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New York dispatch. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1863-1899, September 15, 1872, Image 1

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VOLUME XXVII.
THE NEW YORK DISPATCH,
PUBLISHED
EVERY SATURDAY MORNING,
At No. 11 Frankfort street.
SUBSCRIPTION PRICK, S 5 00 A YEAR.
j#q* A SECOND EDITION, containing the latest news
iTom all quarters, published on SUNDAY MORNING.
IKS“ The NEW YORK DISPATCH is sold by all News
Agents in the city and suburbs at TEN CENTS PER
COPY. All Mail Subscriptions must be paid in advance.
Canada Subscribers must tend 25 cents extra, to prepay
American postage.
TERMS OF ADVERTISING.
Hereafter, the terms of (Advertising in the DISPATCH
Will be as follows:
WALKS ABOUT TOWN 30 cents per line.
BUSINESS WORLD 20 “ “ ‘
SPECIAL NOTICES 18 “
REGULAR ADVERTISEMENTS..IS
Under the heading of “Walks About Town” and
“Business World” the same price will be charged for
each insertion. For Regular Advertisements and “ Spe
cial Notices,” two-thirds of the above prices will be
charged for the second insertion. Regular advertise
ments will be taken by the quarter at the rate of one dol
lar a line. Special Notices by the quarter will be charged
at the rate of one dollar and twenty-five cents per line.
Cute and fancy display will be charged extra.
EMMIE SWINDLES.
THE REFERENCE GAME.
Who Are the Operators, and
How They Work.
Our merchants Swindled Out of Here than
One Billion DoHars Annually.
Several Gangs Constantly at
Work.
The Difficulty of Entrapping
Them.
BHREW3 LAWYERS LY THEIR FMPLOY.
It ie but natural that New York, the metropolis of
tho Western world, the great receiving and distrib
uting depot of the goods and produce of a continent
—whose commerce is reckoned yearly by hundreds
of millions—should also be the headquarters of as
accomplished and shrewd swindlers as are to be
found anywhere. A small army are disposed of an
nually by Incarceration in State Prison or the Peni
tentiary, but their places are supplied by others who
may have served out their sentences, or have just
joined the ranks of those who prey upon the respect
able portion of the commercial community.
It is safe to say that the merchants of this city
have more to bear from these swindlers than from
the failure of creditors. The latter is something
that can be reduced to a minimum, by careful In
quiries as to the standing of the parties from year to
year. In the case of the swindlers, so carefully and
skillfully are their plans laid, that in a majority of
cases they are successful in securing a considerable
amount of booty. And, worst of all, in a large num
ber of cases, nothing can be done to the swindlers,
because, while the fraud is apparent, there Is always
a loophole through which the rascals find no diffi
culty in escaping. It is asserted by competent
judges that the amounts annually mulcted from our
merchants in one way and another, by fraudulent
means, reach nearly or quite the astounding aggre
gate of
ONE MILLION DOLLARS.
There are a variety of ways of attaining the same
end—the possession of the goods of another without
payment —• >---*• *- -«-- —<• ,
of these modes and the concerns who operate under
the various guises. Perhaps the most successful,
and certainly the most extensive in its operations, is
that known as
THE REFERENCE SWINDLE.
It requires several persons to carry this through
successfully, including buyers, consignees, parties in,
other cities to finally dispose of the goods obtained,
and parlies who may act as references, or buyers, as
the c&te may be, for the latter act occasionally in a
dual capacity.
There are
SEVERAL GANGS OF THESE SWINDLERS,
and all are more or less connected with each other,
and work in together if need be. Their mode of
operations is very simple. A man, well dressed and
with a plausible air, calls at one of our importing
houses and expresses a desire to purchase goods.
Be is told that he will have to pay cash on delivery
of the goods, or else, if he wants credit, give refer
ences to parties who can vouch for his being what he
represents himself to be. The would-be purchaser
Bays nothing is more easy, and forthwith proceeds to
give the names and addresses of several down town
firms. Any or all of these will vouch for his being
what he claims, and that he Is able and willing to
pay for five times the amount of goods he proposes
ordering. His word is, of course, not to be trusted,
and a messenger is scut to the firms whose address
the would-be purchaser has furnished. One and all
of the parties called on are unanimous in the asser
tion that the credit of the party in discussion is of
the very best, and his character above reproach.
They have sold him several bills of goods, and
payment was always prompt on the day his notes
fell due. In fact, ho often took up his notes before
they became due. In nearly every instance these
representations are effective. The suspicions of the
Beller, if he ever had any, are dissipated, and the
goods are shipped to the destination named. Some
times the goods are ordered to be left at an address
in this city. More often it is to some Eastern or
Western city. When the payment of the notes of
the purchaser come due, they are protested, and the
firm again visit the reference houses to see what has
caused the failure to pay. The swindlers in charge
are not surprised at the visit, they also, have been
let in for a very considerable amount. It is very
strange; they cannot understand it; Mr. Smith was
always a prompt paying customer up to the present
time.
WHAT BECAME OF THE GOODS.
Further inquiry developed the fact that the buyer
had shipped the goods as soon as received to an auc
tion house, sold them for what they would bring,
and pocketed the proceeds. It was nothing more
nor less than the boldest sort of a swindle, and
would have stood no chance of success but for the
assurances given by the references that the purchaser
wa« to be trusted; and yet the victimized creditor
has no redress. He cannot prove that the assertions
made by the references are a lie, although he is sat
isfied su h is t * case. He can only endeavor to
profit by his experience in the future.
THE REFEERNCE HOUSES.
Those are located generally on the second or third
ficVrs cl the buildings in the vicinity of the business
BtriteU. There are several in William and Pearl
efreOta* -and there have been some in Lispenard and
the a Ijamnt streets. In many cases the reference
firms ure mere dummies, making a show of trans
acting imeiness, but actually depending for a living
on the:r percentage of the proceeds of the goods ob
tained by the buyer whom they indorse. This will
average alx'B-t 15 per cent.
A c'.oee in.ipectiou would show that the boxes scat
tered around, .aad apparently filled with goods, are
empty, or else have a thin layer of goods on top of
some rubbish, t'o Lighten the deception.
WORKING FOB A CHARACTER.
