No. LXXVIII.
I know not why, but the idea of another meeting with Martin Smith,
notwithstanding my affectionate respect, for that good old man, disturbed
me so much, that I resolved, to be out of his way, by keeping awake. But,
in defiance of my very best efforts, strengthened by a bowl of unsugared
hyson, at half past eleven, if I err not, I fell into a profound slumber;
and, at the very appointed moment, found myself, at the Chapel door. At
the third knock, it opened, with an almost alarming suddenness--I quietly
entered--and the old man closed it softly, after me.
"In ten minutes," said he, "the congregation will assemble."--"What," I
inquired, "at this time of night?"--"Be silent," said he, rather angrily,
as I thought; and, drawing me, by the arm, to the north side of the door,
he shoved me against the Vassal monument, with a force, that I would not
have believed it possible, for any modern ghost to exert. "Be still and
listen," said he. "In 1782, my dear, old pastor, Dr. Freeman, came here,
as Reader; and became Rector, in 1787. Dr. Caner was inducted, in 1747,
and continued Rector, twenty-nine years; for, as I told you, he went off
with the plate, in 1776. There were no Rectors, between those two.
Brockwell and Troutbeck were Caner's assistants only: the first died in
1755, and the last left, the year before Dr. Caner."
"Well," continued the old man, "never reveal what I am about to tell you,
Abner Wycherly--the Trinitarians have never surrendered their claims, upon
this Church; and, precisely at midnight, upon every Sabbath, since 1776,
Dr. Caner and the congregation have gathered here; and the Church service
has been performed, just as it used to be, before the revolution. They
make short work of it, rarely exceeding fifteen minutes--hush, for your
life--they are coming!"
A glare of unearthly light, invisible through the windows, as Martin
assured me, to all without, filled the tabernacle, in an
instant--exceedingly like gas light; and, at the same instant, I heard a
rattling, resembling the down-sitting, after prayers, in a village
meeting-house, where the seats are clappers, and go on hinges. Observing,
that my jaws chattered, Martin pressed my hand in his icy fingers, and
whispered, that it was nothing but Dr. Caner's congregation, coming up,
rather less silently, of course, than when they were in the flesh.
Being the first Sunday in the month, all the communion plate, that Caner
carried off, was paraded, on the altar. I wish the twelve apostles could
have seen it. It glittered, like Jones, Ball & Poor's bow-window, viewed
from the old, Donnison corner. The whole interior of the Chapel was
marvellously changed. I was much struck, by a showy, gilt crown, over the
organ, supported by a couple of gilt mitres. This was the famous organ,
said to have been selected by Handel, and which came over in 1756.
At this moment, a brief and sudden darkness hid everything from view;
succeeded, instantly, by a brighter light than before; and all was
changed. The organ had vanished; the monuments of Shirley and Apthorp, and
the tablet of Price, over the vestry door, were gone; I looked behind me,
for the Vassal monument, against which I had been leaning; it was no
longer there. Martin Smith perceived my astonishment, and whispered, that
Dr. Caner was never so partial to the Stone Chapel, which was opened in
1754, as he was to the ancient King's Chapel, in which he had been
inducted in 1747, and in which we then were.
The pews were larger than any Hingham boxes I ever saw; but very small.
The pulpit was on the north side. In front of it was the governor's pew,
highly ornamented, lined with China silk; the cushions and chairs therein
were covered with crimson damask, and the window curtain was of the same
material. Near to this, I saw an elevated pew, in which were half a dozen
fine looking skeletons, with their heads up and their arms akimbo. This
pew, Martin informed me, was reserved, for the officers of the army and
navy. A small organ was in the western gallery, said to be the first, ever
heard in our country. From the walls and pillars, hung several escutcheons
and armorial bearings. I distinguished those of the royal family, and of
Andros, Nicholson, Hamilton, Dudley, Shute, Belcher, and Shirley.
I had always associated the _hour-glass_ with my ideas of a Presbyterian
pulpit, in the olden time, when the very length of the discourse gave the
hearer some little foretaste of eternity. I was rather surprised to see an
hour-glass, of large proportions, perched upon the pulpit, in its highly
ornamented stand of brass. The altar-piece was at the easterly end of the
Church, with the Glory, the Ten Commandments, the Lord's Prayer, the
Creed, and some texts of Scripture.
The congregation had taken their seats; and a slender, sickly looking
skeleton glided into the reading desk. "Dr. Caner?" said I. "Brockwell,
the assistant," replied Martin, in a whisper, "the very first wardens, of
1686, are in the pew, tonight, Bullivant and Banks. They all serve in
rotation. Next Sabbath, we shall have Foxcroft and Ravenscroft. Clerke
Hill, and Rutley are sextons, tonight."
The services were very well conducted; and, taking all things into
consideration, I was surprised, that I comprehended so well, as I did. The
prayer, for the royal family, was very impressively delivered. The
assistant made use, I observed, of the Athanasian creed, and every one
seemed to understand it, at which I was greatly surprised. Dr. Caner
seemed very feeble, and preached a very short discourse upon the loss of
Esau's birthright, making a pointed application, to the conversion of
King's Chapel, by the Unitarians. He made rather a poor case of it, I
thought. Martin was so much offended, that he said, though being a ghost,
he was obliged to be quiet, he wished I would call the watch, and break up
the meeting. I told him, that I did not believe Dr. Caner's arguments
would have any very mischievous effect; and it seemed not more than fair,
that these ancient worshippers should have the use of the church, at
midnight, so long as they conducted themselves orderly--consumed no
fuel--and furnished their own light.
One of the sextons, passing near me, accidentally dropped a small parcel.
I was seized with a vehement desire of possessing it; and, watching my
opportunity, conveyed it to my pocket. When Dr. Caner pronounced his final
amen, light was instantly turned into darkness--a slight noise
ensued--"_the service is over!_" said Martin, and all was still. I begged
Martin to light his lamp; and, by its light, I examined the parcel the
sexton had dropped. It was a small roll, containing some extracts from the
records. They were not without interest. "Sept. 21, 1691.--It must not be
forgot that Sir Robert Robertson gave a new silk damask cushion and cloth
pulpit-cover." "1697.--Whit Sunday. Paid Mr. Coneyball, for buying and
carting Poses and hanging the Doares 8s." "Dec. 20.--Paid for a stone Gug
Clark Hill broak." "March 29, 1698.--Paid Mr. Shelson for Loucking after
the Boyes L1." "1701, Aug. 4.--Paid for scouring the brass frame for the
hour-glass 10s." "1733, Oct. 11.--Voted that the Brass Stand for the
hour-glass be lent to the church of Scituate, as also three Diaper
napkins, provided Mr. Addington Davenport, their minister, gives his note
to return the same to the Church wardens of the Church, &c." "April 3,
1740.--Rec'd of Mr. Sylvester Gardner Sixteen Pounds Two Shills, in full
for wine for the Chapple for the year past. John Hancock."
