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 ADOLPHTJS F. MONROE. 
 
 "When I am gone, take me to Kentucky take me from here, and bury me upon 
 one of the islands above Falmouth, 'St. Helena,' or 'Lovers' Retreat.' Inclose it aa 
 I have directed ; plant a weeping- willow at my head, and a cedar at my feet."
 
 THE 
 
 LIFE AND WRITINGS 
 
 or 
 
 ADOLPHUS F.MONROE, 
 
 WHO WAS 
 
 HUNG BY A BLOOD-THIRSTY MOB 
 
 I N 
 
 CHARLESTON, ILL 
 
 ON THE 
 
 15 DAT OF FEBRUARY, 1856, 
 
 FOR KILLING HIS FATHER-IN-LAW, 
 
 NATHAN ELLINGTON, ESQ., 
 In. Sl"-I>":n.jse. 
 
 CINCINNATI: 
 
 PRINTED FOR THE PUBLISHER. 
 1857. 

 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1857, by N. B. ACLICK, in the 
 
 Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, 
 
 for the District of Kentucky.
 
 THE 
 
 LIFE AND WRITINGS 
 
 V V- 
 
 ADOLPHUS F. MONROE. 
 
 ADOLPHUS FERDINAND MONROE, the subject of this memoir, was 
 born in the town of Falmouth, the county-seat of Pendleton 
 County, Kentucky, on the 6th day of November, 1827. His pa- 
 rents were Jeremiah and Maria Monroe, who, though in very 
 moderate circumstances, always maintained a position of high 
 respectability. The former dying, at a very early period in the 
 life of the son, whose history we are about very briefly to narrate, 
 jO he was left in the care of that mother for whom his affection seems 
 1* never to have been diminished, and upon whose prayers alone he 
 ^ might lean in the absence of the temporal advantages of wealth 
 ^ and position. She^as not unworthy the trust which devolved 
 -w- upon her, and, with the unselfish affection and high resolve of a 
 ^3 woman's nature, <iischarged it with fidelity. 
 w Falmouth is a beautiful village situated at the confluence of 
 > Main and South Licking Rivers, and surrounded by scenery 
 which it would delight the poet to describe or the painter to 
 sketch. It has its history too ; and the more ancient of the village 
 
 ~y. gossips delight, of winter evenings, by the roaring fireside, to re- 
 
 *) count, to their more youthful auditors, the stories of Indian depre- 
 
 % dations in the neighborhood, and of attacks upon the town itself 
 
 </) by a joint force of British and savage warriors, when on their 
 
 ^ way to the interior of Kentucky, to expel the white man forever 
 
 from the soil of "The Dark and Bloody Ground." 
 
 Amid scenes and under influences like these, it is not remark- 
 
 9 
 
 302909
 
 10 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 able that young Monroe very early manifested a precocity of in- 
 tellect and a quick, ardent and susceptible temperament. Intelli- 
 gent, gay and sprightly, he became the idol of his mother in her 
 bereavement, and aware that he must look alone to his intellectual 
 superiority for position in society, she left nothing within her 
 power untried to give him the advantages of a good education. 
 He was sent to the village school not one of the highest order, 
 but the best, that she could command and in that way obtained 
 sufficient elementary knowledge to enable him when he attained a 
 suitable age to begin the world as a schoolmaster, in which useful 
 and peaceful occupation he continued until his removal to Charles- 
 ton, Illinois, in the month of February, 1852. 
 
 His mind was of a highly poetic cast. He was subject to great 
 and rapid changes of feeling ; one moment as gay as the bird 
 whose morning song filled his soul with pleasure ; the next, per- 
 haps, in tears, and with a heart full of sorrow ; now, merry and 
 cheerful, and anon torn and convulsed by a tempest of passion. 
 But, like the summer cloud which discharges its solitary thunder- 
 bolt and then dissolves in sunshine, so with him, the paroxysm 
 was soon over and gave way to love and smiles. In fact, his was 
 one of those natures whose very imperfections we fall in love 
 with, because we feel that they are the excesses which are wont to 
 spring from warm and generous hearts. 
 