There are inshtnces of firms working for two ojr
three years to get a reputation and then decamping,
after turning everything they could obtain into
ready money. SuclA an instance occurred some time
ago in a business s treat In the Fifth Ward. The
firm was composed of young and apparently ener
getic business men. '.They commenced in a small
way, but soon extended their operations, and at the
end of a little more than two years pad built up a
really fair paying business, and established a pretty
fair reputation for promptness in paying, so much
ao that the large houses felt no hesitation In selling
them on time. One fine day there was an unpleaa-
> ant rumor circulated that the members of the firm
were missing, and that their stock of goods was
alarmingly low—that, in feet, there was scares any
thing left on which to levy. There was a meeting of
the creditors, held with closed doors, and those
present bound to Enough leaked out, how-
PEBIHD BY M. A. WMIAMSON.
ever, for tho outside world to know that the enter
prising fugitives had succeeded in netting about
SIOO,OOO as the fruits of their rascality. Some of
the larger firms were let in for amounts ranging from
$5,000 to SIO,OOO. Little by little tho real facts were
obtained.
Bo fast as goods were delivered to the firm, they
were at once shipped to an auction-house in Phila
delphia, and sold for what they would bring. This
had been continued until a day before several heavy
bills became due, when, satisfied that the swindle
could be no longer kept up, the rogues decamped.
They have probably gone into business somewhere
under assumed names, and will repeat the same
game elsewhere.
PERSONATING REPUTABLE FIRMS.
One of the most common forms of swindling is
that of personating an old and well-known reputable
firm. The swindlers are shrewd enough, however,
to leave a loop-hole for escape. For instance, the
firm whose agents they wish it understood they are,
may be Bchoppe, Wolfe & Co. The simple addition
of the letter E, in the name of the senior member of
the firm, would be held in law as meaning a differ
ent firm, and bo the swindlers eecape, even if ar
rested.
THE LATEST ILLUSTRATION OF THIS SWINDLE.
Early in April last, a man, giving the name of
Burns, made his appearance in the city of Memphis,
Tenn., rented a warehouse on Shelby street, and put
up an impdsiug sign: “Sylvester M. Webb & Co.,
Soon the banks in Memphis began to receive tele
grams from this city, Louisville, Cincinnati, Cleve
land, Pittsburgh, Wheeling, and other cities, inquir
ing relative to the standing of the firm. Thinking
that S. M. Webb & Co., an old and well-known firm,
was the one meant, the banks sent back the message:
“S. M. Webb & Co., are perfectly reliable.” Soon
large amounts of goods, principally hardware, began
to arrive for the new firm. These were received by
Burn 8, and re-shipped to other points, or else sent to
an auction-house, end sold for whatever they would
bring.
One fine morning, the office of Sylvester M. Webb
& Co. was found* to be closed, and the suave Mr.
Burns has not been seen since in those parts. In a
few days the victims began to arrive. They found
nothing to attach except an old desk and a few
chairs. The goods had been entirely cleaned out by
Burns before leaving. A few were lucky enough to
find that certain goods, shipped to Burns’ order, and
to be delivered on or before a certain date, had been
delayed. These were secured. The amount ob
tained by the rascal and his confederates figured up
nearly or quite SIB,OOO. Burns is known to the
police under half a dozen aliases. He is five feet
four inches in hight, has heavy black beard, mus
tache, and hair cut very short. He will turn up
somewhere bo soon as he has gambled away the pro
ceeds of the above swindle. He is an inveterate
lover of gaming, and regularly loses all that he
makes by his nefarious practices.
WESTERN PARTIES VICTIMIZED.
Nothing comes amiss to these shrewd and un
scrupulous operators. When this or adjoining cities
has become too warm for them, they make a tour
through the West, and, adopting the agency dodge,
palm themselves off as the buyers of some large
grain and produce firm, the similarity of the name
adopted”to that of some old and staunch here
being sufficient to at once lull all suspicion. Gener
ally, no difficulty is experienced in procuring ready
credence for their story, and, as a consequence, they
make heavy purchases of grain, produce, or provis
ions, These are shipped on here or to New Haven,
where a considerable business is done in this line,
-•* -—*•-- —THrdg.
they just reverse the game they played here.
THE WORTHLESS CHECK GAME.
When other means fail, the rascals try the worth
less check game. They open an account with a
bank, make a few deposits, and then withdraw all
but a few dollars. In paymen t for a large purchase
of goods, the buyer tenders a check on his bank. It
is accepted, and deposited, and when, having passed
through the Clearing House and reached the bank on
which it is drawn, the check is thrown out for the
reason that there are not sufficient funds standing to
the credit of the drawer to meet it. There is no re
dress. The accepter of the check should have made
proper inquiry at the bank before accepting the
check.
There are half-a-dozen other modes of swindling at
which these fellows turn their hands occasionally;
but the cases we have cited are fair specimens.
It may be asked, why do not the police interfere
and put a stop to this ? The reply is, that in a very
great majority of instances the proof is lacking, and
it would bo simply impossible to procure a convic
tion under our laws. Nor can the cases very well be
met by passing laws to cover the ground. It would
be almost certain to work harm to the mercantile
community, and the innocent would suffer for th#
guilty. Undoubtedly, if the police chose, they could
put a stop to much of the swindling that is going on,
just as they could put a stop to the cheap gift enter
prizes, prize candy distribution, and other cheap
swindles which meet une at every turn.
RESHRKJBLLmMES.
OLD STORIES RETOLD.
NUMBER TEN.
THE MYSTERY OF CASPER HAUSER.
“Crimes, murders, bloodshed, incest, and viola
tion,” says a German writer, presently to be referred
to in connection with the mystery which shrouds
every particular of the life of the unfortunate youth
known to the world as Caspar Hauser, from his
birth to his assassination, “never have been
achieved by any set of princely persons more than
by the ducal house of Zahringen. The famous poi
soning, by perfume, of the heir of the Bavarian
throne, under Maximilian; the strange staircase
affair at Cassel; the mysterious accident that befell a
German prince on a sledge-party at Stockholm; the
dastardly fratricide of a Prussian prince of the pious
Hohenzollern family—all these horrors are far sur
passed by that monstrous drama which became
known all over the world by the name of
CASPAR HAUSEB, THE FOUNDLING OF NU
REMBERG.