I was about to put this fragment of the record into my pocket--"If," said
Martin, "you do not particularly covet a visit from Clark Hill, or
whichever of the old sextons it was, that dropped that paper, leave it, as
you found it." I did so, most joyfully.
"If you have any questions to ask of me," said the old man, "ask them now,
and briefly, for we are about to part--to meet no more, until we meet, as
I trust we shall, in a better world." "As a mere matter of curiosity,"
said I, "I should like to know, if you consider your venerable pastor, now
dead and gone, Dr. Freeman, as the successor of Saint Peter?" "No more,"
said Martin Smith, with an expression almost too comical for a ghost,
"than I consider you and myself successors of the sexton, who, under the
directions of Abraham, buried Sarah, in the cave of the field of
Machpelah, before Mamre." "Do you consider the Apostolical succession
broken off, at the time of Dr. Freeman's ordination?" "Short off, like a
pipe stem," he replied. "And so you do not consider the laying on of a
Bishop's hand necessary, to empower a man to preach the Gospel?" "No
more," said he, "than I consider the laying on of spades, necessary to
empower a man, to dig a grave. We were a peculiar people, but quite as
zealous for good works, as any of our neighbors. The Bishop of New York
declined to ordain our pastor, because we were Unitarians; and we could
not expect this service from our neighbors, had it been otherwise, on
account of our adherence to the Liturgy, though modified, and to certain
Episcopal forms--so we ordained him ourselves. The senior warden laid his
hands upon the good man and true--said nothing of the thirty-nine
articles--but gave him a Bible, as the sole compass for his voyage, in
full confidence, that, while he steered thereby, we should be upon our
course, to the haven, where we would be. We have never felt the want of
the succession, for a moment, and, ever since, we have been a most happy
and u----."
Just then a distant steam whistle struck upon the ear, which Martin,
undoubtedly, mistook, for cock-crowing--for his lamp was extinguished, in
an instant, and he vanished.
If my confidence in dreams needed any confirmation, nothing more could be
required, than a careful comparison of many of these incidents, with the
statements, in the history of King's Chapel, published by the late,
amiable Rector, seventeen years ago. A copy is, at this moment, beneath my
eye; and, upon the fly leaf, in the author's own hand writing, under date
Jan. 1, 1843, I read--"_Presented to Martin Smith, for many years, a
sexton of this church, from his friend F. W. P. Greenwood_." Aye; every
one was the _friend_ of good old Martin Smith. Here, deposited among the
leaves of this book, is an order, from that excellent man, my honored
friend, Colonel Joseph May, then junior warden. It bears date "Saturday,
18 June, 1814." It is laconic, and to the point. "_Toll slow!_" This also
is subscribed "_Your friend_."
Yes, every one was the friend of Martin Smith. He was a spruce, little,
old man--especially at Christmas.
No. LXXIX.
Nothing can be more entirely unfounded, than the popular notion, that
circumstantial evidence is an inferior quality of proof. The most able
writers, on the law of evidence, have always maintained the contrary.
Sir William Blackstone and Sir Matthew Hale, it is true, have expressed
the very just and humane opinion, that circumstantial evidence should be
weighed with extreme caution; and the latter has expressly said, that, in
trials, for murder and manslaughter, no conviction ought ever to be had,
until the fact is clearly proven, or the body of the person, alleged to
have been killed, has been discovered; for he stated, that two instances
had occurred, within his own knowledge, in which, after the execution of
the accused, the persons, supposed to have been murdered, had reaeppeared
alive.
Probably, one of the most extraordinary cases of fatal confidence in
circumstantial evidence, recorded, in the history of British, criminal
jurisprudence, is that, commonly referred to, as the case of "_Hayes and
Bradford_." In that case, a murder was certainly committed; the body of
the murdered man was readily found; the murderer escaped; and, after many
years, confessed the crime, in a dying hour; and another person, who had
designed to commit the murder, but found his intended victim, already
slain, was arrested, as the murderer; and, after an elaborate trial,
suffered for the crime, upon the gallows.
There is a case in the criminal jurisprudence of our own country, in all
its strange particulars, far surpassing the British example, to which I
have referred; and attended by circumstances, almost incredible, were the
evidence and vouchers less respectable, than they are. I refer to the case
of Stephen and Jesse Boorn, who were tried, for the murder of Russell
Colvin, and convicted, before the Supreme Judicial Court of the State of
Vermont, in October, 1819. In this remarkable case, it must be observed,
that the Judges appeared to have acted, in utter disregard of that
merciful caution of Sir Matthew Hale, to which I have alluded; and that
these miserable men were rescued, from their impending fate, in a most
remarkable manner.
It is my purpose to present a clear and faithful account of this
occurrence; and, to enable the reader to go along with me, step by step,
with perfect confidence, in a matter, in which, from the marvellous
character of the circumstances, to doubt would be extremely natural, I
will first exhibit the sources, from which the elements of this narrative
are drawn. I. The public journals of the day, published in Vermont. II.
"Mystery developed, &c., by the Rev. Lemuel Haynes, Hartford, 1820." III.
A sermon, on the occasion, by the same. IV. "A brief sketch of the
Indictment, Trial, and Conviction of Stephen and Jesse Boorn, for the
murder of Russell Colvin, by S. Putnam Waldo, Hartford." V. "A Collection
of remarkable events, by Leonard Deming. Middlebury, 1825." VI. "Journals
of the General Assembly of the State of Vermont, for 1819, October
session," in which, page 185, may be found the minutes of the testimony,
taken on the trial, and certified up, by Judge Chace, to the Legislature,
by request, on petition, for a commutation of punishment. VII. Law
Reporter, published in Boston, vol. v. page 193. VIII. Trial of Stephen
and Jesse Boorn, Rutland, 1820. IX. Remarks thereon, N. A. Review, vol. x.
page 418. X. Greenleaf's Treatise on Evidence, vol. i. page 320, note 2.
