THE DEARING TRAGEDY. THE ONLY AUTHENTIC HISTORY PUBLISHED or THIS HEARTLESS, FIENDISH CRIME. WITH A FULL HISTORY AND CONFESSION or a. N. T. O. I IN, IE Pro B sº, T. H. E. M. O. N. S. T. E. R. PHILADELPHIA: PUBLISHED BY C. W. ALEXANDER, 123 SouTH THIRD STREET. Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1866, by C. W. Alexander, in the ( Clerk’s Office of the District Court, in and for the Eastern District of Penna. ~ -- | § | | º § The oNLY CoRRECT LIKENEss of ANToINE PRobsºr, THE MURDERER of THE DEARING FAMILY. PHILADELPHIA, April 16th, 1866. C. W. ALExANDER, Esq., Dear Sir.-The photograph taken by me of ANToINE PRobsºr, the murderer of the Dearing Family, for the authorities, is the only one taken, and is secured by Copyright. I hereby give you the sole permission to oopy it, for an Engraving to illustrate your forthcoming book, and no other Publisher has, nor shall have the right to copy. The likeness is perfect. - - Very truly, Yours, - CHARLES COHILL, Artist. S. W. Corner Fifth and Chestnut Sts., opposite the Mayor’s Office. (18) THE SCENE OF THE MURDERS. THE canal or rather the depression that stretches through the fields and across the roads between the Delaware and Schuylkill rivers, about a quarter of a mile below the Navy Yard, at Philadelphia, may be said to be the Northern boundary of what is called the Neck. Southward all the land that lies between the two rivers to their confluence is one dead level meadow, devoted generally to dairies, with here and there a truck farm. This space is dotted all over with cottages and barns, and noble trees, and is threaded by miles of meandering streams that, ebbing and flowing with the tide, produce the richest verdure. Strangers and, in truth, some of the inhabitants of Philadelphia city, believe the Neck to be a kind of marsh, unfit for any one to inhabit. But never was there a greater error. For although it is true that it lies below the tide line of the Delaware river, the water of which is kept out by a heavy dyke or embankment, and which does sometimes break through and submerge many miles; yet we have scarcely ever seen a more beautiful place. And the physicians of Philadelphia will all bear witness that their ser- vices are very seldom called for by the Neckers, who are strong, hearty and healthy. Many a time, with our gun, have we made an excursion to the Neck, in quest of the reed birds, plover, snipe and duck with which it abounds, and never have we failed to enjoy and appreciate its scenery and the hos- pitality of its inhabitants. - - On a bright summer's day, about milking time in the afternoon, you stand on the bank, and looking across the meadows to the Schuylkill, you will see the lowing herds, by long force of habit, all moving toward their respective enclosures or stations, and you will hear the voices of the milk- maids as they merilly go from cow to cow with their stools and buckets, singing some ditty of love or romance. Gradually this dies away into quiet, the herds spread out again for the night on the pasture, the sun goes down, lights begin to twinkle in the cottages, the dwellers make each other friendly visits, and the cricket and other evening insects begin their lively songs. - No one who has ever witnessed these scenes could credit that the peaceful happiness thereof could be ruthlessly broken in upon by a horror like that which we are about to record. But, alas! so it is. THE DARK AND BLOODY DEED. How long the monster, Antoine Probst, had brooded in his tiger heart, the accomplishment of his deed of wickedness, robbery and revenge, Heaven alone knows. But on the morning of Saturday, April 7th, 1866, the demon sharpened, before the very eyes of his unsuspecting victims, the heavy, murderous axe with which he had determined, during the next few hours, to hurry them into eternity. Oh, could the poor father, as he took up his dear little baby, Emma, the darling of the household, fourteen months oldſ that morning, in his strong arms, have seen a few hours inte the future. Could he have known that the axe which Antoine was making keen on the whirring grindstone would so soon be buried in his infant pet, would be driven into her brain, then through the fair neck that a finger and thumb would span, then yet again into the shoulder of the 19 20 THE DEARING TRAGEDY. innocent, how his hard honest hands would have clutched the throat of the demon he had taken into his household, and sent him speedily to the fiery lake below, to which he belonged. But he did not see, and soon after un- consciously left his dear ones in the power of their slayer. “Now is my time !” muttered Antoine to himself, as he ran his thumb critically along the sharp edge of the axe, and saw the carriage of Mr. Dearing becoming a mere speck on the distant road. Cornelius Carey, the bound boy, a strong, active lad, must be dispatched first, as the one likely to give the most trouble. He was in the meadow near by. Of course it was no difficult matter for Antoine to go to the farthest side of the huge hay-rick, two hundred yards from the house, and by some exclamation, some feigned discovery, induce the boy to come to him, to stoop down and examine in under the edge of the stack, and to die / Thus the tragedy opened, and as Antoine seized the quivering corpse and thrust it into the hay-rick, no doubt he was nerved to the completion of such an auspicious commencement. - Across the meadow went the demon, hiding his bloody weapon behind him. The unsuspecting mother sat sewing beside the cradle of her in- fant, singing a lullaby. Suddenly Antoine calls her to come to the barn to see something that has happened there. Down goes the sewing and thimble, and Mrs. Dearing runs out into the very arms of her slayer. The gory axe swings a moment in the air, then darkness comes, and the slaughtered woman's soul is in eternity with that of Cornelius. Do not hasten, oh, soul, to lay your complaint before Heaven's just judge, but wait by the stars till your loved ones join you, for Antoine has swore they shall come, and now there is no strong arm to thwart him. John, the oldest boy at home, eight years of age, is the third victim. He sinks dead in the straw, and his soul goes to his mother's. Chubby little Tom, a bright lad of six, is instantly afterwards ushered into the spirit land. Next Annie, only four years old. She perceives something suspicious, perhaps she read her fate in Antoine's face or on his bloody clothes, and in childish, terrified accents, begs Antoine not to kill her. Shrinkingly she holds up her hands and prays to him No mercy Down goes the axe; the pleading fingers are chopped through; Annie's cry dies away in her throat, and her short race is run. She too goes to her mother. There still remains one—the infant Emma, not two yet—who lies peacefully sleeping in her cradle, with her toys within reach of her hand when she awakes. Oh! Antoine, spare baby Emmal for when judgment is made against you at Heaven's tribunal, she may plead that your heart had at least one spark of humanity, of mercy. She cannot bear witness against you at a human court, for she can hardly say papal mamal Snatched rudely from the cradle, borne swiftly to the barn crush | crush crush! crush four horrid blows ' baby Emma lies weltering on the straw in the corner, and the murdered family are rejoined in Heaven, never more to part | No 1 not all, for the protector of the household, the strong-limbed honest father, and poor Cousin Lizzie, who is bringing home some candies and toys for the baby, have yet to be despatched. It will be hours before they come though, and these hours Antoine—child of the Devil—occupied in robbing the dwelling. This done, he laid in wait in the barn, and shortly after the husband and father and Cousin Lizzie were corpses, lying in the corner. Up into the hay-loft climbed Antoine, and in a few minutes showered down such an immense quantity of hay upon his victims that several persons afterwards walked over the heap and knew not they were treading on the sleeping victims. . ||||||||| | | | - |-~`````````N`````· N`N`， ----RN №.~S~- |-TITUTT|-TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTmmm， m.ſiiſ illim III， IT-TITTI|- |- ſº:·-ſiſ;№m||||- 7||i i-||||||§||||||| ·|-ſi ：ſae |-N·| 1|--ſiiſ -|-|-| laeſael) --|- ſ.~--~----！！!!--№ ||||||---- |-VÀae.-- -№ſae- -！- - - - - -|-№.Sss） -----№·■ .|--№_ _ È``，``№ -==№|-№Ē№ ĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒ ！№Ē==№== §ĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒ North View of BARN IN which THE MURDERs w ERE com MITTED, AND whERE THE Bodies w Eſsº conce ALED. (21) 22 THE DEARING TRAGEDY. That evening Antoine stealthily crept away from the desolated house, and made his way to the city, in such a secret manner that no one saw him. And for several days he enjoyed himself in brothels and taverns, as only such a monster can enjoy himself, on the proceeds of his crime which, all told, was but a little over two hundred dollars. Suddenly the community was startled by the discovery of the horror, and Justice, riding fiercely upon the electric wire, was searching every corner of the country for the culprit. He was caught quickly, and amid the execrations of the people shut up in prison to take his trial. And now let us pass from this hurried but truthful description to the details. THE ARREST. Upon the moment of the discovery of the horrid crime Chief Detective Franklin, who has no superior, summoned about him his corps, and speedily gained clue after clue to the murderer, until finally he was en- abled to give to the whole police force such a close description, that on the Thursday evening following the murder, officers Dorsey, Weldon and Atkinson, while walking near the Market street bridge, over the Schuyl- kill, had their notice attracted by a suspicious man. He was arrested, and subsequent examination proved that Justice had overtaken the san- guinary wretch. The full details of the arrest will be found further on, in the evidence given by the three officers before the Coroner's inquest. On Friday morning the culprit was taken to the Central Station House, and from thence, under a very strong force of picked Policemen, with their maces drawn to keep off the furious mob, he was marched rapidly across the street to the gallery of Charles Cohill, Esq., the well-known artist, who at once proceeded, in obedience to the wishes of Chief Ruggles, to make several different photographs of Antoine Probst. Many of the papers reported that Probst was in great terror of the mob. Mr. Cohill assured the writer of this, that, on the contrary, the villain was as firm as firm as a rock, and never blenched. Several pictures, each in a different position, were taken; some with the hat off, some with it on. Our en- graving is drawn from the one that is best calculated to show the full facial characteristics of the monster. It was engraved by one of the best engravers in the country, and is the best specimen of a copy of a photo- graph that we have seen for sometime. From Mr. Cohill’s, Antoine was hurried by a back alley, in order to save him from the fury of the mob, across the street, pushed bodily into a van ; the horses were lashed into a gallop, and went thundering down Fifth street at the top of their speed. But even thus the crowd was so fierce and quick that the prisoner was barely saved from their vengeful clutches. While at the Central Station Antoine was interrogated by Mayor McMichael, and we append the full conversation, in order to show the discrepancies in Probst's own various and blundering, yet cunning assertions in regard to the deed of blood. THE CULPRIT BEFORE THE MAYOR. - Question (by the Mayor). How was it that the lady (meaning Mrs. Dearing) was murdered 2 Answer (by the culprit). He (the accomplice) .." not get any work, and asked her to go out to the barn to find work Or inlinn. - Q. He induced her to go in the barn ? A. Yes. THE DEARING TRAGEDY. 