The New York Herald Newspaper, May 17, 1873, Page 4

NIXON'S NE flow Michael Nixoa Shuffled Off the Mor- tal Coil on the Muwderer’s Seaffold. | MESIS, Review of the Crime, Arrest, Trial and Conviction. AT LI THE L. Look H Prayers f{ His Wife and Children. FAITH STRONGER THAN DEATH. Mt Final Moment He “Porgives His Bue- ” and Thinks He Deserved His Fate. mie: TILE HORROR OF HANGING he Curtain Falls Upon the Closing ene of a Terrible Tragedy. Se ichael Nixon died on the gallows yesterday morning. It is not four months yet since he shot Charles H, Phyter, and the murderer's body is already now in the grave. Indeed, hanging is not “played out’ in New York. Any one who saw the body of the murderer dangling in the air yester- day would have confessed that hanging was not yet “played out” here, A murder and then an execution; a life for a life. Nixon might be enjoying a happy life anda happy home to-day. What agony, what disgrace, what pain wouid have been spared him had he not shot Phyfer in the fre of a moment! The 2lst of January was asad day for Nixon. He had been guilty of many petty offences, but he had never Killed a human being. He had been drinking that day, and as a man on horseback was in his way he roughly ordered him to turn | Jrom the track. From the Bowery Theatre to Chatham square they kept shouting at one another. Nixon then attempted to dash past the man, but the latter's HORSE PI D AND REARED, and Nixon’s wagon was forced back to the side- walk. Nixon was furious, He drew a revolver, brandished it above iis head, then took aim, and fired at the man’s head, The shot was well aimed, Phytcr threw up his arms and fell upon the side- walk. He was shot through the head, and had not been in the Park Hospital ten minutes when he died. xon's conduct, after he had been arrested, was } xtraordinary, “A fellow was going to strike me and I just gave him a piece of lead with thi: he said, coolly, to Detective Van Buskirk who arrested him in Baxier street, and he shewed him his revoi- ver, Which he had always been in the habit of car- rying with him. In the police station he said to Captain Ullman, “I wasn’t going to sit like a fooi and let him strike me, so I just pulled out my revolver and shot him.’ He said this with the greatest indifference and unconcern, and as though he was glad to have killed Phyler. He evidently thought it wasa glorious thing to have taken a human life; he undoubtedly feit himself a hero. | While in the Tombs he laughed at the assertion | that he could be hanged. He little THOUGHT HOW SOON HE WAS TO DIE. On the 31st of March he was arraigned, His trial | Jasted three days. On the 2d of April the jury brought in a verdict of ‘«jailty,” and on the fol- lowing day he was sentenced to be banged. All nis bravado left him. He trembled like an aspen leaf and listened to the sentence with a face of ashy paleness. He was completely overcome and vroke down under the announcement of bis terrible fate. It18 searcely four mouths yet, and Nixon is dead. The HERALD of yesterday contained an account ef his farewell to his children, of his affectionate part- Ing from his wife. It was not his last, The fond wife could not leave hit se easily. She returned te on Thursday evening to see him once more. She kissed him wildly, she’ threw her arms around him and sobbed, He remained silent, His hair was scattered over his forehead, but he tossed it from his eyes and clasped his burning hands upon hishead. She drooped’ her head and then looked at him silently. Not a word, nota breath. She | before the gailows, fm if there was anything that the Sheri? could possibly do for him, He hesitated a wile, and then asked that Sherif Brennan might exclude the deteclive who hud arrested hint. “He las hunted me down,” he said, is eyes fastung with rage, He became calmer in A few minutes and said, “1 for- give him; but don’t let nim come to witness the execution, 1 dou’s cure if all te rest oi New York 18 here." He lay down and tried to sleen. The lamp threw & ghustly ligné upon tie dideren: Objects in the eel He shut bis eyes—but what was that horri- ble sight tuat rose up before him? ‘There was biood upon the Wad, & human form; deathly, glassy cyes stared at him, What was ity He Started up, and Hix CLENCHED FIST GRASPED THR ATR. Horrib.c! Ls biood ran cold, a3 his head fell back upon the pillow, Still the blood—iarge, heavy cots—the biood came gushing out of wounds, How it poured down upon ,the floor tii he himseli was in @ pool Of blood, Biood everywhere! It danced in the mooniignht that stragyied through tie Harrow chink 1m the wall; it stained his Clothes, lus bed, even the pictures on the wall, and now, heavens! the warm blood hegan pouring dowo upon his very i@rehead. He started up, with & shiek, and rose im ved, All was quiet, all was dark no blood, ho terrible visions; but the Kind katuer spoke to him gentle Words Of love that sauk heavily into his soul ‘Two o'clock, Seven hours to live. Seven hours! How quickly the ume flew vy! As be was \ying Upon tue seat ue Must have Counted the minutes and seconds, one by one. Every one brought tim hearer to death. Nearer and nearer. Why could he not stop the rapiu wairl of tine ? .No reat. He felt & burning fever and his lips seemed ched, A terrible heat seemed all at once to consume bin, Was his blood on fire? He could notrest; he jumped upon his feet and clutched the iron bars, Yes, he was a prisoner, HE WAS A CONDEMNED MAN, If he had drcaued of liberty, of escape, it was noth- ing but @ dream. What pen coud deseribe the terrors of this last Hight upon earth ¢ Sometumes a word escaped the lips of siecper. “Rcpricve,” he murmured; and perhaps he was dreaming of standing under the gallows, with the noose round his neck, and saw his wile rushing into lus arms with te news of his reprieve. The cold sweat stood upon Its face us he awoke, All the voices Were hushed, and he saw that this was his cell, that he was still hopeless and must die, And then the strange, strange shadows—the dim siadows on the wall assumed such ghastly shapes that it Was horrible to lovk upon them, He shut his eyes and tried to abstain from lovking at the wall, It Was in vain, There was an irresistible fascination that attracted his eyes to these sladows, He looked again and again, and became 80 frightened that he thought he suould become wild with terror. Now he saw the shape of the gallows, now he saw the siap2 of a man, and now he saw somebody was dangling from the beam, and the features—the horrible spectacle at which he giared— MADE HIS FLESH CREEP. The features, at first so dim and death-like, slowly and imperceptibly resolved themselves iuto lis own, His own! He woke trembling in every joint and looked Tound. Still in his cell, “And this is my last night,’ he said bitterly. He fell on his knees aud prayed. He lay down again and finally sank to sleep. How calm he looked in his sleep! His face was so white, so death-like; his lips were so pale; his breathing Was so low that he looked almost like a corpse. Beiore he awoke his lips moved and trembled, and he uttered some incoherent words:—Death,” “Gallows,” “Hope,” “Wile?” iod Almighty.’ He was evidently dreaming; but the dream must neve been a pleasant one, jor he woke with a faint smile. 1t was five o'clock when he arose. He washed and dressed himself quickly. At a quarter ol six o'clock Sheriff Brennan arrived, Nixon greeted him cordially. “Well, Sheriff,” Nixon said, ‘1 shall be ready any time you Want me.” “Oh, 1 Know that you will die like a man,” the Sheriff replied, pressing Nixon’s hand. ‘1 can see in _your Jace that you wiil die like & man,” Nixon smiled faintly and thanked the Sherif He said, “You need have no fear on that account, Sherif. T want TO THANK YOU FOR THE FAVORS you have extended to a condemned and a poor and wretched man. I have received nothing but kind- ness since I have been in your hands, and trom Warden Jotnson ana his keepers. Lhave but one request to make—o not let Van Buskirk, the de- tective wo arrested me, Witness my execution.” The Sheriff told him that his request should be faithtully obeyed. Deputy Sheritf Carroll then con- ducted Nixon to the chapel. It was a sad scene. ‘There were the female prisoners and the child con- victs standing round, and as the priests prayed tor the soul of the condemnea man the children began to ery. Nixon said lis prayers in a iow, hollow tone. He kissed the crucifix fervently. As he looked round when lie had finished praying he saw that almost every eye was moist with tears. ‘he prayer seemed to have relieved him, and when he had partaken for the last time of the holy eom- munion he seemed to be much happier. Outside the prison an EAGER CROWD SWAYED TO AND FRO. Some had been there as early as six o'clock; still the crowd Was a small one compared with that at Foster's eXecuuion. The police, under command of Superintendent Kelso and Captain Kennedy, had drawn # cordon rouna the Prison. At eight o’clock the Deputy Sheriffs arrived, headed by Sherif Bren- nan and Under Sheriff Stevens. They were all dressed in black, wore high bats and had a solema air, A large nuinber of policemen were drawn up Near them were the seats tor the members of the pres ‘The Sheriff had scarcely “the hest eal The physicians stood in front of the scaffold, erytiunug was ready for the closing scene of tue gloomy tragedy. When the Sherif! entered Nixon's cell he found him on his knees praying ip accents of intense fer- vor. He Was praylug for his wile and children, and he kissed their pictures. Then he rose and looked at the Sherif” Mr. brennan looked pale and seemed wo be uw ¢ to tell Nixon that he MUST NOW PROCEED TO THE GALLOWS. “You want me?’ Nixon asked. “Well, the time has come when the execution must take place,” the Under Sheriff said. ‘A deadiy pallor overspread Nixon’s cheeks. “1 am resigned to die,” he said in a trembling voice; “our Saviour was crucified, and this is nothing.” Noone spoke. “Ij have deserved this,” Nixon Kept still looking at him. His face was hid, but the tears sprang eut from between his fingers. He «ould control himself no longer. “God! God! what I have done!’ he cried, and he BURST INTO A PAROXYSM OF TEARS. She loved him yet. He was a murderer; be was ondemned to die a felon’s death, but she Was still true to her Vow—she was still his wile. | “It I could only save you,” she said, clasping ‘Doth his hands in hers and looking him steadily in , the face. It was a painful moment. His eyes were swimming in tears and a tremor convulsed bis | frame. He warted to speak but he could not. It | seemed as though his tonjwuc was cleaving to his | mouth. His lips moved, t it was in vain. He | could not speak, “How can I part from yon?! she bitterly, “haw cau I leave you know have to die to-morrow 2 He kissed her tenderiy and prez her to bis heart. “Obl f know it is a disgracefui death to | die,” he said, “but, aiter all, I would not change | my lot (his voice faltered and he pansed)—I would | not change my lot with any living man.” And then came words of love, of devotion, of fidelity beyond the grawe. The grave! [t was harsh word, but it brought him at least one conse lation, He would not be forgotten—lus wile woulu | yemember him even THOUGH HE WAS MOULDERING IN HIS GRAVE. “My good wife,” he said, speaking slowly and so)- emnly, as though he felt that these words were to be the last he could speak to her upon earth, “) have but little to tell you. Don't be worry “How can I help itt’ she exclaimed, passion- | ately. Pe “Tam reconciled to God,” he continued, “and | feel that my hour has cowe m Lis own goo weeping | ime. ‘But the terrible disgrace !"’ she moaned. “You must try and live down the disgrace of my death,” he said, holding hier still to his heart. He implored her to take good care of the children. thanked her for her tue love and fidelity, auc then they parted. It wasa parting forev She went to @ desolate, biigated home. He walked back to his cell to prepare himself for the galiows. “We'll meet again,” he said, faintly, as she was 1ed out of the room. ‘dn heaven,” she breathed in alow tone, He | cast a long look alter the beloved jorm. It van- | ‘sued. His wife was go No more kind words Ag love and devotion—nothing but death turned sadly to his cell. He looked around. ALL WAS SO STILL AND SILENT. He sat down and was evidentiy still thinking of his wile. He mutmured her pamne and spone to | her. He was recalled to bimself by Father Du- ranquct, Who began praying, Nixon prayed too. His eyes shone with «strange light as he looked upwards, and when he vad finished praying he e sighed. Whata deep, deep sigh. No words could have expressed the anguish he must have felt, He aced the cell aud beat his head with bis hand. minutes he listened again to the Rev ‘6 kind words and becau He was i prevailed upon-to go out into the corridor sere he smoked for half an hour; he seemed tc wud then he prayed again wit returned to mis cell it was nig ! What a dreadful sound there is in these n twenty-four hours from now | shail be rave!” be said, He staid but a short whiir |, and at midnight he ate supper in thy He cowd not eat much—a piece of bread Tee-—that was all. He went back inco the cell and tried to sleep, but could not. Lie BEGAN SPEAKING ABOUT HIS CASE, and expressed his conviction that some of the wit nesses who had testified against him bad done hin wrong. He seemed also to have some little fecling against the District Atiorney, but finally said to Father Duranqnet that he would make lis peace with the world and forgive them ali. | “Oh, my -dear Father! Nixon said, taking his | hand, “i'm ready to die: “the two deputy sheriff, Messrs, Hanbury and Seebacher, who tad been very kind to bim, asked imer, m iny ¢ in his Ce | upon | lips. added; “I Know that I have done wrong, aud [ tor- verybody Who Was concerned in the prosecu- They brought Nixon out of the cell. Up to this time everybody had been joking and laughing, but when they saw Nixon, in tue black cap and With the noose around his neck, they looked with breathless interest at the ghastly spectacle. What terrible moment! There was on, himself the picture of death, walking between the Sherif and Under Sheria; the one on his right hand, the other on his lett. He held an ebony crucifix in his folded hands; kept it before lis eyes and looked at it steadily. He wal calmiy. The yard was | paved with