XI. Cooley's Memoir of Rev. Lemuel Haynes, N. Y., 1839.
In the village of Manchester, Bennington County, and State of Vermont,
there resided in 1812, an old man, whose name was Barney Boorn, who had
two sons, Stephen and Jesse, and a daughter Sarah, who had married Russell
Colvin. Like the conies of the Bible, these people were _a feeble
folk_--their mental powers were slender--they grew up in ignorance--their
lot was poverty. Colvin, in particular, was, notoriously, an _imbecile_.
He had been, for a long period, partially deranged. He was incompetent to
manage the concerns of his family. He moved about in an idle, wandering
way, and was perfectly inoffensive; and the wilful destruction of such a
man would have been the murder of an _innocent_.
In May, 1812, Russell Colvin was missing from home. This, in consideration
of his uncertain habits, occasioned, at first, but little surprise. But
his continued absence, for days, and weeks, and months, produced very
considerable excitement, in the village of Manchester. This excitement
naturally increased, with the term of his absence; and the contagion
began, ere long, to catch upon the neighboring towns; until the most
exciting topic of the day, throughout that portion of the Hampshire
Grants, in the absence of mad dogs and revivals, was the mysterious
disappearance of Russell Colvin.
Rumors began to spread, from lip to lip. Suspicion, like a hungry
leech--"a German one"--fastened upon the Boorns. Nor was this suspicion
groundless. Thomas Johnson, a neighbor of all the parties, a credible
witness, who swore to the facts, seven years after, on the trial,
reported, that the last time he saw Russell Colvin was immediately before
his remarkable disappearance, and that he and the Boorns were then
quarrelling, while engaged in picking up stones.
Lewis Colvin, the son of Russell, with manifest reluctance, stated, that,
just before his father's disappearance, a quarrel took place, between his
father and Stephen--that his father struck Stephen first--that Stephen
then knocked his father down twice with a club--that he, the boy, was
frightened and ran away--that Stephen told him never to mention what had
happened--and that he had never seen his father since.
Here, doubtless, was legitimate ground, for suspicion, and the village of
Manchester, on the Battenkill, was in a state of universal
fermentation--the very atmosphere seemed redolent of murder. It is
marvellous, in what manner the Boorns escaped from being lynched, without
trial; and, more especially, how Stephen was preserved, from the fate of
his namesake, the martyr. A shortlived calm followed this tempest of
popular feeling--parties were formed--some were sure the Boorns were the
murderers of Colvin--some were inclined to believe they were not. The
Boorns continued to dwell in the village, _without any effort to escape_;
and the evidence against them was not deemed legally sufficient then, even
to authorize their arrest.
It appeared, upon the statement of Mrs. Colvin, that Stephen and Jesse,
her brothers, had told her, upon a certain occasion, that she might be
satisfied her husband was dead, and that _they knew it_. This additional
fact gave fresh impulse to the popular excitement.
In such miserable society, as may be supposed to have remained to these
suspected men, it is not wonderful, that they should often have
encountered the most unsparing allusions, and vulgar interrogatories--nor
that they should have met this species of persecution, with equally vulgar
and unflinching replies. It became well established, ere long, upon the
declarations of a Mr. Baldwin and his wife, that, when asked where Colvin
had gone, one of the Boorns replied, that he had "_gone to hell_"--and
the other that he had "_gone where potatoes would not freeze_."
It is not wonderful, that, upon such evidence, the daughters of Manchester
should begin to prophecy, and the young men to see visions, and the old
men to dream dreams. In the language of one, who has briefly described the
condition of that village, during this period of intense
excitement--"_Every house was haunted with the ghost of Colvin_."
At length, a respectable man, a paternal uncle of the Boorns, began to
dream, in good earnest. The ghost of Colvin appeared to him, and told him,
upon his honor, that he had been murdered; and indicated the place, with
unmistakable precision, where his body lay concealed. Like a bill, which
cannot pass to enactment, until after a third reading, the declarations of
a ghost are not entitled to the slightest regard, until after a third
repetition. Every sensible ghost knows this, of course. The ghost of
Colvin seems to have understood his business perfectly; and he manifested
a very commendable delicacy, in selecting one of the family, for his
confidant. Three times, in perfect conformity with acknowledged precedent,
the ghost of Colvin announced the fact of his murder, and indicated the
place, where his body was concealed.
To put a slight upon a respectable ghost, in perfectly good standing, who
had taken all this trouble, was entirely out of the question. Accordingly,
the uncle of the Boorns summoned his neighbors--announced these
revelations--gathered a posse--proceeded to dig in the hole, so
particularly indicated by the ghost--and, after digging to a great depth,
succeeded completely, in discovering nothing of any human remains. Indeed
he was as unsuccessful, as our worthy friend, the Warden of the Prison, in
his recent search for hidden treasure--excepting, that it does not appear,
that the ghost made the slightest effort to bury him alive.
This movement was productive, nevertheless, of additional testimony,
against the Boorns. In the hole, were found a jack-knife and a button,
both which Mrs. Colvin solemnly declared to have belonged to her husband.
In regard to the location of the body, the ghost was certainly mistaken;
perhaps Mr. Boorn, the uncle, being dull of hearing, might have
misunderstood the revelation; and perhaps the memory of the ghost was
treacherous. Evidence, gathered up by piecemeal, was, nevertheless,
gradually enveloping the fate of these miserable men--evidence of a much
more substantial material, than dreams are made of.
Thomas Johnson, the witness, above referred to, having purchased the
field, where the quarrel took place, between Colvin and the Boorns, the
children of Johnson found, while playing there, an old mouldy hat; which
Johnson asserted, at the time, and afterwards, at the trial, swore,
positively, had belonged to Colvin.
Nearly seven years had passed, since the disappearance of Russell Colvin.
Stephen Boorn had removed from Manchester, about five years after the
supposed murder; and resided in Denmark, Lewis County, New York; at the
distance of some two hundred miles. Jesse still continued in Manchester;
and _neither of these wretched men, upon any occasion, appears to have
attempted flight, or concealment_.
Stephen Boorn, who, as the sequel will abundantly show, seems not to have
been entirely deficient, in natural affection, had discovered, after a
bitter experience of five long years, that the burden of his sins was not
more intolerable, than the oppressive consciousness of the tenure, by
which he lived, and moved, and had his being; which tenure was no other,
than that, by which Cain walked upon the earth, after the murder of Abel.
Stephen Boorn gathered up the little, that he had, and went into a far
country--not hastily, nor by night--but openly, and in the light of day.