The history of the unfortunate individual thus in
troduced is most remarkable. On the 26th of May,
1828, a citizen of Nuremberg, in Bavaria, was taking
a walk, when, happening to loon around him, be
perceived, at a little distance, a young man in the
dress of a peasant, who was standing in a singular
posture, and, like an an intoxicated person, was en
deavoring to move forward, without being able either
to stand upright or or to govern the movement of
his legs. On the approach of the citizen, the stran
ger held out to him a letter directed to a military
officer living In Nuremberg. As the house of this
person lay in the direction of the citizen’s walk, he
took tho youth thither with him. When the servant
opened the door, the stranger advanced with the let
ter in his hand, with the words:
“I want to be a trooper, as my father was.”
The questions of the servant—as, what he wanted ?
who he was ? whence he came?—he appeared not to
understand, and answered only by a repetition of the
same words. He seemed so much fatigued that he
could scarcely be said to walk, but only to stagger,
and he pointed to his feet with tears, and a counten
ance expressive of much pain. As he appeared to
be also
SUFFERING FROM HUNGER AND THIRST,
a small piece of meat was banded to him; but scarce
ly had the first morsel touched his lips when he
shuddered, the muscles of his face were seized with
convulsive spasms, and ha spat it out with great ab
horrence, He manifested the same aversion after he
had tasted a few drops of a glass of beer which was
brought to him, BuAhe swallowed with greediness
and satisfaction a bit of bread and a glass of pure
Kater. In the meantime all attempts to gain any in
forKiation concerning his person or his arrival were
entirely fruitless. He seemed to hear without un
derstanding. to see without perceiving, and to move .
NEW YORK, SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 15. 1872.
his feet without knowing how to use them for the
purpose of walking.
The letter addressed to the captain afforded no
distinct information concerning
THIS SINGULAR BEING.
It stated that the writer was a poor day-laborer, with
a family of ten children. The bearer had been left in
his house on the 7th of October, 1812, and he had never
since been suffered to leave it A Christian education
had been given to him, and he had been taught to
read and write; and, as he wished to become a troop
er, and the writer found it difficult to maintain him
longer, he had brought him to Nuremberg, and con
signed him to the captain’s protection. This letter,
manifestly designed to mislead, was written in Ger
man, and concluded with this heartless expression :
“If you do not Keep him, you may get rid of him, or
let him be scrambled for.” In a Latin postscript,
evidently by the same hand, though the writer pro
fesses to be a poor girl, it is stated that the lad was
born April 30,1812, that he had been baptized, that
the application was for his education until hebecame
seventeen years old, and that he should then be en
rolled m the sixth light cavalry regiment, in which
bis father, who was dead, had belonged.
Under all (he circumstances, the captain thought
it best to consign the lad to the care of the police,
and leave them
THE SOLUTION OF THE MYSTERY.
This being done, the police were puzzled as to what
to do with him, being uncertain whether he was an
impostor, an idiot, or a savage. The first opinion
prevailed, and he was consigned to the cells used for
the confinement of vagrants. In a short time, how
ever, he ceased to be regarded as either an idiot or
impostor, and the opinion gained ground that he
had been kept, for some inexplicable motive, in a
Btate of utter seclusion from the world, and was to
be regarded as a grown infant, who had had yet to
learn to speak, act, and observe.
Upon this change of opinion, bo was removed to
that part of the prison in which the keeper and his
family resided. In this situation his education be
gan, and his first tutor was the jailer’s son, who was
eleven years old.
He soon became an object of public curiosity and
interest, and was visited by hundreds of persons.
The Burgomaster of Nuremburg and Prof. Daumer
interested themselves in his education. To the
house of the Burgomaster he was taken almost daily
for the purpose of instruction, and he was finally
consigned altogether to the care of the professor.
As his mind expanded and its natural powers became
developed, he acquired an ardent desire for knowl
edge, and learned to express himself intelligibly and
correctly.
He was able to give little Information concerning
his existence previous to his appearance in Nurem
burg. It seems that
HE HAD LIVED IN A SMALL, LOW APARTMENT,
where the light never entered, and a sound was
never heard. In thia place he never, even in his
sleep, lay at full length, but always sat with his
back against the wall and his legs stretched out be
fore him. Some peculiar property of his place of
confinement, or some peculiar contrivance, appears
to have made it necessary that he should always re
main in thia position. In thia dungeon, whenever
he awoke from sleep, he found a loaf of bread and a
pitcher of water by his side. Sometimes the water
had a bad taste, probably from the infusion of some
narcotic; for, whenever this was the case, he soon
fell asleep again, and when he awoke, always found
that his shirt had been changed and his nails cut.
He never saw the face of the man who brought him
his bread and water, and who never spoke to him,
—tn niter the words which Caspar had bo un
meaningly repeated wnen ne nrsc appeared in jnui*-
emburg. How many
YEARS HE HAD PASSED IN DARKNESS AND
SECLUSION
he knew not; he had no recollection of ever having
been in any other place, or of any other condition.
One day the man who acted as his jailer struck him
with a stick, because he had made too much noise
with the wooden horses which were his only means
of amusement. Boon after this circumstance, the
man placed a small table before him, with a sheet of
paper upon it, and then went behind him, placed a
pencil between his fingers, and guided it over the
paper. Caspar was thus taught to write his name,
his ability to do which had been thought at first to
favor the idea Cof his being an impostor. When he
was able to do this, his jailer lifted him up, and en.
deavorad to teach him the use of his legs. Finally,
this man took him on his back one day, and carried
him out of the house. He fainted on being brought
into the air and light, and remained in a dazed state
during the journey to Nuremberg. He was only
conscious that his conductor put a letter into his
hand on their arrival in that city, and then left him.
