TO THE PUBLIC.
The reader may depend on the truth of the fact in the foregoing pages; but, in consequence of their singularity, the author was induced to search minutely into her parentage, and has spared no exertion to obtain his information from the most authentic and respectable sources. After perusing it, he will pause and reflect, “Poor human nature! how weak and corrupt thou art, if not checked in the morning of thy existence.” The father of this wicked woman was the victim of disobedience to kind but arbitrary parents, and this narrative is a solemn warning against intolerance, which together with the vice of intemperance, has sent more victims to the dungeon, the scaffold, and an untimely grave, than any other calamity that has ever afflicted our race. If there be any who think this narrative should not be published, or that the innocent should not read it, lest it should corrupt their feelings, I would entreat them first to read it, and then to enquire what portion of the community crowds our jails and State prisons, and where the inmates of the abodes of vice and infamy are generally born and educated, whether in the city or in the retiracy of the moral village? They will find three-fourths of them, at least, are from the latter. The reason of this is, because they know not the wickedness of the world, and its allurements, until they were on the journey of life, piloting their craft—many of them, alas! never to reach a harbor.
EXECUTION OF
ENOS G. DUDLEY,
AT HAVERHILL, N. H.,
MAY 23d, 1849
A large number of people from the surrounding country came here early this morning, all anxious to witness the execution of Enos G. Dudley, convicted at a recent term of the Court of Common Pleas of Grafton County, N. H., of the murder of his wife. The town throughout the day was the theatre of intense excitement.
The evidence on which Dudley was convicted was entirely circumstantial, and, in the opinion of many, inconclusive. Strong expectations had been entertained since the period of conviction that he would be reprieved by Gov. Williams, and that hope was indulged in by the friends of the wretched prisoner up to the last moment.
They were, however, doomed to a terrible disappointment. The Executive, however much his personal predilections might have been disposed towards clemency, believed it their duty to let the law take its course, although the sacrifice of the life of the victim was its termination.
As the hour assigned for the execution approached, the anxiety manifested by the prisoner’s friends was painfully intense. They had clung to hope, even hoping against hope—for the spectacle of the execution of a fellow being among them, was a thing so unusual, that it could scarcely be realized, especially when that fellow being was one with whom they had enjoyed many years of intimacy.—The fatal hour at length arrived. At half-past one o’clock on the 23d of May, 1849, the prisoner was informed that but a few more moments were allowed him to live. He then appeared to be resigned to inexorable fate, and, having made final preparation of religion, in a few minutes after the above hour, he, with a firm tread, approached the gallows erected in the jail yard.
He was accompanied by the Chaplain and Sheriff Powers, and not a waver in his step or tremor in his frame, was noticed by them even at that awful hour.
Ascending the scaffold, (which was a high structure, affording a full view to the immense concourse outside,) Dudley desired to address a few words to those within hearing. Permission was of course granted, and in a few earnest and truly affecting remarks, the doomed man asserted his entire innocence of the crime for which he was about to suffer death. He called God to witness the truth of what he said.
Upon the conclusion of his address, the fatal cap was drawn over his eyes, and the rope attached to his neck.
Sheriff Powers then asked him, “Are you prepared?”
Dudley replied, “I am ready.”
At that instant the rope was severed by the Sheriff, and after a few spasmodic struggles, the unhappy man—guilty or innocent—was launched into eternity.
It was a saddening, sickening exhibition, and those who witnessed it, left the scene with troubled hearts.
Below we present a communication from Mr. Morrison, counsel for the deceased, and a letter from Dudley himself protesting his innocence.
Perhaps I should disclose the manner in which the following statement came into my possession. About nine o’clock on the day Mr. Dudley was executed, I visited him to ascertain his last wishes, and afford such aid and comfort in his last extremity as might be in my power. When I entered, he was writing in a book made up of about a quire of paper, which had been mostly written over. We spoke of his approaching end. He expressed disappointment and regret that his brother had not arrived, but hoped that he might before the execution, which he wished for that reason to have delayed as long as possible. He then divided his testament, hymn book, two tracts, some other small articles of property, and a few sheep among his children, and gave me letters which he had written for them. His bible had been given by an old neighbor, to whom he directed it to be returned. He completed the last line of his statement, and signed his name to it. I enquired if he wished me to take charge of that, and he said he did.
He remarked that he intended to have revised and corrected what he had written—that some things had better been omitted—that there was some things in it which would please some, and which others would be sorry to see. I replied that the essential thing was, that they should be true, and he said yes. During the whole interview he was entirely composed, except when he spoke of the little pittance that he could leave for his children, when he was considerably moved, and wished me to say to his brother to take care and not be too selfish with them. I carried away the writing without examining it or knowing its contents, till all was over with Enos G. Dudley for this world, and he had gone before that God to whose final judgment he, with so much apparent confidence appealed. The greater part of the book is made up of Mr. Dudley’s account of the trial and his comments upon the testimony—and so much is here given as appears to have been written the morning before the execution.