Jesse, who was, evidently, the weaker brother--the poorer spirit--remained
behind; deeming it easier, doubtless, to endure the continued suspicion
and contempt of mankind, than to muster enough of energy, to rise and
walk.
Well nigh seven years, as I have stated, had passed, since the
disappearance of Colvin. A discovery was made, at this period, which left
very little doubt, upon the minds of the good people of Manchester, that
the Boorns were guilty of the murder of this unhappy man, and of
attempting to conceal his remains, by cremation.
No. LXXX.
At this period, about seven years after the disappearance of Russell
Colvin, a lad, walking near the house of Barney Boorn, was attracted, by
the movements of a dog, that seemed to have discovered some object of
interest, near the stump of an ancient tree, upon the banks of the
Battenkill river. This stump was about sixty rods from the hole, in which,
upon the suggestion of the ghost, the uncle of the Boorns, and his curious
neighbors had sought for the body of Colvin. The lad examined the stump,
and discovered the cavity to be filled with bones!
Had the magnetic been then in operation, the tidings could not have been
telegraphed more speedily. The affair was definitively settled--the bones
of Colvin were discovered; and the ghost appeared to have been only sixty
rods out of the way, after all. Murder will find a tongue. Manchester
found thousands. The village was on fire. Young men and maidens, old men
and children came forth, to gaze upon the bones of the murdered Colvin;
and to praise the Lord, for this providential discovery! Whatever the
value of it might be--the merit seemed clearly to belong, in equal
moieties, to the dog and the ghost.
How prone we are--the children of this generation--to reason upon the
philosophy, before we weigh the fish! This was a case, if there ever was a
case, for the recognition of the principle, _cuique in sua arte credendum
est_. Accordingly the medical magi of Manchester and of its highly excited
neighborhood were summoned, to sit in judgment, upon these bones. The
question was not--"_can these dry bones live?_"--but are they the bones of
the murdered Colvin? One, thoughtful practitioner believed there was a
previous question, entitled to some little consideration--are these bones
the bones of a man, or of a beast? Never were scruples more entirely out
of place. Imagine the indignation of the good people of Manchester, at the
bare suggestion, that they had wasted so much excellent sympathy, upon the
bones, peradventure, of a horse or a heifer!
The doubter, as might have been expected, stood alone: but he sturdily
persisted. The regular faculty, with the eyes of their well-persuaded
patients riveted, encouragingly, upon theirs, expressed their clear
conviction, that the bones were human bones, and, if human bones,
whose--aye whose--but the murdered Colvin's! This gave universal
satisfaction, of course.
It was evident, that some of these bones had been broken and pounded--the
quantity was small, for an entire skeleton--some few bones had been found,
beneath a barn, belonging to the father of the Boorns, which had been,
previously, consumed by fire--and some persons may have supposed, that the
murderers, having deposited the dead body there, had destroyed the barn,
to conceal their crime--and, finding a part of the body unconsumed, after
the conflagration, had deposited that part, in the hollow stump, to be
disposed of, at some future moment of convenience.
A very plausible theory, beyond all doubt. But the doubting doctor
continued to turn over these bones, with an air of provoking unbelief; now
and then, perhaps, holding aloft, in significant silence, the fragment of
a cranium, of remarkably sheepish proportions.
This was not to be endured. Anatomical knowledge appears not to have made
uncommon strides, in that region, in 1819; for, when it was finally
decided to compare these bones with those of the human body, there
actually seems to have been nothing in that region, which would serve the
purpose of the faculty, but the leg of a citizen, long before amputated,
and committed to the earth. I will here adopt the words of the Rev. Mr.
Haynes--"_A Mr. Salisbury, about four years ago, had his leg amputated,
which was buried, at the distance of four or five miles. The limb was dug
up, and, by comparing, it was universally determined that the bones were
not human._" This was a severe disappointment, undoubtedly; but not
absolutely total: for two nails, or something, in the image thereof, were
found, amid the mass, which nails, says Mr. Haynes, "_were human, and so
appeared to all beholders_."
Let us now turn to the murderers, or rather to Jesse, for Stephen was two
hundred miles away, entirely unsuspicious of the gathering cloud, which
was destined, ere long, to burst upon his devoted head.
When the discovery of these bones had excited the feelings and suspicions
of the people, to the utmost, it was deemed proper to take Jesse into
custody. An examination took place, on Tuesday, May 27, 1819, and
continued, till the following Saturday. This examination was conducted, in
the meeting-house, as it appears, from the testimony of Truman Hill, upon
the subsequent trial; who says of Jesse, that--"when the knife was
presented to him, in the meeting-house, and also when the hat was
presented to him, his feelings were such, as to oblige him to take hold of
the pew, to steady himself--he appeared to be much agitated--I asked him
what was the matter--he answered there was matter enough--I asked him to
state--he said he feared, that Stephen had killed Colvin--that he never
believed so, till the spring or winter, when he went into William Boorn's
shop, where were William and Stephen Boorn--at which time he gained a
knowledge of the manner of Colvin's death; and that he thought he knew,
within a few rods, where Colvin was buried."
Such was the evidence of Truman Hill, upon the trial; and he related the
facts, very naturally, at the time, to his neighbors. The statement was
considered, by the community, as tantamount to a confession. At this time,
the examination of Jesse Boorn had nearly closed--no ground for detention
appeared against him--the bones, discovered in the stump, were
acknowledged to have belonged to some brute animal--it was the general
opinion, that Jesse should be released; when this declaration of his to
Truman Hill, turned the tide of popular sentiment entirely; and Jesse
Boorn was remanded to prison.
Truman Hill was the jailer; or, in his own conservative phraseology, he
"_kept the keys of the prison_." Jailers are rather apt to look upon their
prisoners, as great curiosities, in proportion to the crimes, with which
they are charged, and themselves as showmen. Most men are sufficiently
willing to be distinguished, for something or other:--to see Jesse
Boorn--to catechise the wretched man--to set before him the fear of death,
and the hope of pardon--to beg him to confess--nothing but the truth, of
course--these were privileges--favors--and Truman Hill had the power of
granting them. Thus he says--he "_let in_" Mr. Johnson; and, when Mr.
Johnson came out, he went in himself, and found Jesse "in great
agitation"--and then he, himself, urged Jesse to confess--the truth of
course--if he said anything--assuring him, that every falsehood he told,
would sink him deeper in trouble. It must have been evident to the mind of
Jesse, that a confession of the murder would be particularly agreeable to
the public, and that a continued protestation of his innocence would
disappoint the reasonable expectations of his fellow-citizens.
