We entered the chapel, where were seated nearly eight hundred convicts, and something like one hundred citizens, who had been admitted for the purpose of hearing the sweet melody of the Boston Quartet Club, and to hear the reformed gambler speak upon a vice which had brought over one hundred within the gloomy walls of a state's prison. Service commenced with prayer by the chaplain, Rev. O.E. Morrill. The Boston Quartet Club then sung the beautiful sacred piece, "Hear my Prayer," during which breathless silence made manifest that the music was enjoyed. I was then introduced as the reformed gambler, Mr. J. H. Green. When I arose, there was profound silence throughout the chapel, to hear my sad experience. I felt perfectly incompetent to give satisfaction to an audience, partly composed of the most hardened wretches that infest our land—men who are steeped to the very lips in degradation, many of whom are men of talent, well-educated, and well acquainted with most of the leading topics of the day, knowing, too, as I did, that an error might be construed into an insult; and to such men an insult is unpardonable. I commenced by relating my sad experience, and in a few minutes there could scarcely be seen a dry cheek in that vast assembly of depraved men. My address being closed, the prisoners were marched in order to their dining-room.
The chaplain and myself visited the cell of Wyatt, the murderer. We found him sitting upon the straw which covered the floor. He seemed to be somewhat indifferent when the chaplain first spoke to him, but upon his second speech, telling that Mr. Green had again called to see him, he sprung to his feet and shook hands with me—said he was glad I had called—that he had been fearful I had left the prison, after giving my address, without seeing him, and added, "Mr. Green, I would love to hear you give your experience." I told him of the attention the prisoners had given me, and the advice I had given them, about signing the anti-gambling pledge, so soon as they were released—to come out with their sad experience, and they would find the good and generous-hearted ever ready to receive them. He turned round to the chaplain and said, "How much good such a society as that would have done, had it been formed before I became a gambler!—How many men it would have saved from the dagger of the midnight murderer! But it is too late to save me." I changed the subject, by asking him about different gamblers of our country. We talked about many with whom we both had been intimate. Some, he tells me, now live in your empire city, and were leading men among the politicians in the last presidential contest. I knew them to be leading men. I knew them to be gamblers and swaggering bullies; and I knew them to be at one time connected with Wyatt, but did not know them to be murderers; yet they certainly are.
Wyatt asked me if they permitted such men to vote? I told him they did. Said he, "A gambler should not be entitled to a vote, nor to his oath." He spoke correctly; and said he, "The day is not far distant when the man, who is known to the world as a gambler, will not be countenanced." Neither his vote nor his oath would be taken at the present day, if the citizens, who are the bone and sinew of the country, would take into consideration his real principles. He said, "No man who bets upon elections should be entitled to his vote, nor to his oath; for a man who can be excited to bet upon an election, can be excited when upon oath to stretch the blanket; or, in plainer language, to swear to a lie. Such I believe to be facts." "And lotteries are another species of villany," said he; "the money goes to the vendor, and makes his victim poor and dishonest. Such I know to be facts." Pleased to hear a man, situated as Wyatt, the murderer, is, reason so candidly, I changed the subject, in order to learn more about the murders he had committed. I knew that a man, in the year 1839, was missing from Natchez, by the name of Tucker, and by the run of Wyatt's discourse, I found he was in that part about the same time.
I told Wyatt that a man by the name of Tucker was supposed to have been murdered about that date between Natchez and New Orleans. He laughed, and said he knew something about it. "Myself and three others," said he, "went to Natchez as produce speculators. Tucker owned a boat load of produce. We contracted for it, advanced him money sufficient to pay off his hands, telling him we had sufficient help; that he could go with us to New Orleans, and that on our arrival there, we would pay him the balance due. He did so. We paid him in a Mississippi bath. We murdered him, and then threw him overboard." I asked him if he ever was suspected. He said, not that he knew of. I asked him if he was not afraid, when he was committing such a murder, that the body might rise upon the water and be the means of their being suspected. "We cut their entrails out," said he, "then they never rise until resurrection-day." I felt heart-sick at his dreadful description of the murder of Tucker. I knew him. He was a good, honest man. I arose from my seat, took him by the hand, and bade him good day, promising him to call again. I will, in my next, inform you of the particulars of my third visit, which will lead you further into his dreadful history. I will in my next also speak of his views on the subject of religion.
Yours, truly,
J. H. GREEN.
Auburn, April 17, 1845.
No. 4.
The following letter was written and published by the unanimous consent of every honest citizen of Cleveland, Ohio, of which place I can only speak in the language of commendation. It is one of the most virtuous cities in the state, according to its population; and from the interest two of the principal organs took in behalf of the anti-gambling cause, I am certain that no filthy sheet can ever pollute its moral principles.
To the Editor of the Cleveland Plaindealer:
Mr. Gray, Sir—The Herald of last evening contained a letter over the signature of O.E. Morrill, dated July 25th, 1845, charging J. H. Green, "the Reformed Gambler," with misrepresenting the confessions made to him by "Wyatt, the murderer." The Anti-Gambling Society of this city have requested me, as its President, to publish the following letter, in justice to Mr. Green, and in answer to Mr. Morrill. It was written on the 12th of July last, in reply to Mr. Morrill's "private note," referred to in his letter published last evening. A true copy was made, and the original forwarded to Mr. O.E. Morrill on the day of its date, by Dr. Cowles, of this city. Deeming this letter a complete refutation of the charges against Mr. Green, the Society have taken the liberty, without his knowledge, of requesting you to place it before the public.