IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

1.0

I.I

~ IIIM

:•' m

2.2

1.8

1.25

1.4

1.6

6" -

►

'ej/

S'M

Photographic

Sciences

Corporation

33 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, NY 14580

(716) 872-450J

s?<

C/j

CIHM/ICMH

Microfiche

Series.

CIHM/ICMH
Collection de
microfiches.

Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques

Technical and Bibliographic Notes/Notes techniques at bibliographiques

The Institute has attempted to obtain the best
original ccpy available for filming. Features of this
copy which may be bibliographically unique,
which may alt jr any of the images in the
reproduction, or which may significantly change
the usual method of filmii.g, are checked below.

L'Institut a microfilm^ le meilleur exemplaire
qu'il lui a 6t6 possible de se procurer. Les details
de cet exemplaire qui sont peut-dtre uniques du
point de vue bibliographique, qui peuvent modifier
une image reproduite, ou qui peuvent exiger une
modification dans la m^thode normale de filmage
sont indiqu^ i ci-dessous.

Coloured covers/
Couverture de couleur

□ Coloured pages/
Pages de couleur

□

Covers damaged/
Couverture endommagee

n Pages damayed/
Pages endommag6es

□

Covers restored and/or laminated/
Couverture restaur^e et/ou pellicul4e

□ Pages restored and/or laminated/
Pages restaur^es et/ou pellicul^es

D
D

Cover title missing/

Le titre de couverture manque

Coloured maps/

Cartes geographiques en couleur

Coloured ink (i.e. other than blue or blark)/
Encre de couleur (i.e. autre que bleue c,u noire)

Coloured plates and/or illustrations/
Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur

Pages discoloured, stained or foxed/
Pages d6colorees, tachet6es ou piqu^es

Pages detached/
Pages detachees

Showthrough/
Transparence

Quality of print varies/
Qualite inegale de {'impression

□

Bound with other material/
Relie avec d'autres documents

□ Includes supplementary material/
Comprend du materiel supplementaire

Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion
along interior margin/

La reiiure serree peut causer de I'ombre ou de la
distortion le long de la marge int6rieure

Blank leaves added during restoration may
appear within the text. Whenever possible, these
have been omitted from filming/
II se peut que certaines pages blanches ajoutSes
lors d'une restauration apparaissent dans le texte,
mais, lorsque cela 6tait possible, ces pages n'ont
pas et6 film^es.

□ Only edition available/
Seule Edition d<sponible

□ Pages wholly or partially obscured by errata
slips, tissues, etc., have been refilmed to
ensure the best possible image/
Les pages totalement ou partiellement
obscurcies par un feuillet d'errata, une pelure,
etc., ont 6t4 film6es d nouveau de facon k
obtenir la meilleure image possible.

□

Additional comments:/
Commentaires suppl6mentaires;

This item is filmed at the reduction ratio checked below/

Ce document est film6 au taux de r6duction indiqu^ ci-dessous.

10X

14X

18X

22X

26X

30X

1^^^^^

12X

16\

20X

24X

28X

32X

aiis
du .
idifier
une
nage

The copy filmed here has been reproduced thanks
to the generosity of:

Library of the Public
Archives of Canada

The images appearing here are the best quality
possible considering the condition and legibility
of the original copy and in keeping with the
filming contract specifications.

L'exemplaire film6 fut reproduit grflce d la
g6n6rosit6 de:

La bibliothdque des Archives
publiques du Canada

Les images suivantes ont itd reproduites avec le
plus grand soiri, compte tent de la condition et
de la nettetd de l'exemplaire film6, et en
conformity avec les conditions du contrat de
filmage.

Original copies in printed paper covers are filmed
beginning with the front cover and ending on
the last page with a printed or illustrated impres-
sion, or the back cover when appropriate. All
other original copies are filmed beginning on the
first page with a printed or illustrated impres-
sion, and ending on the last page with a printed
or illustrated impression.

Les exemplaires originaux dont la couverture en
papier est imprim6e sont filmds en commengant
par le premier plat et en terminant soit par la
dernidre page qui comporte une empreinte
d'impression ou d'illustration, soit par le second
plat, selon le cas. Tous les autres exemplaires
originaux sont filmds en commenpant par la
premiere page qui comporte une empreinte
d'impression ou d'illustration et en terminant par
la dernidre page qui comporte une telle
empreinte.

The last recorded frame on each microfiche
shall contain the symbol — ♦- (meaning "CON-
TINUED"), or the symbol V (meaning "END"),
whichever applies.

Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at
different reduction ratios. Those too large to be
entirely included in one exposure are filmed
beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to
right and top to bottom, as many frames as
required. The following diagrams illustrate the
method:

Un des symboles suivants apparattra sur la
dernidre image de cheque microfiche, selon le
cas: le symbole — ► signifie "A SUIVRE ", le
symbole V signifie "FIN".

Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent dtre
filmis d des taux de reduction diffdrents.
Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre
reproduit en un seul clichd, il est filmd d partir
de Tangle supArieur gauche, de gauche d droite,
et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre
d'images n^cessaire. Les diagrammes suivants
illustrent la mdthode.

rrata
:o

pelure.

32X

(

> 1

^^"^

F
A

OLD

TRA

COMPILED

FROM THE MOST

AUTHENTIC SOURCES

IN ^1. JOHN, N, H

*^»i^^

*'?

ST. JOHI^, I*. 8.

- y'M,

"X-

im^-

■ .^--iK^v^ ■ " ■;#^»rv-?*i» ■

Annals of the Provir.jes. No. 1.

Old Jime Jra^jedies.

CELEBRATED CASES BEFORE THE
COURTS IN ST. JOHN N. B

INCLUDING :

THE MISPECK TRAGEDY; REDBURN THE SAILOR;

BURGAN THE "BOY" BURGLAR; AND THE MURDER OF

CLAYTON TILTON AT MUSQUASH.

=i- ,

COMPILED FROM THE MOST AUTHENTIC SOURCES, AND i^OW
PUBL,ISHED IN FUI.I, FOR THE FIRST TIME.

ST. JOHN, N. B.

PROGRESS" EI.ECTRIC PRINT.
1895.

-I

■ «

'''I

r-,— J^-

KiitPrrd «Moi(lmg to Act of the Parliament ol Canada, in the Year 1895, by

■\V^1LLIAM KlLBT REYNOLDS,

lit the Department of Agriculture

INTRODUCTION.

The principal incidents dealt with in the following
pajjes have already appeared in a series of papers con-
tributed to St. John Progress over the signature of
Roslynde. With these as a groundwork, a large amount
of matter has been added, and many additional details
given which are in some instances wholly new to the
public, and of historic importance. This is especially
true of the account of The Mispcck Tragedy, the revision
of which is many times the length of the original paper,
and has required much time and careful research. Both
on this case and that of Redburn, not only have the
available contemporary records been consulted, but much
that is now published for the first time has been obtain-
ed from living witnesses. Jn the famous case of Jiurgan,
" the boy who wms hanged,'" an ett'ort has been made to
correct some of the popular errors as to the ])Osition of
Judge Chipman in the matter. In this case, too, a living
witness has been found who had a personal aequnintance
with Burgan himself. This version of the atfair, differ
ing so greatly as it does from the generally accepted
accounts, is of special importance ns a matter of local
history.

Tt is, in«lee(l, with the idea that these stories thu.-^ made
complete will b<' of historic value, thkt I havo ventured

INTRODUCTION.

to publlHh thorn in book form, and with some bettor
motive than to simply give a recital of dreadful crimoa.
I have, therefore, made every oftoj't to be accurate in the
statement of details, and where there was any doubt
have taken the trouble to fully investigate disputed
points.

Among the many who have rendered valuable assist-
ance, I have specially to thank Mr. George E. Fonety,
Queen's Printer, for facilities to consult his files of the
Morning News, and Mr. Clarence Ward, for valuable
memoranda and suggestions.

W. KiLBY Ekynolus.

THE MISPECK TRAGEDY.

TJIE STOJIY OF A (rllHAT CUIME.

The raurdoa* of ]lobert McKenzio and his family, at
Mispcck Spring, near St. John, N. IJ., in the year 1857,
is without a parallel in the records of crime in the Mari-
time Provinces of Canada. It was the brutal, wholesale
slaughter of a man, his wife and their innocent children,
by ignorant wretches whose sole motiv^e was greed of
gain. The horror which it caused in this part of the
world at the time may well be imagined, and even at
this day, nearly forty years after, it is frequently revert-
ed to when the topic oi talk ip the shedding of human
blood.

Until now, the story of the Mispcck Tragedy has
nevor been fully told in connected form. Two pam-
phlets, giving reports of the trial, were published in 1857,
one by Geo. W. Bay, and the other in Now York for
" Barney " O'Brien, the well known bookseller of a
generation ago. The first was made up from rei)ort8 in
the Leader newspaper, and the other from the reports in
the Freeman. Both were got out in a hurry, and were
necessarily incomplete and fragmentary in their Htylo,
apart from the mere transcri})t of evidence. These
pamphlets are now very rare, and they have been only
a part of the records which I have consulted in prepar-
ing this account. Other information has been had from

OLD TIMK TUAdKDIKM.

contemporary newspapoi-H, and u gn^at deal that haw
never before appeared in print has l)oon gathered from
men now living who Imd Home knowledge of the events.
In this way J have been enabled lo compile a full account
of the Miwpcck Tragedy, from the night of the murder,
in 1857, to the time of the escape of the younger Slavin,
in 1871.

On the Mispeck road, about ten miles from St. John,
may be seen today a deserted farm, some scattered brick
and stone nhowing where hud once stood the chimney of
II dwelling. It is a lonely enough place, though not in
a desolate ])art of the country, and the nearest house is
about a mile away. Thei'e is good fishing in the neigh-
borhood, Heaver Ijako is near at hand, and one of the
city elubs has its cain]> in the vicinity. All who go
there for the Hrst tim«' in (search of pleasure hear of the
McKenzie murder, in more or less detail, but in the pas-
sage of events few can tell much beyond the outline of
the story, and as memories are treacherous, even this is
not always sure lo be correct. Few of tho.se who were
active in the conviction of the murderers are alive today,
and thus it will be recognized that now, W'hile the testi-
mony of the living is available, a record of the facta
should be made.

In the house of which the ruins are now seen once
lived Ifobert McKenzie. with his wife and four children.
Of the latter the eldest was about five years, while the
youngest was about one year old. McKenzie was a na-
tive of Scotland, but had been in this country a number
of yeai>, and wjis by occupation a master tailor. The
maiden name of his wife was EfKe Reed, daughter of
Ishmael IJeed, of ('arleton, St. John. When in business
in St. .lohn, McKenzie's shop wa'j in Bragg's building,

THK MLil'BCK TRAOJtUY. 7

conior of King and Canterbury stroctw, a house famous
for having boon built by Benedict Arnold, and Htanding
on the lot now occupied by John Vjissio & Co. McKenzie
Hold out his business to A. k T. (Jilniour, who continued
at the stand for many yeai*s afterwards.

McKenzio had considcrabi') money at one time. Some
years before the tragedy ho was believed to l)o worth
over $30,000, but ho subsequently lost a good deal in
various ventures outside of his trade. In 1851 he had a
chair factory at Lower Mispeck, and he owned mills
with some 2,000 acres of land, lit did not succeed in
the lumber business, however, and he hi 1 «>oqu(;ntly sank
more money in improving his farm. Hi^ »uilt a house,
about 50 feet long by 25 ft'ot wide, on tiic farm in 1949.
Here ho was living with his family ..i the year lo5/.

* 2 parently he lived there, lonely as it, was, without
fear of danger to himself or his property, for. though a
man of slight physique, he seems to luive t.'ii-en no special
precautions to protect his place, though he mad'> no
secret of the fact that he kept a considerable sum of
money in the house. Most of the few people in that
scattarcd neighborhood seemed to be ignorant, simple-
minded folk, who lived as he did, at peace with the world.
Am'^Rg them wa^i Patrick Slavin and his family, who
occupied a humble dwelling seven or eight miles distant
from the farm. Slavin was a laboring man, about 55
yeare of age, who had worked on the construction of the
European and North American, now the Intercolonial
railway, and at such other labor as oflered from time to
time. His eldest son, Pat, was 15 or HI years old. Both
of them were very ignorant, unable to read or write,
and instruction in matters of religion was unknown in
the household.

OLD TIME TRAOEDIES.

Among thv^se 'people, however, there were all Horts of
belief as to McKenzie's great wealth. One rumor had it
that he was worth thirty thousand pounds. He was a
money lender, too, and ho appeared to take a pride in
making a display of his hoard before those who had any
transactions with him. It will thus be seen that he
largelyjcontributed to bring about his own dreadful fate,
by exciting the cupidity of the wretchedly poor and
ignorant people to Avhom goid seemed the the remedy
for every ill.

In the latter part of October, 1857, McKenzie was
desirous of securing a farm laborer. He had a spare
house, smaller and older than his own, for a man t(
occupy, on the other side of the highway, nearly oppo-
site the farm house, and about 90 yards distant. The
wages he offered was a certain sum per acre for the
work done. Such a man offered in the person of Hugh
Breen — or Williams, as he was at first known — who had
been',working on the railway up to a month or so before,
but who had more recently been living at the house of
Slavin. McKenzie mado an agreement with Breen, and
the latter promised to bring his wife and family to
occupy the small house across the road.

Up to this time McKenzie had been as-sisted in his
work by a farm laborer named PoUey, who had lived
with his family in the small house. Policy had left the
province and his place had been temporarily filled by a
young man named George Leet, who lived alone in this
house. Leet was to leave on the 24th of October and
Breen was to take his place. On the day in question,
which was a Saturday, McKenzie and Leet worked until
dusk gathering up oats, two of the children playing in
the field beside them as they labored. Having completed

THE MISPECK TRAGEDY.

what he had to do, Leet made a hast}- supi)er of
bread and cold tea left from the noonday repast, and
went home to his father's house, about five miles distant.
Had he remained, as was afterwards shown, ho would
have been one of the victims of the tragedy at a later
hour.

Breen and Slav in had determined to murder McKenzie
and his family, and that night had been fixed for the
deed. They expected Leet would be away, but had he
remained, ad Slavin said, he would have been killed,
"just because he was in the way." Breen, however,
had already begun to live at the small house, sleeping
with Leet, and was thus aware of his intention to go.

Breen was of a different stamp, physically, from Slavin,
for while the latter was well advanced in years, short
and stooping, though stout, Breen was about 28 years
of age, tall and powerfully built. He had a clean cut
face, with sharp nose and prominent mouth, and kept
himself close shaved. His hair, being somewhat gray,
made him appear slightly older than he really wa«. So
far as can be judged, he was not the projector of this
horrid enterprise, but was a man with murder in his
heart, and a willing instrument of Slavin. It would
seem that the latter had long coveted McKenzie's gold,
but he and Breen had not met. When the two were
thrown together, the combination furnished all d\e ele-
ments needed for the perpetration of a diabolical crime.

Breen came originally from near Oromocto. B(;fore
meeting with Slavin he had lived for a time in Frederic-
ton, where he was employed as a man servant at Yerxa's
hotel, known as the Drake House. While he was there,
one of the boarders had a pocket book stolen from his-
room. It contained money and papei-s. and was found

mmm

OLD TIME TRAOI'.DIES.

in the back yard, a few days later, with the money gone.
Brcen was suspected, but nothing was done, as there
was no direct evidence to prove that he w. ^ the thief.

In the basement of the Drake House was a variety shop
kept by an elderly widow named Sally Golly, who was
supposed to have accumulated a good deal of money,
which she kept by her in preference to placing it in a
bank. The reports of her wealth excited the cupidity
of Breen ; and after he left Frodericton and met Slavin,
the two formed a plan to get the money. Having settled
on the project the two went from St. John to Frederic-
ton, in September, fully determined to rob and murder
Sally Golly. They saw her several times, but found no
good opportunity to execute their design, and returned
to Mispeck without accomplishing their purpose. Two
months later, after the arrest and confession of the pair,
the old woman learned for the first time how four fierce
eyes had watched her movements, and hoAv two men to
whom mercy was an imknown virtue, had plotted to
deprive her of her money and her life.

Later, when Sally Golly learned of her escape, she was
so stricken with fear that for the rest of her life, which
was not many years, she was afraid to take the shutters
from her shoj) windows.

The greed of unlaw^ful gain having been aroused, like
the thirst for blood in merciless tigers, Slavin and Breen
next discussed the chance for the robbery of a Mr.
Corkery, who was known to be in the habit of carrying
considerable money on his person when he travelled
through the country buying cattle. Abandoning this
they decided on the murder of McKenzie and his family.
Old Slavin took the credit of this to himself, afterwards
declaring that '• it was myself was the head and founda-

THE MISPECK TRAGEDY.

tion and backsetting of robbing and murdering McKen-
zie." It was planned a week or two before it took place,
and the date had been fixed for the night of Thursday,
the 22nd of October. Learning that Leet expected his
father and mother there that night, a postponement was
made until Saturday, the 24th.

That evening, Breen, Slavin and the hitter's son, Pat
Slavin, started on their bloody mission. Young Slavin,
in addition to being ignorant, was not considered men-
tally bright. He knew that something bad was to be
done, and no doubt he knew there was to be murder.
He was under his father's orders, however, and it is quite
certain he did not realize the enormity of the crime
which was to be committed, whatever part he may have
taken :n assisting in the slaughter.

The stor}'- of how the murder Avas committed was
told afterwards both by IBreeu and old Slavin, the mur-
derers and living witnesses. Their accounts agreed in
the main facts, and were given without any hope of
saving themselves. Dreadful enough their confessions
were.

The oats had been gathered, the week's work was
done, and McKenzie and his wife, unsuspicious of danger,
were j^robably looking forward to a welcome rest on
Sunday. At that season of the year the sun sets before
five o'clock, and it was after twilight when McKenzie
was seen alive for the last time by anyone except his
murderers. About eight o'clock, or possibly a little
later, a carriage from the city drove along that little
frequented road. It contained two well known citizens of
St. John. They stopped at the gate, and McKenzie, who
was at the house, came down to the roadside, leaning his
arras on the fence. The gentlemen in the carriage

OLD TJME TRA<JEI)IES.

talked with him for u few minutes, and continued on
their way, afterwards returning to the city by another
road. While they were talking with him they could see,
by the light from the farmhouse, Mrs. McKenzie and
some of the children standing in the doorway. Perhaps,
even then, the eyes of the murderers were fixed upon
their intended victims, waiting until not a chance re-
mained of any interference with their fearful project.
McKenzie's nearest neighbor lived a mile away, Avhile in
the other direction the nearest house was more than two
miles distant. The spot was a fit one for the commission
of a crime without risk of interruption.

After the carriage d^-ove away, McKenzie leturncd to
his house. Shortly after this Slavin, Breen and young
Slavin, arrived at the small house, on the opposite side
of the road, and began their preparations for the mur-
der. Breen had an axe and made a fire on the hearth.
He was preparing to cut up more dr}*" wood w^hen old
Slavin stopped him. '" Don't make any light ;" he said,
" the more light you make the worse." Then old Slavin
took the axe and went into one of the rooms, shutting
the door after him. Young Slavin also concealed him-
self, and Breen went over to the dwelling house to lure
McKenzie to his doom.