Jesse confessed to Judge Skinner, that Stephen had, probably, buried
Colvin's body in the mountain; and that the knife, found with the button,
in the hole, indicated to his uncle by the ghost, was, doubtless,
Colvin's; for he had often seen Colvin's mother use it, to cut her
tobacco. Judge Skinner and Jesse took an edifying walk up the mountain, in
search of the body--they did not find it, which is very surprising.
About the middle of the month of May, 1819, Mr. Orange Clark, a neighbor
of Stephen Boorn, in the town of Denmark, some two hundred miles from
Manchester, entered his dwelling, in the evening. He took a chair, and
commenced a friendly conversation with Stephen and his wife--for Stephen
had married a wife--the sharer of all his sorrows--his joys, probably,
were few, and far between, and not worth the partition. Shortly after, a
Mr. Hooper, another neighbor, dropped in. He had scarcely taken his seat,
before another entered the apartment, Mr. Sylvester, the innkeeper, who,
upon some grave testimony, then recently imported into Denmark, had
arrived at the solemn conclusion, that there was something rotten there.
Stephen and his helpmate were, doubtless, somewhat surprised, at this
unusual gathering, in their humble dwelling. Their surprise was greatly
increased, of course, by the appearance, almost immediately after, of
Messieurs Anderson and Raymond, worthy men of Manchester. If the ghost of
Russell Colvin had stalked in, after them, Stephen Boorn could not have
been more astonished, than he was, when he beheld, closing up the rear of
all this goodly company--no less a personage, than Captain Truman Hill,
the jailer of Manchester--the gentleman, I mean, who "_kept the keys of
the prison_."
To Stephen there must have been something not wholly incomprehensible in
this. His ill-starred partner was not long left in doubt. The very glances
of the party were of evil omen. Their business was soon declared. The
gentleman, that _kept the keys_, kept also the _handcuffs_. They were
speedily produced. Stephen Boorn must go back to the place, from whence he
came--and from thence--so opined the men, women and children of
Manchester--to the place of execution. But, when the process commenced, of
putting the irons upon that wretched man--the poor woman--the wife of his
bosom--for he had a bosom, and a human heart therein, full of tenderness,
as the sequel will demonstrate, for her; however inconceivable to the
gentleman, that "_kept the keys_"--and to those learned judges, who, in
the very teeth, and in utter contempt, of the law, so clearly laid down by
Sir Matthew Hale, of glorious memory, would have hanged this miserable
man, but for the signal Providence of Almighty God--this poor woman was
completely overwhelmed with agony.
The estimate of many things, in this nether world, is a vastly relative
affair. That, which would be in excellent taste, among a people, without
refinement, however moral, will frequently appear to the enlightened
portion of mankind, as absolutely barbarous.
The idea of allaying the anguish of a wife, produced by the forcible
removal of her husband, in chains, on a charge of murder, by _making her
presents_, hurries one's imagination to the land of the Hottentots, or of
the Caffres; where the loss of a child is sometimes forgotten, in the
contemplation of a few glass beads--and no consolation proves so effectual
for the loss of wife, as a nail or a hatchet.
And yet it is impossible--and it ought to be--to read the short and simple
statement of that good man, the Rev. Mr. Haynes, without emotion--"_The
surprise and distress of Mrs. Boorn, on this occasion, are not easily
described: they excited the compassion of those, who came to take away her
husband; and they made her some presents_."
"The prisoner," continues Mr. Haynes, "was put in irons, and brought to
Manchester, on the 15th of May. He peremptorily asserted his innocence,
and declared he knew nothing about the murder of his brother-in-law. The
prisoners were kept apart, for a time. They were afterwards confined in
one room. Stephen denied the evidence, brought against him by Jesse, and
treated him with severity."
These men, imprisoned in May, 1819, were not tried, until October of that
year. The _evidence_, upon which they were convicted of murder, in the
first degree, lies now before me, _certified up to the General Assembly of
the State of Vermont, upon their request, by Judge Dudley Chace, Nov. 11,
1819_. Let us now turn from _on dits_, and dreams, and ghosts, and
doubtful relics, to the _duly certified testimony, upon which these men
were sentenced to be hung_.
No. LXXXI.
The grand jurors of Bennington County found a bill of indictment, against
Stephen and Jesse Boorn, September 3, 1819, for the murder of Russell
Colvin, May 10, 1812, charging Stephen, as principal, in the first count,
and Jesse, in the second.
The facts, proved, upon the trial, by witnesses, whose testimony was
unimpeached, and which facts appear, in the minutes of evidence, certified
by Judge Dudley Chace to the General Assembly, November 11, 1819, were,
substantially, these. Before the time of the alleged murder, Stephen had
complained that his brother-in-law, Colvin, was a burden to the family;
and Stephen had said, if there was no other way of preventing him from
multiplying children, for his father-in-law, Barney Boorn, to support, he
would prevent him himself.
At the time of the alleged murder, Stephen and Jesse Boorn had a quarrel
with Colvin. The affair, in part, was seen and heard, by a neighbor, from
a distance. Lewis Colvin, then ten years old, the son of Russell, was
present; and, when seventeen, testified at the trial, that the last time
he saw his father was, when the quarrel took place, which arose, at the
time they were all engaged, in picking up stones--that Colvin struck
Stephen first, with a small stick--that Stephen then struck Colvin, on his
neck, with a club, and he fell--that Colvin rose and struck Stephen
again--that Stephen again struck Colvin with the club, and knocked him
down--whereupon the witness, being frightened, ran away; and was
afterwards told, by Stephen, that he would kill him, if he ever told of
what had happened. The witness further stated, that he ran, and told his
grandmother.
Stephen appears to have been gifted with a lively fancy. It was testified,
that, before this occurrence, speaking of his sister and her husband, he
had said he wished Russell and Sal were both dead; and that he would _kick
them into hell if he burnt his legs off_. This piece of evidence, after
having produced the usual effect upon the jury, was rejected.
Upon another occasion, four years after the alleged murder, Stephen stated
to Daniel D. Baldwin, and Eunice, his wife, that Colvin went off very
strangely; that the last he saw of him was when he, Stephen, and Jesse
were together, and Colvin went off to the woods; that Lewis, the son of
Colvin, upon returning with some drink, for which he had been sent, asked
where his father was, and that he, Stephen, replied, that Colvin had gone
to hell; and Jesse, that they had put him where potatoes would not freeze;
and Stephen added, while making this statement to the Baldwins, that it
was not likely he or Jesse would have said this to the boy, if they had
killed his father.
