THE
ead wrºs
LOOKING G LASS
OR,
G. O. D'S RE V E N C E A G A IN ST
CRUELTY TO HUSBANDS.
EXEMPLIFIED IN THE AWFUL HISTORY OF
THE BEAUTIFUL, BUT DEPRAVED
MRS. REBECCA COTTON,
wºo Most INHUMANLY MURDERED HER Iius B.AND
JOHN COTTON, ESQ.
FOR WHICH HORRID ACT GOD PERMITTED HER, IN
Tnº PRIME OF LIFE AND BLOOM or BEAUTY,
TO BE CUT OFF BY HER BROTHER
STEPHEN KANNA DY,
Sºay, 5th 1807.
WITH A NUMBER OF INCIDENTS AND
ANECD04ES, MOST EXTRAOR DINARY AND
INSTRUCTIVE.
BY M. L. WEEMS.
SEC OMD EDITION IMPROVE D.
*eº-
ºgº.gººgºº:
PRINTED for the Auſtrion
--~~~~~
1823.
Price, 25 cents.


THE
wicked Life AND worui, DEATH
OF THE
BEAUTIFUL MISS REBECCA KANNADY.
* Since life can little more supply,
Than just to look around us and to die;
Expatiate freely oer this scene of man,
A mighty maze but not without a plant”
* When God's judgements are abroad in the
earth the inhabitants of the world will learn wis-
dom.” The Bible.
But how can the world learn wisdom unless
those cruel deeds be published which provoke God's
judgments? And for what end so worthy, were
writing and printing taught to mankind?
Then, let us take heed, good Reader, how we get
angry with a writer when we have sufficient reason
to believe that it is his main object, from God's
judgments on man's crimes to inforce that substan-
that morality, which is the grand pillar of individual
and national security. To this end let us keep ever
in view the following facts which lie at the root of
all virtue and all liberty. 1st. That, “ God is
Love,” yea INFINITE LovE, backed by ALMIGH-
TY Powº R, guided by UNERRING wisdom, with
IMMEN sity for his stage, and ETERNITy his term
to act in. 2d. That this UNurſt ERABLE BEING,
has for his plan, tº compºrts mappiness or


4.
Aºi. His ºr ATURE s. 3d. That all rationals,
whether “ Men below or Saints on high,” are now
invited to be co-workers with him in this glorious
scheme. 4th. That, as necessary to his pleasure
and their own praise, they are all created free to
“chuse or refuse,” “to serve God or Baal,” 5th.
That, all who concur with God in this his great
plan of promoting universal happiness, whether
they be Washington's or slaves, shall, “ in the last
day, he raised up to shine in glory,” while all of
opposite conduct, whether Lucifers in Heaven or
Napoleons on earth, shall alike be brought down
to a Helena or a Hell. The following humble
story is designed as a drop into the same Ocean of
moral instruction. Like bread cast on the ºcaters
may some good be seen from it in the latter day!
ºtees sº-
AS the same luxuriant soil often sustains the
vital cauliflower and the deadly hen-bane; so the
same patriotic sºr ATP, (S. Carolina) which nursed
a Serena Williams," nursed also a Rebecca Kan-
nady. Had it been true what certain Physiogno-
mists have stated of the fair, that their minds al-
ways correspond with their faces, never would the
charge of murder have been laid at the door of
our Heroine, for according to report, she was one of
the prettiest nymphs that ever stole away from the
preacher the eyes of the Swains, causing those to
sigh who came to pray. But although beauty, like
a robe of light, encircled her person, yet “her soul
acas dark.” No pains had been taken to polish the
gem, her mind: hence with competent capacities
for whatever dazzels in wit or delights in virtue, she
was rude and unlovely as the precious marble, in the
slab, Oh! how lamentable, that she whose looks
and smiles could have added such resistless charms
to education, should have forgone such rare advan-
tages of her sex; and, in place of resting her glory
and conquests on the immortal charms of mind have
* The all accomplished grand daughter of my noble friend,
Col. John Chesaut, Camden.




- 5
- - -
confided all to the vain attractions of a little skin
deep beauty, aided with the frivolities of dress.
If the reader should say that this is a heavy charge
against her father; he it so. But peace to his ashes,
he is now in the dark dwelling appointed for all
living, where the voice of reproach is never heard,
and where even the wicked cease from troubling.
But the misfortue is, the effects of men's sins do not
always die with them. They often live to be visit.
ed on their children. It was so with our heroine.
Her form and features were unrivalled; but still,
like a fine casket without a jewel, they were all, com-
paratively, disesteemed. Not blest with an enligh-
tened mind, her eyes, though bright, lacked that all-
animating intelligence which kindles the beholder
into admiration. And without the heaven of reli-
gion in the soul, how could her face, though fault-
lessly featured, express those divine charms of inno-
cence and goodness, which in some women remind
us so strongly of angels? For lack of beauties of
this heavenly stamp, alas, how many blooming
young creatures never attain any higher influence
than that of pretty statues, at best; but, often indeed
fall short of that—from woful lack of ideas, or in-
toxication of vanity, sinning so outrageously against
the ever due and all-fascinating laws of politeness—
such silly stareings, or angry frownings or morti-
fying inattentions as presently to drive away e-
very sentimental lover, reducing themselves to the
sad alternative either, to lead Apes, or roost with
some humble gander of their own dull feather.
-
This was the sad fate of the pretty Miss Becky
Kannady. After having played off, without effect,
all her light artillery aforesaid such as new gowns
and ribbons, &c., until she had gotten on the shady
side of twenty, she was courted by a Mr. Cotton, a
Young rustic of the neighbourhood; a suitor exact-
º her own vulgar taste, prettº, illite, ate, and gain.
This unfortunate young man, though born in
* christian land,” had been brought up with as little.

6
regard to his soul, as if he had been only an Oo-
ran-Ootal or a monkey. His father had never
instructed him in the glorious truths of the christian
philosophy summed up in two words; HUMILITy
and Love—1st, that as a “child of the dust” sº the
creature of yesterday”—“ a coeval of the grass” a
trembler on the brink of the grave a floater on the
gulf of eternity, man is bound to walk humbly with
God.-2d, that as a creature, and therefore matural-
ly indigent, yet born for union with the eternal
good, he ought to cherish “perfect love out of a
pure heart.” That by this, united, first, to God he
enters into all the ineffable pleasures, of sonship with
the most High. 2d. That by this, united to man-
kind, he goes out of himself and enters into all their
joys—is crowned with their honors–enriched with
their treasures—ennobled with their virtues—and,
according to the degree of his love for them, is made
partaker of all their felicities—and therefore, with
such high qualifications as these—with thoughts,
like eyes of lightning, flying through all space in
search of others good, and with strong loves, like
thirsty roots, striking into the same, it follows that
as long as there shall be a glorious God and happy
Angels, so long will he share in their mighty bliss.
His father, I say, had never, like the good shepherd,
led his son into these “green pastures, of faith;"
not yet “by the living waters ºf devotion.” When
night came, no call had he to sweet praise or prayer
with his father; no matter how bright the day had
rolled along over his fields and family crowned with
numerous blessings. And as little did he hear of
devotion when the rosy morning ºme; although
the moon and stars had been appointed to make
night lovely; and mighty Angels had received
charge to guard their slumbers. The God of all
these mercies had been no more noticed than if he
existed not. The ox and ass recognise the hand
that feeds them, but, creatures rational and immortal
were content to “lºve without God in the world, and
without hope tº And provided they could but get
tobacco to chew, and whiskey to drink, with a fine

7
coat and horse on Sunday, they were willing to
work hard all the week and drag along the same
iron chain of existence.
such was the early life of John Cotton. Ah
my God! in a soul thus dead to the finest feelings
of virtue, what little hope of that delicious friend-
ship, called Love, which is so necessary to render
married life one sweet verſial day, undeformed by a
cloud. Had the father of Rebecca Kannady given
his daughter a different education, there would
still have been hope—“ how knowest thou 0 wo.
man but thou mayest save thy husband?” But alas
the wolf begets no lamb; and seldom do saints
spring from the loins of sinners; how then could
poor old James Kannady, who was himself a sinner,
have begotten a daughter other than in his own im-
age? A daughter utterly destitute of RELIGIon,
that divine something which both gives to the favor-
ed soul its immortal graces and taste to enjoy them.
For lack of these, her poor corporeal beauty, like the
splendid, but poisoned shirt on Hercules, became
her bane. And for lack of these, himself, wretched
old man' was borne to a bloody grave long before
his eye was dim or his natural strength abated.
This is no place to tell the shameful quarrel that
ended in his destruction. Suffice it to say, he was
selfish ; and his neighbours were not benevolent.
How then could they pity him—and pray for him
—and do him good for evil—and thus, iike mini-
stering spirits, bear up the old man in their arms
and help him on to Heaven? On the contrary
sordiq and selfish as himself, their blood was as
quickly roused by jarring interest; and their anger
* fºrcely inflamed by the slightest threat of loss.
Their fields were contiguous with those of Mr.
Kannady. Corn grow in the fields; and hogs are
ºnd of corn. And oh humanity how pale were
tºy sweet cheeks that day when these "wretched
º, with fiery faces and uplifted clubs, met in the
fields amidst the mingled roar of Worrying dogs
and tortured swine; rendered still more dº...aifi by
-