McKenzie, wholly unsuspicious of danger, greeted the
man he was expecting, and readily accompanied him,
Bupposing that Breen wished to complete the arrange-
ments for the accommodation of his wife and family.
They reached the small house.

"Is she comiiig?" McKenzie asked, referring to
Breen's wife.

" She is," was the reply.

"Is she near at hand ?"

THE MISPECK TRAGEDY.

" Well, she is pretty near."

Slavinand his son were in the next room, butMcKenxie
"vvas ignorant of their presence. Slavin had an axe in
his hand. Opening the door, he came out with the axe
behind his back, and said, "she's on hand." The next
instant he lifted the axe and kit McKenzie on the breast.
McKenzie fell to the floor.

"Wherever I hit, a dead dog will tell no tales," re-
marked the murderer.

McKenzie was not quite dead, however, and uttered a
groan. Then Slavin hit him blow after blow on the
breast until life was extinct. Then they put the body
down a trap-door in the cellar, having first thoroughly
searched the clothing in the hope of finding money and
other articles of value.

They remained at the small house for some time, and
after a while old Slavin decided that it would be better
not to leave the body in the cellar, as if left in the kitchen
it would be more likely to be consumed when the build-
ing was burned. Raising the trap door he went down
alone, and tried to take the body up the steps, but found
the task a difficult one. " Will you help me to take him
up again ?" he called to Breen, and the two brought up
the body, which they left lying on the floor.

Immediately after the killing of McKenzie, young
Slavin had secured the key of an iron chest in which the
murdered man had kept his money. One version is that
it fell from a pocket to the floor, and another that the boy
searched the pockets until he found it. After depositing
the body on the floor, the three made their way to
McKenzie's dwelling, to complete their work of blood
by the slaughter of the helpless family. Reaching the
house, Breen found an axe outside the porch, which he

OLD TIME TRAGEDIES.

!!i;

handed to Slavin. Then Breen opened the door of the
common sitting room where Mi-s. McKenzie and her
children were. She was not surprised to see Breen, sup-
posing, no doubt, that her husband was behind him.
Instead of that husband, there stood there, unseen by
her, his murderer, Sluvin, the axe hidden behind his
back, while he peered through the doorway and prepar-
ed lo begin the slaughter.

The picture presented by the room and its occupants
was such as has cheered the heart of many a traveller
along a country road after dusk. The bright light of
the cheerful fire showed a mother and her family, their
household duties for the week completed, making ready
for the houra of rest which wore to usher in another
peaceful Sunday. Mrs. McKenzie was sitting in a rock-
ing chair near the tire, singing a gentle lullaby to s' Jtho
the infant in her arms. The other three children were
around her, vvhiling .away the time in innocent prattle.
It was a sight to move the hardest heart, but the cruel
eyes that wore watching the group were of men who
knew no pity.

" Is she near at hand ?" asked the woman, as her hus-
band had done, referring to Breen's wife.

" Yes, she is ])retty near," was again the answer.

Turning her attention to the infant again, she did not
see the savage, determined face of Slavin as ho pushed
quickly into the room and stepped behind her. Without,
a moment's hesitation, he swung the axo and hit her a
fearful blow on the side of the head. The child dropped
from her arms to the hearth, and she lay on the floor
struggling and moaning in the agonies of death. The
'•hildren gathered around her and began to cry, but
made no attempt to run away, Avjth.the exception of the

THE Ml SPECK TRAGEDY.

eldest, who, it is believed, fled into a small room, ct*
pantry, and was murdered there. One after another,
in rapid succeasion, they fell under the murderer's axe,
and then Slavin struck the mother blow after blow — as
many as fifteen, he confessed, until not a trace of life
remained. "She died hard," the old wretch stolidly
remarked in his subsequent confession. All this time
Breen stood outside the door. Just where younif Slavin
was, and what share he had in the butchery, w 11 never
be known. According to the story of the others, he did
nothiLg, but on this point there were many who had
grave doubts.

When the murder was completed the three looked at
the clock, but so ignorant were they, even in this simple
matter, that only young Slavin could ascertain the time.
He told them that the hour was half-past nine. The
three then left the house and went to the woods near at
hand, where they sat down and talked about what they
had lone. After a while they came up to the house and
heard what they took to be moans of some of the uying
children. Thev went back to the woods and remained
some time longer. AVhen they returned to the house all
was silent.

Young Slavin began to complain of being hungry,
and the three went into the pantry where they ate some
bread and drank milk, returning to the woods again.
Coming back, they began to search for itcKenzie's
money, the boy holding a light and otherwise assisting.
In the iron chest they found a i>nrse containing about
one hundred pounds in gold. They had expected to get
more, but after ransacking the house they concluded
there vra* no more money to be had. They, howerer,
secured a gold watch and some articles of clothing, aftei-

OLD TIME TRAQEDIES.

jii-

which they began to try to conceal the evidences of
their crime. Going to the small house, a candle was
applied to a straw bed, by young Slavin, and there was
soon a fierce blaze. Leaving the place to burn, they
went to the upper house, built a pile of straw and wood
in the porch and ignited it. They waited about five
minutes, to make sure that the building was certain to
bum, when they left the premises and returned to
Slavin's house. There Slavin counted his share of the
money and iound he had fifty sovereigns.

At the McKenzie farm the flre made rapid headway.
In a short time both houses were wholly consumed, and
in the ashes were the remains of the six murdered ones,
charred and burned beyond recognition, and in the case
of the smaller children as completely reduced to ashes
iis the wood which had been their funeral pile.

A small red and white dog wandered around the
fields, howling mournfully in terror of the desolation it
had seen. It was, apart from the murderers, tho only
living witness of the tragedy, and a witness in truth it
was. It had come into the room after the murderers
had done their work, and on its side was a stain — the
stain of human blood.

Many in St. John saw to the eastward that night a
bright reflection in the sky. '' It is some poor man'i
house or barn, I suppose," said a policeman on King
Square, in answer to the question of a passer by. None
could dream that the light told the story of the darkest
tragedy in the history of tho country.

THE MI8PECK TRAQEDY.

II.
DISCOVERY AND DETECTION.

When daylight camo on Sunday morning, the 25th
of October, only the ashes remained of the two houses
in which six human beings had so foully been put to
death. The murderers believed that the fire would
obliterate the traces of their crime, and it was with this
idea that they had taken McKenzie's body from the
cellar and dragged it into a room where it was more
likely to bo consumed. It must be remembered that
they were ignorant as well .is brutal, and they probably
thought there was little chance of the murder being
traced to tliem, otherwise they w^ould have made an
attempt to get out of the country. It would not have
been a difficult undertaking in 1857. Only the principal
towns had telegraph offices, and only a small beginning
had been made in railways. By avoiding the settlements
the men could have got out of the province, as nearly a
week elapsed before an attempt was made to arrest them.

Nobody had seen the light of the burning houses, nor
was there a suspicion that anything had occurred until
about eleven o'clock on Sunday morning. At that hour
Peter O'Hare, the nearest neighbor, who lived a mile
beyond the farm, went to talk with McKenzie about
some work which was to be done. On reaching the
place, he was astonished to find both houses burned to
the ground. He supposed the fire had been accidental
and that the family had gone to some other house. He
made no examination of the premises, but returned home
and told his wife. She seems to have had a suspicion
that something was wrong, for she told her husband to
get somebody to go with him and find out where the

OLD TIME TRAGEDIES.

McKenzics were Jle accordingly Bought James Robin-
son, who lived a mile from the farm, in the direction of
the city, and together they returned to investigate the
affair.

The site of the dwelling house was on the south side
of the road, while that of the small houne was on the
north side, about 00 yards diHtant. in front of the
dwelling, and on a line between the two houses, was a
barn, and in tlie rear of the dwelling was another barn,
neither of which had been burned. There had been
little or no wind during the -night. It was plain that
neither house had caught fire from the other. This
was the first circumstance to excite suspicion.

O'llare and Robinson then made a superficial examina-
tion of the ruins of the dwelling house, and found the
empty iron money chest with the door open and the key
in the lock. This convinced them that there had been at
least a robbery. They at once made their way to the
house of the nearest magistrate, Wm. llawkes, six miles
distant. It was then between 3 and 4 in the afternoon.

Mr. llawkes and the others went at once to the
McKenzies', and fearing that the family had been burned
in their beds, began to search about the ruins. James
Peacock and his son, a lad of 15, had joined them, and
the former thought, by the strange sickening odor he
smelied, there was a body under the ruins of the kitchen
chimney, which had fallen. On removing a portion of
the bricks, they were horrified to discover what they
supposed to be the remains of Mrs. McKenzie, though
so much of the body had been burned that this was
merely conjecture. There were the shoulder bones, part
of the ribs and backbone, but very Httle flesh, except
some of the internal organs. Close by were the remains

THE MISPECK TRAOEDY.

L'ned
tunes
, and
3r he
chen
on of
they
ough
was
[, part
cept
lains

of a child, whicli the lindorH lifted on a dunp; fork with
which they had been digging. Both thos'^ and the
romainn of Mi*8. McKenzio were so mnch reduced thai
the iron money chest Hutticed to contain thoni. A por-
tion of the body of another child was found at a later
date, leaving two unaccounted for. It wan believed at
the time that these two had been wholly consumed. A
year or two afterwards, the removal of the remainder of
the bricks disclosed part of ii skeleton, bi^lieved to be that
of the eldest girl, who had Hed to tlio pantry and been
killed there.

Soon after the discovery of the remains of Mrs.
McKenzie, young Peacock, who had been searching in
the ruins of the small house, found what at first a])peared
to be a charred log, but which proved to be the trunk
of a man, the head, arms and kigs being missing. Some
metal coat buttons and suspender bucklos lult no doubt
that the remains were those of McKenzii'.

By the time these discoveries had been nuide, evening
had come, and the parties returned to their homes. No
word was sent to the city until Monday morning, when
Mr. Ilawkes, with George Leet and .lames Jiobiiison,
drove in and notified the authorities of what had hap-
hened.

Among those of the country folks who gathered at
the ruins on Monday morning was John Leet, father of
the young man already mentioned. He noticed that
McKenzie's small red and white dog had a smear on its
side. A closer examination showed him and the others
that the mark was the stain of blood. There was no
wound on the dog. The blood was that of some of the
murdered family.

George Scoullar was at that time chief of the St. Jolni

OLD TIME TRAilSniBS.

police, und (foorgo vStockford wuh high conHtahlo. To
theBC waH dolegated the duty of getting at the evidence
of the tragedy and of tinding the inurdororH. Ca|)tain
ficoullar's suHpicions were first directed towards the
SiavinK from the fact that the old man and his son had
^linapi (eared, ile therefore secured Mi's. Shivin and
John Slavin. a lad of 12, as witnesses for tlie inquest.

Tlu! inquest began at Mispeck on Tuoeday, and was
held l»y J)r. Wm. Mayurd, coroner. Mrs. kSlavin, who
•was a tail, thin woman, of common ajipourance, gave
her evidence with great reluctance, hesitating at times
as if afraid of the consequences of her words. On some
points it was o !y by sharj) and pei'sistent questioning
tliat she could be compelled to give answers in any way
eatisiactory. ]ler manner, of itMclf, left no doubt that
ehe had more knowledge of the crime than she was
■willing to disclose. She said that a man named lircon,
or Green, had been staying at their house, renuiining
there, altogether, about fifteen nights, but that lie had
not been there for ten days vritil the previous Sunday
morning, when he came for a shirt he had left there to
he waslied. On that occasion he said lie had walked
from the city, and did not look soiled or liave any trace
of blood on his clotlies. He said nothing of any fire at
3IcKenzle's, or of a murder, and after breakfast he wont
aiway, saying he was going to J^oston or Woodstock.
She had seen nothing of him afterwards, and swore
positively that he had not been at the house during the
preceding week. She had come to the city on Monday,
leaving her family at home, and she did not know what
had become of her husband and Pat. She knew nothing
of their whereabouts, or of the fire and the fate of the
McKenzie family. When closely pressed on this point

TIIK MIMPKf'K TRA(»BI»Y.

ftho began to cry, and while thus uj;ita»c(l her second
son WHS hroji^ht into tlio room. ()ti socin/ij; him sho
broke down, and a« nho wan hcini^ taken out she ex-
cluiniod : "Oh ! Johnny, Joiinny, you won't hang your
poor father ! "

Johnny, unlike Iuh hrothrr, was a hi'ii^ht, (|ui(k wittcil
boy. On the previous Monday, he had told ("aptaiu
Scoullar that his name was [)unn, having been told by
his father to do ho- When jdaced on the stand, at tho
inquest, he gave injjtortant evidence, (juite at variancoi
with the story told by his mother.

Breen, he said, had been at their house about five
weeks, and was there e ery night. exee|)t Thursday (.f
the prt 'ous week. On Saturday morning he heard
Breen tu king with his I'atherand brother about Melven-
zie and the lotH of money ho had. After breakfast ♦ho«
three went away, saying they were going to the eiiy.
and did not return until after night. They had a bag
about tiie ^ize of a tlour saek, ami it ajjjx^ared to contain
clothing. They talkeil in whis]»ers His mother, who
had been in bed, got u]i and prepared them some supper^
before eating which they washed their hands. Jle saw^
a long ])urse in IJreen's hands, and heard him si\y that
it was heavy, lie also saw Breen wit!) a yellow vvateh
without a chain, and heard him say they had a lot of
money. The next morrnng Breen, old Slavin and Pat^
wont into the woods, about half a mile from the house^
and made a camp. None of them returned to the house,
and the only one he saw again was Pat.
. On tho following day Johnny was again put on the-
Btand, and repeated the statement. Mrs. Slavin was also
brought in again, and adhered to the story she had told.
She stated, in answer to a question, that none of tho

i\t

OLD TIME TRAGEDIES.

family had been in a place of worship for many years.

The next bit of evidence was from a man named David
Hill, who stated that as he was passing near Slavin's
house, on Sunday, he saw young Pat and John on the
road playing with a piece of money. Pat asked hira
what it was. and he told him it was a sovereign ; where-
upon Pat to) 1 him to take it and have a spree, saying
he had more money than he had ever had. Hill declined,
and told the boy ho had no right to the money. Pat
then asked him if he had heard that McKenzie's place
had been burned. After Hill had gone a short distance
he turned back and saw Pat take about five sovereigns
out of his pocket.

When Johnny was again brought into court, he con-
firmed this statement, and said he had not told about it
because he had not been asked. Being warned that he
must tell the whole truth, he made the further statement
that on Saturday night, when his father, brother and
Breen caiuc home, he sat up in bed and heard them
speak of the murder and their booty, but insiiited — pro-
bably to save his father — that Breen had killed them all.
Pat hold the candle and his father searched the house

Tho next dovolopiuont in the case was the arrest of
Bernard Heagarty. senior, and liernard Heagarty, junior,
by Captain Scoullar, at the head of Loch Lomond, on
suspicion of l>oing accessories to the murder. They
were respectively brotherin law and nephew to old
Slavin. Young Heagarty, at the inquest, on Friday,
deposed that ho had last seen Breen and the two Slavins
on the preceding morning, near his father's house. Tho
three had come to the house very early on Tuesday
morning, saying that McKenzie's house had been burned
and the family murdered, and they wished to conceal

THE MIS PECK TRAaEDY.

mt*3

themselves, as thoy were afraid they would be suspected,
though they were rot guilty. They got their breakfast
and stayed two houi^. until sunrise. They seemed very
anxious to get away and said they would go by the way
of Sussex Vale to the Bend (now Moncton) and from
there to the United States. Among other messages
given him by Slavin was a commission to get a pair of
trousers madf. lieagarty : aw the men later in the day
at a rude camp, half a mile from the house, and took
them some bread.

The tailor, iMcCallaghen, who cut the trouscrt.. pro-
duced some pieces of the cloth left, and John I). Short,
in the employ of A. & T. CJilmour, pi'oved that Mc-
Kenzie had purchased two remnants of just such cloth
some time before.

The elder lieagarty contirmedthc evidence of his son,
as to the men having been at his house and being en-
camped in the woods.

On this evidence, the coroner s Jury had no hositation
in bringing in a verdict of wilful murder against Hugh
Breen, Patrick Slavin, senior, and Patrick Slavin. Junior.

In the meantime, without waiting for the verdict a
fresh effort was made to capture the missing men. Their
wherebouts had been definitely located by- the statement
of young Heagarty, and on heai-ing this evidence, Capt.
Scouilar, with policemen Dobson and Marshall, High
Constable Stockford and others, at once started for Hea-
garty's house. Residents in the neighborhood joined in
the pursuit, and young Heagarty, who was a nephew of
Slavin, reluctantly acted as guide. "Dobson led the
▼an," as a ballad on the tragedy used to tell, and they
got within a few feet of the camp before the hunted
men heard them. Breen and old Slavin rushed out and

...!«t ,

OLD TIME TRAGEDIES.

were at once seized by Dobson and Scoullar. They
were broken down by exposure and want of food,
and made no attempt to resist. "I surrender," said
Breen quietly. Young Slavin escaped at the back of
the camp, and ran some distance, but stopped when
told he or his father would be shot if he did not come
back. His father also called him to return. He there-
upon surrendered.

George Stockford and policeman Marshall arrived
in town with old Slavin about 8 o'clock thart evening,
just six days, almost to the hour^ after the commission of
the murder.

At a later hour, Scoullar and James Stockfo'rd brought
in young Slavin, while Dobson and George Smith, oj
Beaver Lake, were in charge of Breen. The two latter
prisoners had pointed out where some of the stolen goods
were found, as well as gold to the amount of 89 sover-
eigns .

The prisoners were taken to the watch-house, near
Market Square, and on the following day were taken to
the police office, which was then on Prince William
street, a little south of the bank of New Brunswick. So
greut was the curiosity to see the criminals that the
number of people on the street between the two points
was estimated to be upwards of three thousand. After
a brief examination the prisoners were committed for
trial, and as they were taken to jail a vast crowd sur-
rounded and followed them, filling the street in front of
the jail after the doors were closed upon the murderers.
On that day and for some time afterwards there was a
brisk demand at the hardware stores for revolvers and
other weapons of defence, as the murder had created a feel-
ing of insecurity among all who Uved in lonely neighbor-

THE MISPECK TRAGEDY.

hoods. Nor, indeed, were city householders free from
the alarm consequent on the terrible tragedy. The
spirit of the times was shown by one of the advertise-
ments in the Morning News headed "Shoot the Animals "
which stated that revolvei-s that would shoot half a
dozen ruffians at a time were for sale at low prices. The
excitement in the city and surrounding country waa
intense.

\ '^.

'ffl

'2«

OLD TIMK TRAGEDIES.

HI.

TIUAL AND CONVICTION.