When the body was sought for, before the bones were discovered, which were
mistaken for human remains, a girl said to Stephen, "they are going to dig
up Colvin for you; aren't they?" He became angry, and said, that Colvin
often went off and returned--and that, when he went off, the last time, he
was crazy; and went off without his hat.
About four years after his disappearance, an old mouldy hat was
discovered, in the field, where the quarrel took place; and was
identified, positively, as the hat of Colvin, by the witness who had seen
the quarrel, from a distance, as I have stated.
Stephen denied, to Benjamin Deming, that he, Stephen, was present, when
Colvin went off, and stated, that he was then, at a distance.
To Joseph Lincoln he said, that he never killed Colvin--that he, and
Colvin, and Jesse were picking up stones, and that Colvin was crazy, and
went off into the woods, and that they had not seen nor heard from him
since.
To William Wyman, Stephen reaeffirmed his statement, made to Benjamin
Deming--called on Wyman to clear up his statement, that he, Stephen, had
killed Colvin--asserted, that he knew nothing of what had become of
Colvin; and that he had never worked with him an hour.
The minutes of the Judge furnish other examples of similar contradiction
and inconsistency, on the part of Stephen Boorn.
But the reader will bear constantly in mind, that, through a period of
seven years, during which the suspicion of the vicinage hung over them,
like an angry cloud, sending forth occasional mutterings of judgment to
come, and threatening to burst upon their heads, at any moment; _neither
of these miserable men attempted flight or concealment_. Two years before
his arrest, Stephen removed from Manchester, as I have related; but, in an
open manner. There was not the slightest disguise, in regard to his abode;
and there, when it was thought proper to arrest him, he was readily found,
in the bosom of his family.
In 1813, Jesse Boorn was asked, by Daniel Jacobs, where Russell Colvin
was; and replied, that he had enlisted, as a soldier in the army.
Thus far, the evidence, certified by Judge Chace, appears to have
proceeded from perfectly credible witnesses. Silas Merrill, _in jail, on a
charge of perjury_, testified to the following confession--that, when
Jesse returned to prison, after his examination, he told Merrill, that
"_they_" had encouraged him to confess, _with promise of pardon_, and that
he, Merrill, had told him, that, perhaps, he had better confess the whole
truth, and _obtain some favor_. In June, 1819, Jesse's father visited him
in jail--after he went away, Jesse seemed much afflicted. After falling
asleep, Jesse awoke, and shook the witness, Merrill--told him that he,
Jesse, was frightened--had seen a vision--and wished the witness to get
up, for he had something to tell him. They both arose; and Jesse made the
following disclosure. He said it was true, that he, and Stephen, and
Colvin, and Lewis were in the lot, picking stones--that Stephen struck
Colvin with a club--that the boy, Lewis, ran--that Colvin got up--that
Stephen struck him again, above the ear, and broke his skull--that his,
Stephen's father came up, and asked if Colvin was dead; and that he
repeated this question three times--that all three of them carried Colvin,
not then dead, to an old cellar, where the father cut Colvin's throat,
with a small penknife of Stephen's--that they buried him, in the
cellar--that Stephen wore Colvin's shoes, till he, Jesse, told him it
would lead to a discovery.
Jesse, as the witness stated, informed him, that he had told his brother
Stephen, that he had confessed. When Stephen came into the room, witness
asked him, if he did not take the life of Colvin; to which he replied,
that "_he did not take the main life of Colvin_." Stephen, as the witness
stated, said, that Jesse's confession was true; and that he, Stephen, had
made a confession, which would only make manslaughter of it. The witness,
Merrill, then proceeded to say, that Jesse further confessed, that,
eighteen months after they had buried the body, they took it up, and
placed it under the floor of a barn, that was afterwards burnt--that they
then pounded the bones, and put them in the river; excepting a few, which
their father gathered up, and hid in a hollow stump.
At this stage of the trial, the prosecuting officer offered the written
confession of Stephen Boorn, dated Aug. 27, 1819. The document was
authenticated. An attempt was made by the prisoners' counsel, to show,
that this confession was made, under the fear of death and hope and
prospect of pardon. Samuel C. Raymond testified, that he had often told
the prisoner to confess, _if guilty_, but not otherwise. Stephen said he
was _not guilty_. The witness then told him _not to confess_. The witness
said he had heard Mr. Pratt, and Mr. Sheldon, the prosecuting officer,
tell Jesse, that, if he would confess, _in case he was guilty_, they would
petition the legislature in his favor. The witness had made the same
proposition to Stephen himself, and _always told him he had no doubt of
his guilt; and that the public mind was against him_.
The court, of course, rejected the _written confession_ of Stephen, made,
obviously, under the fear of death, and the hope and prospect of pardon.
William Farnsworth was then produced, to prove the _oral confession_ of
Stephen, much to the same effect. To this the prisoners' counsel objected,
very properly, as it occurred after the very statement and proposal, made
to the prisoner, by Mr. Raymond. _The court, nevertheless, permitted the
witness to proceed._ Mr. Farnsworth then testified, that, about two weeks
_after_ the date of the written confession, Stephen confessed, that he
killed Russell Colvin--that Russell struck at him; and that he struck
Russell and killed him--hid him in the bushes--buried him--dug him
up--buried him again, under a barn, that was burnt--threw the unburnt
bones into the river--scraped up some few remains, and hid them in a
stump--and that the nails found he knew were Russell Colvin's. The witness
told him his case looked badly; and, probably, gave him no encouragement.
Stephen then said they should have done well enough, had it not been for
Jesse, and wished he "_had back that paper_," meaning the written
confession.
After Mr. Farnsworth had been, thus absurdly, permitted to testify, there
was no cause for withholding the written confession; and the prisoners'
counsel called for its production. This confession embodies little more,
with the exception of some particulars, as to the manner of burying the
body; but is entirely inconsistent with the confession of Jesse. It is a
full confession, that he killed Russell Colvin, and buried his remains.
But, unlike the confession of Jesse, there is not the slightest
implication of their father.