It seems, from this account, that he had at length
become
A DANGEROUS BURDEN
to those who had kept him secretly confined. He
had grown restless; his powers of life were more
vivid. He sometimes made a noise, and it was ne
cessary to keep him quiet by means of severe chas
tisement. But why they did not get rid of him in
some other manner—why they did not destroy him—
why had he not been put out of the world as a child
—these are questions which still remain without so
lution. It seems to have been expected that he
would have been lost, as a vagabond or an idiot, in
some public institution at Nuremberg; or, if any
attention was paid to the recommendation ha brought
with him, as a soldier in some regiment. But none
of these events took place. The unknown foundling
met with humane consideration, and became the
object of universal public attention. The journals
were filled with accounts of this mysterious young
man, and with conjectures respecting him. It was
hinted by some that he was the
HEIR TO THE THRONE
of a German principality. The develpment of his
mind was everywhere spoken of; marvelous things
were related to the public of his progress; and it was
at last reported that Caspar Hauser was employed in
writing a history of his life. At this period, and
probably with the view of preventing the execution
of this intention, an attempt was made on the 17th of
October, 1829, to assassinate him in the house of
Professor Daumer. He escaped with an inconsider
able wound on his forehead, but which, from the ex
cited state of his nervous system, occasioned him
much suffering and prolonged indisposition.
At a subsequent period,
EARL STANHOPE ADOPTED THE CHARGE OF
CASPAR,
and had him removed to Anspach, where he was
placed under the care of Dr. Funrmann, with whom
he also resided. It was intended that he should be
takeu to England, in which he would have been tol
erably safe from the dread of assassination. This
fear, in which he long lived after the first attempt
upon his life, seems, indeed, to have considerably
subsided after he had remained several years at
Anspach without molestation. But his secret enemy
had not lost sight of him. As he was leaving the
Tribunals on the morning of December lltb, 1833, a
stranger, wrapped in a large cloak, accosted him
under the pretense of having an important com
munication to make. Caspar excused himself, as he
was then going to dine, but promised to meet the
stranger in the afternoon in the palace garden. The
meeting took place. The stranger drew some papers
from underneath his cloak, and while Hauser was
about to examine them,
STABBED HIM TWICE NEAR THE HEART
with a dagger that he had kept concealed.
The wounds were not immediately fatal. Caspar
was able, to return home, but copld then only utter
in broken syllables, “Palace garden—purse—Uz—
monument.” Dr. Fuhrmann dispatched tho police
to Uzen’s monument, in the palace garden, where
they found a small purse of violet silk, containing a
scrap of paper, on which was written, in a disguised
hand, “Hauser can tell you well enough why I ap
pear here, and who I am. To save Hauser the
trouble, I will tell you myself whence I come. I
come from the Bavarian frontier, on the river .
I will also give you the name—M. L. O.” According
to Caspar’s description, the man was the same who
made the previous attempt upon hi? life at Nu
remberg,
anil fnirtjtnhtnt.
THE UNFORTUNATE CASPAR HAUSER
died on the night of December 17th, in consequence
of the wounds he had received, and no clue to the
mystery of his life and death had yet been obtained,
although a reward of five thousand florins was
offered by Lord Stanhope for the discovery of tho
assassin. The funeral of Caspar Hauser took place
on the 26th of December, and was attended by crowds
of persons, all moved by the deepest sympathy, for
the poor youth was greatly beloved. Dr. Fuhrmann
pronounced an oration over his grave, in the course
of which he alluded to the last words of the victim*
who, on being asked if he forgave his enemies, re
plied:
“ I have prayed God to forgive all whom I have
known; for myself, personally, I have nothing to for
give, as no one ever did me wrong.”
We have already stated that among the various
hypotheses that were raised concerning this unfor
tunate young man, it was suggested that he was the
heir to the throne of a German principality. Evi
dence was wanting, however, to establish this
STARTLING ASSERTION,
and, just before his assassination, a pamphlet was
announced for publication, which, it was stated,
would increase and strengthen the circumstantial
evidence. It is said that the documents upon which
this pamphlet was founded were bought of the au
thor by some unknown person, and destroyed, and
M. Seiler, the author, asserts that the Government
of Baden made an unsuccessful attempt to buy up
the pamphlet, which was subsequently published at
Berne. Ihe hypotheses broached in this pamphlet
is, that tho Grand Duchess Stephanie, aunt of the ex-
Emperor of the French, was the mother of Caspar
Hauser, “ who, for the benefit of the Duke Ludwig,
and the now deceased Leopold, was so vilely doomrtl
to misery and death.”
Ludwig was the reigning Grand Duke of Badon at
the time of Caspar’s appearance at Nuremberg, and
his mysterious assassination at Anspach. Charles
Leopold Frederick, the other Grand Duke mentioned
by M. Seller, was bis grandson, the eldest of four
children, the issue of a morganatic marriage be
tween Prince Charles Frederick and Madame Geyer,
a lady whose reputation was not of the best, and
whom Lu Iwig created Countess of Hochberg. Scan
dal was busy with the lady’s name during Ludwig’s
reign, and it was even hinted that he was the father
of her children. Major Hennenhoffer, who was his
confidant and boon companion, was seen in Anspach
on the afternoon of Hauser’s murder, and it is
alleged that it was he who bought the documents of
M. Seller. But all that relates to the crime is in
volved in mystery, and there is little reason to hope
that it will ever be solved.
i SEHimiN’S LOVE.
How He Met and Fell in Love with
a Young, Frail Widow.
Their Subsequent Quarrel, Separ
ation, and Reconcilation,
THEIR FINAL SEPARATION.
The Widow Writes a Threaten
ing Letter.
THE PRICE OF HER SILENCE.
Geo. M. Lamb is a sea captain, and like most sea
captains, is a jolly good fellow, and fond of the girls,
la about sixty years of age, of good robust stature,
ana weather-beaten expression of
face peculiar io . «.« u ava mar-
itime experience.
About four years ago he became acquainted with a
Mrs. Frances G. Walters, a young widow, at a house
of assignation in Twelfth street, and this acquaint*
ance shortly ripened into
SOMETHING AKIN TO LOVE.
And yet, perhaps, there was little real affection be
tween the two. On their first meeting, Frances told
Lamb a pitiful story of home and virtue blighted for
ever, of a family disgraced, and of the misery she
was enduring from the consciousness, she so keenly
felt, that she was leading a life of sin. The tender
heart of the old sailor melted with compassion at
the recital of her tale of woe, and he at once prom
ised to take care of her. From time to time he gave
her money, enabling her to support herself comfort
ably; but Frances was of an avaricious turn of
mind, and always begged for more. This naturally
disgusted tho honest eoul of the worthy Lamb, and
he vowed to have no more to do with her. He went
on a voyage to San Francisco. While he was away
Fhe constantly pestered him with letters, the purport
of all of which was—more greenbacks. He wrote her
back, saying that their connection had ceased, and
she should in future do the best she could to
PADDLE HER OWN CANOE.