23 Just after our book was ready to go to press we received the full confes- sion of the murderer, made to his spiritual adviser, Rev. A. M. Grundtner, of St. Alphonsos Church, and we give it in place of the conversation just alluded to, which, on the part of Probst, was nothing but the veriest falsity. This confession was made only after the minister assured Probst that no other course was left him to ease his guilty soul. - “Wel, I tells about der murter den,” said he, after a short silence. He then proceeded with the subjoined CONFESSION. I came to Dearing's last time on the 2d of March; I knew that Dear- ing kept money sometimes in the house; I calculated to rob him, but not to kill him; I saw him count a good deal of money in the house a week before the murder; I was born in Enlingen, Baden; I came to this country in 1863, in the Columbus; I landed on Saturday, May 9th, and enlisted two hours afterwards in the Twelfth Cavalry; I stayed in Washington six or eight weeks, and then deserted and enlisted in the Forty-First In- fantry, and went to Folly Island; after some months we were ordered to Washington, when I deserted again, and came to Philadelphia, and stop- ped at Buck's (a tavern), Carpenter street near Broad; I stayed there a couple of times, and went to Chris Norris's, who took me to West Ches- ter; May 28, 1865, I was discharged at Richmond, and came back and stayed fourteen days at Chris. Norris's ; I then went to New York and Hoboken, where I worked three weeks on the streets; I came back and stayed two or three days with Chris. Norris, and got work at Levering's sugar refinery; then I went to Maryland, and spent three weeks picking peaches; then came back and went to Dearing's, and hired with him at fifteen dollars a month; I stayed with him only three weeks, because he wanted me to work in the rain, which I refused to do; he paid me up and I came to the city with Cornelius, and stayed three or four days with Chris. Norris; then I went to the country and came back to him, when I spent twelve or fourteen days with him; had no money, and had to go to the almshouse; when I got out I came and stayed two days with Chris. and one day with Leckfeldt; then went down to Mr. Dearing's on Friday evening, 2d of February, the second time; I told him I had been in Ger- many; I watched for an opportunity to rob them, but did not get any chance; I thought of killing them all eight or ten days before the mur- der; I thought of getting up early and killing them as they came down in the morning, but my heart failed; the morning of the murder was dark, rainy and cold; Mr. Dearing went to the city; he said he would be back about one o'clock; Cornelius and I went to work about eight o'clock; we worked about a hundred yards from the hay-stack; I took the big axe with me in the cart to cut the roots; he sat down under a tree, and I stood behind him ; I raised my arm three or four times before I could strike him ; then I hit him on the head; he fell, and I gave him one or two more blows; then I cut his throat; I put him on the cart and hauled him to the hay-stack, and covered him up; I took hay and wiped the blood off the cart; then I came to the house with the cart; I left it stand- ing at the machine-house, took the axes into the stable, and went into the house. Question. Had you any blood on you then A. A little; but I 24 THE DEARING TRAGEDY. took a little hay and wiped it off; when I got to the house Mrs. Dearing was at the ditch with a bucket, getting water, but I told Johnny (the oldest boy) to come to the stable to help me; well, he comes, and I took him inside the door and got the little axe, and as soon as he got in I knocked him down, and he fell inside. Q. Did he halloo? A. No; after he fell I gave him one or two more blows and cut his throat. Q. What did you do with him 2 A. Hid him there with hay, and took a little hay and wiped the blood up. I then took the axe and put it in its place in the corner, and came out and told Mrs. Dearing there was something the matter with the little horse, that he was loose, and I could not tie him myself. She came in two or three minutes. Q What did she say A. Nothing; she came inside the stable; I was inside, and I hit her on the head, and she fell into the stable. Q. Did she cry out? A. No. Q. What did you do with her 2 A. Pulled her in the little barn; I got in first and pulled her by the shoulders; then I went to get the other boy (Thomas). Q. What did you tell him 2 A. I told him his mother wanted to see him ; he came right along ; I walked ahead of him, and when he got in I knocked him on the head. Q. Did he cry out 7 A. No. Q. How many times did you hit him 2 A. Well, I hit him one, and after that I hit him again; then I left the axe in the same place, and I went to the house and took Annie, and told her her mother wanted to see her; at the same time I took the baby on my arm, and Annie walked along side of me to the stable; I put the baby on the floor on the hay, and took Annie inside; Annie looked around for her mother. Q. Did she ask for her mother? A. (Smiling). I was too much in a hurry. (Meaning, no doubt, that he did not give her time to ask). Q. Well, what did you do? A. I knocked her down and cut her throat, and then I took the baby and cut it; then I took the axe and put it on the bench under the porch, where it was always kept ; then I went back to the house and took the horse from the cart and put him in the stable, and then went back to the house and stayed there waiting for Mr. Dearing. Q. You did not search the house then 7 A. No. Mr. Dearing came about half-past one o'clock; I saw him coming, from the window down stairs, and saw Miss Dolan was with him. Q. Then you were worried ? A. Yes; I went outside and waited until they came ; when he stepped out of the wagon I told him that the steer was sick in the stable, and I wanted him to come and look at it. Q. What became of Miss Dolan 2 A. She went into the house ; then I went into the stable and he came, and I took the axe right behind him and hit him, in the middle of the stable, and knocked him down on his face; used the small axe ; when he was down I turned him over, and gave him one or two more hits, and then cut his throat. Q. Did he make any noise 2 A. No ; he said nothing, except when I first spoke to him, he said the steer didn't look so bad in the morning. Q. Well, what next? A. I put a little hay over him, and I came out. and left him in the same place behind the door; Miss Dolan called me, and said that the horse would not stand, and she said–º Antoine, take the horse out.” I told her that Mr. Dearing wanted to see her over in the stable; she came and asked me where Mrs. Dearing and the children were ; I told her they were in the stable; she walked into the stable, and I took the hammer with my left hand, about five or six feet inside the door, and I hit her once on the head, and she fell right on his (Mr. Dear- ing's) face; then I took the little axe and chopped her neck; then I shut the stable door, and took the watch and big pocket-book from Dearing, and 26 THE DEARING TRAGEDY. I took the little purse from Miss Dolan; then I took Mr. Dearing and put him where he was found, and then Miss Dolan, and I covered them over with hay; I then came out and shut the door, and brought the horse over to the stable and gave him plenty of hay, and I gave the same to all the horses, as much as I could, and then I shut the door, and went to the house and shut the door and fastened it, and I looked around; I took out the pocket-book to see what money I had ; the big book which was found in the house had ten dollars in greenbacks, and two two-dollar notes, counterfeits, and one three-dollar; that was all the money. Then I looked at Miss Dolan's purse, and saw nothing but the postage stamps. Q. Are you certain of that? A. Yes; I would not lie now. I left the watch and pocket-book on the table, and went up stairs, and I found a. pocket-book in the bed where he slept, a three-dollar note and sixty-five cents in change; found the revolvers; the small one was loaded; took the revolvers down and put them under the other things; then I went up stairs again and looked all through, and could not find anything; so I took the shirts, pants and vest (of Mr. Dearing) down stairs; then shaved myself with Mr. Dearing's razor, washed and dressed myself, and put on Mr. Dearing's clothes; then I ate some bread and butter, and went up stairs again, and looked all around again, but could find nothing ; then I put everything in the carpet-bag, and made ready to go away. When Miss Dolan went inside she took off her furs and put them on the bed. Q. How late did you stay A. Until about half-past six o'clock. Q. Did anybody come then 7 A. No; I didn’t see any one. Q. What had you in the house in case anybody came A. Nothing. Q. When you left which way did you go? A. By the Point-house road; I left the door of the barn open so that the cattle could get hay. Mr. Perkins (an officer of the Prison).-Before you left you gave the chickens feed 2 A. Yes. Q: What about the water for the horses; you forgot that? A. Yes. Q. Well, go on 2 A. When I left one of the dogs went with me. Q. Did he follow you of his own accord, or did you coax him A. No. Q. Did-any of the dogs follow you around the barn when you were doing all this A. No. Q. How did you get up town A. I came up in a Third street car, and that is the way I got rid of the dog; I got out of the car at Callow hill street, and went to Leckfeldt's; I had the valise with me, and an umbrella. - Probst then gave his wanderings around Front street, exactly as de- tailed in the testimony before the Coroner's Jury. He then continued— On Thursday night I went out Market street. Q. What for A. To go to the country. Q. What for? A: I was going through the whole country. Q. Why; did you feel bad? A. Yes. Q. Had you seen the news in the papers? A. Yes. Q. Did you look at the paper every day to see : A Yes. Q. When did you see it first A. On Thursday morning, in the German papers. Q. Did you expect to be arrested A. Yes; when I passed the three officers at Twenty-third and Market street I heard them say “That is the man.” (smiling). But I walked pretty sharp. I didn't care whether they got me or not; I had no money, and I didn't feel right. Q. Felt sorry for what you had done? A. Yes. Mr. Perkins—Antoine, you said that after you killed the first boy you would have gone through with it if there had been a hundred men there? A. Yes, that is so. Q. They always treated you well? A: I can't say that. Q. Before you came to this country, did you ever do anything wrong " A. No; I have a father and mother, and a brother and sister - THE DEARING TRAGEDY. 27 riving; my father is a carpenter; I used to work for him. Q. What brought you to this country; did you have any trouble there? A: No. Mr. Perkins.—He says he thought this was the best country. Probst–Yes, that is so. Q: Why did you say there was another man in this. A. I was afraid. Mr. Perkins–He says he was afraid the mob would be too strong for the police. Probst—That is it. Q. You are satisfied that you had a fair trial? A. Yes. Q. What did you do with the silver watch? A. I told you that I sold it at Second and Poplar. Q. We went there, but couldn't find it. A. I can't help that; I sold it there and got two dollars for it. Q What else did you get besides what was found with you? A. Nothing. Q. When did you take the boots of Mr. Dearing A. Before I pulled him up to the grib. Q. Before you killed Miss Dolan A. Yes, and hid them in the hay. Q: Why did you take them off? A. I thought he might have something in them. Q. Money? A. Yes. Q. None of these people hallooed 7 A. None. Q. Didn't the little boy throw up his arms to save himself? A. No; Miss Dolan threw up her hands. Q. Didn't she say something ; didn’t she say “Oh ſ* A. No. Q. Did the baby cry? A. No. Q. Why did you kill the baby 7 A. Because I was afraid it would cry and make a noise. Q. But the baby was cut more than the others. A. Well, I was in a hurry, and I didn't look where I cut her. Q. All the time you were in the army were you ever in a fight? A. Yes, on James' Island. Q. You lost your thumb by your own musket? A. Yes. I was dozing on picket, and fell, and my thumb was over the muzzle when, the gun went off. Q. Have you told all? A. Yes; this is my full and true confession. After a few more remarks, in the course of which Probst said he felt relieved since his confession, the party left him. During the day he was visited by a number of Catholic clergymen, and at the time he was tell- ing his story he was twirling the rosary around his fingers. He reclined partly on his bed, and gave all his answers promptly and without any apparent desire to gloss over any part of the transaction. THE PRISONER BEFORE THE CORONER'S JURY. After being confined several days in his cell, Probst was brought before the Coroner's Jury, within the County Prison, on April 16th. The In- spectors' room was used as the place of examination, and that fronting on Passyunk road as the place for witnesses. One portion of the Inspectors' room was occupied by the jurymen, and the other by reporters and invited guests. Shortly before half-past three o'clock the prisoner was brought in by his keeper, and seated upon a chair at the West end of the room, facing the Coroner and the jury. He was without a hat, and arrayed in the regular prison suit, consisting of an unbleached muslin shirt, kersey pants, low shoes and dark stockings. His hair was considerably disar- ranged, and hanging down in front so far as to almost entirely shut out his forehead from view. He had been thus seated but a few minutes when his body began to shiver to a great extent. The window back of him was down from the top, admitting a current of cold air, which the 28 THE DEARING TRAGEDY. Coroner thought was the cause of his violent trembling. Accordingly he addressed the prisoner as follows: “Is it too cold for you there 7° The prisoner in a low, sullen tone replied. “No.” Coroner.