Reader, how great must be the patience of the Almighty, who watches over us, and desireth not the death of the sinner. But alas! what is human nature, when strayed away from the path of virtue. How easy to corrupt, and how hard to reclaim. But it sometimes pleases divine providence to suffer the cruelty and wickedness of the indulged passion, until there is no remedy in its own limits, so that its downfall may be the more observable, as will be seen of this ill-fated family, the history of which would fill a large volume. But as our limits will only afford a glance, we hope it may be a seasonable lesson, or example, to those who may have the responsibility of discharging that duty which is expected of parents, as also those who owe a duty to their parents, that they may earn that blessing, by obedience, which is pleasing to God, that they may expect the same in return.
It was about this time that she received the news of the death of her afflicted mother, who, as report says, was confined to her room for several years before her death; as also the sudden and untimely death of her only brother, of whom she had heard nothing for many years, whose name was Isaac Jones. He was shot at Kingston, U. C., for horse stealing. He had continued his riotous and dissipated life, after the marriage of Sophia, and finally joined a gang of horse thieves and counterfeiters, which infested the country round about the Lakes. This gang had a regular communication established through from Toronto to Detroit, and from Kingston across through the States to New York. On one occasion, Jones was returning after leaving a number of horses thus stolen, and for which he had received a considerable sum of money for his services, and on passing the officers' quarters, he entered the stable, but was observed by one of the veterans on the look-out, who, on perceiving the door open, gave the alarm to the guard, and Jones, on hearing the alarm given, mounted the horse and putting spurs to the animal, started off at full speed, with the guard in full pursuit, and although they were on foot, they knew the road better than he did, for he killed the horse, which he rode against a gate, and he was shot by the enraged men. His body was taken to the hospital and there deposited, but could not be identified, nor could they obtain any intelligence that would lead to a discovery of his name, and it was only about a year since that it was discovered that Isaac Jones was the name of the man who was shot. Thus ended the unhappy career of father and son, and we shall soon see the unhappy termination of the life of the youngest daughter. What a melancholy contemplation for the reader, when it appears that, like their cruel father, they knew no fear, but were of a perverse and cruel disposition, and seemed to set no value on the lives of their fellow beings; and strange, though true, that those who purchase property at such a sacrifice, seldom know how to take care of it, and however much they may have, seem to thirst for more. Therefore, the temptations of Satan are vigilant and unceasing, which, when once obtained possession of, it is very difficult to dispossess, and should be guarded against in youth.
After the news of the death of her brother, Sophia became, if possible, more barbarous and cruel than before. She now seemed to take no delight whatever in any thing but acts of the most blood-thirsty and inhuman nature. Nothing now seemed to satisfy her murderous disposition but the death of some innocent, and to her, unoffending victim. But her career was nearly run. She had carried it to such a height that it was impossible to continue in this way much longer, without being overtaken by justice. And it was not long after this, that she was, by the following circumstance, exposed, and her gang broken up, and some of them brought to condign punishment for the high handed and outrageous crimes they had for a long time committed, and thus far without detection; and it seemed among the most extraordinary circumstances of the age.