Time passed, and Lamb returned to this city.
Frances was not long in making him out, and soon
he had a letter from her stating that if he would give
her a certain amount she would cry quits, and both
er him no more. Receiving no immediate response,
Frances determined to give her ci devant lover as
much trouble as possible, and called frequently at
the office of the owner of the vessel of which Lamb
was captain.
This sort of thing soon brought the latter to terms,
and he finally consented to give her the amount she
demanded. Pending this settlement, however, they
resumed cohabitation and lived together for over a
year, during which time George paid her eighty dol
lars a month. Reverses, however, came, and he was
obliged to leave her. He had a daughter living in
Brooklyn, and went to live with her. But Frances
followed him still, and gave him no peace. At length
he obtained a ground upon which to dispose of for
good what was becoming to him an intolerable nui
sance. He received tho subjoined letter from his
former inamorata—a curiously blended production
of the disappointed female heart—in which she
threatens him with all manner of terrible things un
less he came promptly down with the dust:
A THREATENING LETTER.
July 20, 1872.
Capt. Lamb—So you refuse to look at last at the
“ blackened ashes,” you now shake them as the dust
from your feet. After stripping me threadbare of all
I held dear on earth, you now add insult to injury,
reiuse to extend the hand of sympathy, refuse me
even peace on my sick-bed. The greatest coward on
earlh would scorn to even treat an enemy as you
have me. This is my reward. I who have lived in
obscurity, shattered my health and peace of mind,
who have even lost sight of my God, yet you would
owe me nothing—nothing in exchange, after placing
me on a sick-bed by your base treatment. You would
march off like any other villain to gratify your own
selfish ends. But as soon as lam able to rise from
this bed I will hunt you out one of these black nights
in your “haunts” and drag your iniquity to light.
Do you think I’ll guard your secret any longer ?
No I You have crushed me like a worm, and I will
“ railroad ” you to ruin as Fisk did Stokas. I can be
as relentless as you have been by me. What I have
endured for the past has changed my heart as “steel
clad” as . I will show you no more mercy than
you would find among thieves, but will add “com
pound interest ” to the debt of injury done me.
You talk of having been such a benefit to me for
the past four years. And why? Onty to gratify
your own selfish propensities. You made me your
slave until it suited you to give me up. I would
much rather have dragged out a life in the “haunts
of shame ” than to have been thus treated by you.
A death in the body is far preferable to this mortal
death of mind—this torture of tho soul and brain,
which seorches the life-b:ood in my being, a cancer
of the soul—of the soul only is the cancer I wrote of.
Dare you to speak of keeping my “ secret?” What
can you expect from me—you who have been a false
hood from the beginning, which you have admitted
to ma at last ? You have never been sincere, yet you
robbed my heart of its best treasures, bo don’t dare
to expect anything from me. The price of my silence
is this, that you will give mo $122 to pay my fare out
of this city, the money you gave me is most of it
used already in my sickness, and to send mother
away. Now I have not received any from any one
to go with, and I ask as a last favor this money of
you to go with. I would scorn to ask it now if I
were well. If I had not been sick I would not now
ask it of you; but I have not a friend in the world
now. I ask as a last favor of you, to be able to go
away and forget you, to have peace from all. Come
as soon as you can. Gbace.
Captain Lamb, armed with this communication,
called upon Counselor Price, and showing it to him,
related the grievances which he was subjected to by
the writer. Counselor Price immediately sued out a
warrant fot Mrs. Walters’
ATTEMPTING TO BLACKMAIL,
and a few days ago she was taken before Aiderman
Coman, at the Tomba. She was nicely dressed in a
dark drab suit, and looked a plump, pretty, intelli
gent woman of about twenty-six Bummers. The
case was not proceeded with, at the request of
Counselor Price, who said that he did not desire to
prosecute. The prisoner was a young woman, and
he was loth on that account to press the charge. All
that he desired was, that she should promise to let
his client alone in future and give him no further
annoyance. Mrs. Walters agreed to do this, and the
oase was dismissed.
CiREBR OF A DESPERADO.
Another and More Brutal Jack
Sheppard.
A History of Villainy and Despera
tion.
Two of the Boldest Attempts at Highway
Robbery on Record,
Cruel and Unprovoked Wife
Murder.
NABBED AT LAST.
A Justly Excited Community.
The people on the borders of the Hudson, in the
vicinity of Nyack and Tarrytown, have just been re
lieved from the presence of one of the boldest and
most unscrupulous villains that has ever infested
their quiet localities. Tae name of this outlaw is
John Sheppard. Although of highly resectable
parents, and born in a law-abiding community, Shep
pard has oi late cultivated a spirit of lawlessness and
bravado ilir.t has made him the peer of his celebrated
namesake. In point of cold-blooded villainy and
heartless cruelty, John must be allowed a place a few
rounds above the departed Jack.
In 1866. Sheppard, who was then twenty-three years
of age, and already in bad repute among the people
of Nyack, seduced an accomplished and highly re
spectable g;rl of the village named Catherine Moor.
When the evidence of their criminal intimacy became
apparent, Sheppard proposed and insisted on marry
ing the girl, although opposed bitterly by her par
ents. These were poor, but honest and respectable
people—the father being a carpenter and contractor,
living two miles from Nyack. They preferred that
their unfortunate daughter should, bear her shame
alone rather than couple it with a life of misery with
a man whom they believed to be a villain. Sheppard,
however, loved the girl he had brought to the verge
of public disgrace and ruin. Maddened at the oppo
sition of her parents, who were beneath him in so
cial station, he
PERSUADED HER TO ELOPE WITH HIM,
which she did, and the two were married in Haver
straw. Shortly after the marriage, and after the
birth of a child, Mr. Moor, the girl's father, learned
that Sheppard had another wife living in the village
of Norwich, Long Island, whence he had come to
Nyack. The father immediately accused Sheppard
of his villainy, charging him with being a bigamist,
and with having betrayed his former wife. Sheppard
acknowledged that he had been married before—a
fact which had been hitherto unknown in the village.
He claimed, however, that his former marriage had
been forced upon him illegally, and that he was just
ly absolved from all allegiance to his former wife.