—Would you like to have a coat to put on ? Prisoner.—In the same tone of voice—No. No change being made, the prisoner continued to shake. Whether it was from cold or fear we know not. Previous to the examination of the witnesses, the bloody clothes, axes, and the articles belonging to the murdered family which were recovered at a saloon on New Market street, were placed on the floor directly in front of the prisoner. He gazed very intently upon them for several minutes, and during all that time we did not notice the slightest change in his countenance. On the other hand, his looks indicated total indifference. Those present scrutinized him closely while he was thus engaged, but they failed to discern a change in the muscles of his face. The witnesses were examined separately by the Coroner. Mrs. Elizabeth Dolan, sworn.-My name is Elizabeth, I live now in Burlington, New Jersey, in Pearl street, at Mr. Tracey's. I lived at Mr. Dearing's since last September, I know the prisoner, he came there six weeks ago last Friday, I was there all the time that he was, I asked my nephew to turn him away because I did not like him, he used to wear his hat all the time in the house, and always broken down, I never seen any bad habits in him, I left them about two o'clock on Wednesday afternoon, my daughter came with me to Burlington, she went home to get some clothes, she remained with me till Saturday, she left me on the seven 'o'clock boat on Saturday morning, that was the last I saw of her until I saw her in the ice-box at the undertakers. She was my daughter, she was dressed in a thin black dress with a white flower in it, a black velvet bon- net (a bonnet was shown to the witness which she recognized as the one), she had furs on (furs shown and recognized), she had on a black cloak (cloak shown and recognized), those things she had on when she left me. (Another bonnet was here shown and recognized by witness as belonging to her daughter.) She had some compound interest notes when she left me, I gave them to her to get changed, she had them in her pocket-book in the satchel when she left me, I handed them to her, she had a gold chain, rings, and little things she bought for the children. A nubia, cover- ed with blood and dirt, was here shown to witness, which she recognized as belonging to Mrs. Dearing. The pocket-book which witness gave to her daughter, with the money in, was shown her, and recognized; also, another purse belonging to Mrs. Dearing. A snuff box was recognized as belonging to Mr. Dearing ; also a necktie, which she said she made her- self. She further recognized a carpet-bag as her own, it was the one, she said, which her daughter took with her, a shirt in it was recognized as the one that she had made for Mr. Dearing, she also recognized a razor-box, powder-flask, six-shooting revolver, comb and several other things, the revolver she said Mr. Dearing kept by his bed, he frequently fired it off to frighten away the rats, he also had another revolver about the house, he also had two long guns. A coat was here shown witness, but she did not recognize it as belonging to Mr. Dearing, she recognized another shirt as belonging to Mr. Dearing, this one she made herself, another one she recognized as seeing about the house, a shoe-brush was recognized, also a - handkerchief and linen collar of Mrs. Dearing's, a spool of black cotton, a breastpin of Mrs. Dearing's, a spool of white cotton she recognized as the one she placed in her daughter's satchel. Tº º - Nº. wº & º |Illinulºuſ West View of THE CoRN-cRIB IN which THE Bopies or MEs. DEARing AND HER CHILDREN WERE FOUND. ºº 4º | º = HAr-Rick was RE rar Body of CoRRELIU# CAREY was round- (29) 30 THE DEARING TRAGEDY. Witness thought she recollected the large axe which was found at the back of the house with blood on it, it was not long in the house she said, another axe with a smaller handle was recognized, a plush cap shown was recognized as Cornelius', and a black Kossuth hat as Mr. Dearing's, she further recognized a light coat and pants as belonging to the prisoner, the pair of heavy shoes found in the house were recognized as belonging to Mr. Dearing. The witness continued.—I have seen Mr. Dearing counting money, I suppose that he has counted thousands of dollars before that man (point- ing to prisoner), Mr. Dearing sometimes kept money in the house, the prisoner was discharged by Mr. Dearing last October, when he was going down to the road I heard him swear, he looked very angry, I said then that if he was to catch Christy by himself he would be a gone sucker, this was the remark I made, I knew the boy Cornelius, saw his body, he was lying beside Mr. Dearing, I have seen Antoine and the boy together, they worked together, never knew them to have hard words, Cornelius was a quiet boy, I had a dread of the prisoner all the time, no one in the house would speak to the prisoner except Mr. Dearing, he only came in to his meals and then went out again, he never took his hat off, I never sat at the table with him, my daughter has done so. Theodore Mitchell, sworn. I reside at No. 1629 Arch street, I knew Mr. Dearing, and am the owner of the place on which he lived, he was at my house on Saturday morning between eight and nine o'clock, he was in the habit of calling at least once a week, he rents the place of me, I gave him half the place with the understanding that he was to carry it on, by my finding the capital to make purchases, and do his general trade in the way of cattle, and whatever net profit there might be was to be equally divided. About a quarter before nine o'clock on Saturday morning he ob- served to me that he was to meet a young woman at the steamboat, as soon as he mentioned this I observed to him that the sooner he left my house the better, as it was a quarter of nine, and he would have no more than time to get there, he then left, he reported to me a sale of two cattle for which he was to receive ninety-five dollars, he brought to me eighty- six dollars, he remarked for me to put down the ninety-five and he would give me the other nine afterwards, he then observed that he wanted some money, I asked him how much, he said about ten dollars, I counted him out ten dollars and charged it, he had a pocket-book with him then, but I did not notice any money in it, Mr. Dearing kept no book account, his whole financial operations were transacted by me, he has brought large sums of money to me, he would frequently make payments of a thousand dollars, sometimes two thousand, and sometimes three thousand, these were of frequent occurrence, my books will show every transaction, I visited his place often when the weather was pleasant, the last time I was there was about two weeks before the murder, I recollect seeing some person there who appeared to be about the size and general build of the prisoner, (a watch was shown witness,) I can't say that I do recognize it, I believe that he had a silver watch with a white dial, on that morn- ing Mr. Dearing wore a dark gray suit, I think he had a slouch hat, my interviews with him would probably average weekly. - Mrs. Dolan recalled.—(Watch and chain shown.) I don't recognize the watch, the chain was my daughter's, I handed it to her on Saturday morning, it came from Dublin, Mr. Dearing had a small watch with a hand broken off, he kept it on the mantelpiece, saw it the last day I was there, there was no chain to it. THE DEARING TRAGEDY. 31 Abraham R. Everett, sworn.-I live in Stone-house lane, in the next house to Mr. Dearing, I knew him, guess my place is about a quarter of a mile off, saw him alive last Friday morning a week, was on the place on Wednesday morning, my wife was over there the night before, she wanted to know if the family was away, as she could not see anybody about, she said that they had not been for the papers since Friday, when I came home on Wednesday morning she told me and I went over to the stable where the horses were, found them in a state of starvation, I merely went to look after the condition of things, it was about eleven o’clock, finding that the animals were so thirsty I went to the trough and found a bucket, there was no water in the trough, it looked as if there had been no water in it for some time, I took the bucket and filled it with water, when I opened the door on the south side of the barn, and threw one of the horses some water, he nearly jumped on me, because he was so thirsty, another horse drank nearly ten buckets of water, I took the old horse to the ditch, and I suppose that he drank there about fifteen minutes straight ahead, this was the bay horse, all the horses were loose but one, the young colt, which I first found, I carried four buckets of water, thought I would not give him any more, gave him three forks full of hay, then I got down into the place where the bodies were found, walked over the hay that sovered them, did not know it then, this time my wife and half-brother ame over, there was only one door open, that was the door next to the road on the north side, the inside of the place was quite dark, I went along the entry, picked up a hat, my wife recognized it as Mr. Dearing's, placed it on a pin, went into the corn-crib, saw several barrels with corn in, went out and around the sheds, said to my wife that it was strange there was nobody about, found a pig in the pen, it made three efforts to get up, then went and looked in one of the windows of the dwelling, things looked scattered around, went to the other window and looked in there, sent for my brother-in-law to come down, he hadn't got back from town, then sent for my half-brother, when he came we pushed up the window and went in, I went ahead, the doors were all fastened, got in the north window that faces the porch, opened the kitchen door as it was dark, things were in confusion, then went up stairs and found things the same there, came down and then went out, then I went home, we all started at the same time, did not go again till I was sent for, the appear- ance of the yard was rough, saw the wagon, did not notice a piece of meat in it, I never saw the prisoner at a closer distance than six hundred yards, couldn't tell at that distance whether he was a black or a white man, can't tell whether the prisoner is the man or not, I did not see any marks of blood about when I was there. (A black Kossuth hat was shown to witness.) He didn’t think it was the one that he picked up in the stable, although it was the same kind of a one. - Mrs. Jane Greenwell, sworn.