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CIRCUMSTANCES. A Chain of Fact and Coincidence Apropos of Forrester. WHO KILLED NATHAN? Curious Instances of Mis- 9 taken Identity. A Tragedy of Error Related by Cicero. OELEBRATED CAUSES COMPARED. —————_>_—_— The Dastardly Deed of Delahunt, the Dublin Detective. “DARNAY’S” DOUBLE. The Murder of Burdell, Bond Street. in A MERCER’S MEMORY. + Strange Stories of Sanguinary Crimes Retold. The murder of Nathan, that mystery of horror and darkness, which more than two years ago thrilled the nerves of humanity with a terror more dreadful than that inspired by any former deed in the annals of crime, has recently been raised like some ill-omened ghost from the shadows of oblivion in which it was almost lost to public view, and is once more the subject of tragical conjectures among all classes of people, THE STORY OF THE BLOODY BUTCHERY of the wealthy Jewish banker is vividly imprinted on almost every mind, and its impression can scarcely be dissipated until at length the assassin shall be brought to justice and its strange mystery explained, if that may everbe. On the morning of the 29th of July, 1870, Benjamin Nathan was foully murdered near his bed, being found dérové and cruelly battered on the head and face until his ven- erable features were scarcely recognizable to his own sons, At half-past six o’clock the cry of mur- der was raised at the door of his princely mansion in Twenty-third street, and young Washington Nathan rushed upon the sidewalk in his night dress, frantic with terror. He had come home at half-past twelve, and gone to his couch to sleep. At the hour of the alarm he had arisen and gone to his father’s room to awake him, when he entered upon @ scene of horror which no pen has yet been able to picture. The gray-haired banker lay stretched apon the floor, between his library and private drawing room, covered with clot- ted gore from head to foot, but cold and stitf, with the rich carpet under him saturated with the red torrent of his life-blood, which had spattered every piece of furniture and every wall and door of the room. There were evidences of a most fear- ful struggle, and it seemed that the first blow must have been struck by the desperate murderer while his victim was quietly sitting at his desk in the library. The desk was covered with streaks and miniature pools of blood, and on the floor beneath the chair, which had been overturned in the terni- ble conflict that ensued, was a mass of gore. Then there were traces of blood and conflict from the desk to the door of the drawing room, near which the body was found, and here the dreadful deed was finished; the murderer then burst open the safe, took out papers and valuables and escaped. All that he left behind him that could throw any light upon the manner in which the deed was done was a heavy iron “dog”—the tool ot a ship carpenter—which was found in the morning in the vestibule of the man- sion, covered with blood, hair and pieces of flesh. During THAT NIGHT OF CRIME not a sound of danger was heard by the inmates of that fatea house, and all seemed to repose in peace and perfect quictude. The servant who slept in the room next to that occupied by the banker was ignorant of the tragedy until a@roused by the cries of the son of his master. The policeman who had passed the house shortly after one o'clock, had then tried the door and found it locked and secure. He nad done the same at half-past four and with the same re- sult. At six o’clock, when Washington Nathan came down stairs to give the alarm of murder, the door was open. The deed must have been done be- tween the hours of half-past four and half-past six in the morning, when slumbers are heaviest and ife before arousing grows motionless and quiet asdeath, In the adjoining house on Fifth avenue Dr. Peckham and his wife, about the same hour, heard through the thick walls a heavy sound re- peated several times, and this is supposed to have been occasioned by the blows inflicted, by the mur- derer on his helpless victim. IN THE FIRST EXCITEMENT over this most horrible of tragedies a hundred theories were propounded and discussed to throw light upon its dark mystery. The police have un- doubtedly found convincing evidence of two abso- Jute facts—that it was committed by some one who ‘was well acquainted with the interior of the man- sion and that either he or his assistant was not a professional burglar. The secrecy of the whole shows that at least one of its mas- ter spirits must have possessed some expe- rience in such ruthless and terrible deeds, The “dog” which was found at the door of the ‘vestibule was stated positively by credible persons to hage lain in Mr, Nathan's stable for months before the tragedy was enacted, Other significant details might be given, but these are enough for our purpose. The crime ts fresh in the memory of the reader, and requires no elabora- tion of narration. FORRESTER SUSPECTED. Eight months after the tragedy, after the inquest had closed, and public suspense was lulled oy the growing conviction that the murderer would never be found, the police declared that the clew Was at last found, The man who battered the life out of Benjamin Nathan was, in their opinion, the notorious William Forre: whose history is filled by episodes of almost every concetvable criminal character. His sovriquets are as numerous as the different kinds of crime in which he is experienced and the localities in which he at different times has exercised his brillant talents. WANTED—A MURDERER. But a murderer is wanted; the man who killed Nathan vim 4 godsend to the police if he could be found. The public mind has been for # long time full of wonder that the real murderer has not been procured ere this, The police have at length tracked the notorious Forrester—the For- rester of many crimes—to a covert. He was heavily chained and dragged to New York. Here he is im- mured in the stontest cell in the metropolis, and the terror of a uows hangs over his head like a fatal shadow. May become a. reality of doom; but the public ask now not so much whether he will be hanged as “1s HE GUILTY?" And they would rather have the inquiry answered now than after he ts swung into eternity, if so it should be. Their view of the case is differently shaded than that taken by those behind the curtain, who are shifting the scenes of the play. Presumptive evidence has always been considered as worthy only of the most cautious consideration in a matter of trial, and yet in the records of crime an immense proportion of convictions and punish- ments will be found to have resulted from the weight given it by @ jury of intelligent men. Its definition alone shows how solemn is the responsi- bility attending its adoption as the motive ior in- fiicting the penalty of death. Where the facts proved are not the Lge facta at isene, and the jury are to come to a con- clusion on the facts at issue by ag act those other proved facts, lebrated cases in law kre tose tive. The most cel we in which the intense interest atraching to them has been caused by testimony of thischaracter. There always exist in such instances strong reasons for doubts, for hopes and for fears, and they have generally been selected by dramatists for the origi- nals of legal plots. When the life of any man