 He was devoted to the sex, and with his characteristics it would 
 be singular indeed had he been less popular than he was with 
 the gentler half of humanity. In appearance he was highly pre- 
 possessing. About five feet eleven inches in height, slender and 
 delicate, with acomplexion fair to effeminacy, flaxen hair, unfath- 
 omable blue eyes, a forehead broad, high and intellectual, with an 
 air of easy self-possession ; brave and generous, high spirited and 
 wayward, intelligent and handsome, he was the very impersona- 
 tion of all that is captivating to woman. 
 
 Among his literary remains, are to be found many evidences of 
 a high poetic talent. Thrown off on the spur of the occasion, 
 rapidly written and never pruned, never receiving the benefit of 
 that careful revision which authors, jealous of their fame, bestow 
 upon their productions, they, yet, abundantly display the fact that 
 the writer of them was no ordinary man.
 
 ADOLPHUS F. MONROE. 11 
 
 While the tender passion seems to have been the leading theme 
 which has employed his mind and heart, we find that he has not 
 wholly forgotten, in the transports of youth and youthful passion, 
 to devote a page to the praises of his mother, nor neglected the 
 claims of early friendship. The wild and romantic scenery of his 
 native village has not been omitted, and he dwells with fond 
 and faithful devotion upon the spots hallowed by the recollections 
 of his early life. The school-house where he first received the 
 rudiments of his education ; the willow-covered island to which 
 he appears to have often retired to muse and be alone, and the 
 river, as it went roaring or murmuring by, seems to be as clear in 
 his mind and as dear to his heart when he writes of them as if 
 they were present to his sight. 
 
 Upon his removal to Charleston, he was engaged as a clerk in 
 a drugstore, and continued in that employment up to the date of 
 his marriage, without the occurrence of any incident at all material 
 to this memoir. Of a social turn, with ready wit, good address, 
 with excellent conversational power, and with much proficiency as 
 a mimic, his society was much sought after and enjoyed by the 
 young men of the place. His career may have been somewhat 
 varied at this time by some of those frolicksome irregularities of 
 which young men, thoughtlessly, rather than from any bad design, 
 are sometimes guilty, but they passed off and were soon forgotten. 
 
 In spring of 1853^Monroe became acquainted with Miss Nan- 
 nie Ellington, daughter of Nathan Ellington, Esq., with whose 
 destiny, from the moment they met, his own seems to have been 
 indissolubly woven. With them the beginning of acquaintance 
 was the commencement of love, and the lapse of a few months 
 found them betrothed and applying to the lady's parents for per- 
 mission to celebrate the marriage rite. This permission was for 
 sometime denied, but eventually reluctantly given, and the mar- 
 riage occurred on the 12th of December, 1853. 
 
 Notwithstanding the hesitancy which characterized the conduct 
 of Mr. and Mrs. Ellington with regard to this affair, and the well- 
 understood hostility of some of the young lady's friends, hostility 
 founded upon such reasons as almost always break into ripples 
 the course of time love, we find him setting out hopefully on the 
 journey of life with his loved and lovely bride, intoxicated by the
 
 12 LIFE AND WETTING OF 
 
 happiness of his new situation and dreamless of the disturbed and 
 angry future which awaited him. Doubtless his ardent and buoy- 
 ant nature led him to picture his coming life as a long vista of 
 happiness through which he was to walk hand in hand with her 
 whom he had chosen as the wife of his young heart. Her subse- 
 quent bearing to her husband in the midst of the flaming ordeal 
 through which he was destined to pass, proves that she was a 
 woman in every way calculated to inspire him with the fondest 
 affection and the highest hopes. 
 
 But we must leave a scene like this and prepare ourselves" for 
 the contemplation of things of a darker hue. 
 
 Though wedded to her whom alone he had loved, and though 
 sure of the affection of her young heart, with his marriage began 
 the dark chapter of woe and unhappiness which ended in the death 
 of Monroe. Unfortunately the prejudices which existed against 
 him before the marriage were not softened by that event, and those 
 upon whom it should have had a different effect, seized upon it as 
 the very instrument of their dislike. 
 
 The following letter from Monroe to his wife's father, though 
 written with an unsparing pen, will serve to exhibit to the reader's 
 mind the situation in which he was placed and the grievances to 
 which he was subjected. We give it without comment or altera- 
 tion : 
 
 "CHARLESTON, May 3, 1855. 
 "NATHAN ELLINGTON, ESQ. : 
 
 " Dear Sir When I called upon you, a few days since, I did 
 it with the best and kindest feelings I spoke to you as I would 
 to my own father, if he had been living. 
 