-I live at Frankford road and Lehigh avenue, I knew Mr. Dearing about a year, I stand in the market at Thir- teenth and South streets, he bought meat of me every week, I sold him six pounds of meat last Saturday morning, at nine o'clock, he pulled out his watch and told me what time it was, his watch looked to me like a gold one, but I didn't notice it particularly, he told me he was in a hurry as he was going to Mr. Mitchell's and the steamboat landing to meet his niece, he didn't pay me for the meat, as there was a running account be- tween my husband and Mr. Dearing, he had his wagon with him, he was three hours earlier than usual on that Saturday. - John Gould, sworn.-I live at Mr. Wiles', Jones' lane, I knew Mr. .aena, sanae novog g, xavq anſ, ao norrisoa aſi ºni woſº ºsno H ºkºsrstvº (I +9 *** A **ººſ |× |-į|-ſ= ==----Ē№Ē№№ Ē№.± № aeſTMae']）;|||||||W||||||||||||| §ĒĒĖĖ||||Ė|||||||Ė|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||- ! !! 1 ! ！ #ſºſ,ſae.|||||||||||||||||||};^^ = |-{{№%|| __----iſſº， №±|-----===----_-==_-S=-%%%%% — þ=±== Mae--_-）…=}|£=}|ſ=|ſ=~）.§.§§- #（~~~№ÈS``§---- |//|`\āſ=（ŠĒş \（）/| THE DEARING TRAGEDY. 33 Dearing about four months, I knew the hired man, he passed our house four or five times a day, I saw him last Friday afternoon with the hired man, the prisoner, and his boy, Cornelius, in the meadows, Mr. Everett came down to our house last Tuesday evening, he said that he hadn't seen Mr. Dearing for several days, and said that he would go over and see if there was anything the matter the next day, he came to me the next day, and I went up to Dearing's, we found the things there just as he has described them, after we went home and had dinner we went back, prompted by curiosity I went into the barn and saw what I thought was a stocking and found it was a foot, I said to Mr. Wiles, “Here's a man either dead or asleep,” he came to me, and when we touched it we found it was a dead body, he went for his brother-in-law, Mr. Wm. Everett, and I went for Mr. John Everett, this was about two o'clock, we then uncov- ered the bodies, and found the dead bodies of a man and woman, I recog- nized Mr. Dearing by his clothes, he had on a gray suit and a brown overcoat, I didn't recognize the female at all, I couldn't describe her dress, I stayed around with the neighbors, Mr. Wiles notified the authorities, I remained there until they came, I passed through the barn, but other people found the other bodies in the crib, they were all covered with hay, I walked over the hay, it was about four feet high over the bodies, the foot had got uncovered by somebody walking over it, there were several tons of hay over the bodies, we saw that the throats of the victims were cut, these are the prisoner's clothes (meaning a check suit which was shown). Mrs. Margaret Wilson, sworn.-I live at Stamford's lane, below Stone- house lane, I knew Mr. Dearing, I don't know their hired man, I saw Mr. Dearing at half past nine o'clock last Saturday week on Second street op- posite Mifflin, Mr. Dearing got out of his wagon and came to me, and said that he had been to meet Miss Dolan, but that he had missed her, the boat had been there at half past eight, and he had got there at nine, while we were talking she came along, he said, I’m glad I met her, or I would have gone home alone, but there was no use for him to go home, as he had to go to Mr. Mitchell’s, he said that's her, I know she's bewil- dered, and is asking that lady the way, he said, hasn't she a bundle I said I believed she had a satchel in her hand, it was something like that (valise shown to witness), he turned up Second to Moore, and this woman got into the wagon, and I didn’t see him any more afterwards, she had on a black dress, I said ain’t that woman in black He said no, but she has a black cloak on, and dark furs, and looks black from here, it was between nine and ten o’clock. - - Robert Wiles, sworn.-I live on Johnson’s lane, I knew Mr. Dearing, I didn't know his hired man, after I went over to Dearing's house last Wednesday, I examined the wagon, and found a piece of meat under the seat, it was turning black, John Gould called me to see a foot that he had discovered, I saw the foot, I said, “John touch it.” He did so, and found it was cold, I went after my brother-in-law and the neighbors, I came back and went into the stable, we went back to the barn and un- covered the bodies, and I went to the station house, I didn’t see any blood about the stable or yard, I didn't know Miss Dolan. Officer Dawson Mitchell, sworn.-I live at 427 Moore street, I was down at Dearing's on Thursday, I found the body of the boy Cornelius, I looked around the place and looked all over the hay, somebody said they didn't believe this boy could be guilty of the murder, somebody said there was a pair of drawers and a shirt over at the haystack, I went over 2 34 THE DEARING TRAGEDY. there and felt around the haystack, and after awhile I felt the boy's body, I saw the Chief Detective and told him about it, and the boy’s body we had removed. I found this axe (meaning the short handled one) in the ditch, about two feet from the bridge towards the house, it had hair on it when I picked it up. Lavinia Whiteman, sworn.-I live at 716 North Front street, I rent a room there, Christ. Howard keeps it, I know the prisoner, I saw him last Saturday night week at eight o’clock, he was alone, he didn’t knock when he came in, I was in the kitchen, the woman called me out, and I went down in the bar-room, he was there, I drank once with him, he didn’t say much, I went into the kitchen again, it was twelve o’clock when I went to bed, he stayed all night, at seven o’clock he left the house, he gave me a two dollar bill and a one dollar bill, that was all the money he gave me, he had a gold watch and a silver watch, that is the gold watch and chain, he had on a light suit of clothes. The Coroner here ordered the prisoner to stand up, which he did. Witness—that is the man, I know him, he gave me the money at night, he had a pistol with him. I think that is it, he had about seven drinks, he came about eight o’clock and went out again and came back, I never heard the prisoner speak of Jacob Yunker, I was up when he left in the morning, his right hand had no thumb on it. Charles Allgier, sworn.-I live at 478 North Third street, saw the prisoner on last Wednesday, about ten o’clock in the morning, he came into my store and said he had a watch to sell, I told him I didn’t care about buying watches, I wanted to sell them, he said he was hard up and wanted the money. He offered this watch for sale, he said he wanted five dollars for it, I offered him four, he said he couldn’t sell it for that, as he had paid fifteen dollars for it, he said if I gave him four and a half I could have it, I said the watch was not worth that to me, and he said I could have it, as he wanted the money, and I gave him the four dollars for it, he had no other watch that I saw, I saw he had one thumb off, and asked him where he lost it, he said in a battle near Richmond, he said he was a carpenter, and came from Waldshut, the conversation was in German. William Dearing testified.—That’s papa’s watch, that isn't papa's chain, papa had a silver watch, too, but he didn’t carry it, that’s my little axe, I used to chop wood with it. (This witness also identified some clothing and a piece of jewelry as be- longing in the house.) Susan Smith, sworn.-I live at No. 15 Willow street, I know the prisoner, I saw him last Sunday evening, I went into Mr. Lickfeld’s at six o'clock and saw the prisoner there, I came out again and he was standing in the door, he said to me, “Where do you live º’’ I said, come and I’ll show you. He went around to the house and asked me if I would have a drink, I said yes, we both drank a glass of mead, I asked him to go up in my room, he went with me and he stood before the stove and said, “I won’t stay here, I slept with a girl on Saturday night,” I said, well, ain’t you going to give me nothing for my trouble of coming up here He took out a little pocket-book and gave me a two dollar bill, that is the pocket-book, it was on the Farmers’ and Mechanics’ Bank of Greenville, I said it wasn’t good, he said yes it is, for I’ve got two more, and if it isn't I’ll give you some more to- morrow. He showed me the other two notes, he didn’t stay ten minutes, I went to Mr. Lickfeld’s and told him not to take any of the notes as they were bad, the prisoner was there at the time, and he took out a silver watch with the long hand broken, and told me to keep it as security, till he would pay the two dollars, I said no I won’t for you’ll have me arrested for stealing the watch. He said he had a pistol, I said I don’t want your pistol. I saw the prisoner again on Thursday, at six o'clock, I said, are you going to give me good money for that note He said, I’ll give you it to-morrow. That is the last I saw of him, there was nobody with him anytime I saw him, I noticed he had the thumb off his right hand, I asked him how he lost it, he said in a battle near Richmond. - William Leckfeld, sworn.-I live at 445 New Market street, I keep a boarding house for men only, I know that man (meaning the prisoner), he came to my place last Sunday week after dinner, he was alone, he drank a glass of beer, he went away and came back on Monday morning, he sat down and had a glass of beer, there was nobody with him, he talked to a man in the bar-room, he had a silver watch and a gold chain, he stayed there on Monday, stayed all night till Tuesday. They were playing dice during the evening for beer, at dinner time on Tuesday he left, on Wednesday morning he came back again alone, he stayed till night, he sat with his hat over his eyes, I asked him what was the matter with him, he said he didn’t feel well, as he had been on a spree the night before. On Wednesday evening he was talking with Heinrich Baer, they went away together. I next saw him on THE DEARING TRAGEDY. 35 Thursday I think, but I am not sure, I can’t tell whether it was Wednesday or Thursday, it was the day after the murder was discovered, for the detectives were there looking for him, they asked for a suspicious-looking man. The prisoner was in the bar-room while the detectives were there, when he first came he had this valise, he told me to keep it for him, I took it and gave it to the police, I kept it because he didn’t pay for the beer, he spent nearly three dollars when he first came, he paid for his lodgings, I saw a silver watch, he had no companion with him, a small man came and asked for Heinrich Baer, with another man, I said yes you can find them down Front street, he went and when he came back I asked him if he saw them, and he said yes, I then had Heinrich Baer arrested, that is after I heard of the murder. Heinrich Baer, sworn.-I live at the corner of Front and Coates, I know the prison- er, he belonged to the Fifth Pennsylvania Cavalry, the same that I belonged to, Company L, I met him at Leckfeld’s last Wednesday. Probst, the prisoner, told me that he had been inquiring for me, I saw him on Wednesday evening, about seven o'clock, we drank a couple of glasses of beer, I saw him have a chain similar to this, and part of the watch sticking out of his pocket, I don’t know whether it was a gold or silver one, he afterwards asked me if I would like to purchase a pistol, this is the one, I said, no, I don’t buy any pistols, I didn’t see his pocket-book, he paid for the beer with a fifty cent note, I saw no larger money, I asked him whether he would loan me seventy-five cents, he said he couldn’t spare any as he was going to Germany to-morrow morning, we went out together, I left him on the sidewalk, told him I was going to my supper, and that was the last I saw of him. John Pross, sworn.-I know the prisoner, his name is Antoine Probst, I was in the same regiment with him, I was in company G, and he in company L, I have not seen him since left the Blockley Hospital till to-day, he was in the cook-house. Charles Rous, sworn.