hangs by the thread of logic which may be weaving in @ juror’s mind, and the strength of which he knows not, there can be no more terrible ordeal of suspense and dread. THE RECOGNITION OF INDIVIDUALS isone ofthe most difienlt kinds of evidence to be critically weighed in the balance of justice, There of reasoning from the evidence in such are to be taken into consideration so many contingencies of memory, forgetful- ness, lapse of time, change of looks, dress, manner and character, and the effects of surround- ing circumstances, that only positive cases of iden- tifleation supported 1y auxiliary proof should be ase worthy of €videnc® “Oe or tic Most re; ent ITO jystance is where imajination takes the plice of memory and recollection, and sometimes long contemplation on the general appearance of a iace with owner and personnel cts another also pres- ent in thought, by coificidence of circumstances or the force of a popular tide of sentiment, leads to the firm conviction that the face seen first belongs to the personnel of the last person seen. The ex- pectation of what one will behold in any one with whom he is to be confronted is scarcely ever so distinctly outlined as to conflict harshly with the reality, provided there is the least resemblance be- tween the two. Then, in, faces at certain times are entirely different in appearance from what they are at others. Age constantly causes them to undergo change, and care and mental agony have a like effect, which is often ascribed to the same cause. THE CHANGES OF PASSION, But the alteration is often transitory; some pas- sion, as grief, joy, anger, fear, will produce instan- tancous and often startling change. There is a certain look about the human lineaments in which the muscles are contracted by sudden guilty terror or fear which is the same in all faces when under the same influence. The lines of the features grow into a sudden similitude, and one of the most dit- cult things in the part that a witness has to play in the giving of evidence is that of identifying a face which was seen in this state with that of another which is seen at rest or controlled by opposite emotions. THE DOUBLE OF CHARLES DARNAY, An instance similar to this is one of the finest episodes in the romances of Dickens, in The Tale of Two Cities,” in the trial of Charles Darnay, the double of Carton, for high treason, WMWile the loose, dissipated and devil-may-care barrister was loung- ing on one of the lawyer's seats, within the railing of the court room, the keenest spectator would have noted no resemblance between the features of these two, whose lives were afterwards to be knit so closely together. When the listlessness of indolence was shaken off and the man stood up in Court animated by a purpose, the people and officers and jaxymen, were overwhelmed with the strange similarity between the accused and the lawyer. Dickens says:— A singular circumstance then arose in the case. The object in hand being to show that the prisoner wont down, with some fellow-plotter untracked, in the Dover mail on that Friday nightin November, five years ago, and got out of the mail in the night, as a blind, at a nlac where he did not remain, but from which he tra back some dozen miles or more, to a garrison and do yard, and there collected information, A witness was called to identity him as having been at the precise tine indicated in the coffee room ofa hotel in that garrison and dockyard town, waiting for another person. The prisoner's counsel was cross-examining this witness with novresult, except that he had never seen the prisoner on any other occasion, when the wigged gentleman, who had all thig time been looking at the ceiling of the court. wrote a word or two on a little piece of paper, serewed it up and tossed it to him. Opening this piece of paper in the next pause, the counsel jooked with great attention and curlosity at the prisone: “You say again you are quite sure that it was the prisoner?’? ‘The witness was quite sure. “Did you ever see anybody very like the prisoner f” Not so like (the witness said) a8 that he could be mis- the en. “Look well upon that gentleman, my learned friend there,’ pointing to him who had tossed the paper over, “and then look well upon the prisoner. How say you? Are they very like each other!” Allowing for my learned friend’s appearance bein; careless and slovenly, if not debauched, they were sufli- ciently like cach other to surprise not only the witness, but everybody present, when they were thus brought into com: parlion. “My Lord’belng prayed (o bid my learned triend jay aside his wig, and giving no very gracious consen' likeness became much more remarkable. My Lor inquired of Mr. Stryver (the prisoner’s counsel) whether they were nexi to try Mr, Carton (name of my learned friend) for treason ?” But Mr. Stryver replied tomy Lord no; but he would ask the witness to tell him whether what happened once might happen twice; whether he would have been so configent if he had seen this illustra- tion of his rashness sooner; whether he would be so con- lent, having seen it; and more. The upshot of which was to smash this witness like a crockery vessel and shiver his part of the case to useless lumber. And then the case went on and at length the jury retired. Mr, Carton who had so long sat look- ing at the ceiling, changed neither his place nor his attitude, even in this excitement, while my learned friend Mr. Stryver, massing his papers before him, whispered with those who sat near, and from time to time glanced anxiously at the jury; while all the spectators moved more or less and grouped themselves anew; while even My Lord himself arose from his seat and slowly paced up and down his platform, not unattended by a suspicion in the minds of the audience that his state was fever- ish; this one man sat leaning back, with his torn gown half off him and his untidy wig put on just as it had happened to light on his head after its removal, his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the ceiling, as they had been all day. Some- thing especially reckless in his demeanor not only gave him a disreputable look. but so diminished the strong resemblance he undoubtedly bore to tne prisoner (which his momentary earnestness, when they were cen together, had strengthened) that many of the lookers on, taking note of him now, said to one another they would hardly have thought the two were so alike. Mr. Cruncher made the observation to his next neignbor, and added, “Id hold half a guinea that he don’t get no law work to do, Don’t look like the sort of one to get any, do he +” NORMAL AND SUDDEN EXPRESSION. The prisoner Forrester, in the proclamation for his arrest by Chief Kelso, is described as having black eyes and “a wild expression,” Miss Keenan testified that the man whom she saw at the area- way of Mr. Nathan’s house had ‘a wild look,” but brown eyes, If he whom she saw was in truth the wretch who did the dastardly deed it is notstrange that gullt and apprehension of suspicion should give him awildand even ghastly look when the gaslight blazed full in his face under the ob- servation of @ casual passer. But the expression of Forrester referred to by Chief Kelso is a normal characteristic of his face. Some one may resemble him, with brown eyes instead of black, and the resemblance might be strengthened by the feeling of fear on the occasion in question, THE DRKSS—A MERCER’S MEMORY. The dress is often more noticed than tne person, and this testimony of Miss Keenan is another in- stance of this sort. There are thousands of per- sons who dress almost exactly alike, and the fact leads to more instances of imaginary identity than any other. Novelists, who know human character st, ar wain be quoted. In “Kenilworth” there is the following dialogue, which bears much resem- blance to a cross-examination in court: — “May I ask her appearance, sir ?”’ said Tressilian. “Oh, sir! replied Mister Goldthred, “I promise you she was in gentlewoman’s attire—a very quaint and pleasing dress, that might have served the Queen herself; for she had a forepart with bh and sleeves of ginger colored satin, lined with murrey taffeta and laid down and guarded with two broad laces of gold and silver. And her hat, sir, was truly the best fashioned thing that I have seen, being of tawny taffeta, embroidered with scorpions of Venice and having a border gar- nished with gold fringe. Touching her skirts, they were in the old nt fashion."? “T did not ask you of her attire, sir,” said Tres- silian, “but of her complexion—the color of her hair, her features?” “Touching her complexion,” answered the mer- cer, “I am not so special certain; but I marked that her fan had an ivory handie Kata inlaid, and then in, as to the color of her hair, wh i can warrant, be its hue what it might, that she wore above it anet of green silk, parcel twisted with gold.’’ “A most mercer-like memory,” said Lambourne; “the gentleman asks him of the lady’s beauty and he talks of her fine clothing.’ SUSPICION. Suspicion ts sometimes but a step distant from con- viction, and especially so in the neinds of those who ve not been used in their lives to carefully weigh the value of right and wrong. An instance is re- corded by Cicero, that ancient inimitable Jawyer of Rome—“A man going to market and carrying money with him was overtaken by another man. The two entered into conversation, and strom thence arose an inclination on the part of both to keep together as friends, and accordingly when they ha both entered the same inn they agreed to sup together and to sicep in the game room. Supper being over they both retired to vest in the same chamber, But the inn- keeper (a8 Was afterwards discovered on his being taken up on another charge), Waving scen the money which one of them carried, arose in the night, and as soon as he perceived his two guests to be sound asleep he approached them, and, seeing the sword of the one who had not the money lying near him, he drew it from the sheath and with it killed his companion; and having stolen the money he replaced the bloody sword in the sheath and went to bed again. Now the man whose sword had been used to perpetrate the murder arose long before daylight and repeatedly called out to his companion in order to wake hiin, and receiving no answer he naturally attributed this to the man’s being asleep, and taking up his sword and the other things he had brought with him he set out alone. The innkeeper not nae after raised a cry that aman had been murdered; and he, together with some of his guests, pursues and overtakes the man who had before gone out. He seizes him, draws his sword and exhibits it bloody. The owner is carried to Rome and is prosecuted as the murderer. “THR FATAL HANDRERCHIFF."’ Romance teems with the lamentable tragedes resulting froma faith placed upon circumstantial evidence and suspicion. When Othello in sorrow- ful frenzy exclaims, leaning over the snow-white bed of the spotiess and wronged Desdemona— Put ont the light, and then put out the tight— lanation would stay the thirsty dagger that seexs her heart. And the deed was done because of an accursed handkerchief! The criminal records of all countries are full of instances of narrow p rom suitering the dgath penalty by inuocent persons, nud the dunger has always been produced by the force of circum- stantial evidence. One of the many remarkable eases of this kind, and the only one which in all its incidents is oH rng 4 satisfactory to the logical mind, occur: in the Courts of Ireland. At the tume it was widely published in the English news- papers, but never reached this country except through their choice medium, It is known as tl cause célebre of Delahunt (or De I'Hont<). THE CASE OF DELAHUNT, John Delahunt was a detective of the Dublin Castle police tore, employed by the government, together with abOut twenty or thirty others. Near 1887—a little over thirty years ago—this detective foree was somewhat in disfavor among the people. It was said to be almost useless and its members were looked upon as idlers who wasted their time away while living on the fund which was freely ap- portioned for the support of this branch of the Boy: ernment. At that period {t was 9 per ps re- markable fact that in Bablin the fécords of crime had become very, tame and lacked the bloody horrors “bt former times, There weré"Ho" gre@t” murders with which to gloat ublic sensuality or to keep constantly brilliant he waning prestige of the detectives of Dublin Castle, 1t was soon rumored and with truth that the intention was budding in Parliament to abolish the corps entirely, and to appropriate the fund that was used for its Aupport to other purposes. This became the topic of the town, and was talked of from mouth to mouth with Irish volubility and jeer. ing sarcasm at the expense of the police until they lost their self-esteem, and were fain not to thrust themselves with their oficial badges too much in public. MURDER OF “THE ITALIAN BOY.” A few months after this rumor got abroad in the outskirts of Dublin there was discovered a fearful and cowardly murder, An Italian music lad, eleven years of age, was found under the walls of a gentle- man’s grounds, where the body had evidently been thrown from the roadway, with his throat cut from ear to ear, There was no blood on the grass, but tne clothes of the poor unfortunate were sti with fore. and in the road was a bloody trail, which was followed for some distance and then lost. Near where he lay was a low palm tree, and it was no- ticed that oi this a twig had been freshly broken, A BROKEN TWIG, The twig could not be found, Such a foul and fiendish murder as this created the wildest excite- ment, which was felt through the whole United Kingdom, over the sad fate of the helpless organ- grinder, who was, it was satd, killed for the sake of a few pence. On the day when the crime was committed he had gone to Bray to attend the fair which was then in progress, and where he ex- pected to replete his pockets with the presents of the rich and poor folk alike, who crowded there from the town and the country side, COONEY THE TINKER. It was a favorite resort for all vagrants, and among others who mingled in the crowd that day, begging petty favors from those higher in station, was a strange codger who is known in and all about Dublin by the name of Cooney the Tinker, He was a strong, sun-browned fellow, who, be- sides his trade of a tinker, by which he pre- tended to live, had also a decided musical talent, with which, like “Darby the Blast,’’ he amused and delighted the poor people of the huts wherever he went. He was known wherever his