 " I studiously refrained from saying any thing that might wound 
 your feelings ; not telling you half what I had heard, from differ- 
 ent sources, much less what your wife had said to my own mother, 
 in my own house ; nor, what my wife, through the mistaken in- 
 fluence of Tier mother, had been led to say about me and my 
 mother. Suppose we calmly look through this matter and analyze 
 it, and see who is wrong. I will state all the facts in the case to 
 the best of my knowledge and recollection. 
 
 "In the first place, many months ago, I heard from divers per- 
 sons, that your wife said you would never give me any thing ;
 
 ADOLPIIUS F. MONROE. 13 
 
 that I was a drunkard and a gambler ; that I had made a gambler 
 of Jim ; that I was too lazy to support my family ; and that we 
 would starve if she did not send iis something to eat. 
 
 " Well, under these circumstances, I requested Nannie to ask 
 her mother not to send any thing more to my house, and to tell 
 her, also, that it was not because I had any thing against any of 
 you, but that I wished to stop the town-tattle. My request made 
 no change. Still I heard the remarks, until, goaded beyond 
 endurance, I threw the butter she sent us in the street. This 
 seemed harsh, yet I would do it again, under the same circum- 
 stances, and I believe that any and every man, who has a spark of 
 soul or honor in him, would do the same. 
 
 " The next day, your wife came to my house and boasted to my 
 mother that she had never liked the Monroe family, and that she 
 had advised Nannie not to marry me, for the Monroes were all a 
 proud and overbearing set, and mistreated their wives ; that I was 
 mad because you did not give me a farm, etc., all of which, for 
 the first time, my mother told me. Your wife also said that Nan- 
 nie wanted to leave me, that she should leave me, etc. 
 
 " On Sunday, my wife, without ever telling me, locked up the 
 house and went to your house. I came home to dinner but could 
 not get in. When I went home again in the evening, is it so 
 strange that I asked her why she did not stay as her mother said 
 she should do ; that you, and all your family, wanted her to leave 
 me, and that if she wanted to go, I was willing ? This, under the 
 same circumstances, I will do again, confident that the world will 
 justify me, and conscious that I would be doing no more than my 
 duty before God. Then, for the first time, under intense excite- 
 ment, I spoke harshly of your wife. Was not the provocation 
 greater than the offense? I think so. I did wrong, 'tis true, to 
 speak harshly of any woman, under any circumstances ; but, who 
 is perfect ? 
 
 " Yesterday your wife came again to my house, with the open 
 and avowed intention of taking Nannie home ; begging her to 
 leave me ; telling her that you would support her ; that I would 
 soon spend all I had for whisky j that she would lead a miserable 
 life with me ; that she had better leave me now, while she had 
 but one child ; that by the time we had three .or four, I would be a
 
 14: LIFE AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 dead drunkard ; that she had been told, from good authority, that 
 I had been seen drinking at all the crossings and at other places ; 
 and, then, in my presence, she again acknowledged that she had 
 told my mother that I was mad because you did not give me a 
 farm, together with many other things that she had said, with the 
 simple explanation that she had heard so. Then she threw it up 
 to me that it was the fact; that she had always known that I had 
 married Nannie for her money, and that the only reason she and 
 you had held back from giving me any thing was, that I was a 
 stranger, and you wanted to try me ; that now, since you had 
 found me to be a savage, a beast, a drunkard, a gambler, a 
 spendthrift, etc., you would never give me any thing; but, if 
 Nannie would leave me, you would support her and the child. 
 
 " Now, sir, after all this, don't you suppose that I had rather 
 starve than receive a cent from you f Do you think I will suffer 
 my wife ever to receive a cent from you or yours, while she is 
 my wife? I would sooner starve myself, and see her and my 
 child starve, than do so. If you don't think so, I do. 
 
 " Again, your wife said that you thought it very foolish, silly, 
 ridiculous and childish in me to believe such things when I heard 
 them. Very ' childish,"* even when it comes to me directly from 
 your wife. Yet, you and she, it seems, have a perfect right to 
 believe any thing you hear, as law and gospel. But, I suppose, 
 I am not to believe any thing your wife says ? If so, well and 
 good. She told me that you threatened, if ever I spoke to you, or 
 gave you any of my 'jaw,' that I would never know what hurt me. 
 Sir, I presume not, from the fact that I think you will never hurt 
 me. Suffer me to suggest to you, that none of my name ever 
 knew what it was to fear another man ; and if you wish to have 
 ' a talk' with me, come peaceably and kindly, as I did to you ; 
 come to me as a man, and so you will be met. Rest assured, 
 that, in whatever spirit you come, I will meet you just in the 
 same. If you have ' a talk ' for me, very well ; come on, say 
 your say, and do your do. 
 