-I attend to boarders for Mr. Leckfeld, I know the prisoner. John Pross came last Thursday and asked for the prisoner, I saw the prisoner have two watches and two pistols, a small one and a large one, that is one of them, this is one of the watches, the other is a silver one, one of the hands was broken off the silver watch, I didn’t see him have much money, the prisoner came to Leckfeld’s on Sunday afternoon at one o’clock, he came there again on Monday morning at ten o'clock, Monday night he stayed all night, he left on Tuesday morning after break- fast, and came back on Wednesday about noon, he was not there on Wednesday night, he returned on Thursday morning at eight o'clock, he left on Thursday even- ing at seven o’clock, I never saw anybody in company with him, he came alone and went away alone. (The last two witnesses spoke German, and their evidence was interpreted by Joseph Sanson.) - Officer William Green, sworn-On Friday morning I heard they were after parties implicated in the murder, Mr. Leckfeld told me that the prisoner had left a valise, I took the valise to the station house, where we broke it open, and found the con- tents as I see them now. Edward Gorman, sworn.-The body of the woman that I saw lying in the barn was the same that I saw at Gartland’s on Thirteenth street. Officer James Dorsey, sworn.-Officers Weldon, Atkinson and I were in the neigh- borhood of Twenty-Third and Market streets, and officer Atkinson said, that man answers the description of the murderer, but he is an Irishman, that didn’t satisfy me, and I ran after him, when about two yards this side of the bridge I caught up to him, and said, “Good evening,' I took off his hat, and I said, ‘You are a Dutch- man?' he said, ‘No, I’m a Frenchman; I asked him where he was going ; he said “Over the bridge,” I said, ‘Where’s your goatee º’ he said he shaved it off last Monday; I said, ‘You had better turn around and take a walk with me down Mar- ket street;’ I took hold of his coat and said, ‘It is a fine evening º' he said “Ya-a-s;” I walked down the street about a square and saw Officers Weldon and Atkinson, and we all three went to the station-house with the prisoner; we took the prisoner to the Lieutenant’s room, and there I noticed his thumb being off; he was searched by Lieutenant Patton; a pocket-knife, a large one, was taken out of his pocket; a small purse, that is it; that is all I know about it; it was about eight o'clock when we saw the prisoner; Officer Atkinson said he was an Irishman. - Lieutenant Patton, sworn.-Last Thursday afternoon I got a dispatch from the Chief giving a description of this man, except the thumb, which description I com- municated to the force; between eight and nine o’clock I saw the officers come down Market street, between Sixteenth and Seventeenth streets; I followed them to the station-house, and took from him the two pocket-books and snuff-box; I asked * 36 THE DEARING TRAGEDY. the prisoner if he had ever lived at Mr. Dearing's; he said no, he had not; I then sent out for Mr. Mitchell, who lived at 1628 Arch street; he came to the station- house, but could not identify the man; he told me of a lady in West Philadelphia who could identify him; I sent for her the next morning, and she identified him; right away after he was identified he owned up to killing the boy; I had no conver- sation with him from the time he was locked up the evening before until the old lady came; I had him in the morning in my room; the old lady was there; Mrs. Dolan was the old lady; she immediately identified him; she was asked by Sergeant Bladen if that was the man; she ran up to him and said, ‘That is the murdering villain;' after he was taken down stairs he said that he had killed the boy; I can’t recollect the words said to him, or by him exactly; there were no threats used. Officer Weldon, sworn.-It was twenty-minutes to nine o’clock on Thursday night that I was standing on the corner of Twenty-Third and Market streets, waiting to make an arrest, when the prisoner came along; I was satisfied from the Lieutenant's description that he was the man, except the goatee; Atkinson said that if he was not an Irishman he would answer the description of the murderer; I said he was not an Irishman but a Dutchman; Atkinson said he was; by this time Officer Dorsey arrived on the ground, he didn’t hear the conversation at all; I advanced towards Dorsey, and said, ‘You are a younger man than I am and you can run faster, over- haul that man, if he’s a German bring him back, if he’s Irish let him pass;' imme- diately he returned with the prisoner, but they were a yard apart, Dorsey being next to the house; here Dorsey stopped and delivered the man to me; I commenced to interrogate him; I asked the prisoner, when did you take this goatee off; he said on Monday; I said, how long have you been in this country; he said, about three years, where have you been living; In Eighteenth street, West Philadelphia, said he; I said there was no such place; what is your employer's name John Hoover; What does he do? a carpenter. I told him there was no carpenter of that name in West Philadelphia; he then said he was a cabinet-maker; I asked him where he was coming from; he said he had left Hoover, and was down Carpenter street hunt- ing another job; I found his statements so contradictory that I arrested him; I took him by the right arm and walked him down, Dorsey on the other side part of the way, and part of the way behind; "Dorsey came to the station-bouse and handed him over to the Lieutenant; the reason I let the prisoner go was that I had already taken from the Schuylkill two men, and I felt exhausted, and was afraid that if this man ran, he would get away from me. Officer Atkinson, sworn.-Officer Dorsey was about a step behind us; I said to Officer Weldon there goes a man that answers the description of the murderer; I said to Officer Dorsey to go after him, and arrest him if he was a German; Dorsey laughed at the idea, but he went and arrested the prisoner. Chief Franklin testified to finding the bodies of the victims, the axe, the wagon with the meat; he also notified all the station-houses of the description of the hired man; the light suit of clothes (the prisoner's) were found under his bed; the bon- net and furs were up stairs on the bed, not soiled at all; the shirt with the blood on it, was on a crib up stairs; I had a conversation with the prisoner on Thursday evening; I asked him if he had any objection to making a statement of the case; he said no; I asked him what his name was; he said Antoine Gaunter; he said he had been in the Fifth Pennsylvania Cavalry; I asked him if there had been any one with him in this murder; he said there was; I asked him who; he said his name was Jacob Gaunter; same name, but no relation; that he belonged to company I, Eleventh Pennsylvania Cavalry; I asked him to tell me where they had been to- gether; he said at Hooven's, Front and Brown streets; he said this big woman was Jake’s woman; that he had seen Jake in New York, but couldn’t tell exactly where; I sent to New York and over the country; I had the bag brought in to the prisoner; he said the things belonged to Mr. Dearing; that the vest belonged to him; I asked him about the watches; he said that he sold the silver watch in Poplar street above Fourth; I asked him where the galvanized watch was, but he protested that the other man had that watch; I asked him to-day again about it, and he still protest- ed that the other man had the watch; I asked him about the murder; he said that Jake came down on Friday, and slept in the barn on Friday night; the plan was - formed on Friday; they commenced to kill about ten in the morning; the boy was working at the ditch; he took that small axe and went up behind him and killed him, and put him under the hay rick; he came back to the house, and Jake had Mrs. Dearing and the children killed in the barn, and he helped to hide them under the hºly; he said Dearing came home about half-past one o'clock, in the carriage with Miss Dolan; he held the horse by the head till Dearing jumped out of the - THE DEARING TRAGEDY. 37 carriage; Jake was behind the corner of the house, took up the big axe and killed him; the woman jumped from the carriage and screamed, and Jake overtook her and killed her; they then carried the bodies over to the barn, one took the head and the other the feet; they washed the blood off the big axe and put it in its place; he washed off the axe, he said, and he threw the small axe in the ditch, about three feet from the bridge; they stayed there from three to seven o’clock, and he came up the Point-house road, and Jake went the other way, up Front street; he said they got two or three hundred dollars in money; Jake got all that; he gar- ried up the bag; Jake got a powder-flask and two shirts; he said he never saw him till the evening of his arrest, in the neighborhood of New Market and Callowhill streets; he has made a lot of contradictory statements, and has continued to assert that Jake had the galvanized watch. Dr. Shapleigh was then examined, and testified in reference to the manner in which the victims came to their death. - THE VERDICT. The jury retired, and after a few minutes' deliberation returned a verdict that the said Christopher Dearing, John Dearing, Thomas Dearing, Annie Dearing, Emily Dearing, Elizabeth Dolan and Cornelius Carey came to their death from the effect of blows inflicted by Antoine Probst, at the house of Christopher Dearing, Jones’ lane, in the First Ward of the City of Philadelphia, April 7, 1866. A VISIT TO THE DESOLATE HOUSE OF THE DEARINGS. Soon after the discovery of the murder we paid a visit to the house of the Dearings. We were politely received by the officers in attendance, who extended every facility for our sad inspection. And sadl sad indeed it was. Within the dwelling everything—the furniture, cooking utensils, Mr. Dearing's account books and his desk were mingled in confusion. All was disorder, and so terribly silent, so oppressively quiet! just as though the home as well as its inmates had been buried in a grave. We had heard of a dog that was said to be lying about the house after the tragedy, as if oppressed with grief. We did not see any; but as we went up the road to the house we did see the body of a fine-looking setter, with a great wound in the side, as though it had been killed with an axe. It lay close to the house, and our theory was that, as the dog-house was empty, even the faithful setter had shared the same fate as the family. The busy bees buzzing and flying to and fro from the hives in the garden were the only signs of life left about the farm, and these too, no doubt, the murderer would have killed had he not feared their stings of ven- geance. From the house we went out into the yard that lay between the house and the outbuildings. Here were the various wagons and machines used on the farm, each gathered together orderly beneath sheds. Behind the dwelling the reader will notice an open shed, and further back the corner of the carriage-house, in which latter we found the light vehicle from which Mr. Dearing and his cousin had stepped for the last time on Saturday, April 7th. This was a very touching sight, but a far more touching one–one that turned our blood to see—presented itself when glancing under the shed referred to, we beheld the baby’s little coach standing opposite the kitchen door. The top was drawn forward, and the side curtains flapped in the fresh wind. God knows, perhaps the in- nocent may have been taken out of this to the barn when she was murdered. Turning away, we crossed the same bridge over the ditch in front of the barn, and we shuddered as we thought that perhaps we were tread- ing in the identical footsteps of the fiend Probst. In through the same doorway, also, we gained access to the barn. “Here,” said the officer 38 THE DEARING TRAGEDY. escorting us, and pointing down just within the threshold, “I found a bloody hammer right down in the trough. And just along there where you see those biggest splashes of blood is where I expect Probst killed Mrs. Keating.” We looked at the joists and posts towards which he pointed, but instead of blood we saw only fresh scars in the wood. “Oh,” explained the officer, “you see the curiosity hunters have dug off the hardened patches of blood and carried them away.” And even as he spoke a man hurriedly got on his knees right down in the dirty straw and manure, gouged out a gory spot the size of a silver five cent coin, wrapped it carefully in a piece of paper, and deposited it still more carefully in his vest pocket, and remarked in the most gratified tones : “Ah, I’ve been looking over an hour for a pretty good sized bit like that.” - What a morbid creature, we thought, as we passed on to view the