tace had once been seen, and although of the vulgar and drunken type of all the wandering tinkers of Ireland, he was always wel- comed again. As the fair drew toaclose “the Italian boy,” as he was universally called, put his organ upon his back and started forth to trudge to Dublin, with the pence rattling in his pockets which he had earned, and Whistling as he went for want of thought. He was never afterwards seen, except in death, Six weeks after the murder, when it had become more than a nine days’ wonder and was more calmly talked of by the people, the detectives of Dublin Castle became unusually exercised in trying to solve the mystery of the affair and to secure the unknown assassin who killed the Italian boy. Quietly the greatest vigilance and energy were brought to bear, and the lowest slums of Dublin were searched and scrutinized for traces of the criminal. On the banks of the canal near one of the locks stood A SMALL DILAPIDATED CABIN, like many of those inhabited by the poorest portion of the population of Dublin, It was a low structure, with a thatched roof and only one apartmeut. There was neither floor nor carpet upon the ground. Such a picture of dire poverty was sel- dom seen even in Dublin. The search brought the oficers of the law _to this hovel, and most active among them was John Delahunt, the detective of Dublin Castle, ‘The sole room of the hut was ex- amined, it so happening that the occupant, Cooney the Tinker, was away on that day; as in lact was usual with him on almost every d: THE BROKEN TWIG AGAIN. Under the humble truckle bed which stood ina corner Delahunt found a dry twig, which had been withered and shrivelled for some time. This was eagerly seized upon, and—the act suggested by the coincidence of circumstances—it was taken to the entleman’s demesne where the dead boy had en discovered, and it was compared with the broken branch of the palm tree. It fitted to it Gxactly; and plainly must have originally grown there. The clue that was here presented was entirely natural and probable. Cooney, the tinker, was in- digent tn circumstances and unable to earn more than a few pence a day. The general character of the tramps of his calling was known to be very bad and dangerous, and circumstantial incidents wove around him a fearful chain of doom. He was at the fair on the same day that the Italian boy was seen there, ie remained about the same time and left but a little while afterwards. All this was proven, and it was said that he must have known that hfs victim was in possession of some little sum which he had received at the fair. CAPTURE OF COONEY, THE TINKER. Delahunt was instrumental in bringing these points prominently forward, and obtained a war- rant for the arrest of Cooney the Tinker, He was indicted on a charge of murder, and proceedings were begun against his liberty and life by the At- torney General before one of the Commissioners of Judges. The trial progressed Peper 3 the wit- nesses swore promptly; Delahunt enlarged upon the circumstances which led him to attach suspi- clon to the accused, and death by the liows stared Cooney the Tinker in the face. ‘The trial drew toward its close, and the public looked forward with intense excitement tothe verdict of the jury, the sentencing of the prisoner and his execution. There was no sym- pathy for tim who had taken in cold biood the life ofa poor and friendiess alien for the scanty earn- ag, of his weary wanderings. ‘ne story was copied into all the continental papers, and especially into the Italian journals, It so happened that the full report of the trial reached one of the southern cities of Italy where Was sojourning for health the Deputy Lord Lieu- tenant of Dublin county, SIR FREDERICK HODSON, who owned a fine country estate in the neighborhood of Bray. He read the accounts and immediately started for home, travelling with the greatest pos- sible Diets Reaching Dublin not many days alter he had departed from Naples, he learned that the trial of Cooney the Tinker only wanted the verdict of the jury to be ended. It was one of the last days of the sensation; the court honse was densely packed and every sense was acutely strain to absorb the dramatic signifi- cance of the scene. The presence of Sir Frederick Hodson in the Court, who had been abroad less than a year, occasioned a great deal of conjecture and fess. He was a nobleman of the highest ban le character and possessed of a good deal of influence. When the session was opened the de- fence introduced fresh evidence of rebuttal for the risoner, and the Deputy Lord Lieutenant of Dub- in took the stand. The excitement became agonizing, the crowd ed to and fro and murmured like a bafMied and then subsided into silence as the ex- amination of the witness was beguu. The story was a clear and impressive one. THE ALIBI. On the afternoon of the day of the crime, Sir Fred- erick Hudson, who was attend! the fair at Bray, mounted his horse at the Queen’s Hotel to start homeward. He suddenly remembered that he had forgotten something, and al: hting, he called to a man who was passing to hold his horse. This was Cooney, the “Tinker.” He took the rein and Sir Frederick re-entered the hotel. He was detained, unexpectedly, by some financial business for over an hour and a half. Coming out he was handed the bridle of his horse by Cooney, to whom he gave some money and then rode home, From the Queen's Hotel to Dublin is a distance of about eight miles. This distance Cooney walked, starting an hour and a half after he had left the fair. e Losdg of the prosecution was that the murder of the Italian boy was committed about two hours after both he and Cooney had left the Jair, and it was thus disproved. Cooney the Tinker, through the high sense of duty of Sir Frederick Hudson, was saved from hanging. DELAHUNT'S DOOM. Circumstances by this time had begun to link themselves together in the public mind in such a manner that the detective, Delahunt, was himseif suspected of the crime. Ere six months more had elapsed he was arrested ana waa placed on trial at the Assizes, lie was convicted of the murder, sen- tenced to be hanged, and expiated his crime on the gallows at Newgate. On the morning of the execution he confessed his guilt in his cell, and gave the full details of the deed. After Killing the boy he carried his body and threw it over the wall, near a road in the suburbs, and then broke off the twig from one of the fad trees which shaded the [Natta alone, and by stealth, and he placed it un- jer the bed of Cooney. He then directed suspicion towards his house, had it searched and brought the innocent man to trial, Delahunt said that the mo- tive of his crime was to produce work for the Dub- lin Castle detectives, to prevent the enactment by Parliament of the act to abolish the force, THE BURDELL MURDER, Another celebrated crime which presents more features parallel with those of the Nathan tragedy than any other ts the killing of Dr. Burdell, The gray-haired citizens of New York remember {it most vividly a8 one of those indelible horrors which re- main painted upon the imagination jong after all the bioody stains have been washed aw: The murder happened at the dead of night in a com- fortable old-fashioned mansion in Bond street, near Lafayette place. Not a sound of agony or terror was heard