 " I am poor, but not so poor as I was when I married your 
 daughter, notwithstanding I am such a spendthrift, that if you 
 gave me any thing, ' I would soon run through with it.' Yes, I 
 plead guilty ; I am poor, and so I will be forever, unless I can
 
 ADOLPHUS F. MOSKOE. 15 
 
 make a living myself rest assured of that. Remember, I tell 
 you now, I, nor my wife, while she is a wife of mine, nor a child 
 of mine, shall ever cost you a dime.' Your wife complained that 
 I never told you that I would build in the pasture.' Did you 
 expect me to come to you ? I am charged with being a ~beast and 
 a savage, and that I mistreat my wife. Nannie, herself, does not, 
 can not, nor will not say I ever spoke an unkind word to her. 
 She never wanted any thing but what I bought ; never asked a 
 favor but 't was granted. The only and greatest fault I ever found 
 with her, if you call it so, was, that she did too much work. I 
 did not want her to wash and scrub. I wanted to get help, but 
 she never would have any. My crime is, after all, the town-talk 
 and tattle. After your wife threw it up to me that I was mad 
 because you did not give me a farm, etc., then I refused to let 
 you give me any thing. That is my crime. 
 
 " Next, after your wife threatened to take Nannie home, begged 
 her to go, and said that she wanted to go, I told her, if she 
 wanted to leave me to do so that I was perfectly willing. Do 
 you suppose that I would want her to stay with me against her 
 will? No. 
 
 "But a few more words and I am done. In the language of 
 old Zack Taylor, ' I ask no favors and shrink from no responsi- 
 bilities.' Let it be written on my tomb, that I never received a 
 cent from my father-in-law. Never say again that I covet your 
 gold. Remember, this is my last resolve, here I will live and 
 die, independent of you and yours. 
 
 "The world may judge between us, the rest is between us and 
 our God ! A. F. MONKOE." 
 
 The reader will readily perceive, from the tone of the foregoing 
 letter, the exasperated and goaded condition of the mind of its 
 author at the time it was written. This unhappy family rupture, 
 "the Hiad of all his woes," and the fruitful fountain of all his 
 troubles seems to have wholly absorbed the mind of Monroe. 
 Devoted to his wife, and looking forward from the inauspicious 
 beginning of their union with the most hopeful reliance, that 
 family difficulties would soon be settled, and unjust prejudices 
 soon eradicated ; that this union would be the source of all the
 
 16 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 happiness which springs from conjugal life, what wonder is it that 
 finding the prospect overcast and promised joys suddenly dashed 
 from his very lips, he should express himself as he does in the 
 letter to Mr. Ellington? His own house invaded his mother 
 the widow, amid the folds of whose sable garments he had nestled 
 in the hour of her bereavement, and who had spent the energies 
 of her life for him, insulted at his own fireside his ears assailed 
 every hour by the taunt, that in his apparent regard for his wife 
 there was no touch of unselfish affection, and that it arose from a 
 desire to possess her money denounced as a drunkard and a 
 spendthrift, the subject of every abusive and opprobrious epithet 
 that would stir the blood to madness, it is scarcely a matter of 
 surprise that he should have written this letter, and concluded it 
 with the wild oath never to receive, or allow his wife or child to 
 receive, the smallest pecuniary favor at the hands of his wife's 
 father. Had the hope of gain been the incentive to his marriage, 
 never did man display so utterly the want of policy, so complete 
 an ignorance of that "fawning which is followed by thrift" 
 Passionate, proud and self-relying, he depended upon no arm but 
 his own for a livelihood, and after the grievance's he mentions, it 
 would have required much hardship and many privations to have 
 brought him to the acceptance of favors which he would have 
 regarded as the badges of his shame. 
 
