Year: 1875

tentions, and that God will receive me
with favor. / sincerely hope that my
death may be the means Of restoring
tranquility to the navy, and That those
men who have been implicated in this
business may be restored to their posi-
tions and again become serviceable to
their country. wish further to say that
the reforms the insurgents desired are
eminently just, though I, with every
loyal citizen, regret the mode selected
for their accomplishment"


On the morning Of the 30th of June
the yellow flag, the signal of death, was
hoisted on the Sandwich. The whole
fleet was ranged around the death-ship,
their crews piped to the forecastle, and
at nine o'clock the unhappy prisoner was
brought on deck He was pale but com.
posed, and as he passed his messmates
he said: "Good-by to you, boys. l sim
cerely hope my death may be deemed a
sufficient atonement for you ALL" just
before the rope was adjusted he handed
| to an officer letter to his wife and his
will, conv eying to her some property in
Scotland, after which he was hauled up
and died almost without a struggle.


But there is sad romance connected
with this tragedy which is more inter-
esting than the tragedy itself. Parker's
young wife resided in Scotland, and
when she heard that tie Sheerness fleet
had mutinied under the lead of Richard
Parker she had no doubt that the in
surgent chief was her husband, and she
instantly departed for London, believing
his arrest was certain, and hoping to
save him from the vengeance of the law.
On her arrival in London she learned
that her husband had been tried and
condemned. She hastened to notary,
paid guinea for having petition for a
commutation properly prepared, and
sought to present it to the King. She
was obliged to give it to Lord in wait
ing, who, on learning for what purpose it
was intended, coolly advised her not to
waste any more time or money in that
effort, for no power on earth could save
the bold mutineer. She then went with
all possible haste to Sheerness, where she
learned that her husband was to be hung
at nine o'clock the next morning. At an
early hour she began to search for means
to get on board the Sandwich, and it was
nearly nine before she succeeded. Then
she was not permitted to come within
200 yards, but was near enough to see
her husband as he came on deck on his
way to execution. She became wild with
! grief, and, stretching out her hands. cried
"Richard Richard! Oh, my husband"
and fell senseless. The doomed man
heard the wall, and said to one of the
officers: "There is my poor wife from
Scotland! Can l see her, if but for one
moment?" No reply was made, but the
work of death was hurried forward, and
in a few moments the unhappy man was
beyond the reach of worldly sorrow.


On recovering from her long swoon the
poor woman was informed of the sad
termination, and also learned that the
body had just been sent on shore fer
burial in the new naval cemetery. She
FASTENED to the cemetery, but found the
ceremony over and the gate locked, and
she was refused admittance to the inside
of the inclosure. Moved to desperation
by rumor that the surgeons would prob
ably carry the body off that night for
dissection, she determined to thwart
them she waited around the cemetery
until dark, when she climbed over the
wall, and found the new-rnade grave,
which proved exceedingly shallow.


She was not long in scraping away the
earth which covered the simple coffin,
the lid of which was soon removed, and
she had the corpse in her arms. Her
| first intention was simply to stay by the
grave and protect it from the threatened
desecration, but she now determined to
remove the body altogether. According
ly she communicated her purpose to two
or three women whose acquaintance she
had formed, and with their help the body
was taken from the grave, carried over
the wall, put in a cart and started for
London. She arrived there at eleven
o'clock at night, but having no acquaint-
ances in the city was compelled to take
the body to public-house. After much
difficulty she succeeded in getting it to
her room and wept over it until morn
ing.


But her secret could no longer be kept
in such place, particularly as the news
of the exhumation had been brought to
the city by the express and was the talk
of the town. The fact was soon known
and the house was surrounded by an
immense crowd anxious to look upon
the body of the noted mutineer, whose
boldness and sincerity the populace now
began to respect. The excitement hourly
increased, the populace began to cheer
the late mutineer and deride the author
tiles, when the Lord Mayor called upon
Mrs. Parker, who was watching over her
dead, and demanded to know what dispo
sition she intended to make of the re
mains. The poor woman replied thai
she only wanted to give them decent
burial, and His Lordship promised thai
all necessary aid would be given to en-
able her to carry out her wish. All thi.
time the excitement was growing, the
streets became impossible, the turbu
lencc increased, and it began to look al
if even the dead mutineer might cause
bloodshed if not civil war. But the
body was soon buried according to thu
widows wishes, and the crowds dis
persed.


Mrs. Parker took up her residence nea
the place of burial and, for some years
derived comfortable support from th'
small property left by her husband. Blu
she was subsequently deprived of tina
by decision of the courts, which, TO
some cause, declared her title invalid
She was therefore thrown upon her owl
resources; partial blindness soon fol
lowed, incapacitating her for work, an
she was ultimately compelled to go upo
the streets and solicit aid from the char
table. In 1S06-forty years after he
heroic struggle for the possession OF he
husbands body-a communication in th
London Times called public attention t
her necessities and fund of $500 wa
quickly raised to render her last year
comfortable, the British monarch, Will
lam w., himself contributing ESQ. Tn
brave but unfortunate woman died i


1912.


THE Philadelphians have now foun
the identical compass and chain whic