by any of the inmates, but when morning came there was a room which was sineared with blood, ets saturated with the red juice of life, the doors and rg spattered, and in the midst of the disordered furniture, pie stretched out, stark and sti! and cold, in a pool of clotted gore, Was the corpse of the victim, A bloody shirt and some other undergarment was found in the NEW YORK HERALD, SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 22, 1872—QUADRUPLE SHEET. | dy and blood was traced to the cellar; but hese are the only clues, and they gave no lij ht as to the authors of the crime. As in the Nathan murder, the detectives came to the conclusion that there must have been more than one crimi- nal; but were there? Improper relations existed between Mrs. Cunningham, the mistress of the house, and Dr. Burdell, and the jealousy of a boarder named Eckel, who has since suffered an imprisonment in the Penitentiary for a very seri- ous crime, and who died with the word Ste uilty confession unuttered on his lips, furnished nit or which full use was made. But Shougt the theory of the story might be complete and logical, the proofs are still wanting, and no one has ever been panied. save by God, for a deed awiul enough to wave appalled the furies of Dante, p= IN OLD CRIMINAL LAW t strange story is recorded and was republished in the Gentleman’s Magazine for 1762, It was at about the same, or an earlier, period dramatized and represented at one of the minor theatres of London—the Coburg. fy penzened in the year or and is of so very sifgul interesting a natty as to be well worth recounting. It was in the reign of Queen Elizabeth that a per- son was arraigned before Sir James Dyer, the Lord Chief Justice oi the Court of Common Pleas, upon an indictment of the murder of a man, who dwelt in the same parish as did the prisoner. A web of circumstantial evidence was woven avout the prisoner, every thread seeming com- pletely and tirmly wedded to the others. The pris- oner had hidden his bloody clothes, At length he told his own story. He had found his neighbor sorely wounded in his field and had sought to as- sist him, when he was seized with vomiting blood and gave up the ghost. This was not believed, and the Judge cl mh ee the jury to or @ verdict of guilty. Their foreman sturdily refused to do so, and the rest, in dread of confinement, acquiesced in his opinion and declared the prisoner innocent. The Judge relused to record this verdict; but it was brought in a second time and the prisoner was discharged. Afterwards the chief juror confessed to the yee that he had committed the crime, but had done it in self-defence, He was never prosecuted, and died, after which the story was often related by Chief Justice Dyer, and was handed down to his posterity, The fate of Forrester has not thus Jar become so entangled with damning complications of cireum- stances as any that have been cited, But the detec. tive force of New York is working with a frenzy of energy, the trial may disclose to-day, to-morrow or next day some startling presumptive proof which will prop the evidence of Miss Keenan, already given, Whether Forrester killed Nathan or did not, his other crimes cannot escape punishment, and he is within the grasp of the law for several roars, to come, during which facts it is to be hoped may accumulate which may eventually clear the mystery of the horror of July 29, 1870. pp hehe Commencerhent of the Examination Before the Referee—Mrs. Dugan Submitted to a Long and Searching Examination—A Woman with a Will of Her Own and ‘Who Speaks Out Her Mind. The case of the dispute between Mrs. Dugan and Mrs. Rittner for the eustody of a girl fifteen years old, of whom the former claims to be the mother, came up to-day for examination before Mr. John L. Fitzgerald, appointed by Judge Leonard, of the Su- preme Court, as referee. The particulars of the case have already been fully published, and it is unnecessary to recapitulate them, Un- usual interest attaches to the controversy, not only from tbe peculiar features attaching to the case itself, but from the fact of the husband of Mrs. Dugan being a prominent East side politician, and because of the dual assault committed by him and his wife upon Mr. and Mrs, Rittner the other day after the parties left the court room. Colonel C, S. Spencer appeared for Mrs. Rittner and ex-Judge Beach for Mrs, Dugan. There was a large crowd in attendance. The only witness examined was Mrs. Dugan, She Is still a good looking woman, but, as the progress of the examination developed, evi- dently possesses a temper of her own. MRS. DUGAN’S TESTIMONY. Q. Where do youreside? A, I reside at 76 Crosby street. Lam married to David Dugan. We were married June 8, 1869. My maiden name was Emily Julia Kempt. Q. Do you know the child Lizzie? A, Yes, sir; she 18 my child, She was born June 6, 1857, at the Bellevue Hospital, Q Please state in whose family or custody the child has remained from its birth to the present time? A. It remained with me seven months; then I gave her in charge of Mrs. Eliza Garvey, who is now in court. She remained with her and Mrs. Garvey’s sister until June 11, 1869. As near as I can find out from Mrs. Garvey, she kept the child three years, and then she placed it in the care of her sister, who was then Mrs. Dugan, the for- mer wite of my present husband. Mrs, Dugan kept her until the order of Judge McCunn directing the childsco be given into my charge. Mr. Spencer objected to the ordering of Judge McCunn on the ground that the Supreme Court, under the Revised car weainin exclusive juris- diction as to the custody of children under writs of habeas corpus. He further objected on the ground that the order was obtained by collusion and fraud. Q. Under this order did we obtain possession of the child? A. I did, and retained possession of her until the latter part of last April; my husband ‘and myself provided her with voard and clothing and sent her to school. Q. How came she to leave you? A. She ran away; she took to stealing, and I told her 1 would put her on the Island, where they put all thieves; this was on Saturday night; Sunday morning, when I arose, she was gone; she went to this wo- man, Rittner, and the latter put her in the cars and sent her to her sister in Williamsburg, a Mrs. Chamberlain; she remained, as I have been told, there some six weeks, and then my husband went for her and brought her home; that night she slept at our house, but in the morning ran away to Mrs. Rittner’s again; my husband brought her back @ second time, and she remained a day and a night; at four o'clock th: jay I gave her a dollar and sent her to Buttrick’s to buy a pattern; sne neither returned with the pattern nor money; the next time I saw her was in the station house at Thirty-fifth street and Ninth avenue; my husband says he saw her at a boat race at Pleasant Valley; my ae had the child and Mrs. Rittner ar- Tested, % What took place then? A. They were taken before Judge Cox; | wanted tne child tocome home with me, but she refused and preferred to go to the House of Refuge; Judge Cox sent the child to the House of Refuge and committed Mrs. Rittner in $500; Idid not see the child in until she was brought Into Court on a writ of habeas corpus; I never gave Mrs. Rittner permission to see her, CROSS EXAMINATION. 