She had a new gang of associates, who were not quite so expert as those on former occasions. They murdered a Quaker, who was travelling in that section of the country, in November, 1844, whose name was Morse, who put up at her house to board, as he intended to import some American manufactures, and it was necessary that he should stop at St. Johns, until the merchandise passed through the custom house. During his stay in that village, he of course formed considerable many acquaintances, and said to a friend, with whom he had some intercourse, that he would stop at the widow's that night and probably board there, which he did, for he was seen there three days after.—After the lapse of two weeks, a package came, in care of Mr. Johnson, for Mr. Morse; another week elapsed, during which time Mr. Johnson thought it strange that Mr. Morse did not call. As he was riding past, he thought he would let him know that a package had arrived for him. He inquired for Mr. Morse; Sophia told him that no such gentleman stopped there; he then inquired when he left, and she said she never knew a gentleman of that name to put up with her. Mr. Johnson went home quite dissatisfied, and, on opening the package, he found, among other things, a letter from his wife, in which she expressed considerable dissatisfaction at his intention of stopping so long. It seems that Morse had written to his wife informing her that he intended to be absent for some time. Her letter went on thus:—"My dear husband, I am sorry that you cannot either finish your business or leave it in the hands of some trustworthy person, as it must be disagreeable to you to board at a tavern; but as the owner of the house is a widow, I suppose it bears more similarity to a private boarding house. I hope your health is good, but I am dreadfully annoyed in my sleep about you." These things looked very strange and suspicious. And in a few days a flame of suspicion spread all around the neighborhood, until some persons came into Mr. Johnson's store, who said they had talked with Mr. Morse in the tavern two days after he went there to board; while others had remarked the idle, sauntering fellows that were seen continually hovering around the tavern, having no likely business, and many other circumstances were alluded to, until suspicion became so strong in the minds of the people, that they resolved to make a private search, but not until Mr. Johnson, accompanied by some others, went again to make inquiry, but the answer was the same as before. She seemed much confused, which strengthened their suspicions. Accordingly they went the following afternoon and visited Sophia's house, making some pretence for the visit; one of them said that he was about to build himself a new house, and asked her to give him permission to examine her house, that he might measure and take the dimensions of it, as he liked the plan on which it was constructed. Not suspecting any thing, she granted the privilege, though taking care to lock the cellar. They then made such examination as they were able, but discovered nothing above. However, to satisfy their suspicions, they determined to see the cellar, but found it bolted fast, and on their return up a back stairway into the kitchen, they questioned an old domestic as to what was kept in the cellar. She shook her head and said she dare not tell. They then promised to give her a handsome reward if she would only tell them, but her mistress coming in at the moment, prevented any further conversation. They then concluded that their information was quite sufficient. The next morning they proceeded to the house, accompanied by the sheriff and constable; and Sophia and two of her consorts, Wilson and Rogers, were taken after a desperate resistance. They were kept in custody until the cellar was searched, where the body of Morse was found, amongst skeletons and other emaciated remains. The prisoners were carried to Montreal prison, on the following day, (10th of December,) to await the sitting of the Queen's Bench, which sat on the 8th of April, but was postponed until the above term. In the interim, Wilson turned Queen's evidence, and discovered the whole mystery of the murder of Morse, and declared that Rogers was innocent of the murder, for none but himself and Sophia were guilty of perpetrating the horrid deed. And Rogers was immediately released, as the Grand Jury ignored the bills against him.
We deem it quite unnecessary to attempt to give even an outline of her trial, for it would extend far beyond our limits, as we have already said more than we calculated to when we commenced writing. Suffice it to say, that her trial and sentence was the most solemn scene perhaps ever witnessed in that city, or any other city on the broad American continent. She seemed stern and quite unmoved throughout the entire time of her trial, which occupied three days, and seemed quite composed; while her able counsel, to whom great praise is due for the extraordinary ability which he exhibited while addressing the Jury, which occupied over two hours, seemed quite affected. After the Judge's charge to the Jury, which followed, they retired and remained out about an hour, when they returned with a verdict of "Guilty of Murder in the first degree." She received sentence on the 11th of August, to die by the law the 5th of September, during which time she remained silent, until three days previous to her final destination, when she received a quantity of poison, which she took to avoid the public exposure of a shameful death. But it may be asked, how she got the poison, or by whom it was carried into the prison cell; that remains as yet unknown; but, according to the opinion of many of the most respectable persons of the county in which she resided, during her cruel and blood-stained career, she had many associates in guilt, who have not as yet been discovered; but whom I hope will, before long, find their way to condign punishment, as it was utterly impossible that she, or her known associates, could possibly continue such a course of life so long, without recourse to others for assistance. But while numberless conjectures are afloat with regard to this one and that one being associated with her, and partakers of the benefits of her robberies, I consider that it is my duty to speak very careful, lest I should be instrumental in tarnishing the personal character of individuals, on the authority of mere report, as a little time will no doubt satisfy justice by discovering the guilty. There was one circumstance connected with her detection, which, I venture to state, gave reason for suspicion, and which may not be amiss to remark.