8
their own mutual and bitter curses 1 A shameful
fray ensued, which terminated to the disadvantage
of Mr. Kannady who crawled home, barbarously
beaten. The sight of an aged father thus cruelly
treated, kindled up a flame of revengeful passions in
the bosoms of his children. Nor was the flame
abated by seeing that aged father, on taking his hand
wet with blood from his reeking head, burst into
strong cries, “to think,” as he said, “ that he should
be treated thus in his grey hairs.”
Soon, however, as he had a little recovered, he set
off, burning for revenge, to Charleston; and making
heavy complaints about his neighbours violence,
took out against them a number of bench warrants.
These he displayed, with great triumph, on his re-
turn from Charleston: and was often heard to
chuckle with joy, for having as he termed it, “so
micely matched the rascals.” -
But his joy was but momentary. For burning
with tenfold rage to be “thus out-done by the d-n-d
old villain,” as they called him; and seeing no way
of escaping the rod of shame and loss which he
held over their heads, but by his sudden death; and
no hope of this unless he was murdered, they bravely
struck hands with the Devil, to kill him “ and
thus,” as they said, “to send the old Hypocrite to
Hell at once.”
With this infernal view they loaded their guns,
and mounting their horses, dashed off in open day
light to his house. Missing of him there, they pro-
ceeded to the house of Mr. John Cotton, his son in
law, (a harmless poor man whom our fair heroine
had married five years before,) where they found
him sitting in company with his daughter and her
husband. Their looks as they approached the
house, together with the weapons of death which
they bore in their hands, fully enough explained to
the old man their bloody purpose. He turned pale
and trembled like a frightened child. But untouch-

9
ed with pity of his grey hairs, they triumphantly
exclaimed « O hot you old villain! Sº you are
overtaken a last are you? On your knº; you
in a rascal, and say your prayers, or you'll be in
Hell in three minutes, for you have only that time tº
ºve.”
Mr. Cotton, being a man of but weak nerves, sat
petrified with terror during this shocking scene.
But his wife buoyed up by the strong feelings of na-
ture, made several gallant efforts to save her father.
With her face all inflamed with rage she rushed up
to his assailants, and challenging them for “ a pack:
of villains,” demanded of them “how they durst so
threaten a gentleman in his own house.”
But seeing them determined on his destruction,
she threw her arms around his neck, declaring at
the same time to his assassins, that if they murdered
him they should murder her too. In this manner
she kept them at bay for some time; but one of
them at length seizing the opportunity while she
was turned to intreat the others, placed his gun to
the old man's side and shot him through the heart.
The names of these three monsters were Martin
Cloud, Morris Pardew, and James Wann. Pursu-
ed by those terrors which ever attend on blood-guil-
tiness, they fled; and owing to that want of order
tommon to new settlements, they made their escape
from justice, I mean from the justice of man. But
son, from whom there is noeseaping, took cogni-
sance of this their accursed deed, and quickly called
them to an account; and in a way too that clearly
enough shewed that his hand was in it.
Wann, who was the man that killed old Mr. Kan.
nady, fled to the Creek Nation. He had not been
long there before he attemped to beat a young mer-
chant, in whose store he had been drinking, and in-
deed to whose hospitality he owed the rum on
which he º got drunk. In this brutal attempt
10
he was opposed by one of the natives, who though
an Indian, was much more a christian than himself.
“You brag mightily,” said the honest heathem.
“ of being a whileman; but after all, you’ant half
so good as a dog. For a dog after eating your vić-
tuals, won turn round and bite you. But you after
drinking this man's rum, want to beat him!
Irritated by this honest reproof. Vann cursed him
for a copper-coloured son of a b-t-h, and scornfully
demanded “whose d-n-d Indian are you?” With
equal scorn the kindling warrior replied “I am God
Almighty's Indian; but whose poor whileman are
you?” Black with choler Vann flew to his gun to
kill him: but the Indian snatching up his rifle got
the first fire, and shot him down with as little pity as
he had shown to poor old Mr. Kannady.
Nor did Pardew fare much better. From trou.
ble of mind, the sure consequence of a blood-haun-
ted conscience, he took to hard drink and despe-
rate courses, whereby he soon wasted his substance
and died a miserable vagabond. -
But the fate of Cloud, though the last, was not
the least awful and exemplary. He was seized with
a strange and lingering malady which no medicine
could cure, and which confined him to his bed for a
long time. His flesh withered away on him and
became like an old pachment—his bones worked
through his skin—his nails grew out resembling Ea-
gles claws—and his beard frightful as the Hyena's
Ruff. And thus with a breath offensive as carrion
—and his face like a corpse—helpless in body-
hopeless in mind–most wretched in life, and yet
horribly afraid of death, he lay for many a month,
an awful monument of God's righteous vºn GE A-
NCE AGAINST MURDER.
I state this alarming fact on the authority of the
Rev. Samuel Marsh, a respectable baptist preacher


11 -
of that place, who often visited him in his affliction,
but always found, and always left him in oper
DIS PAIR. - -
The murder of old Mr. Kannady was a bad
deed: full bad enough, one would have thought, for
that day. And happy had it been for Mrs. Cotton
at least, if her father alone had then died. But alas!
it appeared that in the self same hour died all her
mortal love for her husband.
* Love me, love my dog” is a proverb known to
all, because it is an instinct of nature. And the man
who does not love a woman dear enough to dare
heroic deeds for her father, has no business to marry
her. She would have it that “Cotton,” as she an:
grily called him, could easily have saved her father
from being murdered, had he but had the spirit of
a nºn-
* You knew very ºcell” said she, her eyes flashing
fire at him as she spoke, you knew very well when
you saw those villains coming, that they were
coming to murder my poor father, for they had
sworn it; and had you then but snatched up your
wn and pointed it at them, they would never have
dared to darken your door.” She used to call him
“a mean, sneaking, cowardly fellow; fit only to
wear petticoats and milk the cows. -
As a child who had seized with transport the gay
smiling flowers of the morning, throws them away
again at night when they are dead and their beauty
all departed. Even so poor Cotton who had loved
Miss Kannady merely because of her sweet looks and
smiles, soon ceased to love when those smiles were
led and those sweet looks all-changed to fiery hate.
Oh hapless husband, thus to be stopped short in thy
sweet career of loving ! My heart pities thee. For
who that has known the iHeaven of loving could
ever wish the loss of that heaven, even to his bitter.
ºst enemy! But alas! this was not the worst with
-
12
poor Mr. Cotton. For, unsupported by religion,
he soon gave way to the workings of degenerate na:
ture, and thus not only lost the heaven of loving,
but quickly found the hell of hating his wife, and
as heartily as she hated him.
From the viper what can we get but his venom?
And from mutual hate what can flow but deeds of
mutual spite? When from his morning labours in
the field he returned weary and faint to his house,
alas ! there was no smiling wife to meet him; no
ready spread table with strengthening cakes and
cheering coffee to refresh him. On the contrary,
neglected and sullen he was left to ransack the star-
ved beaufets for some cold uninviting morsel where-
on to make his joyless meal alone.
And when about to return to his labours—alas!
he had no tender wife to press his cheeks to hers,
with sighs lamenting the hardness of his lot—and
fondly assuring him of her equal readiness to par-
take of every toil for their mutual good.
Such endearments, like the precious oils poured
on Aaron's head, serve to diffuse a heavenly odour
through the house of love, and send the happy hus-
band forth with renovated vigour to his fields–
while, answering the big joy within, the day shines
brighter on his senses, and nature smiles around in
livelier colours drest,
“”Tis like refreshing dew that doth,
On Hermon's top distil, -
Or, like the precious drops that fall,
On Zion's fruitful hill.
Sweet LovE! it is the chosen GRAcE,
To which the Almighty King,
The highest honors hath assigned,
As life's eternal spring”
But, ah poor man! such joys were none of his
For after swallowing alone his dry and cheerless
morsel, he had but to heave the deep sigh, and then
set forth to his work again with the slow reluctant
step of a slave.