C. R. MORRISON.
May 23, 1849.
I am not the first innocent victim that has wrongfully been hurried from this to another world, through the prejudice of public opinion. I am only one among the many that have been thrown from existence on a charge of guess work and false supposition, and the falsehood that always attends supposition, where prejudice dethrones and becomes the master of the government. There is not much trouble in gaining victory against the innocent, however falsely charged. The charge against me has been perfectly false, falsely sustained by false testimony. Yet, although I am just about to be hurled from time to eternity, a curse forbidden both by the New and Old Testament, Deut. 17, ii, viii. &c.—yet I am innocent of the charge—innocently convicted, innocently sent into the presence of that God who knows every thought, even of the human heart, thank God, too, that there is nothing hid, and that my final sentence is not to be passed by the base rabble of false witness, nor the base conjecture of supposition.
At that bar I stand an innocent man, and I hope all who have lent their acts or voice in favor of such an achievement will not hide under the witnesses, but remember they are accountable for lending their aid or voice in favor of a course that is repugnant to the Scriptures. These are given us for our guide, and they that lend their influence in favor of a law repugnant to the Scriptures, inasmuch as they deny the requirements of the Bible, disown the truth therein contained, deny them as their rule and guide and assent to take the life they cannot give.
O, may not such think they are innocent to take the life that God has given and forbid others to take it away—though we may flee to that law that was given to the Jews, which was bounded, inside the land of Canaan, imposed on no other people but the Jews, and those that dwelt in their land, and still we fail to support a case of conjecture, Deut. ii, viii, &c. Then, when we assent to take human life in a manner forbidden in this law even, do we consent that the law is not good, and which God gave? Certainly we do—and refuse to give it place in our hearts. But I forgive all.
I hope that all will seek for pardon at the hand of mercy, and hereafter be more careful to secure the rights of the innocent, and sure to detect the false testimony, guard themselves against prejudice, give reason its throne, and let justice find its place in every heart. I am glad this morning to tell all, my faith is unshaken; I have no doubt to enjoy a home in Heaven, again to reunite in singing praise to God in a more perfect world than this. Bless the Lord. So I bid a long farewell until we meet at the bar of God.
ENOS G. DUDLEY.
Haverhill, May 21, 1849.
Dear Brother and Sister Hoit:
I am about to leave you. I rejoice that I feel within the fullest assurance that I shall enjoy a far more desirable state of existence. I feel as calm to day and my mind as clear as when you last saw me at the school-house, endeavouring to exhort my fellow men to seek an interest in that Savior, that I have found so precious to me, during my soul-trying afflictions. The same gospel that I then preached I find sufficient for me in all my trials, notwithstanding their severity; and I doubt not that the same will sustain me until death shall close the terrific scene through which I am about to pass; yes! that same Jesus will go with and ever near me safely across the valley and shadow of Death. The blessed prospect that is before me smooths the roughness of the way. Bless God, I can say with Paul, “I am ready to be offered. I am glad my sorrows end so soon, then I shall enjoy the presence of Him that died to save us all, and of my dear companion who has gone before me.” I have often wondered how the martyrs could stand in the midst of flames and shout praises to the Most High. It is no longer a wonder. “Christ was with in them, the hope of glory.” And though I must die by the gallows, yet I am confident it will be the passport from this ungodly world, to one of bliss and beauty. Jesus has promised to stand by, if we will put our trust in him, I have found it so thus far, and have no reason to fear that his promises will not all be fulfilled.
A little more than one year since, I was torn from my home to which I had as good a right as any earthly being has to his home, and by false accusation I was shut out of the pale of society, and away from my children, who are as dear to me as ever children were to a father. By the circulation of these false reports the public mind has been prejudiced to so great an extent that I am condemned to die for that which I never did. Many of these reports were so completely false that they could not have been told but to injure me designedly and at that time it stirred bitter feelings within me, but they are all gone now; yes, now I love them, and I pray to God they may prepare to meet their murdered subject at the bar of Him who judgeth righteously. Thank God I am innocent of the crime for which I am condemned to die, and innocent shall I stand before that tribunal where conjecture and circumstance are not heard. But it is not so here, therefore must I leave you, and by your request I leave in your care that little girl. In tears I give her to you in all confidence that I leave her in the hands of those who will be parents to one whose father and mother can no longer guard her youthful years. Teach her to pray daily, and O, may God be with and bless you and her and together save you in heaven.
And now I bid you all—farewell.
Yours, in love,
ENOS G. DUDLEY.
Below is a copy of a note enclosed within the above and addressed to the little girl above mentioned.
Haverhill, May 22, 1849.