The evidence, in behalf of the prisoners, was of very little importance,
excepting in relation to the fact, that _they were persuaded, by divers
individuals, that the only chance of escaping the halter was, by an ample
confession of the murder_. They were told to confess _nothing but the
truth_--but this was accompanied, by ominous intimations, that their case
"_looked dark_"--that they were "_gone geese_"--or, by the considerate
language of _Squire Raymond_--as he is styled in the minutes--that he
"_had no doubt of their guilt_;" and if they would confess _the
truth_--that is, _what the Squire had no doubt of_--he would petition the
legislature in their favor! What atrocious language to a prisoner, under a
charge of murder!
It would be quite interesting to read the instructions of Judge Dudley
Chace, while submitting the case of Stephen and Jesse Boorn to the jury;
that we might be able to comprehend the measure of his respect, for the
law, touching the inadmissibility of such extra judicial confessions, and
for the solemn, judicial declaration of Sir Matthew Hale, that _no
conviction ought ever to take place in trials, for murder or manslaughter,
until the fact was clearly proven, or the dead body of the person, alleged
to have been killed, was discovered_.
In "_about an hour_," the jury returned a verdict of guilty, against
Stephen and Jesse Boorn. And, in "_about an hour_" after, the prisoners
were brought into court again, and sentenced to be hung, on the
twenty-eighth day of January, 1820. Judge Chace is said to have been
"_quite moved_," while passing sentence on Stephen and Jesse Boorn. It
would have been well, for the cause of humanity, and not amiss, for the
honor of his judicial station, if he had shed tears of blood, as the
reader of the sequel will readily admit.
No. LXXXII.
Sentenced, on the last day of October, 1819, to be hung, on the 28th of
January following, the Boorns were remanded to their prison, and put in
irons.
From this period, their most authentic and interesting prison history is
obtained, from the written statement of the clergyman, who appears to have
performed his sacred functions, in regard to these men, with singular
fidelity and propriety. This clergyman, the Rev. Lemuel Haynes, belonged
to that class of human beings, commonly denominated _colored people_--a
term, to which I have always sturdily objected, because drunkards, who are
often a highly-colored people, may thus be confounded with temperate and
respectable men of African descent.
[2]Mr. Haynes was, in part, of African parentage; and the author of the
narrative, and occasional sermon, to which I have referred, at the
commencement of these articles. There flourished, in this city, some five
and thirty years ago, a number of very respectable, negro musicians,
associated, as a band; and Major Russell, the editor of the Centinel, was
in the habit of distinguishing the music, by the color of the performers.
He frequently remarked, in his journal, that the "_black music_" was
excellent. If this phraseology be allowable, I cannot deny, that the
black, or colored, narrative of Mr. Haynes is very interesting; and that I
have seldom read a black or colored discourse, with more satisfaction; and
that I have read many a white one, with infinitely less.
[2] The editor of the New York Sun, _under date, Jan. 25, 1850_,
says--"Yesterday, we were waited on, by the Rev. Lemuel Haynes, of
this city, the person, who, convinced of the innocence of the
condemned parties, aided in finding the man, supposed to be
murdered."--The Sun must have been under a total eclipse. This very
worthy man, the Rev. Lemuel Haynes, who figured, honorably for
himself, in the affair of the Boorns, was born July 18, 1753, and died
Sept. 28, 1833, at the age of 80--as the gentleman, who conducts the
chariot of the Sun, will discover, by turning to Cooley's "Sketches of
the life and character of the Rev. Lemuel Haynes, N. Y. 1839," p. 312.
Some dark object must have passed before the editor's eye.
Previously to their trial, and after the arrest of Stephen, the Rev. Mr.
Haynes expressly states, that Jesse, having had an interview with Stephen,
positively denied his own former statement, that Stephen had admitted he
killed Colvin. These are the words of Mr. Haynes--"During the interval,
the writer frequently visited them, in his official capacity; and did not
discover any symptoms of compunction; but they persisted, in declaring
their innocence, with appeals to Heaven. Stephen, at times, appeared
absorbed in passion and impatience. One day, I introduced the example of
Christ, under sufferings, as a pattern, worthy of imitation: he
exclaimed--'I am as innocent, as Jesus Christ!' for which extravagant
expression I reproved him: he replied--'I don't mean I am guiltless, as he
was, I know I am a great sinner; but I am as innocent of killing Colvin,
as he was.'"
The condition of the Boorns, immediately after sentence, cannot be more
forcibly exhibited, than in the language of this worthy clergyman--"None
can express the confusion and anguish, into which the prisoners were cast,
on hearing their doom. They requested, by their counsel, liberty to speak,
which was granted. In sighs and broken accents, they asserted their
innocence. The convulsion of nature, attending Stephen, at last, was so
great, as to render him unable to walk, and he was supported to the
prison."
Compassion was excited, in the hearts of some--doubts, peradventure, in
the minds of others. A petition was presented to the General Assembly; and
the punishment of Jesse was changed to imprisonment, for life.
Ninety-seven deadly noes, against forty-two merciful ayes, decided the
fate of Stephen.
On the 29th of October, 1819, Jesse bade Stephen a last farewell; and was
transferred to the State prison, at Windsor.
"I visited him--Stephen"--says Mr. Haynes, "frequently, with sympathy and
grief; and endeavored to turn his mind upon the things of another world;
telling him, that, as all human means had failed, he must look to God, as
the only way of deliverance. I advised him to read the Holy Scriptures; to
which he consented, if he could be allowed a candle, as his cell was dark.
This request was granted; and I often found him reading. He was at times
calm, and again impatient."
Upon another occasion, still nearer the day of the prisoner's doom--"the
last of earth"--Mr. Haynes remarks, that Stephen addressed him
thus--"_'Mr. Haynes, I see no way but I must die: everything works against
me; but I am an innocent man: this you will know, after I am dead.' He
burst into a flood of tears, and said--'What will become of my poor wife
and children; they are in needy circumstances; and I love them better than
life itself.'_--I told him, God would take care of them. He replied--'_I
don't want to die. I wish they would let me live, even in this situation,
somewhat longer: perhaps something will take place, that will convince
people I am innocent._' I was about to leave the prison, when he
said--'_will you pray with me?_'--He arose with his heavy chains on his
hands and legs, being also chained down to the floor, and stood on his
feet, with deep and bitter sighings."
On the 26th day of November, 1819--two brief months before the time,
appointed, for the execution of Stephen Boorn, the following notice
appeared in the Rutland Herald--"MURDER.--_Printers of Newspapers,
throughout the United States, are desired to publish, that Stephen Boorn
of Manchester, in Vermont, is sentenced to be executed for the murder of
Russell Colvin, who has been absent about seven years. Any person, who can
give information of said Colvin, may save the life of the innocent, by
making immediate communication. Colvin is about five feet five inches
high, light complexion, light hair, blue eyes, about forty years of age.