2 Tow old is Lizzie? A. She was fifteen years old on the 6th of last June. Q. Whatis jourage? A, My = is in the neigh- borhood of thirty-one or two; I was born in New York city; my father’s name is Charles Kempt. & Have you ever been married more than once? A. I don’t see what that has to do with this, Q. It is important, and you must answer it. A. How many times do you want me to be married? question, A. Well, I Q. 1 want you to answer my have been married twice; I was first married in 1861. ¢ Then this child is illegitimate? A. She is. . What was your first husband's name? A. I wag married to a Mr. Ames; his name was Henry; I was married in Rochester, by a Dutch Reforme minister, whose name I don’t recollect; I have not the certiticate; I did not reside in Rochester; I went trom New York there; I don't know where I was then living in this city; | saw Mr. Ames last in Newbern, N. C., between five and six years ago; he was killed in the Shenandoah Valley; I don't see what this has to do with this child; he knew noth- ing about this child; I did not see him dead; l saw him ieaiaa at Newbern, after coming in from a scout, Q. To your personal knowledge does not this little giri claim that you are not her mother? A, She did not until she was brought here, sir. Q. Did yon know where this little girl was for years alter you parted with her custody, when she was seven months old? A, Idid not; I supposed she was dead. Q. Who told you she was dead? A. I had not seen or heard of her or Mrs, Garvey and took it for ranted she was dead; Mra, Garvey is the sister of irs. Kittmer; I never saw Mrs. Rittner’s mother in my life. u. rs you when you parted with your child? A. as Wet nursing. . Witht whom?’ A. A family by the name of Rally, a TaYkish famtiy. Q. Can you tell me the street, or between what avenues that family lived? A. 1 cannot; I was in their house at the time I parted with the child. I Was not acquainted with Mrs. Garvey; I said nothing to Mrs, brad when I gave the child to her, 1 wave her the chilc Q. At the time you handed your child to this stranger and nothing was said, Was there any mark upon the infant by which you could recognize it if you ever saw it again? A. No, sir. Qa ratte that this is your child, what was its age aiter you first saw it ot peering with it when it was seven months old? Between ten and eleven years, Q. Judge Beach asked you as to your marti: to Mr. Dugan, i in replying to it you looked at a er. Was that paper your marriage certificate ? It was, Q. Will you produce the paper? A. Yes, sir, there it is, look at it and keep it if you want to. Q I see by looking at the certificate that you were married to Mr. Dugan by the name of Kempt. A. So I was. Q. Were you ever divorced from Mr. Ames? A. How could f have been; he died. Q. Then why did you not give the name Emily J. Ames when you were married to Mr. Dugan? A, 1 don't know why I did not, but Idid not and that's all; [ remained in the Turkish family ten months; after that I went out sewing by the day; T answered an advertisement and became @ seam- stress for a lady at the New York Hotel; she was a Turkish lady also; her name was Skarimongo; I was there several months. pica en bond pra = then? ay bo snow ere ; I ain 80 powerful a recollection ag all that oor 80 PO Q. Then we will begin more recently and go back. Where were you living at the time you married Mr. Dugan? A. Lhad a room at 166 Elm street; [had resided there not quite a year; before this 1 lived in Forsyth street, between Rivington and Delancey streets; I there boarded with a lady named Lands- burg, who is now South; I can’t tell how long I lived there, Q. To shorten the examination will yon mention all the places you can remember having lived at, xconling those already mentioned, since the birth of your child in 1867 * A, I have told all the places 1 can recollect. Q. What places did you and Mr. Ames live at in this city? A. We never lived in New York; we lived in Rochester, and went from there to New- bern, N. ©.; we lived on Kent street in Rochester; he wag not in business; we lived together about six’ years, e Did you ever inform Mr. Ames that you had a child living? A, No, sir. Q. Prior to 1861 did you make any attempt to find your child? A, NO, sir; I supposed it dead, a8 already stated; I did not hear anything about it. . Did you expect be hear anything of it? A. I not. Q. Did you inform Mr. Dugan, prior to your marriage With him, of your previous marriage with Ames? A. Yes, sir; I was known by afew friends by the name of Mrs, Ames. Q. You state that your child was born on June 2, 1857, in Bellevue Hospital. Were you sent there on the application of any one? A. l applied myself; I believe it was to Mr. Gunther. & In what name did you make the application? A. T cannot tell, sir. Q You have stated that this little girl took to stealing, state the name of any beer who has complained of her asa thief? A, [did not say she stole from others; she took to pilfering in my house. Q. Outside your own household can you name any one who can tell anything to her eninge: A. No, sir; before Judge Cox she said she would not go home with me; she said that | whipped her. Q. Did she not state that she was compelled to witness certain transactions, and did not she detail their nature? A. Did she not complain of violence at the hands Dugan? A. No, sir, Q. Did she not say that she had rather go to prison or anywhere rather than to live with you? A. she said she had rather go to the House of Refuge; the Judge said she would have to stay there till she was twenty-one and I asked him to send her to the House of the Good Shepherd; the Clerk said I would first have to prove her a prosti- tute; 1 said I would be sorry to have to do this; I could not ie ® chance to speak further to Judge Cox; he told me to go about my business, Q. Did you, at any time, say to Judge Cox that you would not consent to the child being sent to the House of Refuge till she was twenty-one? ‘A. The Judge sent her; I thought it was law. Q. That's not an answer. A. When I went to make my objection he told me to go about my busl- | ness or he would lock me uy he is just such a thing as you, and wants to do all the talking. of RETORTS COURTEOUS. Mr. Spencer—I want all this put down. Ihave treated this woman with great courtesy. IL won't ee to being insulted by women of this descrip- tion. Mrs. Dugan—I’ll let you know I am respectable. Do you want I should slap you in the face. You tréat me asa lady, and ['ll treat you as a gentie- man, Mr. Spencer—I don’t want anything to do with you beyond your answering my questions, MRS, DUGAN GOES ON WITH HER STORY. Q. Did you make any attempt to get your child from the House of Refuge ? A. Yes, sir. Q. When the little girl came into the uRrenle Court room in charge of the officer from the House of Refuge, did you shake your fist at her and use this language—‘You littie b——h, Vl ix you; Pil thrash you Within an inch of your life # A, Is this the first day ? Q. Any day? A. Isaid nothing of the kind; I never looked at her. Q. When she went out of the court room, holding Mrs. Rittner by the hand, did you seize her by the hair? A. 1 did not know she was with Mrs. Ritt- ner. Q. Did you seize her by the hairatall? A. I did not. Q. Did you commit an assault upon a lady in whose company she was after