—Subsequent to her imprisonment, quite a number of individuals retired from business. Some, who were extensively engaged in grocery business, others, who were equally as extensive as wine merchants, stopped suddenly, or left their business in the hands of others, and immediately disappeared, and no one knew where they went, or could give the slightest intimation of their business abroad, as it is considerably different in a village, from that of a city life, as each wishes to know the business of his neighbor, and, in fact, does to a considerable extent. But no one knew the cause of their sudden and unexpected disappearing, whilst others remarked the velocity of the wheels of fortune, which accompanied some of their neighbors from poverty to opulence and wealth, in the space of a few years, &c., together with many other circumstantial opinions which I am compelled to omit. But it may be interesting to the reader to state one more circumstance, to which I was eye witness, and which seemed very strange to me. She remained silent as before mentioned, and in consequence of the rumor and excitement which prevailed, I was induced to go to see her, in order to speak to her on some important matters connected with her previous course of life. Consequently, on Monday, the 1st instant, I went, and when I reached the prison, the jailor told me that he could not possibly admit me that day, it being Monday. However, I remained in the city until morning, when I went again, accompanied by the sheriff. And I was no little astonished on hearing the jailor say, That he hoped that he would not be so much annoyed in future as during the last week, by persons wishing to see her, as there were more applications to visit her, than all the other prisoners together. However, the massive iron door was unbolted and swung open, and we proceeded along the dark hall, whilst every tread of my foot, as it sounded in my ear, caused a sensation easier imagined than described; and at length we reached a range of cells, and immediately the turnkey, as he is generally called, unbolted it, and told me to walk in.—And as I found myself inside a prison cell for the first time in my life, I stumbled, for it was either too dark to see, or else my sight became dim on approaching the scene of horror which stood erect before me; and before I could recover myself, I was accosted by her strong, stern voice, as she said, "Is that you, Mr. Jackson—do you want to speak with me?" I answered in the affirmative. She then said, "Sit down." But the place was so small that I could hardly turn around. "Do you think there is any hopes of my reprieve, or shall I have to suffer an ignominious death on the scaffold? If so, I shall be a corpse before to-morrow noon, for I don't want to live any longer. So you may go, for I am as one already dead." Not one word could I get her to speak more, and I retired with a heart overpowered with sorrow. As I walked out of the dreadful tomb of the living, the door was again bolted, which sounded like the mournful death-bell. How many solemn reflections rushed into my mind at that dreadful moment, but not one word could I utter for some minutes; when the sheriff, seeing my confused countenance, remarked something lively to me, and I soon regained my strength, but could not, during that entire day, cast off the mantle of horror with which I was clothed. I assure you, gentle reader, were you to behold that solemn scene as I did, that your heart would melt into pity for the misfortune of a child of humanity, however wicked she might have been. But to return to my subject. The sheriff remarked there was a difference in her countenance since he last saw her; and as the time of her destination was fast approaching, it was thought advisable to send a minister of the gospel to render some consolation, and accordingly she was asked by the jailor in what profession she would like to die. She answered, that she would prefer to die in that to which she nominally belonged, which was the Wesleyan, and application was immediately made to a minister of that denomination, who attended as early as possible, but too late, for she had privately taken a quantity of poison.—After the poison began to operate, she raved like a maniac, tearing the clothes from her body, and attempting to lay hold of and bite every thing within her reach, cursing God, and the hour that gave her birth. After these fits had a little subsided, and reason had again returned, the pangs of a guilty conscience and remorse, with all its frightful horrors and bitter anguish, would seize her soul, and she would cry out in the bitterness of her torments, that she already felt the flames of hell! reproaching herself in the most bitter anguish, for the awful crimes she had committed. Then she would again rave like a maniac, cursing and swearing in a most horrible manner, and attempting to destroy every thing within her reach. So strong was she in those fits of raving, that it was with difficulty that three men were able to tie her on the bed. She appeared to be in great agony and pain until she died. About three hours before her death, she was visited by a minister of the Methodist Church, to which she nominally belonged. He endeavored to console and reconcile her, by telling her that there was yet hope, if she would only repent and acknowledge the crimes which she had committed. She got a little consoled, and confessed the following, as near as we could learn from the minister's confused memory, who was much afflicted on beholding her awful appearance.