human faces, but Nixon saw but one thing—the crucifix. It was evidently that which gave him the strength to walk so quietly to the scaffold. It Was the same scaffold on which so many MURDER SS HAVE EXPIATED THEIR CRIMES. here Was nothing unusual about it. The upright beams, the cross-beam, the screen above, the th partion bebind wher rope is cut which jerks rer into the air, the rope hanwing irom the middle of the cross-beam—it was the very same scaffold on which Foster and so many others have died. first stroke uf nine pealed from some adjoining church as Nixon stood under the gallows. , It Was ascene not easily to be forgotten. In the rear ol the yard were ihe police in their bright uniforms all turning breathless looks upon the murderer, the reporters sitting right beside hint and noting his appearance, the physicians scan- ning eagerly the ieatures of the man who they Knew would be a cor in @ few minutes, Aud here stood the murderer. Death had set its hand him; he knew that the noose round his neck would strangle him in a few moments, and still he stood there calmly. But what @ face! It was of a ghastly white, bat perfectly livid near the eyes, Which were giassy and had # dul) stare, al- mnost like that of the dead. His LIPS, WHICH WERE ALSO WHITE, were compressed. His vlack hair and black beard contrasted strangely with the marble whiteness of his countenan He stood straight at first, bat alter a few moments, when the priests began to there was a slight trembling of the limbs and his knees knecked together. Father Duranquet held the crucifix to Nixon's It seemed to steel him, and he stood straight again, pressing the crucifix still te his lips. Fathers Duranquet and Cazeau kneeled down, Nixon on his knees between them. The three voices seemed but one, and Nixou’s prayer was, indeed, # touching one, Every one leit that this Was his last prayer and that hé would stand ina few minutes belure his Maker. ~ pi vem? Who couid ever forget that white, deadly face under the gallows, those ips and the crucifix that was held to them py Nixon cast but one giance at the spectat it was) He evidently felt they had all come to gloat over his death, and as the thought shot across his fevered brain it sent his chilled blood tingling through his body. Death, death so near! He stood there erect, full of health and strength, in the | prime of life, AND TE MUST DIF! DIF! What atbought! He must bot only die, but he must be exposed to the curious gaze of strangers, who probably considered it a pleasure to witness his shameful, disgraceful end; and Nixon was conscious of the hundreds of eyes that were turned upon him, and cold drops of terror started on bis face ae he raised his eyes to encounter their curious the prayer was finished. He rose, A dead silence pervaded the vast throng. How eager they all were poor wretch die! They gazed at him with and outstretched necks, Jt was the ment. Sherif Lad | stepped behind the What a profound silence! Nixon knew as! Moment was come. He held his neck nd looked still at the crucifix that the eld up before him. priest hi he was waiting forthe moment that would launch | Nim into cternity! The rope had been already pre- Viousiy adjusted, and even the black cap was pulled over his white face. Just as the cap Was being paiied down tis lips moved as though he was about to speak, and his face assun suddenly lie was expression of terror, DEAD AT THE FOOT OF THE GALLOW! priest held the crucifix to tus lips, touch was like magic lips upon it came the The just as he pressed his signal, A heavy thua, and, admitted them and those who had cards of admis- | | sion when they all rushed forward trying to get How his heart beat as | NEW YORK HERALD, SATURDAY, MAY 17, 18/3—TRIPLE SHEET. quick as lightning,:the body New np imxo tne ‘What a horrible sight! The head was comp e twisted round, the legs jerke | to vad fro tn (righ) convulsions, and the breast frame was to burst asund: f Still the same horitole couvuisions oO the ams ond limbs, & nervous twitching oh) a trembling O the whoie frame, He hung lifeiess i the wir aiter louie teen minutes, The dreadiul st uggle was over and at last the scene of anyuish wa . He was dead! There was no more bope in tus world, ‘The law had taken its vengeance, ‘The body was lowered after fourteen minutes, ‘The physicians placed their 3 to the heart, It still beat, but atiwenty minutes it was sull, Wilh what keen emotions of anguish and woe had it not throbbed but @ few minutes ago, and NOW JT WAS STILLED POREVER | It had found eternal rest. Alter thirty-three minutes the body was lowered to the con, ‘The arms were wiloosed and the cap was drawn from the face. Now the spectators crowded round the coMta to gaze at his ieatu They had changed bul utile, but the face was white, and the eyes had a quiet, sad expr Tuey were hati opened. tees of the noose that hid sirangied lim to leath. Coroner Herriman and Deputy Coroner Gushman held an inquest in the female prison. The jury found “that Michael Nixon came to his death ly judicial hanging, May 16, 1878."" a The vody was yemoved to Mrs. Nixon's home. Only the day beiore they had exchanged vows of love and now he was dead, It was sad to see her look at the iace of her dead husband, she be her head and kissed his dead lips and kissed t' very spot wherg the noose had pierced into the flesh, And lug tyes were closed by a loving baud, alter all, O’NEAL’S END. his Nol Tilinois Takes the Li’e of a Cold-Blooded Mur- derer—Joseph O'Neal Execnted at Mount Carroll for the Assassination of Hiram Rexford—A Vile Char- acter Mects an Igno- minious Death. Mount CaRrrout, Ill., May 16, 1873. Joseph O'Neal has to-day expiated with his life one of the most heartless, determined, cold- blooded murders that this State has ever had to record. Well may the community rejoice over the death of such @ man, So vile has been his career that the very partners in his debauches were found anxicus to testify against him until every j extenuating circumstance had vanished. His chief aim in life had been to do evil—the best | hours ef his existence wasted in the barrooms and | dens or vice and immorality, The tufluence of a Christian mother seems to have been utterly lost upon him. Badness revealed in almost every act, he was shunned by many, feared by others, re- spected probably to a limited extent only by those frail beings with whom he associated, and with whom he became so degraded that his conscience must have approached that condition mentioned by the Apostle when a hot iron could scarcely make another impression. THE CRIME was committed on the 26th day of last September, in a house of questionable repute, on the island below Fulton, Il, in Whiteside county. A feud had | existed between the murderer and his victim for over two years. A woman was at the bottom of the difficuity, as often happens in such cases, and jealousy excited the deed. The victim was Hiram Rexford, a low, degraded | being. The house where the murder was com- mitted was kept by one John O'Neal, brother to the | doomed man, though he was not present Wen the crime was committed. Joseph O'Neal | came from Clinton, Iowa, in ‘a skitr rowed by another brother, Thomas, and reached the den | | about half-past tweive. Going upstairs, he found Rexford at work Loi tin Be Rexford said, “Well, Joe.” The response was, “You damned , Vl teach you not to come between me and my affairs.” He then knocked him down with his fist, jumped upon him stamped him with his boot heel until the upper | part of his body was bruised to a fearful extent. | | After he had stamped the life ont of him almost, “MIE GALLOWS IN CALIFORNIA Charles Mortimer Hanged for the Murder of Mary Gibson Shaw. lL ah re ROBBERY THE MOTIVE FOR THE DEED. —_—_.