13
some pretend to tell us that necessity is the main
spring of our industry: thus turning us at once into
mules and asses who can do nothing without a spur
continually at our sides. But besides the gross libel
which this throws upon human nature, it is utterly
untrue. For as there are some animals, the gene-
rous horse for example, who without any other spur
than their own native spirit, will move far more
freely than the ass though followed by a thousand
cudges; so there is a principle in man which can
move him with more spirit and perseverance than
all cow-hides can move the slave. That principle
is love.
* Where love is,” said the great William Penn,
“there is no labour; or if there be, the labour is
sweet. And so strong and natural is our passion
for what is sweet, that let us be put upon the trail
and we never quit it. Now as love is the sweetest
sentiment ever yet revealed to us in this world; and
love for wife and children the sweetest of all crea-
ture-loves, it follows that if a man truly love his
wife and children he will be sure to stick close to
his work for them, as a bee to his honey comb; and
for the same reason—because it is the sweetest thing
he can any where find.
It is true, necessity will sometimes make men
stir their stumps. But then it is only a sort of
force-put, like the movements of an ass who has a
cudgle at his tail. And as the ass, soon as the smart
of the cudgelis over, will stop and stop again, even
so will the man who acts only from necessity, soon
as that necessity ceases. But love never ceases,
never tires; for as soon as one precious thing is ob-
tained for the beloved, with equal pleasure it sets
about obtaining another, and so on. And as every
precious present which the fond husband makes to
his partner, awakens in him a fresh rapture, and
that rapture leads to a fresh exertion, it follows that
as long as there remains any good thing to be ob-
tained for her, so long will he delight in his generou









14
exertions for her dear sake. But take away love,
and alas! this sweetest spring of industry is bro.
ken, and toil becomes a burden too heavy to be
borne. For who, without religion, can bear to
work for a woman he loves not ; or, which is still
worse, for a woman he hates? Scarcely to such an
one would he give tokens of silks and fine linens,
even though he could get them without money and
without price; hardly then would he submit to pur-
chase them with toil and drudgery. -
This reasoning was fully experienced by Mr.
Cotton. While courting the beautiful Miss Kan-
mady, like all other lovers he was constantly mak-
ing her presents. And for a year or two after their
marriage, even all the time he loved her, he found
nothing so delightful as working for her. He fol-
lowed his plough with songs, and planted his young
trees with joy, because the precious grain and the
fruit were all for her. But soon as love expired,
then, like Samson shorn of his strength, he sunk
under the weight of his labours. They became too
heavy for him to bear. Reluctantly undertaken
they were gladly relinquished; and those precious
hours which had been so pleasantly spent at work,
were now as miserably mispent in idleness and
drinking.
The plenty which they had derived from the
chearful toils of mutual love, was soon casted,
amidst the sullen palsies of hatred. “Jºaste begets
want.” And want often begets strife even among
friends; what then among foes, and foes too who had
neither religion to curb their tempers, nor education
to polish their manners? What, I ask was to have
been expected but fierce disputes and bitter mutual
upbraidings, too often vented in the harshest terms
that uncivilized tongues could invent?
Had the effects of such detestable passions been
confined solely to this wretched man and his wife,
we should not have thought quite so much of it.










15
But alas! they fell with heaviest weight on those
who were least able to bear them; I mean on their
children. Often were these little unoffending crea-
tures made to turn pale with fright, and with up-
lifted hands and piercing cries to look on, while
their wretched parents were furiously fighting.—
And often were they made to mourn the sad
change in the treatment shown to them by their
father and mother. For, while he loved his wife,
Mr. Cotton could see a thousand beauties in the
face of his little daughter, and could kiss and kiss
again her sweet dimpled cheeks and shining eyes–
“they were so like her dear mother's.
And she too, during the happy season of love
for her husband, would gaze with rapture on her
little boy, and snatching him to her bosom, would
devour with kisses, “the sweet little rogue, the very
image of his father.”
But soon as love was turned to hatred, all these
fond partialities ceased. And in place of those
charms which love had seen in these sweet babes,
hatred now beholds nothing but deformities.
The daughter is so like “her vile mother;” and
the boy so resembles, “his ugly father,” that they
can no longer be borne in the sight of their parents!
but with blows and curses are driven away, fright-
ened and crying, from their presence; while the
wicked parents themselves, torn with remorse of
such cruel deeds, frown and flout about the house in
looks and eyes like that infernal King whose slaves
they are.
It was not for one bed to contain two such
wretched beings. One Heaven can contain milli.
ons of loving saints; but not one house nor hardly
one hell could contain two persons who thus mortal.
ly hated each other. -
But their house was small; only one room.—
What's to be done in that case: Why, happily for

16
them both, there is a loſt; and, in lieu of stairs, a
mean looking ladder assists the trembling climber to
ascend to it. Into this loft she mounted every night,
and would, no doubt, have mounted into the garret
had there been one; and he full as deep have plung-
ed into the cellar, that they might be as far apart as
possible,
Such was the order of things for their sleeping
hours; and as few of their working moments were
spent together. Seldom, on his return from the
fields at night, did he see her. She was generally
gone abroad. And even when at home she rarely
came in sight. So that after the tedious toils of the
day he was left, poor man to sit moping by himself,
and not infrequently in the dark. While she, with
thoughts as black as the night that surrounded her,
would sit all alone in the kitchen till the hour of
bed; and then bustling in at once she would flout
it up into her loft, without deigning him a look;
and sometimes, as from contempt, would sing or
rather scream an old ballad into his ears as she
went along.
Such a state of mutual torment betwixt husband
and wife is extremely dangerous. It is a state of
misery most unnatural, and therefore not long to be
borne. And if fools will not escape it by timely
following God in the way of sweet reconciliation,
the devil will soon tempt them to escape it, in a way
almost too horrible to mention. This has been the
case in millions of instances. It was so in this. For
after many months spent in this most wicked and
disgraceful warfare, who most should torment the
other, Mrs. Cotton came to the resolution to put an
end to the contest and all its miseries at once—by
destroying her husband out ºf her way.
As the dog growls before he bites, and the rattle.
snake gives warning ever he inflicts the mortal
wound; so did the looks of this wretched wife dis-
close the bloody purpose of her heart. He saw his

17
-
death in her eyes. He even mentioned it to his
neighbours. The very day before he was murder:
ed he dined at the house of a friend. As he took
leave in the evening to return home, he said with a
sigh, “Well, farewell; and for the last time; for it is
likely I shall never see you again in this world.”
Surprised at such a speech, his friend asked what
he meant by it. “Why sir” replied he, “if I knew
that the road to my hºuse was beset with Indians, I
could hardly set out home with more uneasiness
than I now do; for I am sure I shall be murdered
shortly.
Poor man his fears were but too well founded:
for his wife had doomed that night his last. Some
study, no doubt, it cost her to determine how best
to murder him; for in difficulties of this sort some
women have employed the subtilty of poison; and
some the bolder aid of a sturdy young sweet-hears.
But the method which our heroine prefered was to
knock him on the head, herself, while he slept.
With this view, soon as night came on, she took an
axe from the wood-pile and went up into her loft
where she waited for his return, keen and fell as the
lioness lying in ambush for the illfated traveller. .
Haying spent nearly an honr in painful expecta.
tion, she began to fear that he would not return that
might. And indeed, as guilt is alwas suspicious, she
was not without her apprehensions that he had, some
how or other, found out her designs on him. But
presently to her great relief, the welcome sound of
his hated voice broke upon her ear.
* Where is your sister?" enquired he, of her bro.
ther David Kannady, a lad of twelve year, who
lived with them.
-
* She is gone to bed sir,” replied he
Aye! She º, in great haste Ithink: Is she sicka

18
* Yes sir,” rejoined her brother, “she is sick and
gone to bed.”
But the truth is, she was not sick; or at any rate
not more so than is the devil or any other wicked
agent who raging with malice, “cannot rest on their
beds unless they have shed innocent blood.
Our wretched husband, being now for the last
time returned to his house, took a seat by the fire
with no company but such goomy thoughts as fear
and hate could inspire. After sitting till a late
hour he got up, and heaving a deep sigh, went to his
bed from which he was to rise no more. He went
to his bed; but, oh my God! how different this
bed from that which once he knew, when love glow-
ed in his heart, and all his thoughts were joy!
Having, as aforesaid, thrown himself down on
his bed, he lay tossing there and restless till about
midnight, when wearied nature, in spite of grief,
caught a transient doze.
Hoping he had fallen asleep, his wife with the
axe in her hand stepped softly to the ladder and de-
scended a few rounds. But hearing him move and
groan, and fearing thence that he was not yet sound
enough at rest, she went back. In a little time his
welcome snoring reached her ear. Whereupon de-
scending the ladder with cautious steps and slow, she
crept gently up to the side of his bed, grasping all
the while the horrid weapon in her hand.
Seldom has so foul a murder been committed
during so fair a season. The moon was then at
full ; and shining in cloudless glory with all her
stars, she poured a silver radiance over the world,
making the night like a lovelier day. And besides,
it was the solemn midnight hour, and all a round
was silent as though nature's self did sleep.
But unmoved alike with awe or rapture at such
glorious scenes, this wicked woman still pursued
19
her dreadful work, attentive to no call but the cla-
mours of her own hellish passions; and intent on
no wish but how soonest, to hurl her husband into
his bloody grave. And indeed he seemed but too
ready for that doleful place. Trouble had driven
him to drink; and drink and trouble, together, had so
worn him down as to bring on the ague, rendering
his cheeks pale as the winding sheet that was soon
to cover his emaciated body. This, with the aid of
a long beard, the natural growth of grief begotten
neglect, gave him as he slept, that woful look which -
not even a stranger's eye could behold without a tear.
As thus he lay on his left side, his head on his -
arm, and his right temple full exposed, she drew near
his bed, and without any touch of pity of his ghast-
ly looks—without any tender recollection of their
former loves—or any reverence of God's sacredim-
age stamped upon his face, she lifted her axe–high
she liſted it, and with arms braced up of heli, drove
at his defenceless head a furious blow, which, light-
ing immediately on his temple, bursted the skull and
sunk deep into his brain.
On receiving the mortal stroke, nature made an
effort to cry for help; and the half formed prayer.
“Oh Lord! died away unfinished on his tongue.
Suddenly, however, as by a convulsive throe, he
drew up his knees to his chin; but presently stretch-
ing them out again, and feebly quivering in the last
agony, he groaned out his soul into the hands of
the all merciful Creator.
Oh young men'ſ young women, draw nigh! All,
both high and low, rich and poor, in haste draw
migh, and from this bloody bed come learn that les-
son which pulpits so often have preached in vain.
Oh! learn the madness of those who preſer the
Creature's to the Creator's love. How often do
unthinking youth, caught by the beauties of the
fair, forget HIM who lent all their charms; Him
who formed the snowy bosom—the ivory neck—the
love breathing lips—the all conquering smile, and