corner where Mr. Dearing and his cousin had been found beneath the hay. A pitch fork lay just where Probst had left it, and a chicken or two picked about for loose grains of corn. “When we got these two bodies out we pulled the hay from the open- ing into the corn-crib, and in there we found the rest of the family, all in one decomposing bloody pile. I’ve seen a good many hard things, sir, but I never saw any like that, the mother and her children all jumbled together, with their heads mashed up and their throats cut. Oh! I tell you it was rough.” - As the officer ceased we chanced to look above our head and saw what might be considered an omen, placed there by Fate. Depending from a cross beam, exactly over the spot where the murderer must have stood while hiding his damnable crime, was a strong rope noose, placed there, no doubt, to hang something to. We measured its distance from the ground, and found that had Probst's neck been in it his feet would have been some fifteen inches from the ground. On the end, also, of the same beam, close against the North side of the barn, hung a loose piece of chain, of about the same length as that by which he was secured in his cell. - No one had yet noticed these ominous things, and when we called at- tention to them we saw a shudder come over all the assembled people. Over several doors we saw horseshoes nailed which we suppose Mr. Dearing, in common with nearly all the residents in the Neck, regarded a sure means of keeping evil and ill luck away from his farm. Alas! they themselves were eloquent arguments against the superstition. From the barn we crossed the meadow to the hay-rick where had been found the corpse of poor Cornelius, the bound boy. Here, too, we found the same loathsome curiosity among visitors. They would find the exact spot where the body had lain, and would then sit down in it and argue about how his head and feet and hands must have been laid. They gen- erally wound up with gathering up a wisp of the hay, (the more discolored was most highly prized,) and moving slowly away to give others like them- selves an opportunity of repeating the rôle. The day we saw it, the hollow spot in the rick would have held, perhaps, a good, sized man. Within a day or so after a good sized hay wagon could have been driven into it with ease. Our guide assured us that had it not been for the strictness of the police on guard, the very house would have been carried off piecemeal, by these curiosity hunters. The officer seemed to think THE DEARING TRAGEDY. 39 strange of us that we did not want to take anything, but our hearts were too full of thoughts concerning the murdered family, the strong father, the loving mother, the pleading little Annie, the innocent Emma, baby Emma, whose empty coach had made the tears come to every eye. Never, never were our hearts sadder, as we turned toward the city and left the desolate home with the setting sun shining so mournfully upon it. THE FUNERAL OF THE DEARINGS. And now from the home of the unfortunate Dearings turn we our steps to the house of Simon Gartland, the undertaker, who had charge of the burial of the victims. Very early in the morning crowds commenced gathering in front of the establishment, in Thirteenth street, near Chestnut. Among the multi- tude assembled were many who gave full expression to their views in reference to the murder, and the universal feeling among all present was that the crime thus committed should be speedily atoned for by the guilty party. Various modes of punishment were suggested, according to the view taken of the sad event by the parties in question. The crowd be- coming much augmented, pushed their way up the steps leading to the house, and, in earnest tones, many plead for admission. In order to pre- vent access to the house by unauthorized persons, a posse of police was stationed on the steps, and all who claimed the right of admission were required to present a ticket showing their call to be genuine. The remains were placed in the main apartments of Mr. Gartland's es- tablishment, on the right of the entrance. The bodies were shrouded in white, and all that art could do to soften the ghastly appearance of the fatal wounds was done. The coffins were of neat walnut, and on the lids were the inscriptions, which were as follows: CHRistop HER DEARING, . 38 years. THoMAs DEARING, - - 6 years. JULIA DEARING, - - 45 “ ANNA DEARING, . - - 4 ** ELIZABETH Dolan, . - 25 “ CoRNELIUS CAREy, - . 17 “ John DEARING, . - - 8 ** - At the hour of ten o’clock the gate leading to Mr. Gartland's house was thrown open, and all having tickets of admission were permitted to enter for the purpose of viewing the bodies as they lay in their coffins. The scene was most solemn and affecting. Old and young, as they witnessed the mutilated remains, gave vent to their feelings of sympathy by sup- pressed sobs, which at times became almost audible, in spite of their en- deavors to suppress them. As the crowd passed in front of the different bodies, they were required to leave the premises by the front door, in order to make room for those who followed. At the head of the coffins were a number of candles burning, according to the usage of the Catholic Church. A large chandelier was also lit, in order to allow all present to have a fair view of the bodies. At the hour appointed for the solemn procession to move, the vehicles containing the corpses, pall-bearers, and a number of policemen, were arranged in front of the building, in the fol- lowing order: - Ambulance containing the Police, belonging to the Good Will Fire Company. - Pall-bearers in an ambulance. Remains of Cornelius Carey, in a hearse. Remains of Miss Dolan, in a hearse. Remains of three children, in the ambulance of the Philadelphia En- gine Company. - 40 THE DEARING TRAGEDY. Remains of Mrs. Dearing and babe, in a hearse. Remains of Christopher Dearing, in a hearse. The babe was laid upon its mother's breast, and in the same coffin. The carriages, in which the family of the deceased were seated, together with the relatives and some of the immediate friends, then followed. In proceeding to the final resting-place of the dead, the funeral cortege passed over the following route: Down. Thirteenth street to Chestnut, down Chestnut to Twelfth, up Twelfth to Arch, down Arch to Tenth, down Tenth to Passyunk road, down Passyunk road to St. Mary's Ceme- tery. All along the route, as the solemn procession moved slowly along, the streets were lined with spectators, who appeared, as a general thing, to be impressed with the solemnities of the occasion. On the arrival at the ground, a large concourse of persons were found assembled, all of whom, with but few exceptions, observed the most solemn and respectful deportment. - - The coffins were then removed from the vehicles, and taken to the en- closure, where the last solemn tribute was paid to the memory of the de- ceased, by the officiating clergyman, who was accompanied by his cleries, and who, according to the custom of the church of which the departed were members, sprinkled the coffin with holy water, reciting the anthem, “If Thou wilt observe iniquity, O Lord, Lord, who shall sustain it?” in connection with the De Profundis, “From the depths I have cried,” etc., at the conclusion of which he said, “Eternal rest give to them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine on them.” The anthem, “If thou wilt observe iniquity,” was then repeated. The following prayers were recited: Enter not into judgment with Thy servants, O Lord, for no one shall be justified in Thy sight, except Thou vouchsafe to grant them the remis- sion of all their sins. Let not, therefore, we beseech Thee, the sentence of Thy judgment fall upon them, whom the true supplication of Christian faith recommendeth to Thee; but by the assistance of Thy grace, let them escape the judgment of Thy vengeance, who, whilst they were living were marked with the sign of the Holy Trinity, who livest and reignest for ever and ever. Amen. Deliver me, O Lord, from eternal death, at that dreadful day when the heavens and earth shall be moved, when Thou shalt come to judge the world by fire. V. I am struck with trembling, and I fear, against the day of account and of the wrath to come ; when the heavens and earth shall be moved. V. That day, a day of wrath, of calamity and misery; a great and most bitter day, when Thou shalt come to judge the world by fire. W. Eternal rest give to him, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him. Deliver me, O Lord, etc. - O God, to whom it belongs to show mercy, and to spare, we humbly beseech Thee for the soul of Thy servants, which Thou hast commanded to depart out of this world, that Thou wouldst not deliver them up into the hands of the enemy, nor put it out of Thy memory forever; but that Thou wouldst order them to be received by the Holy Angels, and con- ducted to Paradise, their true country; that since they have believed and hoped in Thee, they may not suffer the pains of hell, but take crosses ef everlasting joys, through Christ, our Lord. A men. The fact was marked by all the spectators that the largest portion of the crowd along the line was composed of females, many of whom were accompanied by children. The excitement was intense, although entire quiet was maintained by judicious police arrangements. THE DEARING TRAGEDY. 41 º- - A VISIT TO LITTLE WILLIE. In company with Mr. Meace, the gentleman who has charge of the telegraph at the Sixth District Police Station, we paid a visit to Mr. Duffy, in West Philadelphia. Little Willie, the sole survivor of the Dearing family, lives with Mr. Duffy, who is his grandfather. Mr. Meace was the first to bring the murderer into the presence of Mrs. Dolan for the purpose of being recognized by her, the morning after his arrest. We found Willie among a group of children, who all seemed employed in their own innocent ways in endeavoring to lighten the boy's grief. Though naturally a robust lad, Willie showed unmistakably the effects of the dreadful misfortune that has made him a total orphan. His cheeks were very pale, and his eyes weak and dull-looking, though he did make a strong attempt to be bright and manly. He had evidently had many severe fits of weeping. After answering one or two questions we put to him, he seemed to wish to go away somewhere, - perhaps to cry without being seen, for he edged off step by step. The likeness we give of him is remarkably good, as it was taken from a pho- tograph made by John R. Downing, Esq., 139 South Eighth street, by that gentleman's special permission; he holding the copyright of the photograph. Mr. Duffy who, though at least seventy years of age, is so hale and powerful, that were the - duty of vengeance on the murderer Probst to be - - deputed to him, that villain would stand little S. % chance of escape. The old gentleman detailed S º to us a full account of his son-in-law, Mr. Dear- N §% ing and his daughter, Mrs. Dearing. The former LTTLE WILLIE. was born in the village of Usk, County Kildare, Ireland, in 1828, and until twenty-two years old followed farming. In 1850 he came to America, and settled in Maryland. Some three years later, while on a visit to Philadelphia, he married Miss Julia Duffy, and about a year subsequent he settled on the farm where he and his family have perished. Such was his honesty that Mr. Theodore Mitchell, in whose employ he was, never took any note or security from him, and on many occasions Dearing had over ten thousand dollars cash in his posses- sion, and once over fourteen thousand / He was a kind and gentle hus- band, and a loving father. He was strict and stern in regard to labor, allowing no idleness about his place, and setting an example always him- self of incessant industry and sobriety. Regarding his physical strength and courage, Mr. Duffy narrated some instances, and told us that had the murderer attacked him face to-face, even unarmed as he was, Mr. Dear- ing could have killed him in a few minutes. Probst well knew this, and consequently he must have laid in wait in some dark corner of the barn, and cut Mr. Dearing down with the axe just as he passed him. Mrs. Dearing, who was Mr. Duffy's eldest daughter, was born in Mill- town, Parish of Dunlaven, Dublin