—__—_—. Hair and Flesh Torn from the Perpe- trator’s Face as Evidence. TESTIMONY OF A FAITHLESS MISTRESS. A Brother’s Devotion, and His Life Sacrificed. Reckless Attempt to Release the Condemned. INSANITY AT THE BAST HOUR. A Bad Life and Its Ignominious Termination. . SAN FRANCISOO, May 15, 1873. Oharies Mortimer, who was hanged in Sacra- mento City to-day for the murder of Mary Gibson, was either insane or simulated insanity with sin- gular persistency. He did not, or pretended not to, recognize his brother Frank, who journeyed from Massachusetts to console him in his dungeon; the minister who attended him, his counsel nor Any other person. He seemed not to comprehend his position; his countenance exhibited no emo- tion, and he did not utter a word. Mortimer had the reputation of being one of the worst criminals in California, It is said he had attempted to com- mit suicide four times since his conviction. It must be said that there are certain character- istics about California homicides not to be matched by the felonies of any other country. The crime for which Mortimer suffered death was an extraor- i dinary one, and in many of its features went far beyond commonplace murders, In its atrocity it would be hard to find a case that exceeded it. The testumony was entirely circumstantial, but conclu- sive. His victim, Mary Gibson or Shaw, was sup- posed to be a widow, about forty-two years old, pos- sessed of some means, principally in the form of ready money, a considerable portion of which she carried around her person in a sack or bag. She re- sided near the water works, close to the river, where bands of Indians were constantly in the habit of encamping. , Mortimer was a man of decidedly bad antecedents and had served a term in the State Prison at San Quentin. Two days before the murder (September 17, 1872) he and his wife or mistress, a girl named Carrie Spencer, but with half a dozen aliases, arrived in Sacramento and pat up at the Mechanics’ Hotel. Tne latter person immediately went to Mrs. Gibson’s grocery store and saloon, and found no aiMculty, though a stranger, in becoming in- timately acquainted with the unfortunate woman. Carrie made inquiries concerning her financial affairs, and learned everything about her circum- he took a heavy piece of a board used as a short shelf and battered his head until he was wholly | | insensible, and the blood oozed in clots from his | mouth, ears and nose. The wretch then left him, | ‘The dying man groaned. Quick as thought | O'Neal drew a jackknife, with @ blade three | inches long, and saying, “Damn that —, | Vi finish him.” He went to the spot where he saw them dying from the stamping and beating, | and stabbed him in the breast some twenty-tive | times. He then deliberately felt for the carotid { | artery, and, inserting the ‘knife in its vicinity, | j cut is neck from ear to col Then | he left him, and going bi to a sitting room recking with human gore, laid down his knife and asked one of the female inmates | to wash the blood from his hands, which she did. | The death rattie of the wretch whose life had | ebbed away attracted the attention of the fiend. | Taking the girl by the arm, he dragged her into | the hall to see him fix the “damned —.” He ran | and got an axe, and with one blow | SEVERED THE HEAD FROM THE BODY. The case came up at the April term three Weeks ago. The case was called on the i7th, be- | fore Judge Heaton, in the Circuit Court. Twenty-four | hours sufficed to empanel a jury, hear the testi- | mony, hear argument of counsel and render a ver- | | dict, which was guilty of murder that Joseph | O'Neal should suffer death by hanging, and Thomas | | to the Penitentiary tor filteen years. On the 4th | | of April the Court granted Thomas a new trial, and sentenced | JOSEPH O'NEAL TO BE HANGED | by the neck until he was dead, in or about the jail in this city, on Friday, the 16th of May. He received his sentence with stolid, blank indiffer- ence, neither showing emotions of grief nor an, particular signs of defiance. He suffered himself to be led back to his ceil like asulien ox. For a | few days after his sentence he was low spirited, j did not eat much, and was very anxious Wo obtain a commutation of sentence to imprison- ment for lite. The Governor absolutely declined io | Interfere, and he made up his mind to “die like | man,” he said, and has been in good health and spirits since. | HE DIES A CATHOLIC. eal had been unsettled gin his religious faith. | His mother being a Methodist desired him to aie | | In vhe Protestant faith. His father had been # | Catholic and his brother still held to that faith and | desired a minister of that Church to become his guide to the last. Tuesday he chose to die a Catholic, and two priests visited him in his | cell. They remained with him administering | consolation until bis execution, Last night he talked with his guard until eleven o'clock, when he | went to bed and slept soundly uutil five o'clock | this morning, when he awoke, arose and dressed himself and talked with Father Nighe, one of the | priests, until six o'clock, Between seven and | eight o'clock mass was said in the jail for the sal- | vation of his soul, and he received final absolution, The scene was solemn in the extreme. | A HEARTY MEAL BEPORE DYING, O'Neal then ate a hearty breakiast of beefsteak, | fried eggs, coffee, bread and butter and cherry sauce. He was then left alone with hie spiritual | aavisers until eleven o'clock, the hour set jor the execution. The city presented a holiday appear- ance, and crowds of people thronged the streets and gazed curiously at the en- closure. While free to do 80 many visited the gallows before the execution. The police arrangements of Sherit? Sutton were excel- | Jent, and all persons were kept out of the court yard alter ten o'clock. The most perfect order | prevailed, At about this time the coffin was taken through the street to the place of execution, which seemed to strike awe into the very souls of | the crowd. AJl was silent as the grave as it was | carried through the street. | HE ASCENDS THE GALLOWS, A few minnies before eleven o'clock O'Neal was taken from his cell by the Sherif, and, after bid- | ding goodby to his brotuers, proceeded wi ‘ | firm step to the platform, ‘attended ty fii ee | Prieta wit foeen Bartoft and Ny he, fo rep up the fight of steps to the ply ox faite at ¥. His face was cally gad b1: 4h apo when on the yiattofm. A short prayer was offered kneeling; | he then kissed the crucifix and rose to his feet, but | | showed no weakness whatever. When asked if he | | had anything to say We stepped to the