Glasgow Courier. — 1846-10-13 (Glasgow, Strathclyde, Scotland)

TRAGIC CAREER OF AN ESCAPED CONVICT.  Many of the escaped convicts become pirates and banditti, whilst others endeavour to deserve well of society by industriously gaining their living In their own way. Among the most notorious of the former was one Michael Howe, of Tasmania. He at first joined a large party of bushrangers, which spread terror and desolation through the country. His indomitable courage and fertility of resources soon gained him a pre-eminence among his companions. But he does not seem to have been possessed of the true satanic ambition. He did not think it "better to reign in hell than serve in heaven." Though ruthless himself, the society of other villains was distasteful to him, and he separated from his companions to pursue his career alone. Twice disgusted with his own mode of existence, he surrendered on condition that his life should be spared; but the lawless impulse was too strong within him to be quieted, and he eventually returned for good to the bush. Every settler heard with terror that Michael Howe was again abroad, and their fears were but too often realised. This singular being had formed a connexion with a native girl of some personal attractions. She accompanied him in all his expeditions, and seemed to return the attachment she had Inspired. What were the exact feelings with which he regarded her are not known, but that there was considerable depth in his love may be inferred from the manner in which they parted. One morning they were sitting in their hut, concealed in the depths of a wood, when the ever-vigilant Michael heard a significant crackling of the fallen branches, and instantly knew that his life or liberty was threatened. A 1 body of colonists, Indeed, which had lone been on his track, had surrounded his habitation. Conscious of his vast strength, his agility, his knowledge of every path, he felt confident of being able to escape; but what would become of his partner? Should she be suffered to fall into the hands of the colonists? The desperate casuist soon decided the question, and he shot her, not because he imagined she might occasion delay" as Captain I Stokes, repeating the expression used in Tasmania, remarks, but as others, with more probability, believe, because he could not brook the idea of her falling Into rough and unkind hands. Leaving her weltering in her blood (she did not die by-the-by, but was taken to Hobart-town) Michael Howe escaped, and continued for some time to lead his usual predatory life. At one period he formed the plan of penetrating into some unknown fastnesses, whither the foot of man would never follow him, and of establishing himself there ass solitary colonist. For this purpose he procured the seeds of a variety of flowers and vegetables, and endeavoured to persuade himself that he could pass the remainder of his life in peace, engaged in the cultivation of his garden. But his conscience would not allow him to remain quiet. The murders he had committed rose up constantly before his imagination. Fearful shapes haunted his fancy. Night and day he was tortured by the recollection of what he had done. This is no imaginary picture, drawn from the prevalent ideas of what criminals must suffer. The man himself had striven to escape from the terrors of his own mind by analysing and studying them. He kept a sort of journal of his dreams, In which, partly by a few wor& pregnant with meaning, partly by means of strange and uncouth sketches. he recorded every morning what he had mentally suffered by night. The man's mind seems to have been of great capacity; his imagination was rich and vivid. Every evening, as soon as he had laid his guilty head on the stone that served for his pillow, the most frightful Images rushed across his brain. The faces of those he had killed, their gory hair, their deeply-stained garments, every material adjunct of murder ; the horror of the day of judgment, too, filled his imagination and the awful pains of the damned seemed revealed to him in this tremendous apocalypse. One single trait will evince the rude sublimity of his mind. All this dreadful journal was written In hls own blood—as If any other liquid would have been polluted by reeording the diabol Mal thoughts that haunted him. There is no evidence that the religious sentiment ever came to his aid; but we would fain hope that all this agony was not suffered in vain. He was killed by three men who had planned his capture, after seven years' residence in the bush. —Foreign Quarterly Review.