County, Ireland, March 21, 1821. It was reported that she was a first cousin of Mr. Dearing, but Mr. Duffy desired us to state positively that this is not the fact. There was merely a distant relationship between the families by marriage. Mrs. Dearing was retiring in her disposition, and found all her happiness in the midst of her family. Both she and Mr. Dearing were desirous of educating 42 THE DEARING TRAGEDY. their children, and it was for this purpose that Willie was sent to his grandfather's, at West Philadelphia. Had it not been thus, Willie, doubt- less, would have been murdered with the rest of the family. Indeed, from the fact that Probst was arrested close by West Philadelphia, many argued that the fiend was really there endeavoring to find the boy and finish his hellish scheme of revenge by taking his life also. Cornelius Carey, who was bound out from the Almshouse, at Blockley, had been with Mr. Dearing six or seven years, and had proved himself an honest and a valuable laborer. He was treated as one of the family, was respected by Mr. and Mrs. Dearing, and loved by the children. There is no doubt but that if he had not been treacherously murdered, the mother and children would have found in him a warm and determined defender. - And we must add, that, with the same manly sense of justice and re- spect, Mr. Duffy, on whom the whole pecuniary burden falls, had the bound boy buried in the same manner as the other victims of the murder. JUSTICE PURSUES THE CRIMINAL. The Coroner's Jury having performed its duty, that of the Grand Jury followed, and on Wednesday, April 19th, Antoine Probst, was brought from his cell to the Court House, to be arraigned. President Judge Allison and Associate Judge Pierce being on the bench, District Attorney Mann moved the action of the Court. The prisoner was asked if he had counsel, or if he desired the Court to assign counsel. His reply was a surly “No!” However Judge Allison assigned John P. O'Neil and John A. Wolbert, Esqs., to defend him. These gentlemen obeyed, and at once proceeded to the various quibblings and objections that a defence always calls for. And this they did with such skill that they obtained a delay until the following Wednesday, April 25th, for the final trial. They ar- gued, and justly too, that though the crime was so fearfully heinous, yet a decent regard for justice required a delay. The prisoner was removed from the dock to the prison van amidst the execrations of the mob. One week passed of his now short life, and again he was brought into Court, this time to be tried for the deed of blood. It was thought that it would be impossible to obtain a jury, but Judge Allison wisely widened the interpretation of the law applying to jurymen, and ten gentlemen, whose names follow, were chosen out of a panel of forty-five. A special venire of forty was at once directed, return- able on the next day, and the Court adjourned. These are the names of those first chosen. Thomas Bringhurst, Samuel S. Miller, Thomas Stanley, Christian Palmer, William K. Eldridge, Adam Warthman, Henry C. Green, Alfred Crawford, George Maurer, Samuel Springthorpe. On Thursday morning Antoine was again brought into Court, and the two following gentlemen having been added to the jury—Michael Bright, James Bates—the Court proceeded immediately with the trial. The counsel for the prisoner desired to have Probst tried on all the eight in- dictments at once, but District Attorney Wm. B. Mann would not acqui- esce, stating that he wouid try first for the murder of Christopher Dear- ing. Of course this was decisive, and the testimony commenced at once. The evidence and witnesses were the same exactly as those before the Coroner's Jury, and, therefore, it would be needless to repeat it here. The deportment of the criminal likewise continued as heretofore, cal- lous and indifferent. He even grinned and smiled to himself when the - THE DEARING TRAGEDY. 43 testimony of Lavinia Whiteman, the woman with whom he passed the night after the murder, was being given. Degraded as this person was, she still retains sufficient of what was once pious and good in her woman's heart, to cause her to shudder and turn sick at the very sight of the monster Probst. And it was this repulsion of hers that seemed to give him pleasure. We watched him closely when Mr. Duffy brought poor little orphan Willie into Court. The child was obliged to pass directly in front of the villain, and he did so with the same dread as if he were forced to pass a wild beast ready to devour him. Probst never moved his head, but his wicked eyes fastened themselves greedily on the child, and followed him till he was seated. - The cause of the Commonwealth was opened in a short speech by Charles N. Mann, son of the District Attorney, who floridly depicted the horrible event, and conjured the jury to do their duty sternly. At about six o'clock the Court adjourned until next morning, and Antoine was again taken from the hall to his prison. The whole square was completely jam- med with a furious mob, which had been waiting for hours to see the culprit, and the moment he appeared he was greeted with a perfect storm of hoots, jeers and curses. He sprang hastily into the protecting van, throwing his arm over his head as though in fear of being struck with a stones or other missiles. But the admirable police arrangements—some three hundred determined men well armed, being on duty—prevented any violence of this description. Saturday, April 28th, was the last day of the trial. On the previous afternoon the Commonwealth closed its side, and now the Court was to hear the defence set up by Probst's counsel. The ground taken was probability of an accomplice, and on this meager patch no larger Antoine's grave, Messrs. Wolbert and O’Neil built the only frail wall they could between Justice and their client. They fairly strained the argumentum ad hominum, dwelling strongly on the friendliness of the prisoner, his mother and father, far away in Germany, no one near him to speak one syllable of friendship. They appealed finally to his having been a soldier of the Union. This finished their efforts which, under the circumstances, were masterly ones. William B. Mann, the District Attorney, next followed, and made, without doubt, the most eloquent, straight-forward and convincing speech that he ever delivered in the Court of Quarter Sessions. As he himself remarked, he merged the officer in the man, and father. - The following extracts from the District Attorney's speech are power- ful, not only as forensic efforts, but as jets of circumstantial light brought to bear on the dim parts of the case with such intense strength of focus, if the term is allowable, that the prisoner is at once convicted of the awful charge laid against him. - - “Gentlemen of the Jury, I have said that this was the work of one, and you will be convinced of this if you only consider for a single mo- ment the arts of deception which must have been practiced to allure his victims to the fatal spot at which they were slain, the same weapon evi- dently used in order to accomplish his entire purpose, and the same singu- larly fearful manner in which the instrument was used on each. “The presence of a stranger would have excited surprise, and might have interfered with the preparation of this hellish work, which was evidently plotted and contrived long before the first blow was struck to further its execution. 44 THE DEARING TRAGEDY. “This wretch, whoever he be, in my estimation first murdered Corne- lius Carey; approaching the unsuspecting boy, he struck him down, and then coolly and wantonly chopped his throat with the axe, and held his head over the ditch, and suffered the blood to be poured out in the ditch on the water, leaving, as he believed, no trace of blood behind. He then raised the lifeless body from the ground, carried it with a strap that he had fastened around his waist, and covered him over in the hay-rick, tak- ing the poor boy's cap and stuffing it in the mud under the bridge, hiding it away, as he supposed, from all human sight. He then went to the house and beguiled the mother into the barn, and there struck her down and chopped her throat in the same wanton and brutal manner; then he led or carried the little ones to the same place of slaughter, dashed out their brains, and with the same wantonness inflicted the same fearful gashes upon their throats, and when Mr. Dearing drove up, framed some excuse to decoy him into the stable, as he had his wife before, and there struck him down, coward-like, from behind, butchered him and gashed his throat. “Miss Dolan went into the house and up stairs, took off her furs quiet- ly, her bonnet, her cloak, and finding no one in the house, she started out to the stable to inform Mr. Dearing. She was met by the same monster, and disposed of in the same way. Their bodies were all placed in their concealments parallel with each other, and with their feet towards the dwelling-house, as if they had been dragged to the place of concealment by the shoulders, and each dispossd of in the same way and by the same el'SOn. p “The same fearful mark, and in many instances, even to a willing mur- derer, of unnecessary cruelty, inflicted as if in the mere spirit of wanton- ness, was upon all. I mean the terrible gashes in the throats, inflicted after the skull had been shattered, and the brains dashed out, afford in- contestable evidence that it was the inhuman handiwork of one superlative villain, whose heart, entirely regardless of all social duty, was fatally bent upon deeds of rapine and murder. “This same distinctive mark was seen upon every victim. “I repeat, was it the mere spirit of wantonness, or a habit of destruc- tion that led to this? Had these poor murdered creatures been found in a wilderness, miles asunder, the conclusion would have been inevitable in every case, that the work was that of the same fiend. How much more powerful must that conclusion be when we find their bodies laid side by side, and the instrument of death within a few yards of them “I ask you, gentlemen, whose mark was this 2 “Standing over the lifeless forms of these eight gashed and mutilated corpses, I propound the question to them, although their eyes are closed in death, and their organs of utterance have been severed, I can fancy that their forms feel horrid animation in the grave, and that in response to this question each arm is extended, and each bony finger is pointed to the spot where little Willie pointed yesterday, as he stood upon that wit- ness stand, and in reply to a question of mine, raised his little hand, and pointing to the prisoner said, ‘that man.” - “The murders were committed, evidently upon Saturday. Miss Dolan's carpet-bag was stolen on Saturday, and on Saturday night Antoine Probst is in the Northern part of the city, with the carpet-bag, spending the money for which he bartered his soul, in haunts of vice and dissipation. “For a few days he goes from place to place, exhibiting the articles stolen from the house of Mr. Dearing and taken from his and Elizabeth Dolan's persons. He sells Mr. Dearing's watch and pistols, and whilst THE DEARING TRAGEDY. - 45 he is wandering off in the night time from the city and into the darkness the hand of the law is laid upon him. “He is brought face to face with the mother of one of the murdered ones, who recognized the very necktie he had on as one made by herself for Christopher Dearing, and who identified upon the prisoner the very shirt he wears as one stolen from Mr. Dearing's house. Subsequently in- vestigation discloses the fact that the two watches, the two pistols, the two powder-flasks, the two razors, and every article carried from the scene by the guilty one were traced to the possession of this man, who was alone when he was arrested in Market street, alone at Leckfeldt's, alone at Straub’s, alone at Lavinia's, alone at Susan Smith's, alone at Moore's, alone at Dearing's, alone in prison, alone in the dock, alone, without con- federate or accomplice in the world—for how idle would it be to suppose that any one had shared the danger and the horrors of that scene, and would not have shared the plunder for which all this was performed and endured.” - Regarding the appeal