 Had he been the possessor of that practical worldly wisdom where 
 ends always justify the means by which they are accomplished, 
 we should have found him in the pursuit of a wholly different 
 line of policy. He would have been humble, meek and submis- 
 sive, cultivating the art of flattery, echoing loudly the sentiments 
 of others from whom he expected advantages, regardless of their 
 worth, and, finally, worming himself into the confidence and 
 affections of those from whom he expected profit. 
 
 Mr. Ellington, at the beginning of this sad chapter of human 
 weakness, which was to be concluded by the tragedy of his own 
 death, was the friend of Monroe. Slowly, however, by the 
 machinations of others, his negative friendship was turned to 
 positive dislike, and, in the end, it was his own violent conduct, 
 prompted, doubtless, by his unkind feeling for Monroe, that lead 
 to his death. Alienated in feeling, with hard thoughts and
 
 ADOLPHUS F. MONROE. 17 
 
 unhappy suspicion on each side, though no one dreamt of a 
 tragedy, such as was about to be enacted, it required but the 
 happening of some trivial event to hasten the crisis which was 
 impending. That event happened and the crisis came. 
 
 On the night of the 18th of October, 1855, James Ellington, 
 the brother-in-law of Monroe, and Byrd Monroe, his cousin, had 
 an altercation in the store of the latter, about an account or note. 
 Monroe's name was mentioned in the course of the dispute, and 
 he, being sent for, came to the store, but took no part in the affair 
 which expended itself in words. 
 
 On the morning of the 19th, Monroe was in Norfolk's drug- 
 store giving an account of the difficulty of the previous evening. 
 He was mimicking Byrd Monroe's voice and gestures, and acting 
 the affair over again in his inimitable style. He wound up his 
 story with the remark that the matter would be settled that 
 morning. 
 
 At an earlier hour than usual he left the drugstore and started 
 toward his boarding-house. Mr. Moore, the gentleman at whose 
 house he and his wife were boarding, happened to be absent that day, 
 and Monroe started to the house earlier than usual, to ascertain if 
 Mrs. Moore had a sufficiency of wood cut, he having previously 
 sent a boy to prepare as much as she might need. When he set 
 off he took a straight course from the store to the house, which 
 would lead him across the public square of the town. In the 
 street he met Mr. Ellington who appeared to be much out of 
 humor. Inferring from the look with which Mr. Ellington met 
 him that he was angry with him, and apprehending that young 
 Ellington had given him an account of the occurrence of the pre- 
 vious evening, calculated to do him injustice, he desired to know 
 what had been said, and, for that purpose, he said to Mr. Elling- 
 ton: 
 
 " I suppose Jim told you of his fuss last night ? I was sent for 
 and hunted up but did not see that I had any thing to do with it ; 
 so, I only laughed at them." At this Ellington elevated his cane, 
 as if he intended to strike, saying at the same time : 
 
 " Yes, you had something to do with it ; you puppy ! Byrd 
 Monroe has been lying for some time, and you denied things you 
 have said to him."
 
 18 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 Monroe, stepping back several paces, exclaimed, " Don't strike 
 me with your cane ! Byrd Monroe won't say so !" 
 
 " He will !" replied Ellington. 
 
 " He will not /" persisted Monroe. 
 
 Mr. Ellington then requested Monroe to go with him to Byrd 
 Monroe's store. Monroe, at first, hesitated, but being urged by 
 Ellington who called to him to " come on," " come along," he 
 went with him. 
 
 Arriving at the store they found that Byrd Monroe was absent. 
 Monroe then remarked to Mr. Ellington : " I do not see why you 
 should blame me for every lie that you hear. If, as you say, Byrd 
 and John Monroe have lied, it is no business of mine, but is a 
 matter between you and them. I don't know any thing about this 
 scrape, care nothing about it, nor do I want to know any thing 
 about it and I don't know why in the devil I am dragged 
 into it." 
 
 " I have no doubt in the world that you have told forty lies 
 about it," was the insulting reply of Ellington. 
 
 " If I have told forty" said Monroe excited, " you have told 
 sixty /" 
 
 " You trifling puppy ! do you talk to me in that way ?" ex- 
 claimed Ellington throwing out both arms and running at Mon- 
 roe, who retired several steps as Ellington approached. 
 
 The positions of the parties during the conversation and at the 
 commencement of the difficulty were about these : The store- 
 room fronted on the south side of the street running back north. 
 Ellington was standing with his back against the counter running 
 along the east side of the room, with his elbow resting upon the 
 show-case, holding his cane in one hand grasped at the middle. 
 Monroe was standing near a short counter on the west side of the 
 room, and perhaps ten or twelve feet distant from Ellington. 
 