20
eyes keen darting their resistless glances to the ra.
wished heart? Ah! how often forgetting HIM, the
ALoN E ADoRABLE, do they give all their adoration
to his fair creatcres. -
Such, in a greater or less degree, has been the
madness of us all. And such was the madness of
poor John Cotton. Fired by the lightening of her
fine black eyes, he could neither think nor dream
of any thing but “Miss Kannady!. The lovely
Miss Kannady!-The divine Miss Kannady!” –
Sweetly shone his Sabbath morning suns; but not,
alas! because they were to light him to the house
of his God, but because under their gladdening
beams he was to visit his more beloved, “ Miss
Becky 1' And sweetly, also, flowed his voice in
the melody of songs; but not alas! in praise of his
Creator. For if asked to sing a hymn he would
blush as though he had been asked to do a
thing improper. But when called on for a song, he
whould strike up a lay in praise of his charming
Becky, and would sing it with such spirit, with
such deep sighs and tender trills, as though his
whole soul were poured out in every amorous line.
Ah! blind young man, hadst thou but loved thy
God as thou lovedest this painted sepulchre, never
would he have brought thee to this horrid end.
And O ye giddy husbands too, draw near ! and
from this scene of death learn the worth of Religon.
See here how, without Religion, an angel becomes
a demon; and woman, the last and loveliest of the
Great Maker's works, and born to be the dearer half
and helpmate of her husband, becomes his mur-
derer! and will you still be of the number of those
who make a mock at Religion? Madmen beware
you are unchaining the Tygress. You are giving
a range to those passions which may one day fly at
your own lives and hurry you to bloody graves.
If then you have not virtuous sensibility sufficient
to love Religion yourselves, at least permit it to your
ºcives. Oh! look there at the wretched Cotton
















21
and his murderous wife. Once, like you, they low-
ed; they married; and with arm locked in arm,
they walked their gardens and fields, fondly point-
ing each to other, the various beauties of the smiling
year. While their admiring neighbours, turning to
their sons and daughters, would say, “see what a
happy couple! -
But alas! Offences came; and wounds were in-
flicted, which, not timely mollified by the precious
ointment of Religion, soon festered and ran into a
angrene that stopped not until it had produced the
fatal consequences just described. -
Hence then learn, O husbands and wives, to re-
were Religion as at once the Foux TAIN and PALA-
DIUM of all your blessings. Doubtlessly, a mar-
iage of two gentle souls in one united, makes the
safest and sweetest sailing of all to Heaven; but
still it is not always that smooth pacific ocean that
it ought to be. But when any storm, from human
imperfection, begins to rise, surely nothing is so po-
tent to lay it as Religion—and that, not on her au-
thorities merely prudential, such as what the mar-
ried parties owe to their dear friends on both sides
—what they owe to their own fair character and
high standing in society—what they owe to their
poor innocent children—what they owe to a good.
God whose great cause of “peace and concord” they
are now invited, by their own fair example, to ad-
vocate—these arguments are strong. But others
still stronger, because pointed nearer at self, are
pressed upon them by Religion as consisting in
HABIT's of PERFECT LovE and pºlic HTING
in MoRAL BE UTY or good—and first in God who
is ALL-GLorious in holiness and benevolence; and
next in all who resemble him, but especially in a
* VIRTuous wife” whose graces and good offices
render her, in the happy husbands eyes, the loveliest
image of his Creator. Now, how can a man who
has for years been in habits of waking up every
*0"ning to taste the joys of that delightful friend.
22
ship with God, which is inseperable from a heart
determined on imitating him in purity and benevo-
lence—How can, man who has, for years, been in
habits of waking up every morning to taste the joys
of a heavenly friendship, in the society of a “virtu.
ous wife” whose every look, and smile, and act, be
speak a blessed soul in perfect unison with his own,
and who thinks of nothing but to make him
happy–Oh! how could such a man bear to wake
up in the morning, not to enjoy his accustomed
heaven of divinest loves, but—to suffer a hell of hate
and strife
Our love is our God. Take that away and
what have we left? In such sad event how natural
for the soul to cry out with the poet, though in a far
better sense—“ Perdition catch my soul, but I do
love thee; and if I love thee not, chaos is come again.”
Yes, and how finely illustrative of the state of a
soul bereaved of its heaven of virtuous love, is that
sweet story of the famous pair in ancient Greece,
who after several years of the most exalted friend-
ship that two souls blest with the noblest virtues,
could ever feel for each other, fell out and parted in
a high passion. After midnight, one of them un-
able to sleep, got up and dressing himself went to
the house of the other. He was surpried to see a
light in his chamber—he approached in silence—
heard his friend groan–heard him restless and toss-
ing as in deep distress–heard him at length cry
out most dolorously, “ah fool that I was, to yield
to such brutish passion 1–To have outraged the
worthiest man on earth 1–The dearest friend I ever
had and now, ah wretched me! to have lost him
forever!
< 0 no!” cried the other, out at the door, in trans-
port. “You have not lost him forever, here he is
now, just come to tell you that he is yours still, and
is deiermined to be so for ever!” The door is burst-
ed open the friends embrace in extacy—and amidst
their tears, in tones soft and sweet as lovers recon:







23
eiled each, apologizes for the other and blames
himself.
strive then, O husbands and wives, above all
things strive for that exalted friendship which flows
from the God-like virtues. The exquisite pleasures
which this affords to the heart, will as you have
seen, prove its sweetest, surest defence. If “offences
should come,” if angry passions should arise, and,
for a dark moment, tempest your souls, still you are
safe; the divine charm is in your own bosom. The
constant and precious sense of the heaven that
springs from love—the bitter hell that waits on ha-
tred seconded by only one of those happy thoughts
of God that visit the pious, these will excite a feel-
ing that shall instantly command the rising storm
into calm, and diffuse, all around, that “sacred
peace that passeth all understanding.” Strength-
ened by this you will hasten to each other: your
eyes will meet as in the days of your first loves;
and clasped in the strong embrace of mutual esteem
and hearty reconciliation, you will experience those
joys that are better felt than described. But the
sweet touch of your tear-bathed cheeks, with the
sweeter glances still from eyes soft rolling in the
dews of pious contrition, these will awaken those
raptures which belong only to the family of heaven.
Oh result! how gloriously different from that
now before us a blood-stained wife, with looks
grim as hell, standing by the bedside of a murdered
husband 11
That dismal sign of death he breathes no more,
which has sent many a distracted widow to bedlam,
was to this wretch a consummation of her wishes.—
Supposing, thence, that he was dead enough, she
waked up her young brother Davy, over whose
gentle nature she possessed such absolute controul
as easily to induce him to whatsoever she pleased.
With his assistance she dragged the corpse of her
husband into a small meat house at hand, and there
24
leaving him retired to her bed. After indulging a
mapſ she arose and returned to the meat house to
see whether he was quite dead or not. Thinking
she saw him move an eye, she tied a rope round his
neck, and throwing the other end over a rafter, drew
him up from the ground, and there leaving him
half hanging, went to her bed again. A little before
day she waked up her brother, a second time, and
dragged the corpse into the garden and buried it
in an empty potatoe vault, covering the grave care-
fully with straw. --
Extraordinary as was her cruelly in this affair, it
was equalled at least if not outdone by her cunning.
Recollecting that, a few weeks before this, her
husband and a stranger wagoner had had a terri-
ble quarrel about some bags which the latter had
sold the former, she very artfully chimed in with
the clamours of her husband’s enemies and most
basely gave out, that, “Cotton had stolen the wag-
oner's bags and run off to get out of the way of
Justice-
With his father she played a very different and
still deeper game. She told him, that her husband
was gone on a journey and would return by such a
day. When the day was come and gone, she went
to the house of the old gentleman, and wringing
her hands with a flood of tears, intreated him for
God’s sake to tell her what was become of her
“poor dear husband; for that he was rather ailing
when he went from home; and she was mighty
fraid something had happened to him.
This farce she acted with such admirable art as
completely deceived the old man and brought him
to his melting mood. For he took her, very ten-
derly, in his arms and with his cheeks swollen with
the best blood from his heart, he kissed her and
thanked her for such an amiable anxiety about his
son. He moreover comforted her with kind
