front of the | platiorm and sai | A PLEA POR WIS BROTHER. Grxtixwre—My little brother Tommy, who is in jail is innocent: Lath guilty of this rine, and Lam glad an | willing to give my life for the one T have taken. I die the friend of every man. 1 am the enciny of no one. He then asked to have his body taken to his mother. The Sheriff adjusted the rope around his neck, which he received without flinching; the black cap Was drawn over his face and his arms and legs pinioned, The Sheriff then stepped to the rear of the platform, sprung the trap, and at | one minute past eleven o'clock O'Neal was SWINGING INTO ETERNITY. ‘The fali dislocated lis neck; a few struggles and twitching of the muscles of the arms and legs, he | | whirled around once or twice and them was still. He evidently died an easy death, At etght | minutes past eleven the pulse ceased to | | beat; at twenty minutes past the motion of | the ‘heart conid be no longer distinguished, | Hd lile was deciar 1 extinct, The body was al- weil to remain the full thirty minutes, was then taken down, pla in the coifin and delivered to | his friends. The public were not allowed to see | the corpse alter death. He looked pale, but very naturai. Lis body was taken to Fulton in @ wagon across the country. | TRE BODY OF LUSIGNANI. | Nonurstowx, May 16, 1873. At a late hour last night the etery oMcials agreed to receive the body of Lusignani, and it was removed to the receiving vault, where it will re- | eve: | several dresses, stances. A FEARFUL MURDER. During the afternoon of the 19th of September Mortimer visited the bar, and in a short time Car- rie tollowed. It would appear that Mrs. Shaw was about selling out her place, for which she was to receive a good price. Some liquor was drank, and while there the murdered woman invited Mortimer tw come inside, with the view of showing him through the house. She was heard repeating the words in her apartments, ‘This is my bed; this1s my bureau.” Mortimer returned to the bar, where he remained with Carrie until five o’clock. At seven o'clock next morning, September 20, Mrs. Shaw was found in her room dead. Her knees were doubled up under her body; her face and throat cut across with a deep gash. She was dressed in her day garments, which appeared in the great- est disorder, and the bedin the room where the body lay, which had pot been used during the night, was ripped up and the fragments scattered imevery direction. Everything was topsy-turvy, showing that a terrible struggle had taken place, ‘The money sack which Mrs. Gibson was known to carry fastened under her clothing with strings, and the contents of the warirobe, were gone. A calico sack containing $22 50in silver half dollars | hidden from view, remained, and a gold ring on her right hand and a diamond ring on her left hand were not removed. But in her right hand was clutched A BUNCH OF SANDY HAIR, the color of Mortimer’s, evidently torn from the whiskers of a@ man, and to which was fastened a piece of human flesh. On the discovery of the murder suspicion fell upon Mortimer, who was weil Known to the police, It appeared that early the day before he borrowed $5 from an acquaint ance, stating he was out of funds and wanted the money. During the night he was met by a switch- man on the railroad coming from Mrs. Shaw's house. He inquired if the woman had sold her property, and was informed that 1t was understood she had, and got $16,000 for it. Mortimer said he | had # friend im the saloon, and wanted to see after him. He then went to the window and looked in, The switchman subsequently took a drink with him at the bar, and found Carrie Spencer there, it being about nine o'clock. Four or five hours later Mortimer was encountered, without his hat, by a policeman on the street. They entered into con- versation, and, with others, visited several sa- loons. Mortimer displayed large rolls of gold and silver, and asked the officer if he wanted to bor- row any. They proceeded to the Mechanics’ Hotel, where Carrie lived. He called ner by name, told her he was tigtit, and requested her to keep him in the house. The party then separated, The same | Fi day MORTIMER AND CARRIB WERE ARRESTED. They had made nb attempt at flight or conceal ment. On his person was found six or seven dol- lars and A ‘bottle containing strychnine. Severai PFatns of this poison werd discovered in the bot- tom of a beer giass in Shaw's store, In Carrie’s | room there was found @ valise in which were neatly folded up, and also a uantity of jewels belonging to the mur- cred woman. Mortimer had shaved off his whiskers during the day; his face and neck were covered with scratches and he looked as it he had been engaged inaterrible fight. There was the mark of a piece of flesh having been torn from his chin—a damning proof of bis guilt. The police brought the prisoner to the Coroner's office, where the body of Mrs. Gibson was lying in its coitin, with the hair still remaining in her grasp. The remark was mace, ‘Charlie there are your whiskers.” He sald, “You don’t believe it is 80.’ Mortimer and Carrie were confined in separate cells, and were allowed communication only on one occasion. What happened at the trial and the supsequent at- tempt to rescue the prisoner constitute a story of uncommon interest. THE TRIAL ‘The trial commenced at Sacramento, March 12, last, and continued four days. Mortimer’ being without means, Judge Reardon, whe presided, assigned counsel to conduct the defence, and it must be said they performed their duty with re- markable zeal and ability. An application was made fora postponement in consequence of the absence of alleged important witnesses for the prisoner, Who Would, it was stated, testify that they had seen Mortimer intoxicated at a circus, on the night of September 19, and that the articles of aress and jewelry found in his possession were soid and delivered to him by a man named Fuller. The Court denied the application. The facts, as stated above, came out at the trial, The defence was that some one else and not the prisoner had com- mitted the murder. in fact Carrie appeared to be the one to be made the scapegoat, THE SOILED CARRIB SPENCER turned on her paramour or husband and testifed against him, though it was supposed before the main for @ short time, in case the friends are still disposed te claim it; and, if not, it will then be | buried in the cemeterye - e would be the strongest witness in his favor. She certainly was the first to make the ac- ave io intance of the murdered woman and aueceeded ingratiating herself into her confidenge- Carpe | and this time the shot entered his mouth. remained in her company ap to a tate hoar on tne | latal nigut, and received the stolen property in her room. But fear overcame every {celing of a fection or gratitude (ior the accused had been de- yoted to her), and she lent all the aid in her power to hurry on Mortimer to the gallows. It appeared that a year and a half before the murder tue pris- Oner Wasemployed by a iarmer, residing @ lew “miles irom Sacramento, named O'Neil, and that Mortimer introduced the girl as his wile, They both took up quarters at tue farm house, O'Netl generously giving up his