 "When Mr. Ellington advanced with his right hand he grasped 
 the collar of Monroe's coat, and with his left seized him by the 
 throat, his cane striking Monroe a smart blow upon the forehead 
 and breaking the skin upon his left hand as he threw it up to 
 parry the attack of his assailant. Ellington who was a much 
 larger and stronger man than Monroe, choked the latter back 
 upon the counter. At this time Monroe was completely at the
 
 ADOLPIIUS F. MONROE. 21 
 
 mercy of his antagonist whose grasp upon his throat was every 
 instant growing tighter, and, as his only resource, since none of 
 the spectators attempted to interfere and separate them, he drew a 
 small pocket pistol and fired, the ball striking Ellington upon 
 the forehead and glancing off, doing him but slight injury. 
 
 Ellington then threw Monroe upon the floor, and springing upon 
 him began to beat, gouge and choke him in the most furious style. 
 Monroe could easily have shot him again, but, as he declared, the 
 thought of his wife and child, and that his assailant was the 
 father of that wife, compelled him to forbear. Desirous that no 
 further harm should be done, he called to the spectators to take 
 Ellington away. The only response to his call was made by a 
 man named Eastin, who cried out to Ellington : " Stamp him to 
 death ! stamp his d d guts out!" Still no one interfered to stop 
 the difficulty. 
 
 At this time, Mr. Dumas J. Van Deren, hearing the report of 
 the pistol that had been fired, ran into the store. According to 
 his statement, Monroe was " wheezing" like a man who is chok- 
 ing to death. Van Deren immediately took hold of Ellington, 
 calling out to the bystanders : " Let's part them ! For God's sake, 
 gentlemen, don't let them kill each other !" He endeavored to pull 
 Ellington off, who looked up to him and said: "Let me kill 
 him ! he has shot me !" 
 
 Monroe, by a great effort raised to his knee and fired the second 
 pistol, the ball taking effect in Ellington's heart. At the report 
 of the second pistol, Ellington yielded to Van Deren, who walked 
 with him to his office. Monroe made no attempt to escape, 
 declared he was ready to stand his trial, and was immediately ar- 
 rested and placed in prison. Ellington lingered until the 28th, 
 nine days after the fatal affray, when he died. 
 
 Monroe was brought before an examining court and the result 
 was that he was committed for trial at the ensuing regular term 
 of the Circuit Court for Coles County. 
 
 With the death of Ellington began that feeling of violence and 
 lawlessness which finally resulted in the murder of Monroe. For 
 many years the clerk of the Circuit Court, acquainted with almost 
 every man in the county, rich and consequently influential, it is 
 not to be wondered that great excitement prevailed when his death 
 2 

 
 22 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 was announced ; many and loud were the threats of violence to the 
 prisoner, and it was greatly feared by his immediate friends and 
 by the law-abiding portion of community that his case would be 
 wrested from the properly constituted tribunal, and decided by the 
 mob. 
 
 The prisoner, plunged immediately in jail, could not tolerate the 
 prospect of a long and tedious confinement and preferred death 
 itself to his lonely incarceration. Conscious, as he declared him- 
 self, of his innocence, and satisfied in his own mind that that in- 
 nocence would be established could he secure for himself an 
 impartial trial, he determined to insist upon a change of venue in 
 his case, and he asked for a special term of the court to consider 
 his application. 
 
 The court was held on Monday, January 14th, 1856. So great 
 was the tumult in the community when it was understood that an 
 application was to be made to have the case tried in another county ; 
 so loud the threats of certain violence by the agitators who had 
 resolved that upon such an application being made, they, being 
 well aware that under the circumstances it could not be refused, 
 he should forthwith be hanged, that the prisoner and his counsel 
 were powerless and when the court met, the trial was taken up 
 without any allusion to the proposed motion. Here then we see 
 a man, under the external show of justice, placed at the bar, to 
 pass through the semblance of a fair trial, the issue of which was 
 life or death, surrounded by hundreds, who, with glaring eyes 
 and eager hands, stood around about him already resolved that 
 he should die! What a mockery! What a shameful wicked 
 mockery ! 
 