The father, enraged at the thoughts of his only child
having been the vicuiu vx tuia nntragA. had
SHEPPARD ARRESTED
and brought to trial on a charge of bigamy, On the
trial the fact was revealed that his former wife had
also been the victim of his last before marriage, but
on the evidence, and her failure to appear and pros
ecute, he was declared innocent.
This is uuyuc»uuu»uiy mo vuiy crime witu wuwu
Sheppard has been accused, of which he was not
guilty. Catherine, his wife, unmindful of the bitter
animosity existing between her parents and her hus
band, still cherished an affection for him, which, it
is probable, nothing but his subsequent crimes and
cruelty could or would have alienated. Shortly after
his trial for bigamy in Nyack, Sheppard, who had, in
consequence of the facts then adduced, fallen into
still worse repute among the people of the village,
removed, with his wife, to Peekskill. Here his bad
reputation followed him, and he found it difficult to
procure honest employment, even if he desired to
do so. In Peekskill he formed the acquaintance of a
number of young men of even worse character than
himself, and soon became a first class rough of the
village- From being a rough and brawler, Sheppard
easily and naturally
BECAME A THIEF AND DESPERADO.
Frequent cruelty to his wife, and a failure to pro
vide adequate support for her and her child, caused
her to leave him for the first time and return to the
residence of her parents, near Nyack. After her de
parture, Sheppard turned his house into a resort for
the most abandoned set of thieves and cut-throats
that has ever infested |he banks of the Hudson. A
series of crimes and bold robberies, among which
was the robbery of the National Bank at Haver
straw, rendered Sheppard and his gang a terror to
the neighborhood. Although more than euspected
of having had a hand in a number of the boldest of
these robberies, Sheppard was smart enough for a
time to keep out of the grasp of the law, while a num
ber of his companions were rendered secure in Sing
Sing. Shortly after the National Bonk robbery at
Haverstraw, the police of that place and Peekskill
cleaned out the gang at the latter place, and made
the vicinity decidedly too warm for Sheppard and
his pals.
They dispersed, and for a time devoted their at
tention to the people of the west bank of the river in
general, and the farmers in the neighborhood of
Nyack in particular.
Meanwhile, Sheppard had made frequent over
ture* to his wife to return to him, promising to
abandon his associates, and lead a different life.
These were resisted by her parents, who used all
their influence and persuasion to prevent their
daughter from again leaving her home. They were
unsuccessful, however, and the wife once more
JOINED HER FORTUNES WITH THOSE OF HER
HUSBAND.
In the course of two weeks, she was again com
pelled to return, on account of cruelty and neglect.
From this time until the tragedy which terminated
her sad life, Catherine saw her husband at intervals,
when he would come to her father's house, and beg
her to return to him, repeating his old promises of
reformation and kind treatment.
A brief history of two of the latest and most daring
of Sheppard's crimes will show the character of a
desperado whose last cold-blooded murder, it is to
be hoped, will terminate a series of villainies than
which none are more startling and audacious.
In consequence of some outrage perpetrated in
Bockland county, Sheppard was wanted by the po
lice, who ware in search of him. He was known to
be in the vicinity of Nyack, and to be out of money,
which was ascertained by persons who had seen him
near the. residence of Mr. Moor, where he had been
to secure an interview with his wife. This was in
the month of last December. On the evening of the
15th of that month, an old farmer, by the name of
Dawson, was returning in his s’.eigh from Nyack to
Sufferns. When about half way between the two
places, a man, whom he did not know, sprang out of
the bushes, beside the road, and commanded him to
halt. This the farmer did, when the stranger drew
a pistol from his outside pocket, and demanded Daw
son’s money, intimating, pointedly, that if he pre
ferred that commodity to his brains, he could have
his choice speedily gratified.
The former, seeing that he had a desperate char
acter to deal with, concluded that the wisest thing to
do under the circumstances was to fork over, or, in
the language of the California ‘'agents," to
“FLASH HIS BULLION.”
He had been to market in Nyack, where he had
disposed of a load of poultry, and had beside a con
siderable amount of money on bis person. Very re-
OFFICE, NO. 11 BANOORT ST.
luctantly he handed it to the robber. That individ
ual, however, was not satisfied with the honesty of
the farmer, and looking at matters from a standpoint
derived from a thorough knowledge of himself, con
cluded that an addition might be made to the pile by
“going through” his victim, personally, which he
requested the pleasure of doing. For this purpose
he laid his pistol on the seat of the sleigh. Dawson,
though an old man, is strong and active. . Seeing his
chance while the robber was searching him, he dealt
the highwayman a powerful blow in the face, which
knocked him from the sleigh out on the snow, him
self also falling out from the force of the blow. The
robber, stunned and surprised at the action of his
victim, was no match for the farmer, who, with his
whip, soon
LAID HIS ANTAGONIST BLEEDING AND SENSE
LESS ON THE SNOW.
He then jumped into his sleigh, and whipping up
*’.ls horses, proceeded to Suffern. Some people pase
.ng along the road soon after, saw the wounded and
t ceding robber, and conveyed him to a house near
b . where his wounds were dressed. He then left,
saying he had been thrown from his horse. In about
an hour afterward, two officers, who were in pursuit
of Sheppard—for the highwayman was none other
but that individual—arrived at the ferm-house, but
the bird had flown.
In May last, Charles Sears, who is a clerk in the
firm bf Zoller & Baudier, dealers in sashes and fur
niture, No. 409 East Fourth street, in this city, was
sent to Nyack to pay off the hands in the factory,
which is located in that village. For this purpose,
he had in his possession
$25,000 IN BANK NOTES.
Taking the train at Jersey City, Sears had proceeded
as far as Toppantown without apprehension of rob
bery. At this station he alighted from the train,
which slops from five to ten Arinutes to allow other
trains to pass. In walking about the depot he be
came conscious that he was closely observed by two
men who had also got off the train. Shortly before
the train started he passed to the rear of the depot.