Judge RobertParker presided at t his circuit of the court.
Ob Thursday , the fourth of November, the grand jury-
found true bills against the three prisoners, who were
brought into court on the following day and arraigned
on charge of the murder of Robert McKenzie and his
family. Breen was the most broken down, and many
were of the belief that he was the most guilty. There
was an idea that old Slavin had been dragged into the
affair by the younger and more murderous man, but
this was a mistake, as the evideoce proved later, Breen
was prostrated because he was a coward when he found
himself brought to an account for his fearful crime.
As for young Slavin, it was difficult to decide whether
he was reckless or really insensible of the enormity of
the offence with which he was charged. His manner
was as careless as it he had merely been detected in some
boyish misdemeanor.

The indictment having been read, Breen was asked
whether he pleaded guilty or not guilty.

"Guilty!" was the immediate reply

He was then warned that such a plea would put him
in the same position as if he had been tried and convicted,
and that if he so desired, he could withdraw what he
had said, plead not guilty and have the benefit of a trial.
He declined to do so.

When old Slavin was asked to plead, he seemed in
doubt what to say, and after wriggling about for some
little time he replied, "I could not say that I am clear of it."

The court explained to him that these words were not
sufficient, and that he must plead either one way or the

THE MlSl'ECK TRAGEDY.

•other. No other reply could be got from him, however,
and a plea of not guilty was accordingly entered for
him. He said he did not want any counsel.

Pat Slavin pleaded not guilty, and the court assigned
Messrs. D. S. Kerr and A. E. Wetinore as counsel to
defend him. Some idea of the popular feeling may be
gathered from the fact that some people who met Mr.
Kerr later in the day, not understanding that he had been
assigned by the court, but supposing the prisoners had
-employed him, threatened him with the vengeance of the
public should he succeed in getting the guilty men clear.

Tuesday, the 10th, was a])pointed as the day for the
trial of the Slavins. On Monday, the old man was ar-
raigned on two indictments, one charging him with the
murder of Effie McKenzie, and the other with the murder
-of a male child, name unkwnon, offspring ol' Robert and
Effie McKenzie.

When Slavin was brought into court and ])lacod in
the dock his face had a strange, fixed look. 'd» though
his eyes saw nothing of what was around him. His
grey hairs might, under some circumstances, have ex-
•cited compassion, and even up to this time there were
some who believed he might be less guilty than Breen.
A portion of his countenance was not bad looking. He
had, indeed, a low forehead and overhanging eyebrows
which gave him a somewhat sinister look, but he had
in compensation clear blue eyes and a well shaped nose.
The lower part of his face however was of the brutal
animal class. At a later date when on the stand he at
^ne time put up his hand in such a way as to conceal
his mouth avui chin, and many were favorably impressed
by his appearance for the moment. The impression
was speedily dissipated when the hand was removed and

'ill

OLD TIMK TRAGEDIES.

the whole face shown. Perhaps a very correct estimates
was that formed by uhe editor of a city paper who was-
asked by a friend what opinion he had formed from
Slavin's looks. "I should say," was the reply, " that if
that man was working on the railway for a dollar a
day and anybody ottered him a dollar and a half to
murder a man, he would take the dollar and a half. "

The clerk of the court having read the indictment
charging him with the murder of Mrs. McKenzie, all
expected to hear the prisoner plead not guilty, for ha
had an obstinate look, which gave one an idea that he
would resist to the last. When asked whether he wae^
guilty or not guilty, his face flushed, he hesitated a mo-
ment, and in a clear strong voice he replied, "Guilty! "

This occasioned great surprise and the judge, thinking-
the old man might not have comprehended the meaning
of the qiiestion, asked him if he understood what had
been said to him. " f do," was the reply. " I ara^
guilty. "

" Do you understand the nature of this plea and it»
consequences, and that it will put you in the same
position as if you had been tried by a jury and found
guilty ? " continued the judge.

"I understand it, and I am guilty," answered Slavin..

"Shall I direct the plea of guilty to be recorded?"
asked the judge. The prisoner did not appear to under-
stand this question, and made no reply,

"I ask yon, shall I direct the ])lea of guilty to be-
entered?" repeated the judge in a very distinct tone.

"I am guilty ! That is all I have to say about it, and
I'm satisfied to die for it ; I'm reconciled," was Slavin's
response.

To the second indictment, charging him with th»

THE MISPECK TRAGEDY.

murder of the child, he said, "I'm guilty — thiii was the
only one I done by myself."

This left only young Slavin to be tried, and his trial
began the following day, Tuesday, the 10th. An im-
mense crowd had gathered around the rourt house, and
the outside stej^s were broken down in the rush that
followed the 0])ening of the doors. Both court room
and corridors were speedily packed with people, and it
was some time before the sherili" and constables could
•enforce even a semblance of order. Hundreds who
could not get into the building got on the rocks between
it and the jail, climbed the fences and secured other po-
sitions where they could see the prisoner as he jjassed.

Judge Parker presided, and the trial occupied three
days. The prosecution was conducted by Hon. Charles
Fisher, attorney-general, and Hon. Charles Watters,
solicitor-general, while Messrs. Kerr and Wetmore ap-
peared on behalf of the prisoner. The jury was sworn
in as follows : John Thomas, foreman ; Edward T.
Knowles, John H. Foster, Gr. Eogers, John Dever,
Charles E. Burnham, Henry Travis, Thomas L. Taylor,
David Merritt, Thomas H. Ellison, Simon Nealis,
William H. Tyson,

The solicitor-general, in his opening for the prosecu-
tion, pointed out the admitted fact of the murders, and
held that the three were associated together and equally
guilty. "My learned colleague and I have now to do
our duty towards the public ; you, as jurors, have also
your duty to perform," he continued. "Strong appeals
will be made to you by the counsel for the prisoner, be-
cause his life is in your hands, and his fate depends upon
your verdict. Yet, while knowing and realizing your
responsibility in this respect, you must also remember

OLD TIME TRA<iKDIES.

that, in the holding of tho scales of justice, multitudes
of lives are in your hands ; and that if the majesty of
the law is not vindicated there must be an end to j)er-
sonal security in this province."

The witnesses for the crown were William Reed, John
Robinson, John Leet, William Ilawkes, Jane Robinson,
Peter O'llare, James Robinson, Coroner Bayard, George
Knox. David Ramsay, James Hill, Robeit Pengilly,
James Peacock, John Knox, Ann Jane Knox, Thomas
McGuiro. Patrick Jlanlon. John Slavin, John Ileagarty,
Bernard Ileagarty, Mary Carrol, Rosana Carrol, Mrs.
Carrol, John D. Short, Archibald Rowan, William
Arthur. Jacob Arthur, George ScouUar, Thomas Dob-
son, William Ross, George Smith, James Stockford and
Hugh Hreen. The evidence of most of these related to
the finding of the remains and the subsequent proceed-
ings, followed by the arrest of the prisoners. All that
they had to say has been told in connected form earlier
in this narrative.

Young John Slavin repeated more in detail the story
he had told at the inquest, and the moral condition of
the family was shown by such statements as these : "I
cannot read ; Pat cannot read. T have never been at
church. Never knew father or Pat to be at church ;
mother never went. We all stayed home. We played
away our time just. * * * Have learned the Lord's
prayer ; my mother taught me. 1 have forgotten it."

Tho evidence of George Scouller, in addition to de-
tailing the capture of the prisoners, gave a statement
made by young Pat Slavin, immediately after the arrest.
"I told the prisoner at the bar that I was chief of police,
and warned him in the usual manner that what ho said
must be voluntary and without solicitation on my part.

THE MI8PECK TRAGEDY.

He then stated that Breen had got himself and father
into the difficulty. He had been working on the rail-
road, and lived about his father'H house, off and on, for
some weeks. That some time before the burning took
place, he and Breen had been out to MeKenzie's onee or
twice ; that he had been in at McKenzie's house asking
for water, and that he was induced to do so by Breen.
The Saturday before the burning, he and his father had
been digging potatoes for Knox. After they had dug
some time, Breen came up and took the Hjjade out of
his hand ; he, prisoner, went home. After he was home
some time, Breen came in after him. Breen proposed
to go out to McKenzie's that night ; he went with hira.
On the way out Breen told him it was to rob McKenzie's.
He went out, and in view of McKenzie's house Breen
left hira at the top of the hill to keep watch. After-
wards Breen went down to McKenzie's house. Breen
called at the house McKenzie lived in, went with Mc-
Kenzie to the lower house and went into the house with
a light. After a short time Breen came out alone, and
went back to the dwelling house. lie (Breen) then
went into the house, and after a short time prisoner
heard loud cries and screaming, and he her.rd something-
like a dog crying and howling. In an hour, or hour
and a half, all was quiet." * * * "I asked the boy,'
continued the witness, "if he was aware murder would
be committed before he went out ; he said he knew that
the robbery was planned weeks before tit his father's,
but he was not aware murder would be done till he
heard the screams. He then said his father had noth-
ing to do with the killing, that Breen had done the
whole of it."

An extraordinary witness was Hugh Breen, who was

I -

OLD TIME TRAQEDIES.

already convicted by his plea of guilty, and had nothing
to gain or lose by what he should say. His account of
the tragedy was in substance as has already been given.
He averred that young Slavin had been "keen" to ac-
company them ; that he was in the dwelling house, but
had no hand in the murder ; the old man did all. After
the murder was over, "we went to the yew trees below
the house, sat a little while and came up again ; heard
some of the children moaning or something. Went back
to the woods, stopped another time and came uj) again.
Prisoner was feeling hungry, got some bread in the
house, and went into the pantry and got some milk.
Pat had the key belonging to the money ; he took it out
of McKenzie's pocket. Old Slavin went with the axe in
his hand inside, and said, 'If any one comes along, slay
them, and we will go inside.' He and his son went in.
I thought, I heard the iron chest opening. They found
some money in it. They got the money, and we went
down to the edge of the w^oods and sat a little longer.
That was about eleven and a half o'clock. "We came up
again, and Slavin said it was better to put a coal in the
lower house tirst, as people might think the house took
fire and they were all burned alive. His son got some
matches in one of the rooms, and got a candle and lit it.
^ * * The son said it was better to put a coal in
this, (the straw bed in the lower house) and McKenzie
was lying alongside of the straw when it was lit. We
got a coal, set a candle to the straw, and that was all
that was wanted."

Breen's evidence closed the case for the crown, and

Mr. Wetmore opened the case for the prisoner with a

lengthy and forcible address. He severely commented

*on the calling of Breen as a witness, pronouncing his

TBS MUPSOK TRAOBDT.

(rtatementB to be untrustworthy, and Btatcd that the jury-
would have to decide whether Broen or 81avin was to
be believed, as the old man would be put on the stand.

The first point to which ho would call attention in re-
gard to young Slavin was his age. lie contended that
he was not yet responsible for his acts, that ho did not
possess the ordinary intelligence becoming his years, and
could not appreciate the enormity of the offence charged
against him. Another ground of defence was that the
prisoner did not go to McKonzie's to commit murder,
but went at his father's command, understanding that
they were to perpetrate robbery only. Murder was done
without the boy being a party to it. Three offences had
been committed — murder, arson and burglary; and if
the prisoner were acquitted on the graver charge he
could be indicted for either of the other two. Finally,
the condition of the boy's mind was to be considered .
The jury should consider the levity of his description of
these horrible crimes, when ho was arrested ; his vacant
laughter ; his carelessness of the commission of wrong,
And his evident ignorance of the consequences of crime.
Either the prisoner was not sane at the time the offence
had been committed, and not in a position to have been
reBponsible, or his reason had been affected by those
horrors. If the jury arrived at either of these conclusions,
they would acquit him.

The court room was crowded in every part when
Pjdltrick Slavin senior waa brought in to give his testi-
mony, and the coi'ridots of the court house were packed
by an eager mass of humanity. Even the ledges of the
windows were oiicupied by those who feh fortunate in
Momring such positione. There Was no available fo€it of
etanding room that was not occupied, and f&t so inteoM

OLH TIME TKAOEDIKS.

was the desire to hoar every word that perfect order
was maintained by the vast crowd. Now and then, it
18 true, a murmur of horror wouhl arise at some remark
made by the witness, and the crior would shout " Silence
in the court I " adding in an audible undertone, " Oh, the
villain ! " or some other remark expressive of the common
sentiment.

The story told by the older Slavin was, in many re-
■pects, the most extraordinary evidence ever heard in any
court in the land. This was not alone because of the rovela-
tionSjbut by reason of the stolid, nonchalant way in which
the chief criminal in a most fearful butchery told what ho
had done. There wore times when the judge, trembling
with emotion, paused in his work of taking notes to gaze
at the man in wonder and horror. So excited was the
judge that time and again, forgetting that the witness
was already condomncl beyond hope of mercy in this
world, he cautioned him against criminating himself.
Once when Slavin, in telling of setting the fire, used the
term " put a coal til it." The judge, not understanding,
made him repeat the phrase, and then said, " You mean
j'-ou set it on fire, do you ? " " Same thing, same thing,"
replied Slavin in the most matter-of-fact and indifferent
way. So it was throughout his entire testimony. His
face, with its dull, brutal expression, never changed, and
he answered the questions us if he were being interro-
gated on some common occurence in which he feltverj'
little concern. He gave no 'iidication of repentance, and^
apart from the prisoner, beseemed to be the only person
present who was unmoved by the horrible recital. i

His evidence is here given as completely as it can be
made after a comparison of different reports. In answer
to Mr. Wetmore, he said :

THE MlsrECK TRACTIDT.

"I am willing to toll tho whole truth. T am the
father of this boy. He is between fifteen and sixteen
yoai*8 of ago, as near as I can guoss. I cannot read or
write. I have not boon in tho habit of attending public
worship ; it is m »ie than a few woekn since I was in a
place of woinship. I could not say when 1 was there ; 1
don't know as I have been in such a place half a dozoiv
tiroes in the last half a dozen years. 1 have never boon
in tho habit of teaching tho boy his prayers ; think he
knows nothing about them and never learned them.
The boy is not of a bad disposition, He is of tender
feelings ; I wish I had as tender, and I would bo all
right now.

" T first knew Breen when we worked on tho railway ;
] left it soon after, and he left about the same time, f
recollect being at Fredericton six weeks or two months
ago. It was partly Breen who proposctl going there.
I was never there before, and knew no one there. Saw
a women there called Sally Golly. I went there at
Broen's suggestion ; we went for no good purpose ; we
went to rob Sally Golly if wo got any good chance.
That was our principal business ; Breen suggested it.
We talked of murdering Sally Golly, but did not come
to our purpose ; I don't doubt if I had got tho oppor-
tunity I would have put her through. Wo got one op-
portunity, but it was risky ; wo got othoi's, but they
wero all the same. It was Breen suggested it, and I
did not fail him a bit. If we had got a good chance^
and it was necessary to murder her, she would have had
a bad chance. Not succeeding in getting a chance we
came back. '

"It was myself was the head, and foundation and
backsetting, of robbing and murdering McKonzie, and

!<•

OLD TIME TBAGEDIBS.

Breen did not fail me uny ; he was no backout. I s&id
to him I thought wo could make it do. I told him Mc-
Kenzie was reported to have a good deal of money. He
was willing to go. It was after we returned from
Fredericton that we laid the plan. We came down from
Frederieton by the road, and we talked about robbing
McKenzie pretty much all along. I had no intention
of any other robbery. Breen often talked of Squire
Sharkey, but not in the way of robbing him. He told
me Mr. Corkery was a man who often carried a great
deal of money, and could be robbed. I never saw him
until the other day ; don't know as I would have
robbed him.

*' When we returned from Fredericton, Breen stopjied
at my place. We talked often of robbing McKenzie.
Policy was living in McKenzie's house. I knew Polley
well, and we put off the robbery because we did not
want to injure him. V7e knew that he was going to
leave ; if he had not left, I don't know that I would
have attempted the robbery. James Goiding, PoUey's
brother-in-law, owed me five pounds. I heard he was
going to leave the country with Polley, and I got a
capias from Squire Sharkey to catch him when he came
down. My wife went up to buy some things of Polley,
and to find out about Goiding. I never knew of Leet
until I went to McKenzie's with Brean and found him
there. T tried to find out from Leet when he was going
to leave, because there would be less trouble when he
was away, and I did not want to buve anything to do
with him. Breen knew all this. Breen sitopped a flight
with Leet, as much to find out when he waa going to
leave as anything else. Breen heurd from LeetthlMi ho
expected his fathei'ftnd mother theile on TburMkky night,

THK MI8PECK TRAGEDY.

and it was this helped to prevent our robbing McKenaio
on Thursday night. I guess that kept the murder back
that time. If he was in the way I think I would have
killed him just because he was in the way. He would
have had a bad chance. It would have been against my
own will, but I would have done it.

" Saturday night we went to McKenzie's. I did not
tell my son we were going to commit murder ; he could
not know my mind. Don't know that when going to
McKenzie's on Saturday night I asked the others to stand
to my back ; I don't allow I did, as I did not v/ant any-
one ; I was able to put it through myself. When we
got to the place, Breen made a fire in the lower house.
I was not in when he made it ; went in after it was
made. I did not put the fire out or cause Breen to put
it out ; we wanted to kee]) it going. My son was there.
Breen went for McKenzie ; I guess I told him to go ; he
was willing enough. I had no intention but to take his
life. I was standing by the fire and had my axe. I
heard them coming down. I guess my son was in and
out; should not wonder but he M'as in the house at
the time. He might have been in the kitchen. I was
in the bedroom. Ho might be in with me ; it was dark ;
was not observing Um particularly. I did not tell my
son at that time . was going to murder McKenzie.
Should not <Nonder bot he might suspect ; did not tell
him in jjfrtijular.

" McKenzie i nd BrocL came down, and he stood in the
kitchen. I v'^:\!ked out of tho bedru < , ^nd 1 said
nothing, but struck him on the breast. I was v.A in an
up-stairs room, but ore on the same tier. I struck him
with the poll of the axe. He fell. That blow did not
kill him exactly. 1 struck him five or six times on "'he

wmmm'

OLD TIME TRAQEDIES.

head and breast, and wherever it was handy. Breen
was standing by, right on the floor. My son might be
in the room when I struck McKenzie ; he might bo
within two feet of me. Do not remember seeing him
when I struck the blow. I saw him after McKenzie
was killed. I expect he came in at that time, hearing
the bustle. We stopped there no great time, not half
an hour. I searched McKenzie's body ; I did it ; I
searched all about him. "We threw him into the cellar,
not a quarter of an hour after we killed him ; think the
key dropped out of his pocket Avhen we throw him in
the cellar ; I could not tell how , but the boy first got
hold of the key.

" Breen and I went up together to the dwelling, to kill
what was in it and rob the house. I went in first ;
Breen showed me the way, for I never was in before.
I did not take the axe up with me ; Breen gave me an
axe that was standing at the door ; he put it in my
hand.

'' There was a bright light. I saw Mrs. McKenzie
sitting on a rocking chair with a child in her arms ;
there were four children altogether. When I went in I
did not speak, bat just struck her on the side of the head,
by the ear, with the axe. She struggled a good deal.
She died very hard. I think the child was killed in strik-
ing at the mother. The children screamed and cried a
little ; they did not run away, but kept about the mother.
I killed them with my own hand. I killed the whole of
thorn.