My Dear Daughter Elizabeth;—I can no longer be your FATHER nor provide for your wants in childhood, nor protect you from surrounding dangers therefore I have given you to your father and mother Hoit; they will be kind parents to you and you must be a good and dutiful child to them; always be obedient and good; love them, and improve your mind daily—and read the Bible with great care, you will there learn that God has said he will be a father to the fatherless; with Him your mother now lives, and soon I shall live with Him and her, where we shall die no more. Now, my dear, be a good child, and when you are in the field or in the house, ask God to bless you and save you in Heaven to dwell with your parents.
God loves little children, and you must love Him and ask Him to purify your little heart, and fit it for the kingdom. Always love the truth; be kind and loving to all your playmates, “do unto them as you would have them do unto you.” I should be glad to see you but I cannot; but if you are a good humble little Christian, you will soon come to me, so I must command you to God, praying you will ever trust in his grace and meet your parents in Heaven—there will be no more parting.
And now, my dear, I must bid you farewell, until we meet in heaven.
This is from your poor dying father—FAREWELL! it makes my heart ache to part with you, but oh! do well and it will be well with you when you leave this world. May God be with you, and comfort you all the time, and sanctify this afflicting dispensation to the spiritual good of your brothers and sisters, and finally may all dwell together at last at Christ’s right hand.
CONFESSION OF
MARY RUNKLE,
WHO WAS HUNG FOR MURDER.
Mrs. Mary Runkle was born in the town of Root, Montgomery Co. N. Y., and at the time of her execution was about fifty years of age. She was married to her late husband in her native town, and says she become jealous of him about a year after marriage, since which time a continual series of difficulties have occurred between them.
She acknowledges that she obtained goods upon a forged order, about ten years after her marriage, and says that it was her first crime.
Not long afterward a pedlar passed through the section where she resided, and sold goods on a credit of four or five weeks. Not appearing at the expiration of that time to make his collection, suspicions were aroused, and as the result of enquiry, the pedlar was traced as far as the house of Mr. Runkle, but no further trace of him could be obtained.
Her children, when spoken to about new dresses, said that their mother had plenty of such cloth, and having repeated the remark in their mother’s presence, were soon after found drowned in a tub of water—the depth being but a few inches. It is generally believed that she murdered the pedlar, and afterwards her own children, to prevent detection. This she denies.
One of the offences she acknowledges, is the robbing of a church in Fulton, of its cushions, &c. She was arrested, but evaded the law by a settlement. She has also been charged with poisoning her son, who, she says, died of the measles.
The circumstances of her husband’s death are yet fresh in the memory of our readers. He was found dead in the morning, when the neighbors were called, with bruises upon him, which afforded sufficient evidence of her guilt in the mind of the Court. She acknowledges a quarrel between them, but charges the blame upon him, and avers that she did not intend to murder him, but did so in defending herself from his assault. She gives the following version of the affair.
“The general health of my husband was not good; on or about the 20 of August, he procured four vials of medicine, and one fourth gallon of brandy; a portion of the brandy he applied externally. At tea time, he became furiously mad, venting his feelings upon me. I tried to quiet him, but all to no purpose; after tea, in his continued rage, he caught hold of my hair and pulled me over on the floor, continuing to kick and strike me, until I thought he would kill me. At length I got free from him, suggesting that I would call for assistance, he declaring that if I did so he would break my neck. At the proper hour he prepared to retire for the night, calling for some milk which was promptly furnished.
Within a very short time he took twice of the medicine, complaining that the milk was sour, he then took a large drink of brandy, and lay down, soon calling for the wash, which he applied to his neck. I found myself in much distress from the bruises inflicted upon me. While engaged in bathing my bruises he frequently called upon me to come to bed.
Near eleven or twelve o’clock, he called me up to get some drink. At his request I lay down with him; the first thing I was sensible of, I found him on my stomach, clinching me by my throat. A desperate fight ensued between us; I made every effort in my power to defend myself; while the struggle lasted, I struck him with such force that he fell over a chair. He beat me with such violence that I bled profusely at the nose.
After the fight was over, I helped him up and he sat down, calling for a dry shirt. There was a dry shirt hanging near him, which he procured himself, and partly put on. I then helped him to put on the other sleeve, after which he expressed a wish to lay down, as he was tired; he accordingly did so. I then lay down with him, soon after which I heard him make a strange noise. I immediately arose and procured a light, when, discovering froth on his lips, I directed my daughter to call in the neighbors, it being then about daylight.
I did not for one moment suppose that I should be suspected of the crime of murder, as I had no intention of terminating his existence. The representation that I made at the time, though not in strict consonance with my present statement, was prompted by no other motive, then that of suppressing his conduct from public gaze.”
A relation of the criminal, was present, to take charge of her body for her friends, who are said to be respectable.