25
words, and, calling her his dear daughter, begged
she would keep up a good heart, for that pºor
Johnny would no doubt soon come back to her
again.
But the neighbours were not so easily to be im:
osed on; for missing poor Johnny, and well knºw-
ing what a cat and dog life he and his partner had
long led, they began to suspect the worst; and
their suspicions increasing with every day of his
absence they at length set themselves in good earn-
est to find out the truth. Providentially, the first
trail which they struck on, conducted them to his
bloody hole. It was suggested to them, that, if his
wife had indeed made away with him, she had
hardly done it without the knowledge and perhaps
assistance of her brother Davy who lived with her.
Under this impression they employed a finesse to
get Davy into the woods; where suddenly seizing
and alarming him with threats, they quickly obtain-
ed the horrible secret which they had long suspect-
ed. Then taking Davy along with them, they has-
tened to the house of the wicked woman, and digg-
ing into the potatoe vault they found the mangled
Corpse.
But they found not her. For alarmed by the
stir made in the neighbourhood she had, several
days before, taken her flight to the western country,
leaving her little children, five in number, to the
charity of their relatives. Fired with just indigna-
tion against such a monster, and eager to bring her
back to condign punishment, the officers of justice
commenced a pursuit after her and pushed it with
such spirit, that they overtook her beyond the
mountains and brought her back in triumph for trial,
and as they hoped, and as indeed every body hoped,
to speedy punishment. Accordingly she was tried.
But O strange to tell, and as hard to be believed,
she was acquitted The longing gallows and gib-
bet were both disappointed. Nºy, the sheriff’s
branding iron and the constable's cowhide were not
4. -
26
º - -
permitted to scar, or even to approach her polished
skin. -
Should the reader, half choaked with indigna-
tion, ask how such a monster ever got clear, he
asks in vain; at least if he asks of me. I have nev.
er yet been led into the secret. For, from what I
can learn, she had no money bags to dazzle the bar
and smooth the iron brow of justice; nor yet had
she any PAT Rick Henry, with syren voice to
melt all hearts and drown all eyes in floods of com.
miserating tears.
What was it then P
Why, it was her beauty, they said, that won the
day; her fair face that saved her vile neck. And
indeed very like. For if in the days of innocence,
the beauty of the newly wedded Eve so charmed
the soul of Adam, that, for extacy thereof, he for-
gave her the murder of a world, then what wonder
that in these days of politeness and gallantry, a young
solicitor pleading against beauty, beauty in tears,
should find his heart turn traitor to his tongue, and
his tongue forgetting her wonted cunning?
In short Mrs. Cotton came off clear; nay, more
than clear, she came off conqueror. For, as dressed
in modest black she stood at the bar in tears, with
cheeks like rose-buds wet with morning dew, and
rolling her eyes of living saphires pleading for pity,
their subtle glances seized with ravishment the ad
miring throng; the stern features of justice were all
relaxed, and both lawyers and jury, hanging forward
from their seats with fondly rolling eyes, were heard
to exclaim, “ 0 Heavens what a charming crea-
ſure.”
* Yes,” replied a bystander, a baptist “if she
had not been such a murderer.”
* A murderer!” quoth one of the jury very an:



27
- -
grily, “a murderer sir! 'tis false. Such an angel
could never have been a murderer.”
Thus beauty, as was said, prevailed against jus-
tice. And thus did this self made widow force her
way through the sacred nettings of the law, even as
a beetle drives through the slender webbings of a
spider; not only extricating herself but enthralling
her enemy. For among those of the jury whose
melting looks confessed the force of Mrs. Cotton's
charms, was a major Gellis, a respectable citizen,
and of handsome property. The major was at that
time rather a young widower, by the recent death
of an amiable and accomplished wife, who left him
a couple of beautiful girls just growing up.
This worthy gentleman, though deserving as
would appear, a better fate, was so borne away by
one of those fatalities which every body laments but
nobody understands, that he actually fell in love with
Mrs. Cotton while she stood at the tribunal, and
while her hands were scarcely yet free from the scent
of her husband's blood.
For sweet Heaven's sake let none hereafter won.
der that the bar should so often take different sides
on the merits of a dead parchment, when the jury,
as we have here seen, could embrace such very dif-
ferent opinions on the merits of a living coman:
one thinking her a monster, a mere devil incarnate
that would disgrace a gibbet; while another, deem-
ing her an Angel, longs for nothing so much as to
see her sparkling at the head of his table, or, with
blushing cheeks reclining on the nuptial bed.
Oh major Gellis' How could you so soon have
forgotten that excellent lady your first wife, as thus
to pollute her place with this graceless creature!
How could you so soon have forgotten the respect
due to your lovely daughters, as thus to depress
their spirits by bringing into the family and setting
over their heads a murderess! Yes, the murderess

28
of her own husband! Ah! how many a tender
mother, reading this unnatural act of yours, will
weep to think what may befal her dear daughters
also-her daughters now growing up lovely as cº-
gin graces, with skilful needles spreading the bloom
ºf spring over the snowy gauze, or, with delicate
fingers flying over the keys of the piano, waking up
sweet sounds, far beyond the music of the groves
the soul of the mother rejoices in their growing ac-
complishments; and, gay with hope, she looks for-
ward to the day when her dear children shall, in
turn, become honorable and happy as wives and
mothers. But alas ! in the midst of these fond visi-
ons, the memory of poor Mrs. Gellis and her daugh-
ters, rises on her mind, like a black cloud over the
morning sun, suddenly damping her spirits and turn-
ing her vernal joys into wintry sorrow—“Ah my
God!” with a deep sigh she exclaims, “who can tell
but a fate like theirs, may soon await my poor girls'
how soon may these porlours, now so happy be
made to ring with the shrill notes of an unfeeling
step mother; while my daughters, like lambs before
a ſigress, mayfly to solitary chambers, there to sigh
and ºceep unpitted
How far the major's friends were pleased with
this match of his with Mrs. Cotton; or how far
he himself, afterwards, had cause to be pleased with
it I have never heard”. Certain it is however, that
she was very well pleased with it. For she had not
been long adopted into the family of major Gellis
before she set her wits to work to get her brother
also, Mr. Stephen Kannady, connected with it.
The major, as has been already hinted, had been
left a widower with two promising daughters. The
* I have since been told, by his best friends, that the major of
ten speaks of it as the greatest misfortune of his life, Besides a
load of trouble which it brought on his mind, it proved a mortal
canker worm to his estate which, from the hour he married her,
began to crumble, and is now, in away that nobody can account
for, entirely gone to the dogs.

29
eldest, about 13 years of age, besides a pretty person,
ossessed a pretty fortune. Such rare attractions
could hardly have been expected to escape the notice
of Mrs. Gellis, who wisely recollecting that hand-
some females and fortunes were not made for noth-
ing and knowing no manner of reason why her
brother should not be as deserving as any other, she
advised him by all means to try his luck, i. e. to
court Miss Gellis. And by way of putting him up
the more spiritedly to the enterprise, she promised
that, in event of his success, she would persuade the
major, immediately to settle on him the property h
intended for his daughter. -
Some profane wits have been pleased to pun
upon matrimony, calling it a matter o'-money; but
Heaven knows it is the last thing that ought to be
undertaken for the sake of money. When huckster-
ing for a mule, or a horse, or any other piece of ani-
mated nature, a man may stick out to the last cent
and welcome. But when so heavenly a creature
as a good girl is up for a wife, then for mercy's sake
let's bid no other coin but what's heavenly, and that
is love. For, as the Poet truly sings, nought but
love can answer love and render bliss secure.
Sweet as matrimony is, yet it must be owned there
are some bitters in it which nothing but love can
dulcify The young man therefore who ties him-
self to bed and board for life with a girl whom
he does not love, is running a terrible risk: nay, be-
sides suffering in himself the complicated curses due
to such base perjured villany as self, reproach, dis.
gust, desperation and drunkenness; tis ten to one but
he makes her life miscrable too; like a brute quarrel-
ing with and abusing her, poor woman because,
forsooth her relations do not give him more money.
God forbid I should say this was the case with Mr.
Stephen Kannady. On the contrary I heartily
hope he was very well satisficq with his choice of
Miss Gellis. Certain it is however, that he had
not been long married before he applied to his sister
to fulfill her promise, to get him his wife's fortune.