'• Breen was in and out and in and out. We searched
the house and got about a hundred pounds in money, all
in gold ; i ransacked the chest ; we found no notes.
The gold was in a purse, all together. There was no

THE MISPECK TRAGEDY.

money in the beaded purse, nor in the poilemonie, but
in the yellow cotton purse. The way of the boy was
knocking about backward and forward ; took him only
to keep watch if any one was coming. That was all I
took him for. After the murdertook some victuals, and
went out and had something to eat ; I forget who took
it out. Breon and I considered it was best to set fire to
the houses, so that no one could tell what had happened.
The lower one was set fire first. I guess we did it in
partnership. I guess we both sot the other on fire
The boy was about with us at the time, but it was Breen
and I in particular who set fire. The boy would do
nothing but as I would let him. "We left it burning ;
we did not go away until we were sure it would go. We
then went homeward. It is about seven or eight miles.
" They were partly lying down (at his home).
My wife opened the door and let us in. She might
have had, some idea of what we were going for,
but we did not tell her what we were going to do. She
would not approv^e of it. We had some supper. Money
was produced by me that night, and put on the table.
I counted it. My wife was by. I did not say plainly
what I had done ; said as much as that we put things
through. She did not want to know about it. The
money was set by in the house. The old woman got
hold of it and hid it out of the house entirely. The next
day, Sunday morning, I heard some of them say the boy
had money. I told Johnny to watch him, and he told me
the prisoner had some. When I asked it of him he at
first rather denied it ; I thought he might have got it
off the table when I was counting it overnight. I
gave back the pocket-book to the boy, and the sover-
eigns in it. J[ think Breen got only three or four sover-

.u^JUrW^rUunm

OLD TIME TRA3BDIXS.

eigns ; he had no paper money ; he got the purse a day
or two after. He went to town Sunday afternoon.
He had the long bead purse. Breen came into town, and
we afterwards went into the woods,

" I have three boys. The eldest is about fifteen or
sixteen ; the second is about ten, and the third about
seven or eight. I think my youngest child has as much
sense as Pat ; he could do no more than take money and
throw it about the road. This boy (Pat) has not sense
or reason for his age. It is as much as a bargain that
he knows xQ diffe^^ence of right and wrong on some
points or ki, ,c he value of money. I beat him some-
times severe eii« v -h. I am very severe, cruelly severe
when I begin at him. He could not have known my
mind when we went to McKenzie's. The boy had no
idea of perpetrating a murder. If he had refused to go,
I would have made him go slick. I wanted him to keep
watch. He knew that what I wanted I would have
carried out ; he knew that when I wanted him to do
anything he should do it. He is a tender-hearted boy,
and has not as much sense as a boy of his age should
have.

" He went to the woods with us. From the time of
the murder he did not look the same in my eye as he
did before. I think it was the old woman who told
them to take the things away out of the house when
they hid them. I think the old woman took the things
to the camp. When we went I do not know if the boy
accompanied or followed us. I do not remember telling
the boy to go with me when we went to the woods.
My firm conviction is that the boy did not know I meant
to murder, and that he is not quite capable to discern
right from wrong. ^

THB MISPBCK TEAOEDY.

«l

" I know that sentence of death will be pronounced
on me, and am quite satisfied to die, lot the time be short
or long. Knowing ray doom I declare I have told the
truth. I never laid out to make my escape. We had
time enough if wo liked to go, but we did not represent
to go properly."

Cross-examined by the solicitor-general. "I did not
send the children to church and did not teach them any
prayers. I never saw the prisoner at a place of worship.
I have known his mother to teach him his prayers, and
have heard him saj^ing them. She was inclined to teach
him. Patrick might have heard me and Breen talking
about the murder. I never told him particularly that
when I wanted him to go he should go. He went with
us on the Thursday night that Breen slept with Leet.
"We went that night to commit the robbery, if things
had suited. He might have had his own opinion what
we were going for. We told him nothing, but he might
have heard us talking of it. I am perfect that he had
an idea of what we were about ; we were about going
to murder the concern and rob them. We talked over
this betwixt ourselves. My son might of heard a whif
of it. W« did not let him hear the worst of things.
On Thursday we left Breen there; my son and I re-
turned together. I don't recollect if I had an axe that
day ; I rather think I had and brought it home again.
I only fetched an axe there once and broaght it home
again. My son and I might have many talks on the
way home ; I do not recollect what talk we had. He
might suspect that we did not accomplish our purpose
because Leet was lumber in the way there. I can't say
I told him that ; I might have done so.

" I next saw Breen on Friday, when he came to Knox's,

'-I

OLD TIME TRAGEDIES.

where we were working. It was understood that we
could go on Saturday night, as Leet would then be away.
Breen told me this ; my son had gone home. It was on
Saturday we arranged to go. I think Breen slept at my
house Friday night. I can't say whether my son heard
us talking of going back. I did not think it answered
to let any one but ourselves know what was going on ;
it would not be talked of in presence of my wife, as she
would not approve of it.

"On Saturday evening I, my son and Breen, went
from my house to McKenzie's ; we started pretty much
together. On the way, of course, Breen and I talked of
what we .re going to do. I can't say that my son
took any part in the conversation, and can't tell how
near he was to us. Sometimes he was walking with us
and sonic LimcH behind us. Could not say if he knew
our object. If he had been let alone I think he would
as soon stay at home. He did not refuse to go ; it was
no use.

" Breen was expected at McKenzie's that night, with
his wife ; he trysled to be there. McKenzie did not ex-
pect me. Breen went forward first and kindled a fire.
I kept out of sight, and I rather think my son did not
show himself either ; I did not allow him. We were
standing behind the house ; Breen came for us and I
went in. I cannot say if my son went in ; I did not pay
him much attention. There was a good light, and I
should not wonder but I told Breen there was too much
light, and told him to toss it up, and he did and made
less light. I went into the room to be out of the way.
I did not feel or see my son go into the room with me ;
I can't say if he was in the room with me at the time,
as I was not thinking of him. I don't think I closed

THE MISPECK TRAGEDY.

the door. I had an axe in my hand ; the axe was in
the house ; I think Breen gave it to me. Breen went of
his own election for McKenzie. I knew he was going
for him ; he told me.

" They came down and came into the house. They
were talking with their backs to the fire ; they were
talking about Breen 's wife. I rather think, when I came
out, I said she was on hand, and then struck. Breen
stood on one side to allow me liberty to strike the blow.
I might have said dead dogs tell no tales, but I think I
did not ; there was too great a bustle to notice passing
words. After I struck McKenzie I saw my son on the
floor, but I think he came in from outside at that time.
We searched McKenzie's pockets ; was nothing in them
I could find. The boy gave me the key. I rather think
that in the tumbling over the key fell out. I did not
know what key it was ; neither of us knew. I found no
money in his pockets. I put my hand in ayery pocket,
because it was said he always carried from a hundred to
a hundred and fifty pounds about him. I have no doubt
but my boy might have put his hands in the pockets ;
can't say whether he did or not. I felt no weakness.

" We threw the body into the cellar ; it remained
there until we came back from the upper house. I did
not speak to my son at all ; gave hiii no directions to go
with us to the upper house. Breen .and I went pretty
much together into the upper housa. I rather think he
stood back when I went in. We opened an inside door
before we saw Mrs. McKenzie. The front door was
opened ; we opened a door leading into a room. Breen
stopped at the door. Mrs. McKenaie and Breen talked
a few words about his wife coming before I went in ; I
made some remark, I don't remember what. There

OLD TIME TRAGEDIES.

were four children around her j there was a firo in the
fireplace.

" Breen and my son then came in. They could not do
anything. They were not fit to do anything, they were
so through one another and frightened ; one was as bad
as another. I searched the house myself. There was not
much blood on the floor. The boy looked at the clock
and told me the time, while I searched the iron chest;
the key fitted it.

" While we were going up, the conversation between
Breen and me was about killing the women and children.
I did not tell Breen to watch and kill anyone who came
along ; I did not tell my son to do anything. My son
could not do it, even if I told him ; he told me so after-
wards. When I saw how they acted, I told them, after
that I saw neither of them was of any use, or was fit for
anything of the kind, says I, ' I have it all on me, and
do neither of you even put your hand to anything of
the like of it while you are alive.' I told them so
because they were not fit for it.

" My son, I suspect, came in when we were searching
the house. I took charge of the money ; I thought I
was best entitled to it. There was no paper money, not
even a dollar. The chest was full of books and papers,
which I threw out on the floor ; I suspect they were all
burned. We went out and stayed some time and re-
turned again, and searched every place where we thought
money could be, as we thought there must be more
money ; we found no more. We then went to the
lower house. I put fire to the bed ; my son might have
done so too, but there was no occasion. I went down
myself and got the body of McKenzie up on the floor j
Breen put his hand to one of the arms and helped it up.

THE MI8PECK TRAOEDY.

fireen took some straw up with him to the upper house.
I went into the upper house and got a candle that was
lighting there. The straw was put at the door, and a
lot of firewood was piled upon it ; I set fire to it myself.
The children wore all abo.ut the fire-place, around their
mother. They were all dead at that time. Before the
fire we heard some laments ; when I came back to the
house from the fields I heard something like moans. I
suspected what it was. I am sure they were all dead
before the house was set fire to. My son did not, to my
knowledge, put any fire to the straw. I should not
wonder but my son was on the street, somewhere about,
when we set fire to it. Breen helped me.

" Breen brought away some butter. We had a carpet
bag and some bundles. All the traps were not very
heavy ; we all helped to carry them.

" When we came home I did not notice whether
Johnny got up ; he might be sitting or lying. It was
not more than twelve or one when we got home. My
wife said neither aye nor no to us, asked us no questions.
Before we went I did not tell my wife where we were going
or what we were going about ; she might have had an
opinion. She never would have been concerned in such
a thing ; she always set her face against the likee. I
did not tell her where I had been ; she did not ask me
where I got the money. I said I had put things through ;
I made the remltrk because it was the readiest at the

time.

" When I gave my wife the money she hid it. She
did not get it that night ; it was on the table, and any
of the family might have takeo sdme. I knew it would
dot be leet. I gare Patriok the pocket^ook ; there was
iioibing m it. I asked him for it again, Suaday ; be

OLD TIME TRAGEDIKH.

gave it to me. There was nothing in it and I gavd^it
back to him.

" The boy would disobey me when he got his own
liberty. He would be his own master, but I would not
allow him. T sent him part of a year to school. Lately
he hired out short spells and worked about. He was
good to work ; ho worked on the railway and Hanlon
did not pay him. I think the youngest boy, James, has
as ranch wisdom and knowledge as Patrick ; Johnny is
as wise as any of them. I suppose Patrick did not
know the error of what we were doing that night. I
suppose ho had that much knowledge that we were
doing wrong, but I know he would not do it, and could
not bo got to do it. I thought it was foolish of him to
throw the money about tho road. I showed the money
the night before ; I threw it on the table, and he took
some. He has been a kind of plothering since the mur-
der. I don't think he is as wise, or has the same idea
as some boys of his age, nothing like it.

" Though we went into the woods we did not conceal
ourselves much. We had time enough to escape, but
had no idea of clearing. If we had any idea of it
we might of been three hundred miles away. If we
had determined to clear we could have cleared in spite
of fate ; there is no mistake in that. We may have
talked of going but we never made up our mind to it.

" When Brcen and I were in the house with Leet,
Thursday night, my son came in. I spoke to him and
he spoke to me. Wo did not speak much to one another.
I did not speak to him as my son ; I don't think Leet
knew anything about him.

Ke-examined by Mr. Wetmore — " Prisoner was a good
boy to work, but kind Of ligbt and foolish. I think

THE HISPECK TBJkeBPr.

Johnny will be the smartest boy of the lot. I saw my
Bon fumbling about McKenzie's body, and should not
wonder if ho did put his hands in the pockets. I did
not see him examining the pockets.

" I never told any one but Breen what I meant to do.
I did not tell my boy what we were going to do ; I
womld not tell him, because it would be imprudent.

" I am just as well satisfied I did not escape. I killed
all the concern, and think I ought to die for it I
would never have done any good after making such a
wreck, and I am satisfied I would have gone on and done
worse. II I had known the error of everything before
as well as I do, I would have been clear of it. I am
satisfied to swing for it."

The effect of this recital upon the hearei s cannot be
described. Those who were present and are alive at this
time, speak with horror of their feelings on that day.

The only other witness for the defence was George
Thomas, who had been employed about the jail, looking
after the irons of the prisoners. He gave his testimony
that the prisoner seemed very foolish and careless while
in confinement. Also that he had said his father had
compelled him to go to the McKenzie's, and that if he
had known they were going to kill people he would not
have gone. He had said his father sometimes flogged
him very severely. "The boy is no idiot nor one of the
shrewdest boys," concluded the witness. " He seems a
particularly ignorant and awkward boy. I do not think
there is any foolishness about him. The boy is very
ignorant and knows nothing of his soul. I J t ic the
laiigh shows an ignorant vacancy of mind. It seems a
habit."

At the opening of the court on Friday, November .J.3;,

OLD TIME TRAOBDIBvS.

Mr. Kerr addressed the jury on behaif of the priflotier.
After commenting on the horrible nature of the crime,
he contended that the boy was not accountable, »iid
that ho had not acted with malice aforethought. It was
clear the boy took no part in the killing. The evidence
of the father, in the last testimony he should ever give
until he appeared before his God, was that the boy took
no part in the murder. One thing might appear hor-
rible to them, that after those murders were perpe-
trated, the boy should have sought for food and have
eaten ; but they should remember what boys were, how
strong with them are the cravings of appetite, and that
this lad had had no dinner and had walked nine miles.
Commenting on the evidence, Mr. Kerr held that except
that he had picked up the key, there was nothing to fix
any act of the tragedy on the prisoner. This act was of
little importance, as they did not know the value of the
key when they got it. The jury should reflect in what
way a man who so coolly detailed all the particulars oi
that horrid massacre committed by him would train such
a boy as this ; the boy, following his father, was in flkct
little more than as a dog. The law held that an infant
under fourteen was not accountable for crime ; and if it
were shown that a boy over fourteen was more ignorant
and simple than most boys under fourteen, he should
also be held incapable of crime. Everything proved
that this boy was simply, incapable of 'distinguishing
duffidently between right and wrong, igv^ttkut of the
value of money and not theiperson to form iaity concort
to commit this crime. The real and only proper test In
the case was ibis : Was the boy of sufficient oapiaQitsr,
when his father ordered him to accompany him on I^Mit
^tecasiob, to reAise and si^y, "No, fWther I mill m^ go

THE MIRPEGK TRAOKDT.

vfiih you. I will ovon prevent you from going, for 1
•will go to Justice Ilawkos. I will go to the nearest jua-
tice of the peace to toll him you arc about to commit
murder, and I will prevent you from the crime. That
is what religion and the law requires I should do."
That was the true standard. He had the commands
and training of his wicked father on the one hand, and
no instruction or knowledge of his duty on the other.
Let the jury ask themselves if they could hereafter feel
satisfied in their consciences for sending this boy to exe-
cution on the evidence before them. Mr. Kerr referred
to the case of the boy Burgan, hanged for stealing, and
the feelings respecting his execution that had since pre-
vailed in the community. In that instance, as in this,
the boy was known to be weak of intellect. He prayed
the jury to have mercy on this poor boy, and on his
mother, about to be a widow. It Vk-.^^ theirs to feel and
show mercy, in this case.

The prisoner was then asked by the court if he had
anything to say, and after consultation with his counsel,
he replied in the negative.

The Attorney General made a lengthy and able argu-
ment in closing for the prosecution. The evidence
impressed on him the conviction that the boy was of a
most diabolical nature, and was not fit to be set loose on
this country. The jury should look at his conduct before
they act, during its perpetration and after. Unless the
boy knew beforehand that some diabolical act was to be
dx>ne he woUjd never have acted ^.^he did. Reviewing
the various facts brought out by tKe e^l^eiige, he held
they proved the prisoner's capacity and his' complicity in
the crime. To say that a boy who could act as he did,
4Uid who after the family were slau^hterjpd and the

OLD TIME TRAGBDIBB.

bodies were lying about bleeding, could go in and eat
bread and drink milk, had no complicity in what was
done, would be to insult the intelligence of the jury. It
had been said that the boy was under the duress of his
father, but that could not exculpate him. Look at hie
conduct after the murder, his flying with the conscious-
ness of guilt. The story he had told Hill was a very
important test of the boy's capacity. The flight of the
boy at the time of the arrest was no proof of imbecility.
The harshness of his father had nothing to do with the
case. The only question in regard to the murder was
what part the boy took, and there seemed such a con-
currence of circumstances proving his complicity that he
could not escape from it. The counsel for the prisoner
had talked of sympathy. He (the Attorney General)
had as much sympathy as most men, but his sympathy
was drowned in the blood of that murdered woman,
swallowed up in the groans of McKenzie, and if he could
have any sympathies left the cries of those poor children
would rob him of the last vestige of such feeling. In
such a case he believed the sternest justice was mercy.
Talk of sympathy,— and mercy! — when in a moment,
without an opportunity to offer up a prayer to the ever-
livihg God, father, mother, even the little, prattling
children, were hurried into eternity. At such a moment
he could know nothing of his feelings as a man ; they
were overwhelmed by his sense of duty to the God of
j iBstice and to his country. His duty and the. duty of
tlie jury were alike in this respect, and thig^ feeling they
must perform, not heeding vhat was said here or there,
but doing what was right. They stood between the
living and the dead ; they stood as sentinels on a watob
tdwer ; and if in this vast wilderness of crime, spread out

THE MISPECK TRAGEDY.

before their eyes, they could discover one beacon light
which would warn tliem to doubt, let them give the
prisoner the benefit of it. But mercy might bo mis-
placed. If a misplaced mercy allowed every criminal to-
escape, no m9,n's life, nor that of his wife and children
could be safe ; no man's property would be secure.
These nothing could preserve inviolate but strict and
impartial justice. For himself, entertaining, as he had,
peculiar views concerning the death punishment, he must
say his opinions had been shaken by the horrors and cir-
cumstances of this case ; and he was compelled reluc-
tantly to believe that nothing but the certainty of a
dreadful fate would deter some minds from crimes like
these. This case stood out in bold relief from all others,
hideous in its enormity, and would be spoken of for
many generations. For himself, he felt relieved that
the agony was nearly over, and that he would be freed
from the intense anxiety he had felt. What was to be
done that day could not be undone. The jury had a
solemn duty to perform. Let no consideration withdraw
tbem from a fixed and stern datermination to do justice
between the offendipd majesty of the law and the prisoner
at the bar. That which was justice now would be mercy
hereafter.

Amid a silence so profound as to be painful to the
senses, and with every evidence of deep emotion, the
venerable Judge Parker began his charge to the jury.