Manchester, Vt., Nov. 26, 1819._"
This notice, published by request of the prisoner, was, doubtless,
prepared, by one of his counsel:--by whomsoever prepared, it bears, in its
very structure, unmistakable evidence of the writer's entire confidence,
in the innocency, of Stephen Boorn, of the _murder_ of Russell Colvin. No
man, who had a doubt upon his mind, could have put these words together,
in the very places, where they stand. Had it been otherwise, some little
hesitancy of expression--some conservative syllable--one little if, _ex
abundanti cautela_, to shelter the writer from the charge of a most
miserably weak and merciful credulity, would have characterized this last
appeal--this short, shrill cry for mercy--as the work of a doubter, and a
hireling.
There may have been a few, whose strong confidence, in the bloodguiltiness
of Stephen Boorn, had become slightly paralyzed, by his entire and
absolute retractation of all his confessions, made before trial. There may
have been a few, who believe, that they, themselves, might have confessed,
though innocent, in the same predicament--assured by the _squires_, the
_magnates_ of the village, whom they supposed powerful to save, that _no
doubt existed of their guilt_--that they were _gone geese_--and who
proffered an effort in their favor--to save them from the gallows--if they
would confess _the truth_, which _truth_ could, of course, be nothing, but
their _guilt_. If they would confess a crime, though innocent, they might
still live! If not, they must be deemed liars, and murderers, and die the
death!
The prisoner, Stephen Boorn, even supposing him to be innocent, but of
humble station in society, and of ordinary mental powers--oppressed by the
chains he wore, and, more heavily, by the dread of death--clinging to
life--not only because it is written, by the finger of God, in the members
of man, that all a man hath will be given for his life--but because, as
the statement of Mr. Haynes convincingly shows, poor degraded outcast as
Stephen was, he was deeply and tenderly attached to his wife and
children--might well fall under the temptation, so censurably spread
before him.
There may have been a few, who were compelled to doubt, if Stephen were a
murderer, upon hearing the simple narrative, spread through the village,
by the worthy clergyman, of the fervent and awful declaration of Stephen
Boorn, in a moment of deep and energetic misery--"I am as innocent of the
murder of Russell Colvin, as Jesus Christ."
But the strong current of popular indignation ran, overwhelmingly, against
him. By a large number, the brief notice, published in the Rutland Herald,
was, undoubtedly, accounted a mere personal, or professional attempt, to
produce an impression of the murderer's innocence, in the hope of
commutation, or of pardon--and, with many, it certainly tended to confirm
the prejudice against him. Days of unutterable anguish were succeeded, by
nights of frightful slumber. The cell was feebly lighted, by the taper
allowed him--with unpractised fingers, the prisoner turned over the pages
of God's holy word--but a kind, faithful guide was at his elbow--the voice
of fervent prayer, amid the occasional clanking of the prisoner's fetters,
went up to that infallible ear, that is ever ready to hear.--The Judicial
power had consigned this victim to the gallows--the general sense had
decided, that Stephen Boorn ought not to live--to prepare him to die was
the only remaining office, for the man of God.
No. LXXXIII.
In April, 1813, about a year after poor Colvin was murdered, by the
Boorns, according to the indictment--there came to the house of a Mr.
Polhamus, in Dover, Monmouth County, New Jersey, a wandering man--he was a
stranger, and Mr. Polhamus was a good man, and took him in--he was hungry,
and he fed him--he was ragged, if not absolutely naked, and he clothed
him. He was a man of mean appearance, rapid utterance, and disordered
understanding. He was harmless withal, perfectly tractable, capable of
light service, and grateful for kindness. In the family of Mr. Polhamus,
this poor vagrant had continued, to the very time, when the Boorns were
convicted of the murder of Russell Colvin.
Not far from Dover, lies the town of Shrewsbury, near Long Branch, the
Baiae of the Philadelphians. There dwelt in Shrewsbury, in the year 1819,
Mr. Taber Chadwick, the brother-in-law of Mr. Polhamus, and familiarly
acquainted with the domestic affairs of his relative. He also was a man of
kind and generous feelings. He had accidentally read in the New York
Evening Post, a paper which he rarely met with, the account of the
conviction of the Boorns, for the murder of Colvin. The notice in the
Rutland Herald, he had never seen. He was firmly persuaded, that the
stranger, who arrived at the house of his brother-in-law, some six years
before, was Russell Colvin. What reasons he had, for this conviction, the
reader will gather from a perusal of the following letter, which appeared
in the Evening Post:--
"SHREWSBURY, Monmouth, N. J., Dec. 6, 1819. To the Editor of the New York
Evening Post: Sir. Having read in your paper of Nov. 26th last, of the
conviction and sentence of Stephen and Jesse Boorn, of Manchester,
Vermont, charged with the murder of Russell Colvin, and from facts, which
have fallen within my own knowledge, and not knowing what facts may have
been disclosed on their trial, and wishing to serve the cause of humanity,
I would state as follows, which may be relied on. Some years past, (I
think between five and ten), a stranger made his appearance in this
county: and, upon being inquired of, said his name was Russell Colvin,
(which name he answers to at this time)--that he came from Manchester,
Vermont--he appeared to be in a state of mental derangement; but, at
times, gave considerable account of himself--his connections,
acquaintances, &c.--He mentions the names of Clarissa, Rufus, &c.--Among
his relations he has mentioned the Boorns above--Jesse as Judge (I think,)
&c., &c. He is a man rather small in stature--round favored--speaks very
fast, and has two scars on his head, and appears to be between thirty and
forty years of age. There is no doubt but that he came from Vermont, from
the mention that he has made of a number of places and persons there, and
probably is the person supposed to have been murdered. He is now living
here, but so completely insane, as not to be able to give a satisfactory
account of himself, but the connections of Russell Colvin might know, by
seeing him. If you think proper to give this a place in your columns, it
may possibly lead to a discovery, that may save the lives of innocent
men--if so, you will have the pleasure, as well as myself, of having
served the cause of humanity. If you give this an insertion in your paper,
pray be so good as to request the different editors of newspapers, in New
York, and Vermont, to give it a place in theirs. I am, sir, with
sentiments of regard, yours, &c.,