation. | nm inclined to think that nobody
can claim to have an adequate and accu-
rate appreciation of Chinese character who
has not witnessed Chinese execution. This
is not difficult to do at Canton. for the Can
ton river swarms with pirates, and when
these gentry are caught they generally get
a short shrlft. A few ba;ubooings to oegiI
with, then several months in prison
and it is not necessary to
explain what a Chinese prison is-with
little to eat and a stiff course of torture,
and then one fine morning a short, sharp
shock" at the execution ground.
The execution is fixed for 80 O'Clock, so
at 4 O'clock the guide comes for us at Sha-
meen, the foreign quarter of Canton, and
our chairs carry US rapidly through the
noisy alleys of the native city. Until we
get close to the spot there is no sign of any
thing unusual. Then suddenly we run into
a jammed crowd at the end of a lone and
particu arly narrow street. Their char
coolies, however plunge straight into it and
it gives way before us until we are brought
up by a huge pair of wooden gates guarded
by a little group of soldiers. To hear these
mea talk you would suppose that they
would die then and there rather than han let
us pass, but the production of couple of 10
cent pieces works a miracle, aud they open
the gates for US, vainly trying to stop the
rush of natives that follows US in and car
ries us before it right into the middle of
the open space. 1t is bare piece of ground,
fifty yards long by dozen wide, between
two houses, whose blank walls hem it in on
three sides. To day it is
THE EXECUTION GROUND,
Yesterday and tomorrow the drying ground
of potter who lives there. There is no
platform, no roped-off space nothing but
this bare bit of dirty ground, SO crowded
with Chinese that we are forced into the
middle, not more than feet from whatever
is to take place. It is no use TO try to get
farther of--here we are and here we must
stop.
Suddenly the gates are thrown open again
and welcomed by howl of delight from
the crowd, a strange and CHASTITY procession
comes tumbling. First few ragamuffin
soldiers, making fine pretence of clearing
the way. Then file Of coolies carrying the
victims in small, shallow baskets slung to
bamboo poles. AS soon as each pair reach
the middle of the space they stoop and pitch
their living burden out and run off. The
prisoners are chained hand and foot and are
perfectly helpless. The executioner sta ids
by and points out where eacd load is to be
dumped. He Is dressed exactly like any
other coolie present. withouG any badge of
Office whatever. The condemned men have
each a long folded piece of paper in a split
bamboo stuck into their pl gtail, upon which
Is written their crime and the warrant of
execution. One after another they arrive
and are sluug out. VIII the procession
never end! how many can there be? This
is more than We bargained for. At last
over the heads of the crowd we see the hats
of two petty mandarinS, and behind them
the gates are shut. The tale of men is
fifteen, and the executioner has arranged
them IN two rows, about two yards apart
and all facing one way. All except one
seem perfectly callouS and he had probably
been drugged with opium, last privilege
which the prisoners friends can always OBJ
tain by bribery. They exchange remarks,
S me of them evidently chaff, with the
spectators, and one man was carried in
singing aad kept up his strain almost to the
last. The executioners-there are now two
of them--step forward. the younger tucks
up his trousers and sleeves and deliberately
selects a sword from several lying close BY
while the other, and old man, collects the
strips of paper into sheaf and lays them
on one side. Then lie places himself behind
the front man of the nearest row and takes
him by the shoulders. The younger man
walks forward and stands at the left of the
kneeling man.
THE FATAL MOMENT
has come. Thsre is an instant's hush and
every one of the two rows of condemned
| men behind twists his head round and cranes
| his neck to see. will not attempt TO de-
scribe the emotions of suca momeut-the
| horror, the awful repulsIon. the wish that
| you had never come, the sickening fear that
| you will be spiashed with thu blood, and
| yet the helpless fascination that keeps your
| eyes glued to every detail. The knife is
raised. 1t is short, broad-blade1, two
handled sword, weighted at the back and
evidently as sharp as a razor.
For second 1T is poised in the air, as the
| executioner takes aim. Then it falls.
There is no great apparent effort 1t sim
ply falls, and moreover seems to fall slow
| ly. But when it comes to the mans neck
it does not stop. 1t keeps on falling. With
| ghasGly SlowAess It passes right through the
| flesh, and you are only recalled from your
momentary stupor when the head springs
| forward and rolls over and over, while for
a fraction of second two dazzling jets OF
| scarlet bloo1 burst out and fall in grace
| full curve to the ground. Teen the great
rush of blood comes and floods the spot. AS
soon US the blow has fallen the second exc
| cutloner pitches the body forward with a
| loud thought in tumbles in a shapeless
| heap, and from every throat goes up loud
"Ho," expressive of pleasure and approval
| of the stroke.
| But there is no pause; the executioner
| steps over the corpse to the front man in
| the seco I'd rank, the knife raises again, it
| falls, another head rolls away, another dou-
ole burst of blood follows it, the headless body
is showed forward, the assistant shou S
| "Hough," and the crowd shouts
"Ho." Two men are dead. Then the he ds-
man steps back to the second man of the
| front row and the operation is repeated.
| Two things strike you; the brutal matter
| of-factness Of the whole perfor nance and
the extraordinary ease VITA which
| AHUMAN HEAD CAN BE CHOPPED OFF.
AS whole it Is precisely like drove of
| pigs driven into the shameless and stuck
and in detail it is-or seems-no mere diff
| cult than splitting turnip with a carving
knife or Topping off a thistle with a cane.
Chop, chop, chop, the heads roll off one af =
| ter tee other in as many seconds.
| When the seventh man is reached. either
because The knife is blunted or the execu-
tioner misses his blow. the neck is only cut
half through But still he does not stop.
He comes quickly back, takes another knife
| passes on to the next man and only comes
! back to finish The wretched seven h when
all the other heads are lying in bloody pools
| In front OF the shoulders which carried them
| few moments before. And every man
has watched the death of all those in front
| of him with horrid anima-like curiosity,
| and then bent his own neck TO the knife
| The place is ankle deep in blood, the specta-
| tors are yelling with delight and frenzy,