It was clearly shown, he said in the course of his re-
marks, that murder had been committed. The question
they had to determine was whether there .was sufficient
.evidence that the priBoner at the bar was aiding and
abettiog in the dreadful act. If they were convinced
that he was so aiding and abetting, they would find him

OLD TIME TRAGEDIES.

guilty. If it were not proven to their full satisfaction,
«nd beyond a reasonable doubt, they would find him
not guilty. And whatever they might think of the
guilt or innocence of the unfortunate prisoner at the
bar, they must all be disposed to pity him for the cir-
cumstances under which he had been brought up.
Without the commonest rudiments of teaching, without
any religious instruction, without the least idea of prayer,
his was a lamentable case.

The prisoner at the bar was not charged as acces-
■ory, but with aiding and abetting the actual committers
of the murder in the execution of the crime. Any per-
son who was present at the committing of such a crime,
or witLin sight and hearing of the fact, and knowing the
<;rlme was to be committed, or kept watch to see that
none interrupted the actual murderers, was guilty of the
offence of being principal in the second degree,and liable to
the penalty for murder. There could be no question, in
this case, that the prisoner was present at the murder,
that he kept watch for the actual murderers and that he
helped to carry away the produce of the robbery. All
these facts showed that the prisoner was present with
the others, not leaving them at all ; not only present,
i^ven, but actually taking part in the crime.

The fact of going to the house of the murdered
people, and staying there, was not denied, but two
grounds were relied on to save the prisoner. First, that
he was not of an age to make him liable for his acts in
the eye of the law, and that this was coupled with
imbecility of mind. But the boy was clearly not under
fourteen years of age ; in that respect there could
«learty be lio p'resumption of law in his favor. Not
i)eing entitled to the advantage of the law holdihg

THE MISPECK TRAGEDY.

infante prime facie irresponsible, it was for the prisoner
to prove to the satisfaction of the jury that he was
imfcecile.

The next ground on which the defence rested was
coercion. It was said his father coerced him to aid and
abet the commital of these murders ; but there could be
no such coercion. It was the prisoner's duty to discover
the crime, he was in no such relation to his father as to
be sompelled to witness such a deed, and no attempt
was made either to show he resisted his father, or that
the father even threatened him if he did not go. Such
a presumption in fact as that a son could be coerced by
his father did not exist ; and in fact existed in no relation
of life, save only, in some cases, in that of the relation
of a wife to her husband. The law presumes that a
child cannot be coerced by its parents, but at the same
time, it does not exclude proof of coercion ; and ho was
bound to tell them that in this case there was no evid-
ence of distinct coercion. What had been said of the
father's general severity and the command he exercised
over his children was no proof at all.

The next and great point raised on behalf of the
prisoner was that, though the son knew of the combina-
tion and knew of the robbery, he did not know that
personal violence was to be committed. There was no
presumption in law that because a person was not
actually present at a murder therefore he was not aiding
it. But if he were not present and were not aiding,
that fact was susceptible of proof, and if proved, would
lead to an acquittal. In regard to this point, then, they
would have to consider the conduct of the boy before
the act, during its commission and afterwards.

The facts being clearly proven, it lay on the prisoner

OLD TIME TRAGEDIES.

to show either that he wanted capacity, that he was
under coercion or that he was ignorant of right and
wrong. And here the jury had a most solemn duty to
perform, and however much they might pity the
jirieoner they must do their duty to the country ; for
though much had been said about mercy, all they could
do in mercy was to see that the prisoner had a fair
trial.

In adverting to the evidence of the different witnesses,
the judge remarked that he certainly had been unpre-
pared for the cool testimony of Slavin and Breen. He
had almost doubted his own identity when the man
Slavin told the tale of these frightful murders with so
calm and collected an air. A cooler witness be had
never seen on the stand, and he was astonished at the
calmness of that extraordinary man.

The jury were to consider whether the prisoner was so
wanting in sense as not to be held criminally answerable
for any act. Were they satisfied that the boy, though
knowing of the robbery, went, judging by his condition
at the time, ignorant of the intent to "put it through,"
as his father had said ? If he w£^s of sufBcient age, if
he was of sufficient capacity, and what was his conduct,
were matters for the jury to judge. With these ques-
tions to be determined, he would leave the case in their
hands.

In the course of the charge during the reading of the
evidence, and especially that of Breen and Slavin, Judge
Parker was deeply affected. At times he could scarcely
speak, by reason of the emotion he felt, and the tears
ran down his cheeks as he read aloud the story of the
slaughter of the helpless children.

The jury retired and after deliberating about half an

THE MISPECK TRAQEDT.

!hour, returned into court where the usual queBtions were
put and answered as follows :

The clerk — Gentlemen of the jury, are you agreed upon
your verdict ?

The foreman — We are.

Clerk — How say you ? 1 )o you find the prisoner at
the har guilty or not guilty of the offence with which
he stands charged ? •

The noise of the jostling of the eager crowd had by
this time subsided, and in the deep silence every ear was
strained to hear the answer. There was a murmur of
relief when the foreman replied in a clear voice ;

« Guilty!"

The buzz of excited whispering was hoard in the crowd,
but died away a little later. The foreman, after a pause,
again addressed the court.

" I am requested by the jury," he continued, " to
recommend the prisoner to the merciful consideration of
the court, both on account of his youth and the bad
example that has hitherto been set him."

" Gentlemen, your recommendation shall be forwarded
to the proper quarter," replied Judge Parker. '

The prisoner, who seemed, from his manner, to^ be less
interested in the matter than anybody present, was then
remanded, to be brought up for sentence at a future
date.

OLD TIME TRAGEDIES.

,« I

IV.
THE FATE OF THE GUILTY.

During the time the jury were absent, young Slavin-
had been removed from the dock and taken back to the
jail. Presently the constables were heard returning and
the excitement was great when it was seen that they
brought with them the elder Slavin and Breen. The
two were placed in the dock; and amid what seemed
like a breathless silence, the attorney general prayed
judgment of the court in their case.

" Patrick Slavin and Hugh Breen, what say you why
sentence of death should not be passed on you ?" asked
the clerk of the court.

" I'm satisfied, sir," replied Slavin. Breen was silent.

Proclamation having been made. Judge Parker then
addressed the prisoners as follows :

" Hugh Breen and Patrick Slavin, although you have
pleaded guilty on two separate indictments, the evidence
and your own statements show that your offence was
one, and warrant me in addressing you together. In;
your own solemn confession, you stand here, before the
face of your country, two convicted murderers." ("Yes,
sir," assented Breen.) " And though the circumstances
of your guilt are not the same, the crime is the same.
The extent of your crime is fearful to contemplate ; it is
such as was never before known in this, and perhaps
not in any other, country. You Jeliberately planned
and perpetrated this murder under the most atrocious
circumstances — circumstances that have filled everyone
with feelings of horror and alarm, so that because of
your conduct many persons are afraid to pursue their

THE MI8PECK TRAGEDY.

usual avocations. You killed this man, his wife and
four little children, for the sake of possessing yourselves
of a little money a man had acquired by honest industry
for the support of himself and his family ; and now you
stand as a terror and warning to all evil-minded persons
who desire to take by force the property of their neigh-
bors. I hardly know what to say to you under such
circumstances. You yourselves seem to be sensible of
the awful position in which you stand. I can only urge
upon you the most complete repentance while yet there
is time ; I can only entreat you to ask mercy of your
Gcd, who alone can pardon you. Here you must be
held up as an awful example of the effects of crime, but
there your petition may not be in vain. You have time,
though this was not granted to those who were your
victims. Make good ase of that time. Send for the
ministers of your religion ; address yourselves to the
Lord in heartfelt, earnest prayer ; and may He, through
the precious merits of His Son, grant you pardon.

" It only remains for me now to pronounce the awful
sentence of the law — that you, Hugh Breen, and you,
Patrick Slavin, be taken hence to the place from whence
you came ; and thence, on Friday, the eleventh day of
December next, to the place of execution, and that there
you be hanged by the neck, each of you, until you are
dead ; and may the Lord God have mercy on your
souls." -

During the solemn words of the sentence the con-
demned men seemed no more affected than at any time
during the trial. Breen stood in one corner of the dock
looking straight at the judge, and Slavin stood in the
other corner with his head down. Imm^iately after
the sentence they were removed to jail, young Slavin

OLD TIME TRAafiDIEH.

brought back and the verdict of the jury given in his
case, as already related.

One week later, on the afternoon of Friday, the 20th
of November, young Slavin was again brought into court
and placed in the dock for sentence. He showed no
more sense of a realization of his position than on any
previous occasion. When told to stand up, he rose and
immediately sat down again, but on being informed that
he must remain standing he rose again, folded his arms
and assumed an attitude which betokened neither agita-
tion, fear, shame nor sorrow. He made no reply when
asked if ne had anything to say why sentence of death
should not be passed on him. Judge Parker then
delivered sentence as follows :

" Patrick Slavin, junior, you stand in as dreadful a
position as any man can stand, and I hope, therefore,
you will attend to what I now say to you. You were
charged with having aided your father and Hugh Breen
in the murder of Robert McKenzie, and after a most
patient and attentive consideration of your case, after
all that able counsel could do in your behalf, a most
respectable, intelligent and impartial jury have found you
guilty. There never was a verdict received with more
approbation. I fully concur with that verdict, for the
evidence was such as to bring conviction to every man
that you were guilty.

" A more barbarous murder hi s never been perpe-
trated, and it is difficult to find any palliating circum-
stances in your conduct on that occasion. You were
evidently not void of understanding, for you invented
several stories to relieve yourself from the burden of your
punishment,^nd one of these alleged that the prisoner
Breen had struck the fatal blow There can be no doubt

THE MISPECK TEAGEDY.

that you knew what the intentions of your accomplices
were. When Breen went for McKenzie, when your
father waited in that dark room with the axe in his
hand, and you were with him, you must have Itnown
what his intentions were ; and when MoKonzie came to
the house and was struck down before he could utter
one word, what was your conduct ? You did not inter-
pose to save him ; you did not attempt to alarm him or
ask that he might be spared ; nor did you, when the
deed was done, fly in terror or show in any way that
you had not expected it, but you hovered around and
searched the lifeless body for plunder. "What was your
conduct after that? Keen for the work, to use the
expression of Breen, you coolly and deliberately went
with them to the other house and looked on while, with
another axe, your father killed that poor woman, and
then with a brutality unparalleled, struck down the
little children who huddled around her. I do not know
if there is any recorded case so horrible, so brutal as
this. Yet you looked on it all. When you returned to
the house again, you heard the moans of the wretched
victims, yet you assisted your father in searching the
house for the plunder you sought. What was your
conduct when you returned home ? While your father
narrated to your mother and your little brothers the
horrible deeds he had committed, you coolly inquired
what part of the clothes of the murdered man you could
appropriate to your own use.

All this fully j)roves that, if your conduct has not
been as black and dark as that of the two principals in
this crime, it has been black and dark enough. And
it leads to the question if, at the age of sixteen, you were
as capable of so great a crime, what will you be ten

OLD TIME TRAGEDIES.

years hence, should your life bo spared ? And were it
not that the two others convicted of the same crime seem
even more guilty than you, it is probable that you would
pay the extreme penalty of the law. But the jury, con-
sidering the want of proper instruction and the dreadful
example set by your father, as well as his harshness,
have recommended you to mercy. As the demands of
justice would seem to be satisfied in this case by the death
of the two greater criminals, I have not thought it
inconsistent with my duty to recommend to His Excel-
lency, the Lieutenant (rovernor. Her Majesty's represent-
ative, that the mercy prayed for by the jury be extended
to you. [ can now give you hope that your life will
be spared ; but I can hold out no hope that you will
again be let loose on the community, although it is not
for me to say what may be the effect of penitence and
years of good conduct. The clemency of the country
will always be granted to the deserving. I implore you
therefore, in the rest of your life to strive for a sincere
and heartfelt repentance and an earnest effort to amend.
You have already while in jail, received some instruc-
tions ; lot me exhort you in the future to hearken to
instruction and profit by it. The story you told Mr.
Scoullar, and the cunning with which you strove to
relieve your father and throw the weight of guilt on
Breen, show that you do not lack intelligence. You
will now get the opportunity of amending if you choose.
While in the penitentiary you will meet with many
entering on the paths of crime. These you should warn
of the evils of such a course, and you should, by your
whole conduct and demeanor, prove your sorrow for
your crime and your gratitude for the mercy shown you.
Let me entreat you to reflect and repent of the past, and

THE MI8PECK TRAGEDY.

to earnestly pray to Almighty God to softou your heart.

" In accordance with the verdict which has been rend-
ered, it is now my duty to pass upon you the sentence
which the law prescribes for your crime. The sentence
of the court is that you, Patrick Slavin, junior, be taken
hence to the place from whence you came, and on
Thursday, the fourth day of March next, to the place of
execution ; and that there you be hanged by the neck
until you are dead, and may the Ijord God have mercy
on your soul "

Young Slavin appeared to be little affected by the
sentence and walked back to jail with as little appear-
ance of concern as he had shown at any time during the
trial. When it was explained to him in his cell that he
would probably have to stay in prison for the rest of his
life, he seemed somewhat cast down, but soon resumed
his careless demeanor and amused himself with a slate
and pencil on which he was accustomed to make rude
attempts at drawing.

Quite different was the behaviour of his father and
Breen. Old Slavin, after his sentence, professed to be in
great remorse for what he had done, and went so far as
to say that he did not think hanging was a sufficient
punishment for his offences. He told the sheriff much
more than be had admitted on the trial, showing his
crimes in a still darker light, but the disclosures he made
were not given to the public and it is not necessary to
revive them n.pw.... -

Breen broke down completely when taken back to
the jail, and proved himself as great a coward as he had
been a villain. He wept and bewailed his crimes and his
fate night and day, and appeared so despondent that one
Would suppose that every precaution would have been

(>1>l) TIME TRAOEDIES.

taken to prevent any attom])t at suieido on his part.
Apparently it was assumed that ho would not have the
counigo to take his own life, for though a special guard
was placed over him, nobody stayed in the coll ; and a»
was found when too late, the moans of self-destruction
were easily within his roach.

On Sunday evening, the fith of December, between
six and neven o'clock, Miss Croighton, daughter of Nu-
gent Croighton, the Jailer, went to the wicket of Brcen's
coll and culled him. Getting no answer, she opened the
door and went in, when she found the wretched man
had put an end to his life by hanging himself with a
silk neck handkerchief Less than half an hour before
a visitor had been talking to him through the wicket,
and it is evident that Breen had everything in readiness
to carry out his purpose as soon as he was free from ob-
servation. Fastened as he was by a chain stapled to the
floor, he had but a limited opportunity to move around,
but procuring a piece of wood about three feet long, ho
got on his bedstead, which was in a corner, rested one
end of the stick on a cleat against the wall and the other
end on a nail in the other wall. Fastening his handker-
chief to this and making a noose around his throat he
allowed his body to fall forward until ptrangulation
resulted.

Among those who arrived soon after the discovery
was Eev. J. Peterson, who had been Breen's spiritual
adviser. With great self possession he held the body
until it was cut down, but life was already extii and
any attempt at resuscitation was useless.

A coroner's jury censured the sheriff an a officials
f#r negligence, and there was renewed exciteuiimt avr <ng
the citiiens when it was learned that Breen had ch ated

TOE MISPlrK TEAfTRDT.

«3

t\t galiowrt. On the following day more than u thous-
Mid people visited the jail and viewed the body.

Slavon was hanged by due process of law, and mot Ms
dewth flraaly T.ie night before the execution, the f>)l-
lowing statement was prepared at his request and
assented to by hi ra.

"I, Patrick Slavin, feeling the hour of my oxecutioD
close at luiiid, wish it as a last request that the j)ul»lic
be informed after my death that I am now penitent,
and acknowledge the hoinousness of my crime and the
justice of my punishment. I desire to return thanks to
the sheriff, Mr. Johnston, for any kindness ho lias shown
to me, so great a criminal, so far as was consistent with
his duty. I also thank Mr. "Willis, Mr. Thomas and the
others who were in charge over me, for any kindness
and sympathy they have shown me. I feel grateful
both to my clergymen for their persevering attention in
bringing mo to a proper knowledge of ray guilt, and in
making me sensible of my religion, and the Divine
Mercy ; and also to those ladies who consoled me by
their advice and religious instruction. I die forgiving
every one in this world, especially those whose duty is to
carry out the ends of justice ; and as I forgive, so I hope
to be forgiven, trusting in the goodness and unbounded
mercy of my Divine Eedeeraer; and may my wicked
lifte and melancholy end be a timely warning to others
who neglect their duty to God and religion.

"Signed in my cell in the jail, December 10th, ten
o'chwjk at night.

• Hit

" In th« presence of Patrick X Slavin,

Patrick J. Oasey. Mark.

WStnest, Thomas Budge."

i,4 ■>

OLD TIME TRAQEDIES.

At that time the jail had not the baseiuent story
which is now part of the jailer's residence, and the only
street entrance was in what is now the second story,
just above the present door. This had a large stone
porch, and was reached by a flight of stone steps leading
down to the street. The centre cell in the upper story
was the drop room, or execution chamber, and a hinged
grating led from it to the gallows, built out on the
street from the top of the porch, the supports resting on
the ground. The trap door of the platform was held
by a line passing into the jail, the cutting of which
would cause the trap and its human burden to drop.
Everything, except the act of cutting the line, was in
full view of the public. The execution was under
direction of Sheriff Charles Johnston, who personally
attended to the details placing the criminal on the drop
and affixing the rope to the cross-beam over head. I
believe ho also cut the rope supporting the drop, though
many had an idea that this was done by Gerge Thomas,
an armourer, whose duty it had been to inspect the
chains of the prisoners day by day to see that they
were secure. This was the Mr. Thomas mentioned in
Slavin's last statement ; the Mr. Willis was John Willis,
deputy sheriff. ... , ■■

The morning of Friday, the 11th of Decembei^j 185*7,
was clear and coll, with just a little snow on the ground.
The hour for the execution was fixed for 10 o'clock, but
long before the hour a vast crowd had gathered on
King street east, or Great George street, as it was then
called. There was a crowd, too, in the old burial ground,
in the King Square, on the Block House Hill (the rock
running eastward from King and Carmarthen streets,
and since cut away) and eveiy poUvt where, a view

1 i

THE MISPECK TRAGEDY.

•could be had was occupied. Many women were among
the spectators. The city police and a detachment of
troops from H. M. 62nd regiment surrounded the scaffold,
and formed a line impervious to the surging mob.

Slavin appeared firm to the last, though it is said
there was a tremor in his legs as he stood on the fatal
drop. Before leaving his cell, he expressed his willing-
ness to die, if he could thereby expiate his crime. He
walked with a steady quiet step, and did not utter ♦
word after reaching the scaffold. lie was dressed in
dark trousers and waistcoat, but no coat, and a clean
white shirt. Very little time elapsed from his appear-
ance until the drop fell. The sheriff having adjusted
the rope returned into the Jail. Prayers were said by
Rev. John Sweeney, and the chief of the McKenzie
murderers met his merited fate.

The hanging was what is technically known as a good
Job, and the only observable motion of the limbs was the
momentary Jerking up of one leg. The distance of the
drop was well proportioned to the weight of the man —
a vital point in this style of execution — and the neck
was broken. Life was wholly extinct when the body
was taken down, thirty-five minutes later, and examined
by Drs. Travers and Hairs.