Immediately the men separated, one passing to the
rear by each end of the house. Before Sears could
cry out, or in any manner give an alarm, the two
ruffians had seized him and were proceeding to re
lieve him of his money. While one of them held
him with a ,
STRANGLING GRIP BY THE THROAT,
the other, from behind, was making a hurried en
deavor to unloosen his coat so as to get at the bank
notes, which were in an inside breast pocket. At
this juncture a brakeman on the train, happened to
come around, seeing the scuffle and at once compre
hending the situation, called loudly for help and
hurried to the young clerk’s assistance. The brake
man’s cry for help had been heard In front of the
depot, and in a minute nearly forty employees of the
road and passengers on the train were on the spot.
The two robbers, seeing the game was up, released
Sears, and drawing their revolvers, made away
before the entire crowd, who watched them without
attempting their capture, until they disappeared in
the woods. The boldest and most desperate of the
two ruffians was recognized as Sheppard by many
persons on the train who lived in Nyack and recog
nized him.
This brings the history of Sheppard down to
Thursday night last, when he committed one of the
most cold-blooded and atrocious murders that has
ever startled the citizens of Rockland County. Ever
since the attempted midday robbery at Tappautown,
Sheppard has been
HUNTED BY THE POLICE
of the county, and it was supposed had fled the
country. On Thursday night, however, having
armed himself with a small pistol for his murder
ous purpose, he stealthily made his appearance at
♦»»« farm-house of Mr. Moor. Mrs. Ourn, the wife of
a man employed by Moor, was at lying non-
•>fined in one of the rooms of the house, and Catha
rine was attending on her. Ourn himself was out at
the stable, and Mr. Moor had gone down to the vil
lage, so that the two women were alone in the house
with the exception of Sheppard's little girl, four years
via. *uv/ were wuvox o iu 6l Jittle Child
came, frightened and breathless, into the room, say
ing that her lather was coming up the path to the
house. Frightened to distraction, the two women
told her to run to the stable and call Mr. Ourn. Just
as the child was leaving the room Sheppard entered,
and closed the door after him.
His wife, terror-stricken at his look and demeanor,
retreated to the bed of the sick woman, and asked
him why he held his pistol in his hand, saying:
“ JOHN, YOU WOULDN’T HURT ME, WOULD
YOU ?”
Sheppard replied by asking her if she would leave
the house with him.
“Dear John,” said the terrified wife, “I can’t
leave Mrs Ourn this way; beside, where would we
go ? You have no place to take me, and you know
they are after you, John.”
“Yes, by— , you’ve given me away,” said
Sheppard, “ and I mean to do for you now.”
He then raised the pistol and fired, when Catherine
fell. Sheppard, after he had discharged his pistol,
immediately ran out into the ball and down the path
to the gate, the little girl following him, and crying
to Mr. Ourn, who was coming toward the gate :
“Oh 1 Mr. Ourn, father has killed mother I”
Ourn ran to the house, and found Catherine lying
as she had fallen, with a
GHASTLY WOUND OVER THE EYE,
that must have been instantly fatal. He hurriedly
notified the neighbors of the terrible tragedy, and
dispatched a man to Inform Mr. Moor. That gen
tleman, on receiving the startling intelligence that
his daughter had been murdered, immediately col
lected a posse of men and started in pursuit of Shep
pard, who was caught the following morning as he
was emerging from a barn where he had concealed
himself.
The popular indignation at this last crowning act
of a career of vaillainy was so great, that It was with
great difficulty the crowd could be restrained from
lynching the murderer. He was sullen and morose
after his capture, refusing to deny or confess his
guilt. It is believed that his privations while being
hunted by the authorities, and his many crimes,
have shattered his intellect. During his flight from
the house of Mr. Moor, after the shooting, he had
thrown away his hat, coat, and pistol, and when
found made no resistence, seeming utterly helpless.
ON THE HIGH SEAS.
USABLE TO GET A SQUARE STEAL.
A correspondent who has lately been to Eu
rope doesn’t think much of high living, if one
has to take it on the " high seas., He has tacts
on his side, too, for he says :
Everybody has heard of the princely style of
living on tho Cunard steamers. But what are
four meals a day, with a dinner which requires
an hour and a half to go through the courses,
to one who is nauseated at the sight even of
the most delicious dish ? The attempt to keep
up stylo is a melancholy farce after the first
dav. Only the captain and tho few who have
“ traveled the seas over,” really enjoy the
meals.
There is an atmosphere of brine, or steaming
oil, or something peculiar to the close cabins
of steamships, which permeates everything,
and it is my impression that it is this nauseat
ing smell which produces half the sea-sickness.
It would make one sick on land to live in it
three days.
During rough weather, and indeed at all
times, for the ocean is never quiet and the
groat vessel never ceases to roll, sitting at the 1
tablo is a ludicrous experience. The dishes
are fenced on by fastening four strips of ma
hagony, about three inches high, lengthwise
with the tables, with occasional cross-pieces.
Castors and glasses hang from a swinging
shelf above. Frequently, a lurch of the vessel
sends crockery and contents upon one side of
the table, and sometimes in your lap, while the
return roll takes them back to tho other side
decidedly mixed.
It was not an uncommon sight to see a waiter
on the cabin floor carving a turkey upon a plat
ter which he was steadying between his knees.
It was so cold that most of the passengers
wore overcoats or shawls at thoir meals. Such
is "style” on the high seas in a regular Cu
narder.
HEAR T PICTU RE 8 .
No. VII.—THE MISER.
By Julian Cross.
“ Twice have I entered his chamber,
Twice has he cursed me away,
Saying he cannot remember
My name, or the words that I say.
“ Oh, father 1 I wait here to cheer you,
And to comfort you, now you are old;
Let me come to your room, and be near you,
And help you to count out your gold.
For I know that you love bo to feel it,
To weigh it, and know it is near;
I will guard it, and no one shall steal it,
I will watch it lor you, father dear.
° Good Heavens I sure some one is with him,
Talking loudly—they struggle—they fall;
Help | help I they are robbing my father 1
But no answer returns to my call.’*
No answer returns, but—oh, horror !
A groan as of some one in pain;
“ Let me in, father dear—let me see you,
And hear your dear voice once again.
“ Hark I to that strange sound of dripping;
'Tis the water-cup, spilled in the fray;
•Neath the door I feel it is creeping—
With my hand I can wipe it away.
“ My hand I—gracious God I—blood is on it.
Warm, clintring blood all around;
On my dress, on my shoes, on my bonnet,
The same crimson stains can be found.