CONFESSION OF SOPHIA HAMILTON,
NARRATED BY THE REV. MR. BROOKS.
I was born in the year 1812, convenient to Woodstock, in the province of New Brunswick. My parents emigrated from England a short time previous to my birth, and I am happy to say that my mother is dead, so that she wo'nt feel the mortification of hearing or knowing of my untimely and ill-fated end, for she was, in early life doomed to drink deep of the galling cup of bitter sorrow. She was questioned by the minister, as to what she had reference to. She replied, I mean my ill-fated father, who lost his life when I was about eight years old, in attempting to take that of another, whose name was Murdock. My father killed Murdock, and was himself immediately devoured by a large dog which belonged to the house of Murdock. Soon after my father's death, my poor mother, (with a large family and the sole charge and responsibility of a large establishment, and not being acquainted with public life,—together with the disgraceful stigma of my father's death,) was compelled to sell out, and leave that section of the country, which she did in 1823, two years after my father's death. She then moved, taking with her the whole family, to Quebec, stopped there, and finding it difficult to maintain a large family, she then moved up the St. Lawrence River, and settled down about eighteen miles from Montreal, where I lived with her until I became eighteen years old, when I was married to Mr. Hamilton, in the year 1830. About ten months after my marriage, I moved with my husband to his native place, which was about ten miles from Kingston, Upper Canada, where I, during the first year, enjoyed the happiest portion of my natural life. But I soon began to discern a dark shade in his countenance, caused by jealousy, as if to signify that he was sorry that he ever beheld me. My mortification on beholding that, and listening to the taunting and sneering of his relatives, with which I was situated, was great. My solitary and melancholy contemplations were much easier imagined than described, being all alone, without one trustworthy friend to console my wounded feelings. Therefore I was left all alone to contemplate on my misfortune; during which time I often resolved, that if I could find no alternative, that I would rather die, than live to be made the tool of contempt, as I was innocent of the guilt with which I was charged. But I bore it with fortitude, for my resolute and arbitrary temper was hard to subdue. Although spurned with contempt, and looked upon as an inferior in rank, family and education, I at once resolved to teach them a lesson on the latter. (She then attempted to jump up, but was unable.) Soon after I found his health beginning to decline, in consequence of a pleuritic fever which seized him. I thought it was a good opportunity to put an end to my melancholy life; but alas! I was only dipping myself deeper into the pit of misery. I poisoned him when two years and eight months married to him, to free myself from the trials incident to a protracted illness. The poison I administered to him through my negro cook, and, in three months after, I strangled to death my first offspring, which was the only child that nature ever furnished me with. O! that ever memorable year and day! to it I will seal my condemnation, for it never left my memory either day or night. It has haunted me, and followed my footsteps through every moment of my unhappy life since. The cries of the innocent victim, I think just now——. (Here she got into a terrible rage of despair for some time, then, getting a little calm, proceeded):—Were I on the summit of Mount Ararat, and could utter language as loud as thunder, and could speak every tongue and language, and had around me all the nations of the earth, I would proclaim that I deserve the cruelest death of any being which ever existed, if I only thought that it would be the means of preventing one single misguided and cruel wretch from a similar offence. Yes, I wish that my name, and the memory of my cruelty, may be for ever, engraven on the memory of those who survive me, or hear of my cruel life and miserable death, that it may be a warning to those entering on the path of life, that they may suppress human passion, and untie the strong holds of Satan, who was my daily companion through life.