sieepiug apartment for their accommodation. He was rewarded by the Pair decam ing ove night and taking with them @li the money and other portavle property upon which they could lay their hands, O'Neil pursued and overtook them and recovered the greater por- tion of what was stolen. AS A WITNESS FOR THE STATE Carrie testified that Mortimer, when he brought the dresses and jewels oi Mrs. Shaw to her room, told her to say, if they were arrested, that they were gob trom man named George, and also to Bidy that they had been at the circus, She further stated that she was always in great fear of the ac- cused, and could never say her ilfe was sate since sie know his hands were stained with the blood of two tnnoceat women. Carrie said emphatically, “L wash my hands of him,’ The hair, witu flesh’ at- tached, was produced in Court, Judge Reardon, in his charge to tie jury, made little or no reier- ence to the Tacts of the case, He confined himself to oxplaiving fully and clearly what Gane con- Btituted murder. A verdict of guilty in the first degree was soon rendered, No sooner was the trial ended than Cariie Spencer was arrested on @ charge of burglary committed in avother county, TA DRBAD JUDGMENT. On the 29th of March Mortimer was brought w for sentence, His counsel, 5. 0. Denson, move for a new trial on the ground that the prisoner was entitied to it under the law as it existed when the offence was committed, and that it was error to have tried iim under tie new code ; on the ground of newly-discovered evidence which would show where the prisoner was ou the night of the | cide, and on the ground of tue bias Of ene 61 jurors, The appli¢ation Wee @Siied, and the eyztene Court, the tribunal of last reaort, i kw jays since sustained the decision. Judge Reardon, in pronouncing judgment, saia : “] have no disposition, even if Tsaw the ntiltt ofit, to call before your mind at this time the hot- rora and atrocity of the act for which you have been convicted. SuMicient jor me to say, irom the eviaence, 1 am satisfied with the verdict of the jury; and Ido not well see how a ditferent veriict could havé been arrived at by them. Alter baving seen no reason to grant you & new trial, it now only remains for me to pronounce the dread judg- ent, THE AWFUL DOOM OF ‘THR LAW?’ 15. Whiie judgment was being pronounced the pris- oner displayed no emotion whatever, but lookea steadily at the Judge and sat down at the close when 80 directed. Judge Reardon then signed the death warrant and delivered 1¢ to the Sheri. it was drawn as required by the new California code, and, dufering from many documents of @ similar nature, did not state the hour of execu- tion, but teft it optional with the Sheriff what time the extreme penalty of the law should be carried out, suai Reardon, it may be added, presided at the second trial of Laura Fair when that no.orious female was acquitted, His rulings and charge to the jury certainly contrivuted nothing to justify the result in that remarkable case. PERSONAL APPEARANCE OF THE CONDEMNED, Considerable mystery hung over the antecedents of Mortimer, which was believed and as it turned out to be an assumed name. He would give no ac- count of his family, and no one in California knew anything, of himself or his connections before or after his arrival in the State save the commission of crimes that brought him into the meshes of the law. He was about forty-eight years old, quite bald on the top of bis head, with long black hair, mus- tache and whiskers. Undoubtedly he passed the best part of his lile tn scenes of turmoil, crime and danger, but he still retained a very gentiemanly and inteuigent appearance. Mortimer was worried most by the treachery of Carrie Spencer. He had been devoted to her, and while she was sick pad given up everything else to wait upon tne girl he insisted that she had been tampered with, that a conspiracy had been formed to take his life, and using his own words, “Since that poor, demented, miserable creature Carrie was influenced to do as she did, [have no faith in humanity or justice.’ The con- demned man expressed the opinion that if he had never made a confidant of her he would not have been convicted. At the trial he declined to be ex- amined as 9 witness on his own behalf, or at least his counsel did not call upon him to take the stand. He agfaly to this by stating that as the Court wrongfully took the girl's testimony there was no use of his speaking @ word—‘“she got the biggest end of the rope in iying.”’ A TRAGIC EPISODE. There new came a tragic episode in the case, which brought to light the family aifairs of the un- fortunate Mortimer. It cost the life of his brother and gave touching proof of powerful fraternal affection. There arrived from the Eastern States, by Pacific railroad, at Sacramento, on the sth April, three weeks atter the conviction of Mortimer, a Put man who registered at the Vity Hotel as “J. . Williams, Jersey City.” He was under medium size, not very stout built, with brown hair and mutton-chop whiskers. His general appearance was that of a highly respectable man, and his like- ness to Mortimer was plain to be seen. He had pens of money and was frequeutly to be ovserved in the saloons, and becoming talkative, often spoke of Mortimer, The stranger said the condemned man was innocent, and on one occasion he puilea out a bundle, of papers, remarking that they con- tained everything, and that in a few days the pris- oner would be at liberty. He admitted in confi- dence he was Mortimer’s brother. | A BROTHER'S DEVOTION. He was permitted to visit the jail on several oc- casions, but was not allowed to, have any conversa- tion with the prisoner. He was noticed to gaze fixedly at Mortimer in his cell, but not a word passed between them. Between two and three o'clock on the morning of April 16 a loud ringing of the bell at the jail door awoke the keeper, and, with cockea pistol in hand, he went cautiously to the door. It ‘was moonlight, and there was nobody visible in the yard. He advanced towards the gate and suddenly saw a man, wearing a coat inside out, and with a handkerchief bound aroand his head, |The keeper instantly fell on his knee and fired. The ball took effect in the breast of the intruder, He fired adie | e man, after being thus twice wounded, ran into the | jail, and, alter going round the tier of celis, stopped in tront of Mortimer’s, reached his hand through the iron grating to its inmate, who clasped it, and HIS BROTHER FELL DOWN A CORPSE. The guest of the City Hotel had procured aladder, with which he scaled the walls of the prison, and by means of a line had descended to the yard. His object was to effect the release of Mortimer, and he madethe reckiess attempt without any coniederates. On his person were found two | istols, one of which he had purchased a few days before ; a dirk, a diagram of the interior of the jail and @ badge of the Grand Army of the Republic. On his arm were the words, ‘Wiiltam J. Flynn, Lynn, Mass.’ There can be little doubt that Mortimer | recognized his brother, and was aware of his in- | tention to seek his release. The prisoner had on his boots when the firing took place, but he cer- tainly was rightin expressing indignation at the | shooting of his brother, and asking why the officers, knowing him to be prowling around the jail, and that his snsptetous character was a subject of town talk in Sacramento, had not arrested him. | A SECOND VISIT TO THE CORONER'S OFFICE. Mortimer made another visit to the Coroner's office. On reaching the rough board coffin he in- stantly recognized the remains, and, after habe 4 long and earnestly upon the cold, stark, contracted features of the deceased, placed his hand affec- tionately upon the corpse, and exclaimed, ‘Yes, that is my younger brother, and he was twenty- nine years old last Christmas. J had not seen him for sixteen years until he visited me in the jail a few days since,” The body was farther identified by Mortimer by the mark of a wound on the fore- head, inflicted by a stone he threw one day years ago, and by the dislocation of a finger, which hap- pened when he was a boy. ‘The Coroner's jury ac- uitted the keeper of ail blame for the killing of tiltam J. Flynn. On Mortimer’s arm appear the letters, marked with India ink, two N’s and an F, leaving no doubt of the family name being Flynn. urther developments have shown that he had four brothers, and that their original residence was Lynn, Mass., where they were all born. Dal 1A, PRISON. About a wé ~ Flynn, one of the rothers, arrived at Sacramento. Wabi wae His object, no fo console his wretched relative during the last few days of his existence. The jail where he was confined consists of the basement of the lage building formerly used as the State capital. | It is a gloomy, unheaithy and cramped apartment, | and is a sorry looking place fora human being to be cooped up in, without, ventilation and unclea ‘two rows of boiler iron cells are to be seen.one reac! ing nearly the entire length of the prison and the other stopping about half way. An open door upon one hand leads tnto the yard where William was shot; upon the other an app viting avenue of Drick wall, dotted with a few dirmal looking win- dows, out of which the architect seemed to have exerted all his ingenuity to keep God's blessed sun- ar THE CONDEMNED CELI, looked like a big Ocean steamship botler Knocked suddenly into a hollow square, with the grate o1 top—no under drainage, no possible ventilation, nothing in the world but as much room as a man with some vitality leit in him could exist in. The wicket in the door is about-eight by six inches, A reporter, who Visited the prisoner about a fort~ night ago, gives the following account of bis inver- view :—Peering in I saw an emaciated man, hag- gard in visage and careworn in general aspect, who lay, a8 near ae I could judge, either upon the floor (the piace was fearfully dark) or upen @ slightly raised cot. My eyes became accustomed to the darkness and I Was able to see inside the dungeon, and a sorry sight it was simple mat- tress or two, some blankets, a pa , and a qui simple-seeming piece of what humanity calls man. He lay on his back, his eyes closed, hands clasped across his breast, and with a little wstnetic disposition of his hair ond whiskers would have answered for a lay figure a8 EITHER AN ANGEL OR A DBMON. AS quick as transition from foam to wave there sprang up a bright-eyed, restiess man, quick in every nerve, and so totally different from the dull inanity that laid there only an instant belore that I confess 1 felt staggered, and wished that I was interviewed instead of being the interviewer. But, ike @ sudden shot from a rifle, sighted to a hair, came from those lips, no longer bloodless, ‘What's the lay now ?’ and meeting no res) rowadd look in my eyes (for, to tell the truth, 1 half caug! Mortimer was then sentenced to be nanged May | | series of rules, to be submitted to the various the meanyng of the sland, ang did not have gourage to own It fo myseln,-ne sata, ‘excuse me.” Mortimer then, to reyly to questions, admitted thas he recognized his brother when be visited him, and that he hoped he would oj for him a soon trial. ‘Here 1 was locked up 1m this cell, having this conspiracy put up against me. [heard them billing and coomg around the jai, and the creak- ing of the door sounding in tny ears like a kiss. That night, when | heard the shot, i said to my- self, ‘Who next?’ I got up in my stocking fee! reached on my tiptocs until I causht hold of irons above my ceil, and raised myself up to tI bars. | asked ‘was he killed ?’ for 1 supposed soma one had got away and tue keeper was killed.’ THE FAMILY HISTORY. On the 6th inst. public interest was greatly im creused by the receipt of pictures and voiumlsoan correspondence from che Fiynn family in Massa- chusetts by Mr. Denson, the prisoner's counsel. ‘The family at home consists of the mother, ® mar- ried sister and two brotuers, Edward and Thomas, who are engaged in the tailoring business. Ed- ward, writing under the date of April 27, says that fourteen years have elapsed since Charies hus com- municated with the family, and that during that time many letters, sent to him under various names, have not been returned or answered, Their father died in 1861, and leit: the family in aestituts circumstances, The boys at home worked hard te support their mother, and they rejoice to say she knows no want. The poor old woman believed Oharles Was dead until a telegraphic despatch in & newspuper attracted their attention. Then, aud only then, wus she aware that the eluest boy Was a condemned murderer, When the war began William (killed last month at the jail), aged twenty- two, and Frauk (now in Sacramente), less than eighteen, ENLIBTED IN THE UNION ARMY, and went to New Orleans with General Banks, Bach won a (Sere war record, At the battle of Port Hudson, in 1863, William was wounded in the right ankle and was borne from the iield by Frank, the two brothers having been fighting side by side. G@horat Graves complimented both o: the boys for ‘avery aod recommended them for promotion. (t Was honorably discharged in 1864, while holding the rank of first sergeant, Frank fought under Sheridan and Sherman to the end of war. Edward is 01 potnlen ura this vivid illustration of brotherly love rast William's at- tempt to release Charles, but not to shoot the jailer—was whe greatest of his life, William left ore alter receiving a letter which had been warded from Sacramento by a trusty friend in the jail, The flag over the hail o1 the Grand Army of the Republic in Lyon was hung for several days at half- mast in honor of his memory, Frank, who travelled 80 Many thousand miles with @ lingering hope thas he might be able to save his brother's life, had to witness to-day his execution. WAS MORTIME Kd SANE? During the past few days Mortimer continued not to recognize his brother Frank, who lately arrived in Sacramento. He remained kneeling by 4 ban- die, which he pretended or really believed to be the body of his brother, killed in the jail yard last month. When he viewed the body at the under- taker’s the nervous twitching about the corners of the prisoner's mouth was clearly expressive of the great mental anguish which he sutfered; but he had evidently nerved himself for the, trying ordeal, and made a great effort to conceal ‘&ho bitterness of his thoughts. The valise and other effects left by his brother were conveyed, at his request, to the cell he occupied. He asked that he might have @ lock of William’s hair, and on pene conveyed back to his dismal barrie in the old State House he carefully placed it in a package, unmindful of allelse. For several weeks prior to the death of his brother Mortimer was actively engaged writing what was generally supposed to be a history of his life. Since that time, however, he gradually became morose and sullen— stopped writing and would hold no conversation with any one, and would not even, as stated, re- cognize Frank, The treachery of Carrie Spencer preyed Sreatly on his mind, and the desperate attempt of William to effect his release, andin whtck he lost his life, must have had a terrible effect on the concemned man, The Supreme Court denied a new trial on the 8th inst., and there being no hope left it was suspected that he was pretending in- sanity. The physicians who examined him were unable to determine satisfactorily as to whether he was insane or not, and Governor Booth, under all the circumstances, resolved to allow the law to take its course. The execution to-day has excited interest from one end of the State to the other, and all connected with the case beara out the remark made at the beginning, “that there are certain characteristics about California homicides not to be matched by the felonies of any other country.” The Murderer Devine. SAN FRANCISCO, May 15, 1873. Rev. Fatner Spreckles and Coroner stillman, ot this city, are contending for the possession of the body of John Devine, who was hanged yesterday for the murder of August Kamp, in May, 1872. The Coroner desires to hold an inquest on the remains, but Father Spreckles, who was the spirituat adviser ofthe condemned man during bis imprisonment, denies the Coroner's jurisdiction, and will not sur- render it. Devine was known by the name of “the Chicken,” and was tried twice and cach time found guilty. He persisted in denying guilty intention to the last. He had no rejatives in the United States. SUICIDE OF A SPANIARD. Sey hae ime A Physician in Brooklyn Kills Himself with an Opiate—Sad Circumstances, The Brooklyn Coroner was yesterday notified to hold an inquest over the body of Dr. Cyrio A. P. De Cortez, who committed suicide at his boarding house, 284 Dean street. The deceased had been stopping for several months past with the family | of Mr, I. Hirsch, and had been practising medicine, but without any signal success. For some time past, indeed, his income has been so small that he has not been able to pay his board. Being ofa this fact preyed upon his equent attacks of melan- On Wednesday morning he choly and headache. was found lying in an unconscious state in his office, and medical aid was summoned. It was dis- covered that he was laboring under the influence of @ powerful opiate, supposed to be morphine. Despite the efforts of the attendants to resuscitate him death ensued during the evening. The follow- ing notes, written by deceased, were found in his room, addressed to his landlady Dk. Crrio A. P. Dr Cortez, Orrice 284 Deax Srriet, BRooxurn, May 14, 1873, isa future life 1 hope to meet hereafter Mra vhom i jook upon as @ mothe! daughter e, whom 1 dearly, love, and Mr. 1. Hirsch, the men. Oh Lord, if there is # lite ordained by Thy supreme will, will Thy loving Kindness permit me to associate with those I love?” Dx Conrez. Mauaa Hirscn—You own all Ihave. Don’t let mabe dissecved if you can. Dr ©. Dr. De Cortez, who was unmarried, was a native of Barcelona, Spain. and was 1n his thirty-fourth year. He graduated at the Imperial University of Bania, Brazil, and also at Oxford University, Eng- land. General E. L. Townsend, who had been upon terms of intimate acquaintance with deceased for several months past, states that a friend of Dr, De Cortez recently committed suicide in the city of Hartford, and this latter circumstance, coupled with his pecuniary embarrassment, produced ex- cessive despondency upon the Doctor's mind. He ‘was a man of very high intellectual attainments, being an,excelient linguist, a profound observer and a graceful writer: but, with all these attain- ments, he was unable to earn a livelihood. He represented to his friend General Townsend that he was of an ancient line of Spanish aristoc! 3 and it will be a source of satisiaction to those wi are related to him across tne sea to know that his deathbed was surrounded by kind, ministering hands, and that everything possible was done w save his life and soothe his dying moments. THE FRIENDS OF PEACE. To THE EpIToR OF THE HERALD:— At the meeting held at the house of Mr. David Dudiey Field last evening the report of the Rev+ Mr. Miles, as to the resu'ts of his recent efforts ta enlist the co-operation of jurists and statesmen of Europe in behalf of the adoption of a code of the public law and the establishment of arbitrationas a means of settling international disputes, was largely devoted to a statement of the opinions expressed to him by the thinking men of Europe as to the fea- sibility of the artitration of disputed claims of ma- tions and as to the necessity of its adoption for the welfare of nations. The remarks of gentlemen fol- lowing the report and the resolutions adopted wero confined to this subject, From this fact a wrong impression seems to have been made upon the HERALD particularly, as seen in its editorial ar- ticle, entitied “A World of Peace and Good Will,” viz,, that the sole object of the conlerence of statesmen and international lawyers recom- mended to be held in the Fail was ‘‘to pats nts afterwards, for the settlement of all future international disputes by arbitration m- of war.” hs however, is not the sole object of the Nd posed meeting. It is intended that a code of the entire law governing the various relations of, na- tions and of their members, in time of peace as well as of war, shali, after careful and thorough reparation, be submitted to the governments of nations for their sanction as authoritative state- ments of the law upon the various subjects em- braced within it. The peaceful relations of vations should be governed by definite rules. And the code to be submitted to governments founded upon the settied usage of nations, the most liberal treaties and opinions of eminent jurists of all nations and judicial decisions of present authority will embrace, besides the law of nations in time of war, rules regulating Em ful intercourse; for example, the law as to the essential rights of nations, and the rights of navi- gation, discovery, colonization and fishery; the in- tercourse of nations and the rights and immunities: of diplomatic agents; the right of asyiam and duty of extradition; the rules as to national cl acter and jurisdiction; the private rights of persons and property; the jadicial power of nations in ¢ivt and criminal cases, &c. It is believed that the racticability of such a code, and its effect in bene ting society and improving the internal affairs ot nations, Will Md acknowledged by all wise men. Very respectfully yours, bibs . HOWARD, PAYSON WILDS. New YORK, May 16, Is7& best