“ My young blood is frozen with horror,
I shriek, beat the door with my hind fl,
Test the lock, which is iron and unyielding,
And bite with my teeth the stray bands.
“ Strangers, hear me, and break in to aid me,
Burst the door without further de ay.
And I see his white hair, red with murder,
And his money-bags taken away."
EaDB&SSSSSSSSBKnaESBH'EHBES
In fedtinj
THE
OR,
TUB TERR[BLR_MYSTBRL
BY CHARLES GIBBONS,
AUTHOB OF “FOB THE KING; 08, THE DAYS 01
THE FBETENDEB,” ETC.
CHAPTER XXX.
HOME.
Home! there is a magic about thee,
Which ibe dearer by distance ia made;
A charm wbic'i I ne’er lelt without u ee,
Ab.lse in my own native shade.— Anon.
After the news of Sir Everard Goldburn s
decease, and with the knowledge that he was
master of Arlington Hall and its revenues,
there could bo no question of Captain Gold
burn’s remaining in India, or any necessity for
further secresy about his marriage. He im
mediately wrote to his agents announcing his
intention of returning as soon as he could set
tle his affairs in the East, and added 'a clausa
to his letter which puzzled the worthy awyer
not a little:
“ As Arlington Hall has been so long a bach
elor residence, I shall feel obliged if you wiU
see that a suite of rooms is fitted up for m?
wife, who, with my son, will accompany me.
If the old nursery wing ie not pulled down or
quite dismantled it would bo as well to have
that put in order also.”
“So ho has outwitted the old fellow, after
all,” was the lawyer’s comment on the intelli
gence. “ Who can ’my wife’ bo, I wonder ?
Some yellow-faced Indian Begum, rolling in
money, I dare say. Goldburn’s a cute fellow
for all his easy-going ways.”
He set himself diligently to work to ascer
tain boyond a doubt that there was no flaw in
the will; that Lla ma.tiago uotwitbmunqing;
his client would inherit, but there was nothing;
in the way. Sir Everard had been perfectly
satisfied, and there was no stipulation what
ever introduced. Ernest Goldbnrn never knew
how near ho had once been to losing his mag
legacy. One of the officious meddlers
who seem corn to interfere in other people’s
business, found out, or fancied he did, that, as
he phrased it, “ there was a woman in the
oase,” and forthwith made it his business to
inform the old knight that his nephew was
married.
“ Don’t believe it,” was the curt reply,
“I had it from good authority,” the inform,
ant persisted ; “from a friend who has just-re
turned from India, and who saw the lady.”
“ Let your friend bring mo his marriage cer
tificate, and I’ll listen to him,” Said Sir Ever
ard, gruffly. “Married! Pooh! Why, the
lad was almost shot to pieces out in the Cri
mea yonder. No woman in her senses would
have him.”
“If he is not married, he has some one liv
ing with him—a gentle, well-educated lady they
say she is.”
“Ah! that’s another affair. He is welcome
to live with all the women that Mother Eve’s
mantle of lies and deceit ever fell upon, bo he
doesn’t make such a fool of himself as to tie a
knot he never can undo,” said this immoral
old bachelor, and the busybody had to go away
with the unsatisfactory knowledge of having
done no good, and made himself look foolish.
Sir Everard made some inquiries, but no ev
idence was forthcoming to show that bis neph
ew had ever even contemplated matrimony,
and he rested content, dying very soon after
ward, and putting an end to all double and un
certainty about the lady who resided with Cap
tain Goldburn.
Several months had to be spent in India be
fore they could return io England, and the ad
vent of the young and handsome Mrs. Gold
burn caused no small sensation in Calcutta so
ciety. Everwhere she was feted and caressed,
for the story of the meeting at Scutari had got
wind, and it was something to have such a real
live lion and lioness to stir up the stagnation
which had come upon the upper ten of the In
dian oapital.
Curiosity as to who she was was rife, but not
the smallest inKhng of information could be
gained on the matter. Her husband intro
duced her everywhere as “ lire. Goldburn,” or
“ my wife,” and let the curious pump and pry
ever so eagerly, they oould learn nothing
more. At length a rumor as to her identity
spread imperceptibly, and it arose in this wise:
Sitting in her well-appointed carriage before a
house in the Garden Reach, one evening, she
noticed a man scaring at her. He was gaunt
and pale, and dressed in livery with a cockade
in his bat, marking him as an officer’s servant.
She had an uncomfortable impression on her
that she had seen him before, though she could
not tell where; his face seemed to bring back
like a flash of lightning all that terrible time
in the lines before Sebastopol, and she shivered
with the eerie feeling the recollection produced,
though the evening was unusually sultry. Her
husband had alighted to mitke a call, and the
man’s manner almost frightened her as ha
drew slowly nearer and nearer to the carriage
door.
“Do you know me, that you look at mo so?"
she asked, at length, as he got quite close, “os
do you want anything ?”
“ I want naething but a word or a look frae
ye,” replied the man in a broad Scotch accent.
“ Ken ye! oh aye, I ken ye weel enough, Elsie,
for a’ your braws and finery.”
She looked at him wondering and he went
on, still staring at her.
“Ikent ye fine when I keekit through the
door o’ the hut m the Crimea, yonder, and saw
ye a’ dressed up in laddies’s gear. Hae ya
ne’r a word for an auld friend ? Blaid’s thicker
than water, and you and I are near kin.”
“ I don't know you,” she faltered, looking
round her in alarm, for now she thoroughly
believed the man was insane, “I never saij
you before.”
“Never saw me. Ah! ye canna look me i'
the face and be like that. Ye canna bo o’ the
true Kingsford bluid gin ye can. They were
aye upright and downright. Elsie, for the
sake o’ auld times, gie me ane word o’
ship.”
“ I don’t know you, indeed I don’t," she sail
terrified beyond measure, “Oh, Earnest, I’m
so glad you are come; do speak to him, I think
he’s mad.” r
“ I’m nae mad, she kens that as weel as I do.-
She doosna' want to own hex kindred, that’s
a’.”
“ I dont think my wife wants to disown any
kindred that she ever heard of, my friend,"
said Ernest Goldburn good humoredly, “ but
you see she hasn’t the honor of your acquaint-,
ance. Who do you take her for ?”
“ My cousin Elsie Smith, wha left ifor hap l ?
NO. 46

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