they left the court room? <A. I did not; I tapped her on the shoulder with my parasol, and I said to her, “I am not done with you yet;” that’s oll I said. . Did you not strike this lady repeatedly and violently * A. No, sir. . Did you ever live in East Nineteenth street with a lady named Rhinelander? A. No, sir. . Did you ever live in Ludiow street? A. Idid, Were you ever in grison? A. No, sir. . Were you not aripPsted charged with conne: tion with a Ty Led | upon the house of Mrs, Rhint Pe and confined a long time in prison? A, No, sir. The further examination of the witness, which is not yet concluded, was postponed till ten A. M. next Monday, to which time the case was adjourned, ESCAPE OF A WHITE POLAR BEAR FROM CENTRAL PARK. pe the ates Great Excitement Among the Park Visitors. Yesterday afternoon, the neighborhood of the Central Park was exercised by the escape of a white Polar bear from a cage in the zoological de- partment of that picturesque place of resort. It seems that the animal, together with two others, arrived in New York from Bremen this week. They were conveyed from the vessel to the Park on Friday, and remained in the transportation cages in which they made the voyage all right. Yesterday morning several employés of the zo- ological department proceeded to transfer the bears from the transportation cages to the exhibl- tion cages. To do this it was necessary to get the animals, one at a time, into a shifting cage, in which there is onlysufiicient room for one to stand. One of theem was successfully transported to the place of confinement, where for a short time at least he will be subjected to the gaze of a curious public. This success, however, was not to be continued. The second bear was removed safely into the shift- ing box and he was carried to the exhibition cage. The end of the box nearest the cage was lifted up so as to allow him to enter his place of confine- ment. Bruin, however, unwilling to comply with the wishes of his attendants, backed, and being an extremely large and = powerful animal, forced the back of the box out, Backing a little farther he found that he had regained his freedom and began to walk about leisurely as if he had never been de- prived of his liberty. The keepers state that they never saw more people in the Park upon a Satur- day morning than there were yesterday morning, midst of a congregation of persons, Ca nea prin- cipally of women and children, may easily be ima- . The criesand shrieks pean cpa aees and hitened females could have been heard at some distance from the Park. They ran in all directions from the bear, who walked quietly up and down within half a dozen yards of the box from which he had escaped, altogether unconscious of the fear he had red and of the excitement he was creat- ing. keepers, seeing that the bear was not disposed to go away, endeavored to drive him in the cage, but into it he was unwilling to go. He continued pacing backward and forward fora short time longer, and suddely ran wp. the inclinin, bank leading into Fifth avenue. Here he pause: for a@ moment, aj ga bod undecided which way to go, and qui ae thé trafic. He quickly resolved to make for Sixty-sixth street, down whicn he turned, Walking down the street at the pace pecuilar to animals of his class, he espied a of stag- nent water at tne foot’ of a steep bank. The high temperature of the atmosphere probably inclined him for a bath, and slightly in- creasing his speed he went down the bank and into the water and began swimming about. An im- mense crowd soon gathered round the space of vacant ground in which the pond is, and Madison avenue, Sixty-ffth and Sixty-sixth streets, were completely packed with persons whose curiosity overcame their fear and who were anxious to catch a glimpse of the escaped monster from the Artic regions, One of the Park keepers, upon the sug- gestion of one of his colleagues, obtained a gun and shot him twice through the Inngs. ‘fhe bear bled 80 profusely that the water, which was origin- ally. green, soon became tinged with red. A Mr. Cornish next took the gun in hand and succeeded in lodging a bullet between the animal's eyes. This shot was very effectual and killed it immediately, Several other persons, anaious doubtlessly to test the pre- cision with which they could aim, also shot the dead beast, the carcass of which now contains at least fifteen or sixteen bullets. The carcass was dragged from the pond into the Park, from whence it was taken. It has since been divested of the skin, the only valuable portion. The third bear was allowed to remain in the transportation cage, and will be removed this morning at seven o'clock, SHOT IN THE HEAD, Sarah Bloomfleld and her husband Isaac quai relled last night at their resiaence, 44 Thomas street, during which the latter drew a revolver and shot his wife in the head, inflicting a slight scalp wound. She was atvended by Dr. Snediey at the Fifth precinct station house and sent to the Park Hospital. Bloomfield, aiter firing the shot, left the house and is still at large. STABBING AFFRAY IN GREENWICH STREET At fifteen minutes after six o'clock last night Mary Brown, aged <hirty-seven years, and Ano Ulark quarrelied in front of their residence, 416 Green- wich street, during which the latter stabbed the, former with a penknife, inflicting several signe scalp wounds. ‘the injurea woman was attended by Dr. Lorelly and left for home. The assailant was arrested "y an officer of the Fifth precinct, and ‘will be arraigned at the Tombs thie morning, and the effect of the escape of a large bear in the ‘| 7 THE INEBRIATE ASYLUM Grave Charges of Mismanagement Brought Against the Institution. A Reformatory Made Into a Penal Workhouse-+ Whiskey as a Means of Reform for Inebri- , ates—Singular Conduct of the Warden— Numerous Escapes and Still More Nu- merous Complaints—Anarchy in the Management—How Good Citizens Can Be Got Rid Of if Desired, ° There seems to be a literal epidemic of come plaints and reforms needed in the various public institutions on the tslands in the East River. Some weeks ago we had the revolt at the Penitentiary,~ at Blackwell's Island, and the consequent reorgant- zation; then came the recital of cruelty to lunatics’ and subsequent murders; and now charges are made of the gravest character against the Ine- briate Asylum, on Ward’s Island, an institution which was supposed hitherto to be doing a won- derful deal of good in a quiet way. Where will all this end? It certainly seems as if our authorities! should wake up in these matters, Our penal ané charitable and our reformatory institutions are alt falling back from the notably high position they stood in some years ago—a position which made Charles Dickens, in his “American Notes,” exclaim that they filled him with admiration. The charges against the Inebriate Asylum are just as grave as have been the charges against the others, It is true that perhaps no positive cruelty exists, but still something so akin to it that the blame is almost as well deserved, ' The Inebriate Asylum was established several years ago for the care and reformation of habit- ual drunkards, It was not in any sense meant as a place of punishment, but rather as a place of. refuge for incorrigible tipplers, where gentle mean@d and proper treatment would be used to gradually, reclaim them. It was not meant asa charitable in« stitution by any means, as the law incorporating it makes it obligatory on the inmates or their friends to pay a price for the board of the patients. This = was subsequently fixed at $10 a week, certainly a very fair price, and assuring of itself that the patients were tobe furnished with a comfortable home, where, in the absence of temptation, they might gradually improve themselves and overcome the terrible cause which weighed them down. Thia idea it seems has been altogether controverted, and to that extent that the institution SERVES NO EARTHLY PURPOSE for which it was established. ; The HERALD reporter had an interview with one of the former inmates yesterday-a man who had been discharged about a week. He went on to say that he had entered the Inebriate Asylum of hig own accord, and paid his board money regularly in advance; that he had been tn it some months, and’ found that the management was lamentably defl- cient in the main object of the institution—refor- mation, ' “Will you explain yourself more in detail ?'