Thus ended the eighth life, and, it may be, the ninth,
brought violently to a close in connection with the Mis-
peck tragedy, and all for the sake of a hundred pounds in
gold.

The hanging of Siavin was the last public execution
in ISt. John, and he was the last man hanged here on the
old but efficient style of gallows with a drop.

OLD TIME TRAGEDIES.

WAS THEEE A FOUKTH MAN?

Whether the life of Slavin was the eighth or the ninth
yielded up in the Mispeck tragedy must be judged ac-
cording to the degree of credence attached to the oath
of young Slavin. His story was accepted at the time
as true.

On Sunday, the 13th of December, two days after the
execution of old Slavin, some boys wandering in the
woods at Little Eiver, between Slavin's house and the
city, found the body of a man with the head separated
from the trunk and ]ying some distance from it. The
head was lying with the face upwards, and a good deal
of the flesh had been gnawed away by animals of some
kind. The body, which was frozen, was lying breast
downward, and had also been disturbed by animals.
The left hand appeared to bo in an attitude of defence.
Apart from the jagged edges of the flesh which indi-
cated that the neck had been gnawed before the head
was carried away, there seemed to be a clean cut, as if a
knife had been used on the throat. The body was
brought to the city and an inquest begun.

The remains were identified as those of Henry Stewart,
a resident of St. John, who had formerly been in the
employ of Eben Hatheway. and who had been suspected
of being mixed up with the loss of some money by that
gentleman, some months before. Stewart had disap-
peared from St. John previous to the date of the Mc-
Kenzie murder, and his whereabouts had been unkno'vn.

Previous to the inquest on Stewart's body, u great
sensation was caused by the rumor that young Slavin,.

THE MISPECK TRAGEDY.

(JT

who was then in the penitentiary had made a confession
that there had been a fourth man implicated in the
murder and that he had been killed by Breen. This
was corroborated at the inquest by the evidence of John
Quinton, warden of the penitentiary. He deposed that
young Slavin had made a confession to him and the
captain of police, in the penitentiary to the following
effect :

That on the night of the McKcnzie murder, while
they were returning home, they met a man at the place
where the road to Slavin's house turned. The man
seemed to be there by appointment of Breen, who
coughed as a signal. The two had a conversation and
Breen gave the man a heavy tin box, which he carried
in the direction of the city. The description of the man
agreed with that of Stewart. When Breen returned to
Slavin's after going to the city on Sunday, ho said he
had killed this man with a knife and that the box was
to be sent to Fredericton.

The inquest was adjourned to the penitentiary on the
following day and the convict Slavin told a very clear
story. He said he had heard the name of Henry Stewart
mentioned by Breen the night of the murder, after they
had gone home. On that night he had seen a man
Breen called Stewart, about five miles on the city side
of McKenzie's. his man was in the bushes and fame
upon them suddenly. Breen said, " you did not go back
nothing," and they drew aside in conversation. At last
Breen gave the man a heav}' tin box, brought from
McKenzie's, and said ; "you can leave that at Ramsay's ;
take good care of that and leave it where I tell you j
don't forget." The man went away with the box.
Breen went into the city the next day, Sunday, to meet

OLD TIME TRAGEDIES.

this man with the tin box. He returned Monday morn-
ing and said ho had killed the man. " I put him out of
the way, at any rate; he won't tell no tales." Young
Slavin asked him what man he meant, and he replied,
" Stewart, the man you saw that night." lie said he had
killed him with a knife, by cutting his throat when some
distance out of town. Old Slavin told Breen that may
be it was better that he ,had killed Stewart. Breen did
not bring the tin box with him. It was said to contain
gold, which was to be divided aftervvards. Breen said
the man had not left the box at Ramsay's, and that was
why he had taken his life. It was believed that Stewart
had hidden the box. Young Slavin's description of
Stewart agreed with that of the dead man.

At the inquest on the previous day, Johnny Slavin
had sworn that he had heard no mention of a tin box,
or of a fourth man connected with the murder.

Margaret Lindsay, at whose house Stewart had boarded,
deposed that she had last seen him on a Saturday, about
seven weeks before, which would be the day of the
murder, and Alexander Lindsay also testified to his
having disappeared on a Saturday, though he was not
positive about the date.

The only negative evidence, in addition to that of
Johnny Slavin, was given by Sheriff Johnston. He
deposed that while Breen and Slavin had constantly
talked to him, in jail, of what they had done, and had
admitted much more than came out in the evidence,
there had been no reference to a fourth man in lh6 party.
Slavin had described several of his projects for murder-
ing people, but made no mention of a man named
Stewart. The sheritf, from his knowledge of young

> ,

THE MISPECK TRAGEDY.

SlaYiu, the convict, would not believe him, and did not
think he could tell the truth if he tried.

The coroner's jury took a different view however, and
returned a verdict of wilful murder against Hugh Breen.
This verdict met with popular acceptance, and few
doubted that the convict had told the truth. It is
probable he did. Even had he, from no apparent motive,
invented the story of a fourth man, he could not have
made it agree so fully with the circumstances as to the
description of Stewart, nor could he have guessed that
Stewart disappeared from St. John on the day preced-
ing the night of the murder. Thus it would appear that
nine lives were brought to an end by the Mispcck
Tragedy

OLD TIME TRAGEDIES.

VI.

CJONVICT AND FUGITIVE.

The sentence of death passed upon Patrick Slavin,
junior, having been commuted to that of imprisonment
for life, he was sent to the St. John penitentiary on the
30th day of November, 1857, and remained there for
almost fourteen years, when he made his escape on the
second attempt to gain his liberty, the first having been
made a few years after his conviction.

Slavin received instruction during the time he was in
prison, and was well behaved, as a rule, though he had
an ugly temper and was known to be dangerous when
provoked. On one occasion, in an altercation with a
fellow convict, in one of the workshops, he made an
attack with a pitchfork and would have taken summary
vengeance had he not been prevented by the guard.
The convicts were employed in the making of brushes,
brooms, pails, etc., and Slavin was put at one class of
work or another, as occasion required.

The warden of the prison was John Quinton, and ho
frequently visited the city in the evening, taking his
own conveyance. Some well conducted convict attended
to the stable, and in 18T1 Slavin was the man who per-
formed that duty.

On the evening of Monday, the 18th of September, in
the year last named, Ward eft Quinton had his horse har-
nessed by Slavin and drove into the city. After he had
gone, Slavin told a keeper that the warden had ordered
him to stay around until his return, in order to care for
the horse. Jn the easy way in which the institution was
run in those times, this explanation seemed reasonable,
and Slavia appears to have been left to his own devices.

THE MISPECK TRAGEDY.

When the warden returned, at a quarter to nine, the
prisoner had disappeared.

It was found that the escape had been carefully-
planned and carried into effect. Slavin had managed to
secrete a board around the yard, had nailed cleats to it,
and placing this convenient ladder against -the south wall
of the stockade, had scaled the enclosure and disappeared
in the darkness. Nor did he go empty-handed, as the
following articles were found to be missing from the
room of one of the keepers ; A black broadcloth frock
coat, with velvet collar and long skirt ; a black silk vel-
vet waistcoat ; a pair of checked trousers ; a gingham
shirt ; a black silk velvet necktie ; a black cloth cap ; a
pair of mauve colored kid gloves ; two silk pocket hand-
kerchiefs and six dollars in money. In short, ho had a
very respectable outfit, and needed only a silk tile to
complete his costume as a gentleman of leisure.

All search for him proved in vain, but a reward of one
hundred dollars was offered for his capture ; his descrip-
tion was published in the newspapers. He was described
as 5 feet 6^ inches tall, of stout build, dark hair and
beard closely cut, and one of the marks of identification
was that he never looked anyone steadily in the face.

Three days later, on the afternoon ol Thursday, the
21st, II. F. Yavasour, of Fredericton, saw a weary look-
ing traveller on the highway at Vanceboro, Maine, just
over the St. Croix river, which is the boundary between
Canada and the United States at this point. Mr. Vava-
sour had read the papers, and at once suspected this man
to be the escaped prisoner. To verify his opinion he
went to the store of Hill & Fraser and read the descrip-
tion again, after which he remarked that he could put
his hand on Slavin in two minutes. Going out, he ac-

i^\

'IV

. 1

1 .

OLD TIME TRAGEDIES.

costed the stranger and asked him who he was. The-
man replied that his name was Chambers, that he be-
longed to Montreal and was making his way homo on
foot, having lost all his money in the Eenforth boat
race at St. John, a few weeks before. lie further said
that he was hungry, as he had found the settlers along
the road to be a hard lot, and that he had only had ono
meal since Monday. He then inquired if there was u
brush factory in that part of the country.

This question confirmed the suspicion that he had
escaped from the penitentiary, and Vavasour concluded
to watch and follow him. The stranger then went into
the store and purchased a hat and a pair of socks. In

prying for these articles the change given to him was in
United States fractional paper currency, and a very
curious thing occurred.

Slavin had gone to prison, at the age of 16, in the

year 1857. Between that time and 1871, while he was
dead to the world, a great war had taken place, a great
nation had been well nigh rent asunder, and thousands
of changes had taken place in the ways of daily life. A
now currency had come into existence, of a kind he had
never heard of or seen, and when it was tendered to him
he gazed at it with as much surprise as Rip Van Winkle
is supposed to have looked upon his altered surround-
ings on awaking from his sleep of twenty years. In
Slavin's case, the surprise was a complete betrayal of his
identity. A man who had never seen shinplasters must
have been a long time in some place where no money
was current.

In the meantime, Vavasour had come into the store
and handed to Hill a paper with the description of the
fugitive. Hill looked at it and nodded. The stranger,,
having made his purchases, continued on his way.

,'iii

TUE MISPECK TRAGEDY.

Soon after this, the train arrived, and there was a
consultation as to what ought to be done. Among those
who took part was a United States customs officer named
Sprague. He said that Slavin ought to be taken, and
conductor Miles offered the use of a pair of handcuffs,
while Vavasour went to the hotel and got a revolver.

By this time the stranger had disappeared, but he was
easily traced to a log shanty. When Sprague and
Vavasour appeared at the door, they found the object of
their search sitting down to rest himself He raised his
head with the look of a hunted animal which had no
hope of escape. Vavasour pointed his revolver at him
and exclaimed :

"You are our prisoner, and your name is Slavin !"
" Yes, it is," was the reply " but it is hard to be taken
in a free country, after being fourteen years in prison.
I wish you would shoot me, rather than take me back."
He submitted to be handcuffed and was taken to the
hotel where food was supplied and two guards were
stationed to watch him. A telegram was sent to St.
John, and Warden Quinton, with Keeper Keefe, left for
Vanceboro to bring back the fugitive.

Slavin was taken before a magistrate, but in the mean-
time the extradition treaty was looked into by that
functionary and others who had not been concerned in
the capture. They found that it provided for the sur-
render to British authority of persons charged with
murder and certain other high crimes, when such persons
were found in the United States, on evidence which would
justify commitment for trial. The intent of the treaty, in
short, was that persons " charged with " certain offences
might be delivered up for trial Slavin was an escaped
convict but he was not charged with murder or any other

%■>'

'j'i''

"■■V>

ir^

OLD TIME TilAGBDIEU.

high crime for which ho could bo tried if sent back. The
only offences for which ho could bo tried was breaking
out of prison and the larceny of what ho carried away,
neither of which came under the terms of the treaty.
Under these circumstances the magistrate held that he
had no authority to detain Slavin and the prisoner was
Hot at liberty.

Keeper Keefe afterwards saw Slavin and had a talk
with him. For some time previous to the escape thoire
had boon a prospect that the life sentence might be com-
muted to a term of fifteen years, on account of Slavin's
youth at the time of the murder and his having acted
under the direction of his father. As the prisoner had
been aware that efforts were to be made in his behalf,
Keefe asked him why he had taken the risk of an added
term for running away, when there was a chance that
he would soon have a pardon.

" What was I to do when I had a suit of clothes and
money to pay my way ? " was the reply.

There were suspicions, whether just or not, that Slavin
was aided in his escape by somebody within the prison.
There was. however, a very general feeling of sympathy
for him, and few among the public were sorry that he
was free. It was felt that the arguments adduced in his
favor at the trial were worthy of consideration, and that
having had time to reform ho should be given a chance
to lead a useful life.

Slavin found employment at Vanceboro In the con-
struction gangs which were at work on the railway.
Since then the public have heard nothing of his where-
abouts. With his disappearance ended the last act in
the memorable Mispeck Tragedy.

REDBURN THE SAILOR.

While the Mispeck tragedy far eclipsed anything in
the nature of crime ever known in New Brunswick
there was a case, eleven years previous, which excited a
very deep interest in St. John. It was that of Charles
Redburn, hanged on the 29th day of Decemhor, 184<J,
for the murder of a shipmate on board a vessel lying at
this port. It was a simple enough case of killing, but
the behavior of the condemned man excited a groat deal
of sympathy on his behalf, and strenuous efforts were
made, but in vain, to secure a reprieve. There were, as
will be seen, other reasons for this sympathy, but the
evidence of wilful murder was too strong to admit of a
commutation of the sentence.

Eedburn, as he called himself, though his true name
never was known, was cook on board the barque Jane
Hammond, of St. John, owned at that time by the estate
of William Hammond, deceased. He claimed to bo a
Swede, was said to be of very respectable family, and
was about 35 years of age. He bore a good character

was not quarrelsome in his nature, and

aboard ship,

seeraod in no way a man likely to kill another.

The Jane Hammond, commanded by Captain Oliver
Healey, arrived at St John from Liverpool on Monday,
the 2nd of November, 1846. Eedburn was ashore on
Tuesday and remained ail night, making merry after
his voyage over the ocean. On Wednesday morning he

:.i i:

iV'i

"p.

7«

OLD TrMK TRAGEDIES.

came ubutird, feeling the usual etfocts of a wpree, and
bringinif with him a iiottle of liquor. With this ho
treated Homo of the crow, and wont to the galley to pre-
pare brealcfant. There had been some tricks played on
him, and he had been ])rovoUed into a state in which a
very slight thing would exasperate him. While in the
galley, one of the crew, Patrick Carling (or Kerley)
went to him and asked for his breakfast. Redburn's
reply was, " I have done a damned sight too much for
the whole of you already," referring perhaps to the
liquor he had given them. Carling, unlortunately for
himself ifj this instance, was a teetotaller; his heart had
not been warmed witli u libation, and he did not enter
into the spirit of the remark. He retorted, "You have
not done more lor me than anybody else has, and if you
do not give me my tea I will take it myself." lie then
dipped Ins pot into the boiler, and while ho was doing
80 Eedburn said, " Tf j^ou do not take it, I will throw it
over you." Carling got his tea and went forward to the
windlass, where ho began to eat his breakfast.

Presently Iledburn, who had evidently been much
annoyed at some remark made by Carling, came out of
the galley and went forward to where the sailor was
standing.

"You do not remember when you were at home eat-
ing potatoes, and salt and water?" said Eedburn.

Another sailor, John Burns, here inter])0sed with the
remark that there were better men than Eedburn or
any of his countrymen, who had been brought up on
that kind of food.

"Never mind him. Jack, do not bother him," said
Carling, and Eedburn returned to the galley. Soon
after this, Carling went to the galley, leaned one

llKDnifllN THE SArfiOR.

! eat-

Hhoulder u^aiiust the side of \\n\ doorway, and ri'aehin^
in Bhook IJcdbiirn by tho collar of \m Hhirt and said,
"If you arc a man you will coino out and lake if up.
Wait until after hreakfa-st and we will tlicn see what
you have to say." Then Carlin^ walki-d l)ac'k to his
former position at tho wiudlasH.

Kedburn tlien did somethini^ which ojx'ratcd very
strongly against liim on his trial. lie went to one of
the crew and borrowed a sheath knife, which he had
been in the habit of getting for cutting meal and oilu'r
galley work. Jle seemed quite calm.' <ietting tlu? knifu
he rubbed it up a little on the grindstone, and five min-
utes or so later ho came out of t)ie galley witli tho knife
in his right lumd and a tin (juart measure of greasy hot
water in Ids left. A jiproaehing Carling, he made a <iuick
motion and threw tho hot water on his head.

"What was that you did to me in the galley a little
while ago?" demanded Iledburn.

Carling had turned away his head as he felt the hot
water, and ho cried out. "I'm scalded !" Kodburn im-
mediately plunged the knife into Carling's back, at the
right side, jienetrating three inches, and completely di-
viding the lower rib. On feeling the knife, (-arling
shouted, " I'm stuck ! I'm stuck ! I'm stuck !" grappled
with Eedburn and then ran around the deck, falling into
the arms of some of hiy messmates, who sup])orted him.

ilcdburn, in tho meantime, had gone back to tho
galley, where he laid down the knife and walked to
where the sailors were supporting the dying man.

" I did it and I suppose I will be hanged for it," said
Redburn. Immediately after this he was seized by
Captain Ilealey and others, put in irons and afterwards
sent to the jail.

.1:'

•78

OLD TIME TRAUEDIES.

The borr^ue was lying at th«5 foot of Germain street,
a little distance out from the shore, and the news of the
fitabbing soon caused a very large crowd to collect on
the wharves. In order to avoid them and prevent any
demonstration against Redburn, the prisoner w^as ^ lit in
a boat and landed at a part of the harbor further to the
eastward .

Carling was taken ashore to the house of Mr. Mc-
Geaghey, at Reed's Point, and afterwards to the marine
hospital, where he died a few hours later. Captain
Ilealey, who did what he could to make his sufferings
easier, told those who were present that Carling had
been the quietest and best behaved man aboard the
barque.

A coroners jury having found a verdict of wilful
murder, it became necessary to call a special session of
the supreme coui-t to deal with the case. In the ordin-
ary course of things there would have been no session
until tho regular circuit in January, but as the witnesses
in this affair were seafaring men. and it was not desir-
able to detain them, the special court was held on Tues-
day, the 24th of Xovember, His IFonor George F.
Street, who had been appointed a judge the previous
year, presiding.

The grand jurv found a true bill, and the prisoner,
when arraigned, pleaded not guilty, and said he would
be ready for his trial on the following day.

The prosecution, at the trial, was conducted by lion.
W. B. Kinnear, solicitor-general, while Redburn was de-
fended by Robertson Bayard and Hon. John If. Gray.
The jury was composed of the following well known
citizens: William Hughson, foreman; Henry Hood,
James G. Lester. Edward E. Lock hart, Charles J. Melick,

REDBURN THE SAILOR.

nous

)ner,

fould

lion.

18 dc-
|jray.
lown
llood,
lelick,

William L. Avery, Thomas Crozier, Charles Calkin,
Stephen H. Fought, Thomas Gard, Richard Thomson.
Henry Vaughan.