—She was again interrupted by the good and meek parson, who tried to console her, by reminding her of the patience which holy Job exercised during his long affliction. She then became quite composed, and quite a consoling discourse was given by the minister, by telling her, that, as she soon expected to meet her eternal Judge, he hoped that her repentance might be sincere; at the same time reminding her of the sorrow of Judas, who despaired of salvation, and was consequently lost for ever. He then referred to the repentance of the thief on the cross, for example, to show that there was hopes for salvation even at the eleventh hour, and cautiously warned her against the awful consequences of dying in despair of the salvation of that good and bountiful providence, who is ever willing to extend the arm of mercy to each and every one of us, however black and grievous-looking may be our sins. And here he quoted some texts of Scripture, which says, that He desireth not the death of the sinner, but rather that they live and be converted; and said, that he had every reason to hope that it pleased the Almighty to punish her in this world. She then seemed quite composed and easy, though weak. She went on to say, I would bear all the torture and affliction with pleasure. Here the humble and consoling servant of God, who felt pleasure in the dark recess of the prison cell, then referred to the cruel torture and affliction which was endured by the primitive Christians and the early saints, who suffered, though innocent; as also the patience of the innocent and harmless, who suffered in England during the Reformation. Here he referred to Lady Jane Gray, and the innocent Mary, Queen of Scots, who laid their heads on the block, to appease the wrath of that blood-stained and cruel people.—She then proceeded as follows: After the death of my husband, I sold out my effects and left that part of the country, and lived with my mother a short time; but my disposition being unsettled, I soon after moved from there to Laparara, a village a short distance from Montreal, where I commenced keeping tavern in the fall of 1835, and, in two months after, I assisted to kill a gentleman from Quebec, whose name was Parker. Richard, son of one of my consorts, shot him through a window, as he sat at dinner. We robbed him of £2,000; his horse was afterwards sold in Plattsburg, New York. This was the first murder that I was guilty of after the death of my husband and child, which could never be erased from my memory, were I to live longer than I now desire. I was the principal deviser of the cruel act before related, of obstructing the road, by which the two men from Montreal were killed, and I was on the ground a few minutes after, just as they were expiring. I assisted to search their pockets and wallets, where we found over 2,000 sovereigns in gold; the ill-fated Brown, who was executed at Kingston, was my principal assistant, and perpetrator in the blackest deeds that ever disgraced a being. In 1840 I moved from my old stand to the village of St. Johns, where I commenced business in April, 1841. With my own hands I killed a gentleman from Albany, New York, (who stopped at my house,) while he was at breakfast; I robbed him of $800. In the month of November following, I assisted to rob a gentleman from Charleston, South Carolina, who stopped at my house. I, with two others, entered the room whilst he was sleeping, and cut his throat from ear to ear. We found in his wallet $4,000 in paper. Shortly after, I with my own hands killed a boy who was for some time in my house in the capacity of waiter, because he threatened to discover of what he had previously seen. About six months before I was taken, I murdered a smuggler, who put up at my house frequently on his way to the States; he came in at an unusually late hour, and ordered supper. I mixed a quantity of poison in the bread which I gave him; I then put him to sleep in a room separate from the main part of the house, so that if he should make any alarm during the night he would be unheard, taking care to secure the money which he left in my charge until morning. Six weeks after this, I murdered two emigrants, on their way from Montreal to New York. Finding that they had considerable money, as they inquired about the currency of English gold in the States, I inquired how much they had; they showed it to me, and I told them that it was generally too light. I then put them to sleep in a room adapted for such persons, and in the night we entered by means of a slide door which was for the purpose, where we found them asleep. Each of us were armed, but we found no resistance; we soon committed them to eternity. Their bodies we buried in the wood-house, and found £400, in gold, in their bed; we then divided the spoil. Their names I never knew. And last of all, I assisted to murder Morse, the Quaker, from New York, while boarding at my house. I am guilty of ten deliberate murders with my own hands, and accessory to many more. I will not confess any more, for I do not, nor cannot, expect forgiveness; for I already feel the wrath of an avenging God, searing my very soul,—for my crimes are too black, my deeds too heinous, to expect to reign in happiness with those innocent beings that I caused to leave the world by my cruel treachery; the tears of the bereaved widows, and the cries of the helpless orphans, will speak with tongues of indignation against me.