? asked the reporter, DISCHARGED INEBRIATE—The charge, then, in the first place, is that they make a prison of the place and treat men more like convicts than unfortunate members of, soclety; who are sent there for reform, Dr, Adams, the Warden (an appointment, I believe, of Governor} Hottman), looks upon the men in his charge criminals of the worst die, speaks to them in the) most brutal manner and often orders them about: as if they were so many sheep. In this conduct he, is laudably imitated by an ex-policeman named Landy, who has charge of the $5 boarders. _ With’ him we were nothing but dogs, and were knocked about and cuffed around as such, He ought to be} their servant instead of their master. Now, when you come to think THE GREATER PART OF THE INMATES ARE GENTLE MEN, some being quite rich, this seems to be a poor way of making them reform. Instead of trying to maka their home happy and attractive they are made to hate it, and get away from It as often as possible. ‘Thus see the numerous escapes. ed occur every) week, and though perhaps they are brought back ultimately, the time they have been away o' course has been sufficient to wipe out the good that may have been done by abstinence from liquor, [1 they are brought back drunk, which i4 pronabis the case, they are further degraded by. eing sent for TEN DAYS TO BLACKWELL'S ISLAND, which is the very worst thing that can be done te such a man, for then he loses his self-respect. You must understand the men in the Asylum are gene- rally. merchants, in good circumstances, as the rice they pay for board shows. ReEPORTER—Can you name any of these escapes % DISCHARGED INEBRIATE—Oh, yes; Mr. Thompson,, of Fourth avenue, and Mr. Bayle, of Third avenue, both escaped recentiy, and others I cannot think of at present. They were received brutally whem they came back. But there is a worse charge than, this. Of course the main idea of the asylum is to permit, no liquor of any kind to appear on the, premises. But those who have plenty of money, can get all they wantof liquor. It is no unfrequent thing wo see patients in the Inebriate Asylum just as drunk as they could possibly be outside. REPORTER—This would seem to SUBVERT THE WHOLE IDEA of the establishment of such an institution. DiscHARGED INEBRIATE—Certainly. Then, again, people are constantly sent there for family reasons. Any woman need only go and say before the Com< missioners or before @ police justice that her hus- band is a habitual drunkard, and if she says she is willing to pay his board he is sent right up for, three or six months. Abont a month ago a woman, had her husband sent up for two months, tainly was NEVER A HABITUAL DRUNKARD. The other day she came to get him out, fearing that! her business was going to wreck and ruin without him; but he refused to go, He said he was put there and he was going to stay; but when he got back there would be trouble. REPORTER—Is the Warden & good man? ] DiscuarGep INepriatTE—Dr. Adams? I should: Say not, He scems to have no idea of the govern-| qient of such men. His treatment is harsh instead, of mild; and, then again, his dissensions with the matron are certainly not calculated to improv the morale of the place. They had a row the other, ae and abused each other like troopers, Dr.) Adams will speak sivilly tonoone. A man named! Durand, belonging to Jersey City, has been sent! there, and the Doctor will not even tell him how. long he fs in for. REPORTER—Won’t his wife or relatives ? i; DISCHARGED INEBRIATE—NO; he asks them, buf tne ‘abe he Wi 2 £ said hadleeg yy Ce spiracy to deprive him ot is property. e other, day he was told he was going, and when he had! ee his trunk up Br. Adams told him to. unpac! it again, fie’d have to stay. The man is almost crazy with uncertamty and grief. One man— Perry—is in for life; he’s an opium eater and hist friends send him opium all the time. ) The discharged inebriate made a number of one minor charges against the institution. He saya th es of patients under the present management as DWINDLED AWAY to forty or fifty, and there is room for fully a hune, dred more. A letter was received yesterday, addressed ta the editor of the HERALD, detailing many of the charges made against the institution in the above article. The following portions are taken from the letter. The writer says:— When aman commits himself voluntarily or is coms mitted by his friends, he is sick and wants proper treate ment; he wants everything quit and calm. You do not go to. hospital, and jay for 10 be thrown in ward or room or cell, ike a prisoner, nor do your friend that send you there expect you to be treated thus. And @ man who has been drinking rum until his nervous sys« tem Is all shattered, above all others, wants kind treate ment—a kind word and proper nursing is the best panacea for allsuch cases. The fact that an incbriate surrende himself voluntarily or involuntarily to the custody of a institution {san admtwsion on his part, or the part of the party that placed him there, that he NEKDS PROTECTION AND GUIDANCE, and the fact that the institation receives him under ha Cireuinstances implies a contract between them tha he for hig part requires certain aid, which — th institution forits part agrees to furnish; and It is due to both that the terms of the contract should be clearly understood, especially as the institution is well paid for its services, ion should never forget that it is the stron; rae ag i'm patient. fail Into. temptauon. and relapse e must not be punished 6 & maletactor, but cared fog and pitied. The writer closes with an appeal to Christian men and women in the community to see to tha mal ment of this institution, which should one of the buiwarks of temperance, but which ap pears to be anything else, FIRE IN EAST TWENTYSIXTH STREET, At fifteen minutes past seven o'clock last night fire was discovered on the top floor of the t story brick building, Nos. 218 and 220 East Twenty-stxth street, occupied by Kranich, Boe! & Co, ufacturers of piano keys, causin & loss to stock of $2,000; Insured for Manhattan and St. Nicholas, of Hartford, of Connecticut. The buildin, J. Batiman, and damaged $1,000, The st latter was damaged water al fire originated irom some sparks stove pipe. He cer- -