The witnesses were few in nnnibor, and the principal
one was John Burns, who deposed to the facts as already
given. This witness, in cross-examination, was asked
if he had boasted that Redburn would be hanjred and
that ho would be " the boy to put the nail,'; in his coffin."
He denied saying this, but it was afterwards proved, by
the evidence of two witnesses not connected with the
affair, that he had used these words. In addition to
these witnesses for the defence. Captain Ilealcy gave
Redburn a good character, while John Willis, keeper of
the jail, deposed that when the prisoner was l)rought
there he was much excited and appearti to be under the
influence of liquor. Later in the day he seemed much
grieved at what ho had done, though he did not then
think the wound would cause Carling's death.

The contention of the counsel for the defence was that
the killing amounted to manslaughter, but not to murder.
The solicitor-general, while very moderate in his addi-ess,
pointed out that nothing less than murder could be
shown. 1'iu<Tje Street, after reviewing the testimony
and poi'H'nj out the law as to what constituted murder,
felt ic h.j daty to say that, from the evidence before the
court, there did not appear such provocation for the act
as would reduce the charge below that of murder, as
laid on the indictment.

The jury, after an absence of two hours, found the
prisoner guilty of murder, recommending him to mercy
on account of his previous good conduct. Sentence wa»
deferred until tho following Friday, the 27th.

On that day Redburn was brought into court, when

«0

OLD TIME TRAGEDIES.

Judge Street, who showed much emotion, jDassed sent-
•enee of death. In doing so, he besought the prisoner to
look back and consider how he had sent a fellow ci*eature
into eternity with all his sins upon his head, with but
little time to repent and prepare himself for another
world. A greater priviiego would be allowed the
prisoner, and he \v^ould have space for repentance, but
his life, which under ordinary circumstance might have
lasted long, must be sacrificed, through his own act, by
the law. lie begged the prisoner to repent of the past
and prepare for the future. " No matter how guilty
you have been, you may yet apply for pardon from the
Throne of Grace, and your sins may be forgiven.
Religious men will attend you and give you their assist-
ance, but you must remember that tiicy can only assist,
and you yourself must seek for mercy." The judge
added that he saw no point in the evidence which v**ould
justify him in an application for a mitigation of the
sentence. It would be useless for him to hope for pardon
cr reprieve. His Honor then concluded : "The sentence
of the court i.-< that you shall be taken from this place
to the jail of the city and county of Saint John, from
whence you came • from thence, on Tuesday, tlie 29th
day of December next, you shall be taken to the place
of execution, where you shall be hanged by the neck
until yoM are 'lead ■ and may the Lord have mercy on
your soul."

Redburn bore his sentetjce manfully, while the judge
and the large concourse of spectators were very much
affected .

When the muidor was committed, there had been a
popular demand for strict justice, and a fear that the

REDBURN THE SAILOR.

I'. *

•guilty should escape. As soon as Eedburn was con-
victetl, the wave began to turn the other way, and man}'-
were anxious to see him saved from the gallows. Let-
ters were written to the press and long discussions ensued
on the question of capital punishment. The bearing of
Eedburn durin:.' and after the trial impressed many in
his favor, but hovvevar far allowance for his provocation
could be made by human nature, the evidence clearly
made his crime murder, fie resigned himself to his fate
and welcomed tht- ministrations of those who sought to
bring peace to his mind.

Much of the sentiment in opposition to the execution
was due to the increasing ieeling in this country against
capital punishment except for extreme casea of calmly
premeditated murder. The belief seemed to be that
Eedburn was not u man who would slay another except
under extreme provocation, that he had killed Carling
in a tit of violent passion and that he regretted his crime
after it was committed. Against all this, however, was
the proven fact that, whatever the provocation might
have been, he seemed to have acted with a vicious de-
liberation which put out of the question all plea of heat
of passion. The sailor from whom Eedburn borrowed
the knife swore that it was tifleen minutes later before
the stabbing was done. Even allowing that the knife
had been borrowed for another purpose, though nothing
of the kind was shown. Burns swore that from the time
Carling went to the wiiidiass until Eedburn came out of
the galley was about five minutes. Then too, it was
shown that the murderer whetted the knife on the grind-
stone, after which he first threw hot water on the head
of his victim and then stabbed him in the back. Alto-
gether, on the face of the evidence, and so far as I have

OLD TIME TRAGEDIES.

talked with those who remember the case, there seem
to have been no grounds in law on which there could be
a commutation of the sentence.

Not a little of the sympathy for Redburn came from
the ladies. They are prone to have romantic notions,
derived from novels and nautical songs written by lands-
men, in regard to imaginary sailors who are far from
their homes and mothers. There was a belief too, by
the public, that Eedburn Avas the adventurous son of
some high, if not noble, family. This idea, however, was
less startling than one that Eedburn was a native of St.
John. It wa^ believed by some that he was a member
of a well known family, who had gone to sea when
young and had not been heard of for many years.
There were, indeed, two or three St. John boys who had
thus disappeared, and who would be about Eedburn's
age at that time, but having been absent so long, and
having changed in their appearance, the question of
identitication was not to be settled by merely seeing the
prisoner. It seems pretty eertam that he was not a
Swede, or of any foreign nationality, and it is under-
stood that he made a disclosure of his identity while
in prison, but it was made to one who faithfully kept
the seicret. Whether Redburn the sailor was a stranger
or a St. John man will never be known by the
world. The various theories about him, however, will
readily account for the remarkable interest shown in the
man and the, strong ettbrt to save him in the face of the
clearly established evidence of wilful murder.

Ar\ q\d resident of St. John tells of going to see Red-
bum, i?i company with Constable McGeaghey. The two
looked through the wicket of the cell door and saw the
condemned man reading a newspaper. The constable

REDBURN THE SAILOR.

ted-
two
Ithc
ible

look occasiou to say to him. that a man in his situation
ought to bo reading something better than a paper.

"You be d d, how do you know what may happen

to me yet ?" was Redburn's reply as he abruptly ended
the interview.

The execution took place at the east end of the present
jail b'^ilding, which was then a new structure, having
been occupied only about tivc ywirs. The style of
gallows used was one, I think, which luitl never been
tried here befoi'e, and has never been used since. It Avas
desig. ed to be on the same principle as the apparatus
which, in recent years, was in favor in New York and
other cities of the United States. It was the weight and
pulley style. From the east window of what is now the
second story of the building, but was then the ground
story, the ledge of rock having pi nee been cut down, a
stationary beam projected, at the outer and inner ends
of which were pulleys through which the j'ope ran. At
the end of the rope inside the building was a heavy
weight, held in place until the proper moment, when its
release aid fall would instantly jerk upward the end
which held the noose. This, it will be seen, Avas a differ-
ent arrangement from the weighted lever, used in later
years, though the theory was the same, and the arrange-
ment itself essentially the same as a modern American
method. In all these plans, the condemned is ..supposed
to be jerked from the platform so violently that his neck
will be dislocated. Where there is any blunder about
the adjustment, he is simply strangled, and the thorough
efl&ciency of the old-fashioned drop, properly calculate<,l
for the weight of the condemned, is incontestably demon'
Btrated.

In the instance of Tledburn, the blunder was in allow'-

OLD TIME TRAO.EDIES.

ing 80 very little slack to the rope that, instead of a
sudden jerk and dislocation, there was simply a very
rapid hoisting. The effect was much the same as in an
execution at a yard-arm, which was possibly what a
sailor might desire, whatever the public might think.
It has, however, been said that this style of gallows was
rigged to suit the wishes of the condemned man. He
considered that the disgrace of being hanged would bo
less keenly felt by him if ho were suspended as nearly
as possible after the fashion in vogue on ships of war.

There was another thing in regard to this execution
which, as a matter of sentiment, gives one an unpleasant
feeling. Of all times of the year, the date fixed was in
the holiday week, when the world was rejoicing over
Chri^jtmas and its memories. Perhaps the judge felt that
he could not in justice to the prisoner set the time any
earlier, and it seems to have been the fashion to allow,
in justice to the public, no more than a month between
sentence and execution. Some years later, indeea, in
.Slavin's case, the time was just four weeks.

The morning of the 29th of December was bitterly
cold, but this fact, of itself, would not have prevented a
large concourse had cot the sheriff, James White, kept
ihe hour he had fixed a secret from the general public.
The weather was too severe for many, except a determ-
ined few. to be on hand early, prepared to wait several
hours, if needful ; and as the sheriff had made his calcul-
ations to have as little delay as possible, the attendance
of the curious was small, as compared with that at
executions in previous year3.

Redburn c:ime out upon the temporary phitform
which had been laid upon the ground, wearing no coat,
and having a checked sailor shirt. Attending him were

REDBURN THE SAILOR.

Eevs. Eobert Irvine (pvesbytoi-ian), Samuel J^binson
(baptist), and Alexander Stewart (episcopalian). The
condemned man listened attentively to their Avords, ami
not only seemed perfectly calm, but proved that he was
f in a very singular wa}'.

The hangman, whose identity was concealed by a
mask, was a small-sized fellow, who either from nervous-
ness or stupidity, was unable to properly adjust the noose.
Eedburn perceived this, and turning to the keeper of the
jail, quietly said :

"This man does not know how to fix it, Mr. Willis.
1 wish you would come and see to it."

Thereupon Mr. Willis stepped forward, and with the
tears running from his cheeks, did the last grim office
for the man for whose untimel}^ end he felt such deep
regret. A moment later, the signal was given, and the
law had salisijed its claim for the murder of Patrick
Carling.

This incident I have from an eye witness. Another
witness of the execution says that, so severe was the cold,
the fingers of the dead man were frozen stitf during the
time the body remained suspended.

Eedburn was the first person hanged at the new jail.
Eleven years later he was followed by Slavin.

BURGAN THE BURGLAR.

The tradition of " the boy who was hanged for stealing
a loaf of bread,' in St. John, many years ago, has been
widely accepted as true, an^' I once saw a mention of it
in a leading United States paper, as an instance of the
severity of the penal laws in former times. It is proba-
ble that thousands of people nearer home give credit to
the same remarkable statement, and I have myself met
many who believed it to be true. In some oases a fitting,
and efjually false, addition to the story is given to the
etfeet that .Judge Chi])man"s last days were embittered
by remorse for his cruelty, that liis deathbed w^as
attended by singularly repulsive incidents, and that one
of his dying requests was that he should be laid in his
cofhu with his face downward that his fellow men might
not look upon him. Tn the same vein are stories of
calamities that befel the jurors. Ifow such extraordi-
nary gossip ever gained currency and received credence
is something difficult to understand, as .Judge Chipman
lived for nearly a quarter of a century after Burgan
was hanged, dying at the age of O-i, the chief justice of
New Brunswick, and with no indication of feclino; other-
wi.se than that he had faithfully fultilled the high trust
so long repo.sed in him.

A less apocryphal version, and one which has been
generally accepted, is that the ''boy" was hanged for
stealing a quarter of a dollar from the till of his master's
shop. Even writers in the daily papers have at times

Bl'IlGAN THE IJUIIULAR. 87

aided in the effort to blacken the memory of Judn-e
Chipman by instancing his cruelty in condemning a boy
to death for stealing this paltry sum. The ignorance of
some of them in regard to the amount taken may be
excusable on the assumption that they have been misled
by a statement in Lawrence's ■' Footprints." Even then,
however, a knowledge of the elementary principles of
the administration of laws should have shown that were
anybody to blame it was not Judge Chipman, i)ut Gov-
ernor Douglas, to whom, as Mr. Lawrence states, the
petition for mercy was forwarded.

Every student of local history must feel deeply grate-
ful for the great service rendered by .Mr. Lawrence, in
his lifetime, in the collection and preservation of data in
regard to the early history of the city and province.
Had it not been for his etForls, and for the impetus he
gave to historical research by others, much that is now
available must have been lost. Careful and conscientious
as Mr. Lawrence was, " Footprints " is usually so accurate
that the wonder becomes grtAter that he should have
fallen into a grave error in regard to the crime of the
noted '-boy," Patriek Jkirgan. By what was undoubt-
edly an unintentional failure t(» state all the circumstances
of the case, Mr. Lawrence has conveyed an impression
wholly at variance with the facts.

It would bo presumptions to say this had J not taken
time and trouble to ascertain the truth of the matter
from the best available sources. These are, tirst the
contemporary records, and next the statements of men
who were living at the time, and of an age to be ac-
quainted with the facts. Most of those with whom 1
have talked in past years have now passed away, but in
every instance they were of the 0])inion that, as the law

OLD TIME TRAGEDIES.

then stood, Bui'gan was properly condemned and hanged.
There m, however, yet living in St. John a well known
citizen who distinctly remembers all the circumHtances of
the case and who was, moreover, well acquainted with
Burgan and all parties concerned.

According to " Footprints, " at the January term of
oyer and terminer held at St. John in January, 1828,
Judge Chipman presiding :

" Patrick Burgan, a boy of 18 years, was placed at the
bar, charged with entering the dwelling, in the night,
of his master, John B. Smith, manufacturer of ginger
beer, corner of Union street and Drury lane, and robbing
the till of one (|uarter of a dollar. lie was arrested the
day after by John Mc Arthur, constable. * * * As the
evidence of guilt was (tlear, no other course was open to
the Jury than a verdict of guilty, — with this was a
recomendation to mercy. Yet the judge, in sentencing
the prisoner to be executed, told him there was no hope
for mercy, and he should lose no time in preparing for
death.

" A petition was sent to the lieutenant-governor. Sir
Howard Douglas, asking the interposition of the prerog-
ative in behalf of the prisoner. Yet notwithstanding
the recommendation of tho jury and the coronation
oath of the soverelgri, requiring " Ilis Majesty to cause
law and justice in mercy to be executed in all his judg-
ments, " the law was allowed to take its course."

The impression given by this account is that Burgan

was very harshly treated for a very slight otfence. He

is spoken of as "a boy," though he was 18, and some say

19, years of age. The picture drawn represents this boy,

to the ordinary imagination, as entering in the night the

dwelling of his master, whore he had a right to enter

during the day, and taking from the till a paltry silver

coin which he thought would never be missed, and which

he wanted for some boyish pleasure, or as the story some-

T'»

UURUAN THE IU;R<iLAR.

8»

times goes, to buy broad to natiHfy his hunger. Tlie
whole head and front of his otlonding seems to bo an act
ditt'erlng in degroo but not in kind from the abstracting
of cftko or candy from a sholf when the master's i»ack
was turned. That, I repeat, is the impression conveyed
by this stulemont of tho case. Jt was the impression I
had until I took a notion to inquire further into tho
matter, and I Hnd that the story has been generally
accepted from the same ])oint of view. So, too, when
one reads simply that Burgan was arrested the next day,
the supposition may be that he was either playing with
his companions, or innocently engaged in the ordinary
duties of Ids master's establishment. Jt is no wonder
that so much sympathy has been wasted on " tho boy
who was hanged for stealing."

The newspapers of three-score and odd years ago did
not pay much attention to local news, and, in most
instances arc found to be disappointingly brief in regard
to occurrences which arc now considered of historic
importance. Tho idea seems to have been that as every-
body knew what was happening in town, the columns
could be better utilized by printing long extracts from
English papers which were seen by only a limited
number of people in this country. When local news
was given, however, it was written with a scrupulous
care as to facts, for if it were untrue the falsity would
be at once recognized and the conservative minded
subscriber would at once bring the editor to shame. In
those days, a man with an axe to grind could not attempt
to gain some end by handing a reporter a paragrai)h so
totally untrue that the editor, in a subsequent issue,
would be obliged to explain that the blunder was due to
the loose way in which tho paper was run. The paper

^^ s>, *<

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

{■/

1.0

I.I

112 8

^ 1^

^ ii£ mil 2.0

lili

1.8

1.25

1.4

1.6

-« 6" —

►

r*^

'//A

PhotogTdphic

Sciences

Corporation

23 WEST MAIN STREET

WEBSTER, NY. 14580

(716) 872-4503

:5 #^>

wm»

OLD TIME TRAGEDIES .

came out once a week, and there Avas no rush of getting
to press at a certain hour and minute. What was stated
was ])ublishe(l with a positive knowledge that it was
true, and wh(Mi there was the least doubt there was some
such guarded phrase as " we are informed," or " it is
stated." The newspapers are therefore to be considered
good evidence of what actually happened, which is much
more than can bo yaid for some of their successoi-s at the
present day.

The Courier was the most reliable among the reliables
in those limes. Here is the account of Ikirgan's crime,
as given in the issue of the 22nd of September, 1827.
The Courier's account was copied in the next issue of
the City Gazette, four days later, which is corroboration
of its accuracy, because the Gazette editor, with a know-
le<lge of the facts, gave the Courier's story in preference
to writing his own version of it. This in those times,
would be an indor^^cinciit of it as strictly accurate. The
(Jourier says :

•• Yi'stcnlay Puti-ick IJurgan was apprehended on a
change of burii'larv and Ijrouijjht before Mi*. Alderman
Peters for exaininuiion.

"It appears that lUirgan had lived as a servant man in
the hou.se of .Mr. .John ^^. Smith, at York Point, a year
ago. That on the night previous to his being taken
into custodv he found means of enterinLC Mr. Smith's
house by one of the windows, and had succeeded in
getting into the l>edroom of Mr. and Mrs. S., between
twelve and one o'clock. He secured a silver watch which
was in the room, and afterwards ritled the pocket.-) of
Mr. and Mrs. S., in which were some money and the keys
of the desk. On his getting hold of the latter, he began
to make use of them, but the noise occasioned by his
doing so awoke Mr. S., who immediately started from
bed and seized the thief, but was unable to keep hold of

BURGAN THE BURULAK.

him. He escaped from Mr. Smith's house ; hut as if
being detected in one crime only emboldened him. to a
repetition of it, he immediately entered the house of Mr.
Coss, near that of Mr. Smith's, and stole from thence
sundry articles of wearing apparel. The constable sent
in search of him in the morning overtook him on his
way towards the French Yillage. Jle was fully com-
mitted for trial."

This account put a very different construction on the
affair. The "boy," in the first place, was considered a
servant " man " a year before that time, and on this
occasion was big enough and bold enough to succesfully
resist Mr. Smith when the latter grap))lod with him.
He did not steal from the house of his master, hut came
back to the place where he had worked a year before,
utilizing his knowledge of the premises to enter the house
to commit a bur^larv. He did not tremhlinfjlv abstract
a coin from the till and depart, but he coolly proceeded
to rifie the pockets of a sleeping man and woman, and to
help himself to the loose change he found there. Not
satisfied with this he took the keys of the desk in order
to make a haid of all the money Mr. Smith had in the
house, and would have carried away all he could get,
luid not he bungled and made a noise. It was not
through any good will on his part that he did not carry
off everything of value he could lay his hands on. That
he had started out to rob in earnest is further .shown by
the fact that when disappointed of getting all he wanted
at Smith's, he lost no time in breaking into the house of
Mr. (-OSS, where for lack of anything 1 tetter, he carried
off a quantity of wearing apparel. The next day he was
caught, not a terror stricken boy but a lusty fugitive,
making the best of his way to the French Village, doubt-
less in order to dispose of his plunder and get out of the

-•'1

it:

OLD TIME TRAdEDIES.

country. French Village was at what is now known as
Nauwigewuuk, in Kings county, and seems to have been
the objective point of a nuniber of the malefactors who
used to ftec from St. John to evade the demands of
justice.