30
But the vile woman, instead of gratifying her brother
laughed him to scorn! The truth is all that the
wretch wanted, so her neighbours say, was in the
first place, to rid herself as fast as possible of the
good major's children—secondly, to get into her
hands every shilling of his estate—and thirdly and
lastly, to knock him on the head and then turn out
a rich young widow. And indeed her conduct gave
too much ground for these horrible suspicions. For
having accomplished the first object, the marriage of
the major's daughters—a thing of no great difficulty
—for being cruelly treated, on the one hand, by her,
and on the other, warmly courted by her favorites,
the girls were very willing to marry, to get out of
her way.
Having, however, as I said accomplished her first
wish, the happy riddance of the major's daughters;
she then went to work about her second point, the
snugging of his property. In pursuance of this she
had the address to play off another dirty trick on
her brother Stephen Kannady.
Major Gellis, it seemed, owed 250 dollars to one
of his neighbours who held his note for that sum.–
Her fingers itched for that note. Thinking her bro-
ther Stephen would serve as a nice cats paw to her
purpose, she most artfully drew him into good terms
with her again; and after observing to him one day,
how she hated that her husband should owe money
to any body out of the family, she proposed to him
to get in that note for her, promising him, by all that
was good and sacred, that she would in return give
him the service of a valuable negro fellow until
major Gellis had paid up the money on the note.
Accordingly Stephen went and took up the note
and brought it to her; and the next week applied to
her for the negro fellow. But instead of delivering
the slave she affected the utmost astonishment at his
impudence. This was beyond all bearing. He flew
into a violent passion, and saluted her with a storm
of the bitterest names that the maddest passion could

31
-
suggest. But at a warfare of this sort he stood no
chance with her. For, as a woman when acting like
herself, that is, when truly good, is far lovelier than
any man, so if, in right earnest, she takes the other
turn, she can make herself ugly enough to frighten
the very devil. This, poor Stephen found to his
cost: for severe as he thought his own tongue, yet
compared with the artillery of her’s, he was obliged
to confess that his harshest terms were but as snow
balls against iron bullets, or poisoned arrows. At
parting he told her with a horrid curse, that if such,
* wicked doings did not carry her to the, D–l he did
not see what use there was for one. She, in re-
ly, with the face of a FuRy. and eyes darting the
deadliest hate, bid him, “take care of himself, for
that in case he went on, to play the fool with her,
he should awake in H_1 much sooner than he
ºshed.”
She spoke this with an emphasis, that strongly
pointed his recollection to John Cotton and his
bloody death. Stephen understood it in this sense:
and soon as his passion subsided, he began to feel
alarmed, and the more so, when he came to learn
that she constantly carried a pair of pistols in her gig
box, with the express purpose to kill him; and also
that she had privately sent for her brother Davy-
His uneasiness rose to such a pitch that he was afraid
almost, at last, to go into his fields to work; and
never went without his loaded gun, nor ever suffer-
ed the sun to go down upon him out of his door,
lest Davy or some other hireling of his sister, taking
advantage of the evening shades, should way lay and
shoot him.
This shameful variance betwixt Mrs. Gellis and
her brother, which commenced in autumn 1806,
was continued with increasing malignity till the 5th
of May, 1807, when it terminated in the sudden
destruction of the former. The following narrative
of that bloody tragedy was communicated to me by
32
agentleman of the neighbourhood, who assured me
he was an eye witness of the transaction.
* I was standing, “ said he, “in the yard some 50
* Q. 60 pages from the court house, talking with
“Mr. B. White and other acquaintance, when Mrs.
* Gellis, in her gig, drove close up to that build.
“ing. She had made too much noise in the coun.
“ try to pass unnoticed; our eyes were, therefore, all
“immediately turned towards her; and some parts
“ of her old history, I believe, began to be ripped
“ up. She lighted from her gig. And as she walked
“towards the door of the court house she was met
“ by Mr. a likely young fellow, but not of
“ the purest sort, betwixt whom and herself there
“ was immediately struck up a close chat, and, I
“ much fear, not on the best subject. God forgive
“me if I suspect the poor lady wrongfully, but I am
“afraid that some criminal assignation was the
“ burden of their talk. But be it what it will, it is
“ with God, and the last day will tell all
* She had chatted, however, but a short time with
* her spark, before her brother Stephen came up,
“with a very dark brow, which I was sorry to see
“ did not become a jot more placid by looking at
“his sister; on the contrary it grew more and more
“stern and revengefull, like one looking at a mortal
“enemy. Presently he began to tell us the story
“ of his sister’s false and cruel treatment of him ;
“ and as he went on he became more and more out-
* rageous against her, At length his looks assumed
a horribleness of expression which confirmed me
“in an opinion that I had long ago taken up, name-
“ ly, that every man has two spirits, a good and a
“bad one, constantly attending him. If he cherish
“ the good spirit, he straight becomes happy within,
“ and then his outer man, his eyes, his face, his voice,
* and manner, all put on the sweet smile and air of
* cheerfulness. And in proportion as that good
“spirit is more and more heavenly, the man's coun-
* tenance becomes more and more lovely. But on
-
º


- 33
-
º
* the other hand, if the man give way to the bad
* spirit, he becomes distorted within and ugly with:
* out. And in proportion as this spirit is more and
more hellish, the man's countenance becomes
* more and more hateful and horrible. -
.
-
-
* This was most awfully verified in the case of
young Stephen Kannady. For as he was going
on to tell how cruelly his sister had deceived and
injured him in several the most tender points ; and
moreover how she had sent for her younger brother
Davy, with the express view, as he verily believed
to persuade Davy to murder him, and also, that
for fear of being murdered he had not, for many
“ months, been able to go about his own plantation
“in any manner of comfort, nor had even thought
himself safe out of his own door after sun set as
he went on, I say, to enumerate these cruel griev-
ances which this wicked woman had so unjustly
brought on him, his passions rose, by rapid strides
to a dreadful pitch; and at length, like one who
had driven his better angel from his side, and sur-
rendered himself to the evil spirit, he gnashingly
“exclaimed, “ yes, and by G-d I'll kill her.” As
* he spoke this his face became too dreadful to look
“on. You have often sir, said he to me, described
“general Washington in bloody battles, amidst up-
“ roaring thousands, with burning faces and fire
“flashing eyes striving to kill each other; but Wash-
“ington never yet saw a human face so dreadful as
* was this which young Kannady put on. It was
* not black, it was not green, nor yet was it blue;
“but it was a mixture of all frightful colours, and so
“fearfully put together that no face of an angry lion
º
.
º
-
.
.
.
-
º
º
“ was ever half so terrible as was his when he said
“our company in particular, I believe it was Mr. B
“yes by G-d I'll kill her In the same moment
“he stooped down and picked up a stone; and hold-
“ing it under his coat he stepped towards his sister.
* We were all struck with horror, and felt the ut-
“ most wish to prevent this unnatural act. One of
* White, caught him by the arm and said, why fee
5 -
34.
* God's sake, Mr. Kannady, what are you about?
“ you 'ant going to murder your sister, sure At
* this he wheeled about, and starting back, with
“uplified arm screamed out, let me goi' or, by G_d
* I'll kill you too. This he spoke with a look and
* Voice that so perfectly paralized us all that we
“could make no farther opposition.
* Thus it appears that when God is about to de
* liver a person to death into the hands of his neigh-
* bour, nothing can save him. For though, as I
“ said, before, several of us and strong men too, were
“ present, yet it appeared that none of us had the
* power to stop him. This wretched woman's hour
Ҽcas come! So stepping along with the stone in
“ his hand behind him, till he came close up to his
“sister where she was standing in high chat with
* her spark, and totally unobservant of him, he
“drew, back his arm, and with all his might drove
“ the stone against her temple.
* Like an ox under the axe of the butcher, she
* fell quivering and senseless to the ground.
o
* Then running and snatching up the stone which
* had rebounded, ringing from her fractured skull,
* he stepped up to her and repeated the dreadful
“blow, saying at the same time, there G–d d_n
“ you take that! -
* After this, with quick step and dark frowning
“ look of a fiend, he strode off to his horse which
“ was tied to the fence, close by, and mounting him
“galloped away; while not one of all the crowd
* made any attempt to stop him!
* Struck with horror at this bloody deed, we all
* gathered around this wretched victim of her bro-
* ther's rage, where we beheld that which can never
tº be thought of but with astonishment, especially of
* all those among us who were present when her
* first husband Cotton was taken up out of his








35
* bloody grave; and who had seen the mark which
* her accursed axe had msde on his temple. For
* the wound now made on her temple was so exact-
“ly like it, both as to size and place, that we all
* agreed that scarcely with any weapon could we
“ have made any thing more exact.
* Bleeding and sensless she was born to a neigh-
“bouring house and laid on a bed. This was on
* Monday about 4 o’clock, the 5th of May 1807–
* Numbers of people went to see her.
* On Tuesday the 6th, hearing that she was not
* yet dead, and led by curiosity not esteem, for that
“ was intirely out of the question, I walked over to
* indulge a glance at her; and though it was but a
“transient glance yet did it make on my mind an
“impression which no floods of time can ever, ever,
“ wash away.
* She lay extended on a bed, the linen of which,
* owing to the hourly expectation of her death, had
* never been changed; and covered with blood, and
“brains constantly oozing from her fractured skull,
“ presented a sight most ghastly, especially to me
* who had seen her in the far different scenes of for-
“mer gaiety and bloom.
“Ah my God!” said I to my troubled soul, what
“a change is here ! How is the beautiful fallen, and
“ the power of the charmer perished Where are
* now those eyes whose sparklings did of late so
“sweetly kindle our feelings and set all hearts on
“fire? Where are those cheeks of new-blown roses,
“ and those ruby lips moist with youth and love,
“that even kings might covet to kiss? Alas! those
“lips now swollen and livid, like lobes of livers,
“frighten all desire, turning lust itself into loathing.
“And those eyes, once so bright, now blood shot.
“ten and fixed, with ghastly whites turned up, are too
“shocking to be looked on While her tongue
* partaking of the general inflamation and swelling,