made because Probst had served in the army, Mr. Mann scathingly exclaimed: - “Some effort has been made to throw a charitable mantle over this wretch by allusions to the fact that he was in the Union army. He may have enlisted a dozen times for aught I care, aye, and taken the bounty each time, but this does not constitute him a soldier. It is not the uniform that makes the soldier, else many a miscreant would earn a title the noblest upon earth, for I regard the soldier who fought in freedom's bat- tles, with a clear heart and for his country's safety, as the peer of any man on earth; but the hireling wretch who cares for or has no country, and volunteers to fight merely for pay, be he cowardly or be he brave, merits not, in my estimation, the name of soldier. “He a soldier | By the killing of Cornelius Carey alone he forfeits the name of soldier. - “. He a soldier | This man who carries innocent children into a barn and kills them with as little remorse as if he were a farmer cutting the throats of chickens to take them to market. “He a soldier That would murder these innocents, cut off their little fingers, strip off their little aporns, and walk coolly to the house made desolate by his horrid crime, and coolly wipe his hands upon these babies' garments. - - “A soldier A man against whose brutality none are safe—a man who murders young and old, spares neither age nor sex, and hurries into eter- nity by dashing out the brains and cutting the throats of such innocent beings as the Master spoke of when He said, ‘ Of such is the Kingdom of Heaven.” - “No, Gentlemen of the Jury, Antoine Probst is not a soldier He is a thief and murderer; he is proved to be such by evidence conclusive in its character—by facts so clearly shown that to turn from them would be to close our eyes, to shut out the light of the sun, and ask, Is it day 7 “I have urged this trial speedily—with unusual speed—because such a crime as this is not only unusual, but unknown to criminal annals. There are no words to express its enormity. The brain whirls, and the breast sickens as we contemplate it ; and I am sure, gentlemen, you relieve not only the community and this Court, but yourselves, by speedily convict- ing this man of the crime of which he is proven guilty. - “Without such a conviction human justice would be a mockery, and the trial by jury a delusion and a snare. Standing here pleading for a 46 THE DEARING TRAGEDY. father murdered, a mother butchered, a household destroyed, a desolated home, an outraged community, and for the justice of the Commonwealth, I feel that I have a right to ask you to resolutely and sternly perform your duty by the conviction of this prisoner, and by such a verdict teach all such wandering criminals that the soil of Pennsylvania is an unsafe place for the perpetration of rapine and murder. Teach them that the Commonwealth’s justice will watch them by day, and by night will pur- sue them as surely and as steadily as conscience on their bloody tracks.” and will swiftly arrest and expose them to the just vengeance of an out- raged law.” At the conclusion of Mr. Mann's speech Judge Allison proceeded to charge the jury. - • He fully reviewed the evidence, and explained its legal bearings upon the case, and closed by reminding the Jury of their solemn oaths to try the prisoner solely on the evidence submitted. He then gave the case into their hands. They retired, and returned into Court in twenty minutes. Now the scene was indeed a solemn one ; every breath could be heard. The most unconcerned one in that room was the brute Probst. The Jury and the prisoner were called upon to stand up and look upon each other; then the Clerk of the Court said: “Gentlemen of the Jury, have you agreed upon your verdict?” Mr. Bringhurst, the foreman, said, “We have.” The clerk then said, “How say you, is the prisoner at the bar, Antoine Probst, guilty of the felony of murder, or not guilty?” The foreman said, “Guilty,” in a loud and distinct voice. The Clerk then said, “Of what degree ?” The foreman then said, “Guilty of murder in the First Degree.” During the rendition of the verdict the prisoner stood and gazed at the jury perfectly unmoved. By desire of Mr. Wolbert, counsel for the prisoner, the jury were polled, and each one said “Guilty of Murder in the First Degree.” There was breathless silence during the rendition of the verdict, owing to a strict injunction of Judge Allison to that effect, before the verdict was rendered. Mr. Mann then moved that the judgment of the Court be entered, and that the sentence be pronounced on Tuesday Morning. From the time of the rendition of the verdict, until removed from the Court-room, the prisoner sat perfectly unmoved, but his face was considerably flushed. He was greeted on his way from the Court-room to the prison-van by the most deafening yells, hisses and groans. WHO ARRESTED PROBST? At the time. Probst was arrested three officers, viz: Weldon, Atkinson, and Dorsey were standing within seventy yards of him. Each claims the honor of the arrest, but after a careful analysis of the testimony of each, coupled with afterwards ascertained facts, we have no hesitation in saying that the whole honor and reward belong to Officer Dorsey. We give a capital likeness of this faithful policeman, who alone so boldly seized the murderer, directly on the Market street Bridge. Sixty feet be- low rolled the river, and it was reasonable to suppose that the suspicious- looking man, if he were Probst, would be well armed and make a despe- rate attempt to escape—would even endeavor to dash his assailant over into the river, and trust to the darkness to fly in safety. But Dorsey, as he afterwards said. was determined “to go for him,” and he brought him. THE DEARING TRAGEDY. 47 trip EXECUTION. Once more was Antoine Probst brought from his prison cell to the Court House, where he received his death sentence with the same callous- ness that he had showed all through his trial The solemn words of President Judge Allison sank deeply into every heart but Antoine's. Back to the cell he was taken, amidst the curses and hoots of the mob, and there he remained till the moment of his execution, which took place in the jail yard, on June 8th, between 10 and 11 o'clock in the morning. During the last night of his life Probst wrote the following letter home to his parents, in Germany: MR. MARTIN PRobst, Uehlingen Amt, Bondorf, Grand Duchy of Baden, Germany. - - - Philadelphia, 7th of June, 1866. Dear Parents, Brothers and Sisters:–I do not know whether or not you received my last letter, in which I sent you the sad intelligence of my fate. I desire to write to you once again, to inform you how I have spent my time here in the prison. I have now spent eight weeks in this cell, and have endeavored to prepare for my death as well as I possibly could. The clergyman has visited me every day, and has instructed me well. I have several times confessed and received commun- ion. Besides this, many prayers are offered up for me throughout the entire city, and, therefore, I am now so cheerful and consoled that I can gladly offer my life as an atonement for my fearful crime. I trust that you also will be consoled and cheerful as I am. - - The clergyman will send you all the particulars of my death. I only entreat you all, pray for me. Have the holy sacrifice of Mass offered up frequently for the re- pose of my poor soul. - Joseph Waechter has also visited me several times during my imprisonment. He will send you my picture and a lock of my hair. The eighth of June has been appointed as the day of my death, and to-morrow will be the eighth of June, on which I am ready to offer up my life with greatest joy for my sins. I trust to meet you all in eternity, in a happier and better place, and this hope makes me rejoice with my whole heart. I will now close my letter with many thousand greetings to all of you. I send a most heartfelt farewell! May we meet again, in a better world ! ANTOINE PROBST. After despatching this letter the murderer, who, for the first time, had been freed from his manacles and chains, went to bed and slept as calmly as though no gory crime had power to trouble his slumbers. A lamp burned brightly in the cell all night, and during the long, dreary hours an officer paced in front of the door, to prevent any attempt at suicide. But that was needless, for the criminal never stirred till morning, when he arose and dressed himself, and entered earnestly upon his devotions with his clergymen, Rev. A. M. Grundtner and Rev. M. A. Carbon. At 7 o'clock he partook of breakfast, consisting of two eggs, bread, butter, coffee and apples. Of apples he was immoderately fond. From that time up to 10 o'clock the culprit re-engaged in devotion. - At this time the Sheriff proceeded to do his duty. So strictly was the law enforced, that hardly twenty persons witnessed the execution Probst was told all was ready, and he at once rose and commenced his march to the gallows, with the same old determined swinging step, and the same old callous expression held his features. He had gained many pounds in - 48 - THE DEARING TRAGEDY. weight during his imprisonment, and looked very large and powerful. Once or twice, as the procession moved along the lovely garden, Proust's lips twitched as he glanced at the verdant grass and sweet flowers, and also up at the clear, azure sky overhead. As they neared the scaffold the service for the dying commenced. Probst bowed his head, kissed the crucifix fervently, and for the first time his voice trembled as he said “Amen.” Tears also now began to course down his cheeks, and his lips twitched rather violently at times. But his step was as firm as iron as he ascended the stairs to the platform, upon his reaching which a dead silence ensued, and Probst, gazing round upon the little assembly, said, in an almost inaudible voice: “Forgive me, as I hope that God will forgive me. I am sorry for what I have done; I thank you, officers of the prison, and friends, for all the kindness you have shown to me.” He then knelt and engaged in prayer, during which the stolid, callous look on his face gave way to one of intense mental anxiety or pain, while his tears flowed more abundantly. This over, all rose to their feet. Probst expressed himself as sorry that he could not suffer more than he did for his heinous crime. Indeed, he has during his confinement several times seemed to have a morbid desire to be nailed upon a cross instead of hung. - Once again the culprit gave one long look up at the blue Heavens, and then resigned himself to the speedy operation of the law. He thanked the officers for their kindness to him, and when the priests pressed the crucifix to his lips, he kissed it very fervently, and repeated, in a wonder- fully firm and distinct voice, the words, “Jesus, in Thee I live, in Thee I die I am Thine in life and death.” - The priests then both retired to the stairway, still, however, uttering pious exhortations to the doomed man, while Superintendent Perkins and Sheriff Howell adjusted the noose and cap. Though the cap was on, Probst distinctly replied to his clergymen. - The supports were quickly removed after the Sheriff and Mr. Perkins left the platform, the line was placed by the carpenter in the Sheriff's hand, and as the priests repeated “Jesus, Mary and Joseph”—the plat- form fell with a dull sound. Instantly came the cracking chuck / and twang / of the prisoner's neck, and the sudden tension of the cord, all co- mingled in one terrible sound, that sent a strange thrill through every frame. Again and again the body heaved and struggled, but soon the strong limbs sank down limp and straight, the suspended body whirled round with the slight untwisting of the rope, and Justice had done her work–PROBST, THE MURDERER, HAD MET HIs Doo M! We wished at the moment to have the power of beholding spirits, to be able to peer into eternity, and see what became of the soul, the ever- lasting life that had just been driven from that dangling, dead body, as a thing too wicked to remain among mankind. But, doubtless, there is good reason why mortal eyes may not see beyond the veil that Provi- dence has drawn between the two worlds. THE END. º A/en ſº Dº º º - º - º P- on º º 3ºz º.º. 7 A */ -