So much for the contemporary records of the crime
of Patrick Burgan. Now for a living witness.

John R. Mai"shall. the late chief of police, now living
in St. John, was a lad of 16 in the year 1823. and was
well acquainted with the young man whom he knew as
"Paddy" Burgan. Mr. Marshall's account of the
burglary, the circumstances of which he very clearly
remembers, agrees in all the essentials with the story
told by the Courier. Still more, it is entirely independent
of the latter, which he has never seer unless po.ssibly he
read it in the paper at the time. lie was surprised to
lind that I knew of the breaking into the house of Coss,
as he had never seen that mentioned ; and it is indeed a
remarkable fact that this very important evidence of
Burgan's criminal propensity seems to have been unknown
to Mr. Lawrence and other writers. Mr. Marshall relates
some additional facts which will be of interest.

The premises of John B. Smith were at the corner of
Union street and Drury lane, on the west side of the
latter, and he was known as ''Ginger Beer Smith."
This was not because some wit of that day construed the
initials 'M. B." to stand for "Ginger Beer," but because
it was the custom of the time to distinguish men of the
same patronymic by prefixing the name of their occupa-
tion. Thus it was that William Smith, the first man to
introduce slop garments into St. John, about 1820, was
known as " IJeady-made Smith." The modern conven-
ience of a hyphenated name was not then in vogue,

BlJRiJAN Tin ^UROLAR.

!);{

otherwise the beer man mi^ht have assumed the name of,
possibly, J. IJolingbroke-Smith, wliile the rlolhin^ man.
with equal propriety, coukl have handed his name down
to posterity as Mr. W. Shoddy-Smith.

J. B. Smith owed his designation and his fame to a
particularly good quality of ginger beer which he had
made and sold, and often when John II. Marshall was
passing, Paddy Burgan would call him in and treat him.

The

two thus became very well ac(iuainted. iUirgan
was two or three years the elder of Marshall, and at the
time of the burglary was a man as far as strength and
stature were concerned, lie was quiet and inoffensive
in respect to disposition, and appeared to be the only
one of his family in St. John, as Mr. Marshall does not
remember that he had any known relatives.

Mr. C'oss lived on Union Street, nearly opposite Smith's
place, and kept a sailor's boarding house, on a i)art of
the property now occupied by the works of the Consoli-
dated Klectric company. Burgan, therefore, merely
crossed the street in his attempt to atone for the disap-
pointment he felt at not being able to rob Mr. Smith as
full}' as he had intended. Mr. Marshall remembers that
he took two pairs of boots from the house of Coss, and this
would imply that ho did not steal to supply his own
needs, but to make something by disposing of the plunder.
According to Mr. Marshall, Jkirgan stole ai least three
or four dollars' worth.

Thus it will be seen that the crime committed was no
mere robbery of a till, but a breaking and entering ai
night, or a burglary in both the legal and popular sensi!
of the term. Though the penalty has of late years been
mitigated, burglary is even now a very serious ott'encc,
and is severely punished when the law is properly

OLD TIME TRAGEDIES.

■;!■:

enforced. In those days, while the penalties could be
modified for petty larceny, such as the nnere stealing
of a quarter of a dollar would be of itself, burglary was
punishable by death without benefit of clergy. WhetV ^r
the law was a just one is not tho question. It is enough
t» know that it was the law and that the duty of the
courts and of the king's representative was to enforce it.
In those days, in a community like St. John, when the first
bank was a new institution, citizens were accustomed to
keep their specie at their stores and houses, and it was
necessary for the common good that an example should
be made of any burglar whose guilt was clearly proven.
The offence in Burgan's case Avas as great as if he had
secured a thousand pounds. The amount he actuallj^'
got was not in issue, and it would seem very clear that
he had the intent and purpose to take all he could
secure.

Burgan had a fair trial before a jury composed of
good citizens, the names of some of whom, are held in
honorable memory to this day. They were J ohn Cunning-
ham, foreman ; William Cormick, Amos Robertson. David
Schurman, Gilbert T. Ray, M. J. Lowrey, William Stout,
James Rankin, Isaac Flewelling, Nehemiah Vail, George
nutchinson, and William B. Cox. He had William B.
Kinncar for his counsel, assigned to him by the court,
and the prosecuting officer, John T. Murray, clerk of the
crown, had merely to establish the undisputed facts in
order to secure a conviction.

That the jury should recommend, the prisoner to
mercy meant no more than it means in many cai^esin these
days. There was probably a desire that the young man
should not be hanged, just as there may be now a reluct-
ance to see the dread penalty inflicted on a murderer who

BURGAN THE BURULAR.

18 undoubtedly guilty. Judge Chipman. however did
no more than prove himself u sound juriHt when ho told
Burgan there was no hope for mercy and earned him to
pi-epare for death. What else could he have said to -i
man who had rendered himself lial.le U, the cxtrci.u.
penalty twice in the course of one night ? It can he wdi
understood that a petition for a commutation „f the sen-
tence was got up and forwarded to the governor. Burgan
was young, and had previously borne a good uhanutcr
and these tacts would be sufficient to enlist syn.patlu-
without at all assuming an injustice in the sentence
I have known of a largely signed petition in more
recent times when the object of sympathy was the
perpetrator of a deliberately planned. inexciLsable mur-
der, and so it will bo as long as men have heai-ts and
capital punishment exi.sts. Sir Howard Doughis did not
bear the character of a hai-d-hearted or unjust man. and
it may well be assumed that could he have exercised
the prerogative consistently with his oath, he wou d have
done so. As it was, the facts of the case j.ivduded anv
interference.

There is another bit of history which Has be.m oxer-

looked by those who have hel{)ed create the eun-ont

belief in regard to the case. In the Xova Seotian of the

13th of February, 1828, is an account, from the Xew

Brunswick papers, of an attempt of this alleged martyr

to secure his freedom by burning the St. John jail, after

his trial and sentence. About 11 o'clock on Sunday

night, the 3rd, the jailor, Mr. Nowlin, found the hall full

of smoke, and on investigating found it coming from

Burgan's cell, in the lower story. The prisoner had

taken the wood left to keep him comfortable during the

night, and placed it all at once on the tire. After it had

OLD TIME TRAGEDIES.

beconio Huflicicjitly ignited, he took uU the fire off the
hearth and ])luced it, together with the blazing wood,
against the wooden door of his coll, in order, ho admitted,
to burn a hole by which to escape.

Burgun was hanged on the 2 let of February, 1828, at
the old Jail, which stood about where the registry office
is now. on the top of the rock. The execution took
jiluce from a window of the second story, at the west
end of the building, which would be a little in tho rear
of the j)resent court house, then in course of construction.
The trial had taken place in the old city hall on Market
.Square. The execution was witnessed by an immense
<'i'owd. According to Mr. Lawr.nce, tho executioner
was an Englishman named Blizard Baine, a convict under
imprisonment for robbery, who was rewaitied with a
pardon and ten pounds in cash, with which he loft tho
<.'ity.

It is an unpleasant task to deal with the dead for the
purpose of ])roving ihem more culpable than they have
been thought to be. In the instance of Burgan, how-
ever, it is a duty not only in the interest of historical
accuracy, but because an opprobium wholly undeserved
has been attached to the memories of (iovornor J^ouglaa
and Judge Chipman for their course in tho matter.
Both of these men may have done much that was wrong
in their lives, but in Burgan's ca^e they acted simply
according to their oaths of office and in conformity with
the law of England and her colonies, under which Burgun
was fairly tried and condemned. Mr. Marshall tells
that Judge Chipman ftlt very badly over tho matter,
but that he felt ho had done no more than his duty.
The judge is well rumem^berod by many as a Iqnd j^^d
chao'itablfi man.

BURQAN THK BUROLAR.

ells
ter,

Ginger Boor Smith died in 1882, and ut the time of his
dealh was proprietor of a licensed tavern on the east
side of King square, not far from the seeni' of JJuii^aii's
execution.

About cloven years ago, when tlu^ worUnien wore
excavating for the foundations of St. PetiTs church.
North End, a number of coffins wore taken up from the
old graveyard which was the site of the edilice. Amoiii,'
them was a small one bearing the initials "P. B." Some
of the local antiquaries, assuming that the letters must
stand for "Patrick Burgan," hud, I boliove, a learned
discussion in some of the newspapers. As a matter of
fact, Burgan's grave was not there, nor in any other
burying ground. The body was interred somewhere
outside the city limits, but Mr. Marshall is not (luitc
sure whether it was in the neighborhood of Mount
Pleasant or Courtenay Bay, but thinks it was tlie latter.
If the cofiSn could bediscovercd.it would he found to be
that of a full grown man.

To find an undoubted judicial murder in New Bruns-
wick one must go back beyond the time of Burgan.
That there was at least one such in St. John is estab
lished on undoubted oral testimony, though I have
neither the date nor the name of the victim. The fact
that he was a negro, and that hanging wa* common in
those days, may account for the lack of <lata, but I fear
there is no doubt as to the fact.

In the case in question a man saw a barrel ol pork in
front of a store door, and watching his chance when the
owner was absent, rolled it away a short distance.
Whether the thief owned a Nova Scotia schooner, an up
river wood-boat, or was a citizen of Carleton with a boat.
does not appear, but he was anxious to get the stolen

(■I
I,

mLI* TIMK TRA()EnrE8.

article t<> tlio wharf without risk to himself. A colore<l
limn, on tho lookout for a job. aid knowing nothing of
I ho fircunistanees, readily undertook to roll tho barrel
down the hill, and was doing so when ho was appre-
hended as tlie thief, the other man having, of courso
disap)»eared. Tho negro'i story was not credited, the
proof of his guilt seemed clear, unci ho was sentenced to
death. Tho luckless wretch docs not seem to liave
understood matters fuUv until he was brought out to bo
hanged, but when that happened he began to ])roto8t in
earnest. ^Jrey with terror, his eyes wide ojien and
rolling with astonishment and fear, he turned to those
who were adjusting the noose, loudly exclaiming,
'' Whatu gwini' to hang rae fob ? I aint done nuftin !"
And so he continued to remonstrate until the lopo cut
short his s])eech and ho was left kicking in the air, a
victim of circumstantial evidence. His lot was a good
deal harder than that of Paddy Hurgan.

THE TILTON MURDI-R.

One Sunday aflcnioon in tlu' Miiunitr ..f ls(ii> soim.
boys wore passinir tl... tiiiu' at the loot ..r Ki,„.-s(veol
oast, between Pitt and Crown stm-ls. St. .lul.n. \Vh\u\
nniiisin^- themselves with .sueh facilities as otlV-ivd thcv
observed what sc.n.ed to be tbo end of a pirn, of ..lii
board protrudinn- <V.,m the ground at a place uhcv iIk.
surface of the street had been somewhat won, •u„l
washed away. Prompted by u spirit of .uriositv or
misclnef, they pried uj) the board, when they were
surprised and alarme.l to find what were evidently the
remains of a cotHn, containing human bones. A nunii.er
«>f people who were attracted to the sp.^f a little later
continued the investigation and were renar.led bv rind-
uig, elcso by, what was left of anothei- cottin, with some
>^>o/e bones. There were als.) some fragments of red
cloth and some brass buttons, evidentlv of military
uniform, but so much oxidized that the deviee< and
• lescriptions on them could not be deciphered, hiii^ei.t
search then and afterwards failed to disc^.^e aii\- ..Tlier
•■emains in the vicinity, nor was there any veconi thai
the place ha<l ever been used as a buiial ground.

A number of more or less plausible theorie> were
advanced at the lime, chiefly inclining to the view that
there had been hasty burials there during the prevalence
of some epidemic in the early history of the city. This
idea was combatted however, by the fact that the Old
Burial Ground, the regular place of interment, was so

100 OLD TIME TRAGEDIES.

near iit Imnd. Xo Hutisfuclory conclusion was reached
by tlio )tublic and in u .siiort timo tho occurrcnco passed
IVoin tiu) minds of tho majority of tlic citizens.

There can he no doubt that tljo remains thus found
wore those of Jlenry Hakivvin and .lames Lannon, two
soldiers of the 101st regiment, who were hanged on the
2:5rd day of November, 1808, for the murder of (Mayton
'rilton. Tilton was the proprietor of the Muscjuash hotel
which stood on the same site as the present hotel, close
to the Shore Luie railway station. The hou.so continued
in tho hands of tho Tilton family for about half a cen-
tury latei". JJaUtwin and Lannon were desertore, whom
Tilton and others attempted to stop on their way out of
the country. The men were hanged at what is now the
foot of King street, east, but was then the bottom of the
eastward slope of the lilock House hill. In accordance
with the custom of the timo, they were buried at the
foot of the g".llow8.

Less than four years ago, the late Jlenry Melick, then
in his DOth year, told me that he was present at the
execution, being then a boy twelve years old, and that
tho event was tho first he could remember as having
made a vivid impression on his mind.

Baldwin and Lannon. together with Patrick McEvoy,
a youth of 18 or 11). deserted from the barracks at Fort
Howe, on the Hth of October, 1808, wearing a portion
of their uniforms, and Baldwin also carried away a
nm.sket. They cros.sed the river St. John at night, in a
small boat, landing on the other side some distance above
Pleasant Point, and thence making their way through
the woods, they reached the St. Andrews road. ^
party from the barracks was sent in search of thorn, but
failed to find them, as was to be expected from the fact

THE TILTON MURDER.

101

lOve
igb
.^
but
'act

that houHos on the road botwecn St. John and Murtquash
woro fow and fur botweon. The deserters could easily
conceal thomwelves in the woods by day to avoid their
pursuera and follow the road by nijLjht. So far as thorc
\» any thing to show, they did not risk their Hafety by
approaching anybody until the}' reached AIusciuuhIi.
when, being in doubt '.bout the course they would take.
thoy called at the house of Ebenezor Scott. This was
situated about 200 yards beyond the hotel, on the rise
of what is known as Clinch's hill, nnd I am not sure
but that at least a part of the same hous*. j stili stunding.
The story of what followed is pretty lally told iti the
notes taken by the judge at the'- trial, a m .nuscrijit
copv of which I have been able to insp' -t through the
courtesy of Mi. Clarence Ward.

Calling at the house, thoy asked to be directed on the
way to Dippo* Harbor. Scott was awa^ , but his h^ -vant .
Burditt, gave them the proper direction, which was to
keep on their way until they crossed the river, a short
distance beyond which they were to take the road whicli
turned to the left. It seems to have been the intention
of the men to reach the coast at this point in the hope
of finding a koat to take them to EaBtport. This would
be a much safer plan than an attempt to reach the
border by the highway, to say nothing of saving the
weary journey on foot.

Burditt readily recognized the men as deserters, and
after they had gone he thought it would be a good idea
to inform Mr. Tilton. It may be that in doing this he
was actuated by a desire to do his duty as a loyal sub-
'ect, and it may be also that he was not unmindful of
the reward which would be paid in event of a capture.

On hearing the story of Burditt. Mr. Tilton accompa-

102

OLD TIME TRAGEDIES.

nied hi in to the liouse of Scott, Avhere he got two guns,
one of which he handed to Burditt, retaining the other
for himself. Tilton's servant, Frederick Shrum, also
became one of the party, and they started in pursuit of
the desorters.

They did not succeed in tracing them, however, and
started to return. On their way they met Lannon, who
sat down us if to rest, and was presently joined by his
two comi)anions. Baldwin stopped up to Tilton and
asked him if he knew the way to Dippo Harbor.

" I do," was the reply, " but you shall not go there."

■'Is it your custom to stop people on the highway?"
interposed Lannon.

"No," replied Tilton, '• but I will not suffer such men
as you to go on."

At this juncture Tilton and BurdiU. who had been
carrying their muskets, put the breeches of them to the
ground. Thereupon Lannon pulled a pistol from his
breast. and cocked it. JJaldwin.carrj'ing the musket he
had taken fro^^i -the barracks, htid <^ono awav a little
distance.

'• iiarry. come back,' shouted Lannon. "these men
will tire on us."

•'Mr. Tilton, that man is going to lire," exclaimed
Hurditt. " See, he is pulling out his pistol."

At this Tilton stepped up to Lannon and said, "' There
shall be no firing here;' and Burditt added, "We are
not going to fire — we are not prepared for firing." On
hearing this Baldwin came back, close to Tilton, and
snapped his gun at him, but it missed fire. Then the

*Iu mauy old manuscripts the spelling is "Dippo" instead of "Dipper"
Harbor as now known. The present name is possibly a corruption of some
Indilan wordt

THE TIL TON MURDER.

103

deserters proceeded to walk awjiy, and the atiair would
havo ended had the other party likewise retired. Tilton
bad no idea of aliowini,^ them to get away so easilv. but
followed them and said, -n'ou need not think I ain afraid
of you, for your gun is not loaded '

'■ Harry, let him know that you arc loaded" exchiiiud
Lannon.

Baldwin retired a few pace's IVom Til ion, and said.
'■Sir, I will let you know that I am loaded," levelled his
musket and tired, giving Tilton a wound from the etfects
of which he died in a few hours.

After tiring this shot, Baldwin went back and reloaded
his musket, Lannon assisting. \VhiIo thus engaged they
told McEvoy to i)ick up the gun Tilton had dropped,
and he did so in a mechanical way. being dazed at what
had taken place.

The three deserters then pursued their way without
further molestation, but were captured, some davs later,
on one of the islands in Passamaquoddy B.ny. by a i)artv
of the Charlotte eouuty military force. They wen-
brought to St. John and tried on the 15th of November,
before John Saunders, judge, and William Pagan and
Munson Jarvis, magistrates. On the trial, the solicitor
general. Ward Chipman, showed that Mr. Tilton was not
only justified in trying to stop the fugitives, but that it
was his duty to do so, desertion in the time of war being
by statute law a felony Mit' out l)enefit of clergy. The
court agreed with this cont^nition.

The prisoners were found guilty and sentenced to
death, but an exception was made as to McEvoy, not
only on account of his youth but because he had no hajid
in shooting, and had picked up the i;nn only because
he was told to do so, and without anv volition on his

104

OLD TIME TBA0EDIE8.

part. He was respited until the king's pleasure should
be known in regard to him, and was eventually pardoned.

Baldwin and Lannon were hpnged n the 23rd of
November, just one month after the shooting. There
were few lawyers in those days and the ways of justice
were equally sure and swift. It is a pity these qualities
were not displayed at the execution itself, which was so
badly bungled as to horrify the large crowd which had
gathered.

The march from the jail to the gallows, over what is
now King street, east, was remarkable from the fact that
Stephen Humbert, a well known Loyalist citizen, marched
between the condemned men singing methodist hymns.
When the execution was attempted, both ropes broke,
and the unfortunate men were kept standing there until
a messenger went to the south wharf, procured a suffi-
ciently strong piece of hemp and returned, after which
the killers of Tilton were done to death in due form of
law.

Buried at the foot of the gallows, for more than half
a century their bones rested undisturbed. The city grew
apace, the Block House hill gave way to streets, a new
generation came, and year after year the unknown
graves were trodden over by those who had never so
much as heaid of the crime and the fate of Baldwin
and Lannon.

THE END.