36
“can no longer be contained in her mouth but is
“thurst out large and red, though black in spots as
“iſ inclined to motify. And thus she lay on her
“blood-stained bed—with head thrown back lungs
“quick heaving and laboring for breath and hº
“eyes fixed on the ceiling like one near death, Pre-
“senting. A spect AcLE of Honnor, to all, but
“especially to us who at the same time took remem
“brance of her former wicked life. But at times
“ her appearence was far more horrible still. For,
* every now and then, like one who had suddenly
“seen some dreadful apparition, she would start all
“ at once from her stupid state, and with looks of
“wildest terror would go into such strong convul.
“sions that ten men were scarely able to hold her,
“ while at the same time she would pour forth such
“piercing shrieks and screams as were sufficient to
* call tears and blood from the hardest hearts.”
Reader, we are now arrived at the catastrophe of
our piece, and must let the curtain fall. But I trust
we shall not forget it as we would an ordinary thea-
trical fiction, much less confound it with that atheis-
tical abortion, called chance. What! talk of such a
gloomy, soul chilling demon as on ANCE, among the
works of him who “covereth himself with light as
scith a garment,” and who with pow ER ALMIGHTy
combines the sensibilities of an in FINITE Love
Look at his works in air, earth, and seal the lowls
of heaven; the beasts of the field; the fishes of the
sea; in all that infinite and boundless range what
single sign of chance do you discover? What sin-
gle eye or tooth is there amiss? What one feather,
fin, or scale deficient or redundant? Would you
feel more sensibly his on NIPRESEN CE operating
wonders “in the corlds in scorlds inclosed ?” Snatch
the “ MAgic Microscope ’’ and look into things
invisible to the naked eye—look into a simple glass
of water or of milk, and lo! a shoal of animalcules
burst upon the astonished sight, numerous and play-
ful as the silver fry within the fisherman's net!—ap-
ply it to the green mold, formed on cheese or
bread, during a summer's night, and behold! a per




37
fect orchard of fruit trees, and fruits! with living
creatures underneath waiting for their falling apples!
—apply it to the surface of any green leaf behold!
thousands of beauteous insects sporting in the solar
ray, adorned with robes brilliant as the plumage of
the humming bird, or as the diamond-spangled
shawls of eastern belles. Would you see this king
or glory, still more fearful in praises? Then
snatch the TELE scope, and turn it towards the
stars of heaven: towards the “milky way” for ex-
ample, and lo! emerging from “chaos and old
night,” myriads of Mighty won Los travelling in
their immeasurable orbits the boundless abodes of
creatures, called into being to glorify the Creator in
his favorite work, of making happy! And will he
give his glory to another? Will he suffer chance,
to step in and disturb his plans? Surely if a Spar-
row fall not to the ground without him, then this
cruel woman could not have perished so fearfully—
but to prove how he abhors the enemies ºf human
happiness.
O for the spirit universal of the learned and de-
vout lord Chief Justice Hale –by whose door the
victims of law passed in their cart every Monday
morning, to execution. “ I could never,” said he,
“ look on these poor creatures as they sat on thir
coffins, with halters around their necks, going to
death, without falling down, involuntarily, on my
knees in an act of adoration to God, that I was not
in their ſcretched company' but, for his preventing
mercy I should have been depraved and lost, like
them.”
But my pamphlet was written chiefly for married
persons. They that are happiest are always objects
of the largest sympathy and concern. Arch bishop
Secker, the morning after he had married a favorite
niece to her lover, sent for the young couple into his
study. “I have here a noble present for you my
children,” said he smiling. As, with sparkling eyes
they looked on him expecting, no doubt, some.


38
thing very brilliant, he drew out a fools cap Their
countenances fell, “ Come cheer up, my dears.”
said he, “cheer up my present may seem a trifle ſo
you; but still it may do you more good than all
the gilt coaches and diamond necklaces in the king-
dom, provided you will but keep in mind the ai.
vice I now give you with it, which is, that—only
one of you is to wear the fools cap at a time.
It well became this great good man to make con-
jugal love his first care, for what is there on earth
so delightful to the parties themselves as conjugal
love? What is there so delightful to their parents
and friends? What so essential to universal happi-
ness, as love warm throbbing from parent to child;
thence to sister and brother; thence, with enlarging
circle, to aunt, to cousin, to servant, to neighbour,
and at length to strangers and all mankind? 0.
who can think of this sweet chain of charities with-
out shouting glory to God! and also joining in
that divine anthem by “God’s own poet.”
* Hail wedded love! pure source of human off-
spring By thee, adulterous lust was driven from
men, amongst the bestial herds to range | By thee,
relations dear, and all the sweet charities of father,
son, and brother first were known Here, love his
golden shafts employs, here lights his constant lamp,
and waves his happy wings.”—Milton.
YE Newly MARRIED ! who now so fondly
love and are so mutually blest, can you tolerate the
idea of ever falling from a state so delightful—
Could my wishes but prevent, you should never fall
from it, but contrariwise, you should, by daily rising
in mutual virtues be daily rising in mutual adoration
and thus, blessedly shifting from sense to soul, exalt
short lived passion into immortal friendship. But
if alas! in evil hour, either of you should tear off the
rosy chaplet of love and put on the fools cap, then
for heaven's sake, let the other cast an eye on this
looking glass, and behold! how great a “* *
39
little fire kindleth.” A spark only, as you have
seen, lighted on the proud spirit of the wretched
Mrs. Cotton—very naturally for a woman destitute
of religion, she fanned it—the flame caught on her
equally foolish husband—mutual hate ensued—
thence malice thence Revenge and Munder
and then, as a fearful warning to others, God’s righ-
teous vengeance burned after both to the bottomless
pit. Having now placed you, O young married
readers, within view of those malignant tempers
which it is your great business through life to com-
bat, I bid you adieu, with the short but impressive
address of a Scot's general to his troops whom he
had just brought in front of the hostile army “well
my lads, there's your enemy, and if you don't kil
them they will kill you.” -
A word to PARENTs and PREACHERs, those
great supervisors of education, to whom the glori-
ous task belongs to “teach the young idea how to
shoot,” and to stamp on the yielding mind the bright
impress of angels and of God. Education 1 0 all-
important, all eventful word what has not God de-
legated to parents to do for him, through pious edu-
cation of their children. To facilitate this, see what
admirable docility and warmth of heart for their pa-
rents, he has impressed on children—what strong
partiality for the father and mother who nursed and
dandled and loved them—how ready to think them
wiser and better than every body else—to sigh and
mourn after them when absent—and when they are
dead and gone to remember their sayings and talk
of them with tears' hence, see how all nations have
accredited parents for whatever good or bad their
children did! If, among the polite Romans, a family
of young men, for example, the Grachi acted nobly,
twas replied “no wonder, they had a Cornelia for
their mother.” If, among our rude Indians, a young
man acts foolishly, they say “poor boy his mother
did uot teach him right.” If, among the Chinese, a
youth should do very wrong—kill another in a duº
el, they say, put his father to death. If, among our.


