The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1894-01-24
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Was it a dream?

As opened my eyes a strange spec
tacle presented itself. In front of me
was scaffold supporting a guillotine.
A man was pinioned, with his neck
resting on the block, the tall execution
er standing ready to pull the cord and
liberate the shining blade that hung
aloft. Around were grouped priest
and state officials dressed in French Co.'S
tunes of the last century. And the
pale moon shed its somber light over
all. In moment recollected that l
must be in the chamber of horrors of
Paul's waxwork exhibition.
Twas spending week in town, sight
seeing. The preceding day had been a
very fatiguing one, but had promised
myself an evening at the waxworks,
and Il he'd made arrangements for every
other night during my short stay, so l
went.
There is nothing SO firing as an ex-
hibition, no matter what its character
may be, and after walking up and down
long galleries and climbing and de-
scending stairs for sevearl hours l was
completely dead beat" Consequently,
when found large block of wood.
an executioner's block, l have since as
certained it to have benin a seclud-
ed corner Of the chamber of horrors,
sat down to rest
must have Immediately fallen
asleep and escaped the notice Of the at
tendants when they closed the building
for the night. When / awoke, the
chamber was as still as tomb, and
bright moonlight, streaming in through
the tall window, gave the place weird
and unearthly appearance as it fell on
the hideous throng of the worlds great
criminals.
rose from my seat and glanced
around. am not superstitious man,
nor am particularly nervous, but a
queer sensation crept over me. Perhaps
the night air was chilly. Perhaps i
had taken cold. must get out of the
place somehow.
The moon was now hidden behind a
bank of clouds, and the place became
quite dark. | stretched out my hand,
and it touched something. Ughl Cold,
like the flesh of dead mani 1t was
the face of one of that murderous crew.
What fool wasl They were only
wax figures. That was all, of course.
tried to laugh at my absurd situation,
but the attempt was failure and left
me more uncomfortable than ever.
Perhaps they were smiling at me in the
darkness. Absurd! How could wax fig
ures smile?
And yet suppose that the spirits of
these evil men and women haunted their
counterfeit presentments. Living Grim
inals, it was said, could not resist re-
turning to the scenes of their crimes,
and these mute statues were clothed in
the very garments in which the crimes
had been con,mitted--garments from
which the guilty stains had never been
washed.
What was that?
had taken hold of something made
of cold metal. Horror! l felt it to be
one of the knives with which murder
had been committed. l was behaving
like an idiot. l knew it, and I told
myself 80. But it was no use. / could
not help wishing were anywhere else.
A vault or a crypt would be cheerful
compared with this horrible place. The
very air seemed to smell of crime.
crept lsrward until l came to some
steps. Perhaps this was the way out.
went up and reached out into the
darkness.
A hand! A foot A body kneeling!
Great heavens! / had assembled the
scaffold-was the one solitary living
being present at that awful mute num-
merry going on in the darkness of the
night"
This sort of thing leads to madness"
told myself, as / crawled backward
down the stairs. But what was to be
done? ! must get out som ehow, or my
nerves would not stand the strain.
Never until now had realized how
weak ones intellect really is. If any
body had told me few hours before
that had SO much dormant imbecility
in me, / should have been indignant. I
am, moreover, an imaginative man,
and imagination is curse on such oc-
casions.
However, determined that would
not give way in this manner. Advanc-
ing in another direction, was stopped
by wooden wall or partition. Just
then the moon came out for few mo-
ments, and saw that was looking in
to prisoners dock.
There, close in front Of me, stood
some Of the men and women who DUR
ing the present century had become
most notorious in crime. Their fea-
lures were, in a number of cases, famil-
lar to me from old books and recent
prints.
instantly recognized, among others,
Burke and Hare, the former of whom
was convisted In 1929 of horrible
series Of murders on .s.eAce Of his
accomplice; James Bloomfield Rush.
the Stanfeld Hall murderer of 1948;
Maria and George Manning, the two
atrocious criminals of lS49; William
Palmer, the Rugeley poisoner of 1855,
and William Fish, Catherine Wilson.
Henry Wainwright, the Stauntons, Le-
troy and Lipski Of later dates.
What blood guilty assemblage with
which to pass the night! How the crime
Of every individual seemed indelibly
written on his facet
One mans expression transfixed me,
held me spellbound and filled me with
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