40
selves, a bachelor should ask how to choose a good
wife, 'tis instantly answered, look at her moth.
Hence, these sayings are grafted into the proverbs of
all nations. -
“Train up a child in the way he should go; and
when he is old he will not depart from it.”
“'Tis education forms the common mind,
Just as the twig is bent the trees inclined.”
“ Children, like tender osiers take the bow,
And as they first are bent, forever grow.”
Now had the parents of Miss Kannady, when
she was a child; a twig; a tender osier; but train-
ed her up in the way she should go. Had they but
told her, with voice and eyes sparkling with the big
joy, that she was born for HEAVEN, and was sent
here to put on the wedding garment of good in Ess,
that might fit HE R for that glorious society—and
seconded such education with the resistless charms
of a heavenly example, she would no doubt have
been a very different woman. Yes, as widely diffe-
rent as a field, by skilful industry, covered with
sweetest fruits and flowers, or by neglect, over run
with poisonous weeds and serpents. Indeed what is
there under heaven can compare with the wonders
wrought on human nature by education? When,
for instance, we see even Indian children, by educa-
tion contending with each other who shall longest
bear the torture of a coal of fire placed on their
naked arms tied together When we see Indian
warriors, under all the tortures that savage ingenu-
ity and revenge can inflict on their captives, still sitt-
ing unmoved, smoking their pipes, or singing their
death songs! When we see even delicate females,
through force of education, with unaltered looks as-
sending the funeral piles of their deceased husbands,
and giving orders to kindle the fire that is to con-
sume their own flesh to cinders' Nay, when we see
men, by education, gaining victories still more re-
pugnant to nature–men, born to be brothers de-
41
stroying each other as mortal enemies, “for God.”
sake ſº-and even “parents delivering their chil-
dºwn to death, and children their parents!" I say:
when education, yea, false education, though backed
by nothing stronger than the flimsy visions of su-
perstition or empty puffs of worldy pride, can thus
remould, as it were, the young and tender soul, cast
ing it into any shape it pleases, what might not the
ºr Rue Education do, with the PRE's ENT PLEA-
suites and pºre RNAi new Ands of viºr UE in her
hands? O had these mighty arguments been press-
ed on the hapless heroine of our story, when she
was the innocent and docile Miss Kannady, what a
dignified matron might not have grown out of that
beauteous maid! But alas! no pious parent had
said, “remember thy creator in the days of thy
youth.” God, however, left not himself with-
out a witness; he sent his ministers; his mercies;
his providences. These stood and knocked, again
and again, at the door, but she opened not. The
green pastures and silver streams of an humble, use:
!" life had no charms for a young creature, vain of
her beauty. To be seen and admired; to be the pride
of all eyes and the praise of every tongue; this was
her ambition. Hence, like a fair but foolish fawn,
over-leaping the safe enclosures of virtuous retire-
ment, she sought the worlds flowery fields and there
found her destruction. Pride, envy and hate, mark-
ed her for their own. Keen as the hounds of hell,
they commenced the chace, nor ever missed the way,
but pursued her close through every step of tortured
life; and after many a grievous wound and fall;
after many a bitter groan and tear, she was brought
to the ground: and now there she lies—the poi.
LUTED, B.Lo on-st AIN E O Nias. G E L L is an awful
lesson to all, that, “the ways of transgressors indeed
are hard,” and that if young people would but sit
down and count the cost the dreadful cost of vice,
such as the cries of a wounded conscience; the
groans of murdered innocence; the scoffs of enemies:
the tears of friends, with the nameless other ills that
“guilt is heir toº—and against these, weigh virtues
GOLDEN PRIZE,-
6



42
“What nothing earthly gives nor can destroy,
The souls calm sunshine and the heartfelt joy.”
they would be constrained to acknowledge that even in this life,
setting aside the mighty odds of eternity, it is their interest to be
...'. ". will cost them far dearer to go to Hell, than to go to
AVEN, But this tragedy was painted most of all for the Misus-
Tºks of RELigion, because they love most, and therefore, above
all others, are readiest to rejoice with the good and to weep over
º º and miserable. Now, with hearts glowing with this
est spirit of sympathy, can you, my Reverend friends, glance an
eye on this wretched woman, first, the murderess of her husband,
and now lying in her own blood shed by a brothers hand, without
heartily thanking God that you were ever sent to preach the gos.
pel º O what honor can equal that of being commissioned to ar.
rest such horrible disgrace and ruin of human beings? And who
are they that can do so much good as the ministers of religion?
all men have a sense of God: they hear him in the thunder: they
see him in the lightnings flash: old ocean roars his power; and
Heaven and earth, commingled, assert his being, and proclaim!his
praise But where does he shine, with so bright a ray as in the
ºverlasting gospel, which by such glorious manifestation of his
eternal purity and benevolence is made “the power of God unto
salvation.” And although the gospel, in consequence of being pro-
fanely mixed with st ATE INTERests and human passions, has
had too much prejudice, too many Voltaires and Humes, attacking
it to do a thousandth part the good it is capable of yet is it not
most delightfully certain that, by its essential spirit of Love, it has
wonderfully checked the former cruelties of men to each other.
In gospel lands, prisoners of war are no longer put to the mer-
ciless bayonet, but to the parole of honor, and cartelled home to
their joyful friends. Insolvent debtors, no longer sold as slaves,
are set at liberty to undertake other and more successful labours,
to get honest bread—in gospellands, criminals, instead of the gal-
lows or the rack, are sent to Penitentiaries for reformation of mor-
als. Yes, thank God, and wherever the gospel reigns in its pro-
per spirit of perfect Love, it produces such heavenly fruits as
to warrant the fullest belief that were it but universal, the page of
human history would never more be stained, with a RE prºccº
Corton - -
In New York, there lived and still live, three wealthy citizens
who though not sots, yet spent many more of their nocturnal hours
at a tavern than fond husbands ever do. One night, as they
boasted of their wives, each of whom was cried up as the finest in
the world, they agreed to go in a body to each others houses. and
the wife who at that late hour, (one o'clock) got up the readiest
and welcomed them the cheerfulest, should be the best wife. Aº-
cordingly off they set, and first, we'll say, to Mr. As house, where
they made a prodigious racket at the knocker. The lady waked
out of a sweet sleep, flew into a violent passion, and after allowing
them to knock a good quarter of an hour in the cold, sent the ser
want to know whº was there! And when at length they crept tº
-





















all in the dark, instead of an uproar to get candles, with a loving
apology for keeping “my dear,” waiting so long, they heard her
at a distance abusing him like a pickpocket for keeping such
abominable hours! Being agreed among themselves that this
could hardly be the best wife in the world, they stole out again to
try their luck at No. 2, that is, at the elegant Mrs. Bs house,
where a thundering rap at the door soon drew down upon them
as ungracious a reception as at the first. Thence, heartily laugh-
ing over their droll adventures, they proceeded to No. 3, or the
house of Mrs. C. Now, reader, this Mrs. C. was a christian–
and of the right sort, “perfect love in the heart,” and therefore
sweetly smiling and sprightly in every look and act. “Well
now, gentlemen,” said the husband of this lady, as they all ap-
proached his door, “now you will see something different from
what we have seen to night, or I am much mistaken.” Scarcely
was waked up the young echo within, by a tap hardly loud
enough to startle a rat, before a female voice soft as music was
heard “ is that you my dear? On his answering in the affirma-
tive, she called to the maid, to jump up and open the door for her
master, and at the same time throwing on a wrapper, snatched a
ready candle from the table and lighted it. The door now opened;
and lo! her husband and his two companions! “Well, wife,”
said he, “I have brought a couple of friends to see you!” “Your
friends are very welcome, my dear, “replied she,” you know I am
always happy to see your friends.” -
“Well but,” continued he, “can't you give us a little supper ?
we have had a long rattle yonder at the tavern, and one where and
another, without eating any thing, can't you give us a snack?”
“To be sure, my dear, nothing easier. I have a pair of nice ducks
—a fine fish, and” “O ! we can't wait for all that?” “Well then,
I have some cold venison in the pantry, which, you know, with
the chaffing dish and currant jelly, will be quite delightful.” In-
stantly, the decanters of wine were on the side board; and while
the maid hastened to prepare the venison, the mistress with the
most endearing alacrity got every thing ready, and behold! as by
magic, a cover of delicious venison smoked on the table, with cold
ham, cheese, crackers and a pretty desert! and all served up with
that sweet shine on the face, and that assiduous affectionateness
which seasons the supper of conjugal friendship better than any
sauce in Mrs. Glass's cookry book. In the mean time, Mr. A.
and Mr. B. poor devils' looked and blushed, very much like a
pair of felons, each for his ease loving, self pleasing, spouse.
When his friends were gone, and Mr. C. with his divine consort
retired to their chamber, he asked her—not without that blush
which the soul of every husband involuntarily pays to a wife whom
he feels to be far too good for him—what was the cause that she
treated him so much better than most men's wives do their hus-
bands since, being so devout a christian, as he well knew she was,
she could hardly be expected to love him, who felt himself to be
no other than a poor sinner. “Why, my dear,” replied she with
a sigh and a look interestingly melancholy, “jou call yourself



44
a poor-sinner and me a devout christian. Now,
if I be so indeed must I not feel the tenderest pity
for you the husband of my dear children! and
thinking as I do that unless you come to love God
before you die you cannot go to him hereafter, how
can I ever do enough to make you happy in this
world since you are not to be happy in any other 2
In saying this, she sunk on his bosom and with her
arms around his neck, in tears prayed him to love
God. Overcome by the persevering goodness of
such a heavenly wife, he fell on his knees, involun-
tarily breathing out, “ God be merciful to me a sin-
mer!” nor ceased until he had experienced the trans-
ports of the RETURNING Pro D1GAL. Now, su-
premely blest, she in the recovery of a dear husband
and he in a saviour wife, together they live as the
happiest lovers, daily congratulating each other in a
kind of divine friendship that is to last forever.
Reader, think of this angelic wiſe, and exalt your
love of vintue to Apo RATION | Think of the
bloody Mrs. Gellis and let your hatred of vice
settle into the profoundest HoRR or
You Ng BRIDEs, think of the difference between
the amiable Mrs. C- and her neighbours Mrs. A-
and Mrs. B-, and timely remember, that—to get
husbands and to preserve them lovers, are, some-
times, very different things; and that while beauty
and dress will soon grow familiar to the husband's
eye, the affectionate assiduities of Love are chARMs
TJHAT WILL LAST FOREW ER.
- º º
º º ºf
º --
-
-