 We proceed, however, without further comment to give the pro- 
 ceedings of the court, merely asking the candid and careful atten- 
 tion of the reader to the evidence, and with perfect reliance that 
 he, unawed by a mob and uninfluenced by that stange, wild and 
 ungovernable excitement which pervades all communities at times, 
 can, at the conclusion, but render a verdict of " not guilty!"
 
 THE TRIAL. 
 
 ON Monday, at 2 o'clock, p. M., the court was called to order, 
 Judge Harlan, presiding. After the selection of a grand jury had 
 been made, and they had received their charge from the bench, 
 the court adjourned. 
 
 TUESDAY 15^A, 10 o'clock, A. M. 
 
 Court was opened. The grand jury returned into court having 
 found the indictment against the prisoner " a true bill." 
 
 Court adjourned until 2 o'clock, p. M. 
 
 2 o^clock same day. The court was re-organized and a jury 
 empanneled, after which the court adjourned until 10 o'clock next 
 morning. 
 
 WEDNESDAY 16tfA, 10 o ^ clock, A. M. 
 
 The court was opened at the time appointed. The jury was 
 brought down, and the prisoner brought into court and placed at 
 the bar. 
 
 A. Kitchell, prosecuting attorney. Capt. "William E. Sims and 
 Hon. O. B. Ficklin, appeared for the prosecution. Gen. W. F. 
 Linder, appeared for the defense. 
 
 The prosecution proceeded to examine their witnessess. The 
 first one called was 
 
 JOHN WILKINSON, who testified as follows : " I have known the 
 prisoner since last June ; knew Mr. Ellington ; I arrived here 
 from California on the 14th of last June ; was often in Monroe's 
 company ; he kept a drugstore in this place ; have frequently seen 
 .him carry two small Minnie pistols. (Here a pistol was exhibited 
 to the witness.) This is one of the pistols he carried or one just 
 like it. 
 
 By the prosecution. " State if you ever heard Monroe make 
 threats against Nathan Ellington." 
 
 Witness. "1 will go back to the time I came here; heard 
 
 23
 
 24 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 him, about the second day after my return, speak of the Ellington 
 family ; heard him do so almost daily afterward, so that I came to 
 pay very little attention to him ; have frequently heard him say 
 that Ellington was an old thief, an old coward, and a d d old 
 rascal ; that Mrs. Ellington was an old prostitute. Have heard 
 him say he would give fifty dollars to any one who would go and 
 tell Ellington what he said about his wife, as he wanted a diffi- 
 culty with him. One night previous to the difficulty, Monroe had 
 a conversation with me in reference to the Ellington family. I 
 told him Ellington was the last man he should have a difficulty 
 with. He then pulled out two Minnie pistols, and said he had 
 bought them for Jim and the old man, and intended to use them. 
 Heard nothing more, particularly, until the morning of the diffi- 
 culty. There had been, the evening previous, a difficulty between 
 Byrd Monroe and Jim Ellington. Dolph was in the drugstore 
 that morning, talking about the Ellingtons, as usual, what he 
 would do. I told Monroe this was an old story and all fol-de-rol ; 
 he said the matter would be settled that morning. Just then Mr. 
 Ellington came walking out of his office on the foot- logs toward 
 the drugstore. Monroe left the drugstore and met Ellington. 
 Some conversation ensued, and they agreed to go to Byrd Mon- 
 roe's store. I expected there would be a difficulty and followed 
 after them to see fair play. After they went into the store some 
 conversation passed between them about previous circumstances. 
 Ellington said it was no use to hunt up Byrd and John Monroe, 
 as he had been to them before, and they had always sustained 
 what he said, and denied what Dolph said. Monroe replied, that 
 he had'nt lied, and, if others had, he did'nt see why he should 
 be brought into it. George Monroe, then said, ' You must not say 
 they have lied !' Ellington then remarked ' Dolph, you know you 
 have told forty lies upon me and my family.' Monroe replied, 'If 
 I have told forty, you have told sixty.' Ellington, at this, said, 
 ' You must not talk so to me, young man !' putting his hand upon 
 his shoulder. Monroe then stepped back, drew his pistol from 
 his right pocket and fired, the ball giving a flesh wound on the 
 upper part of Ellington's forehead ranging upward and outward. 
 Ellington seized hold of Monroe pushing him against the counter, 
 and partly on it, I think. Then they scuffled down on the floor ,
 
 ADOLPHUS F. MONKOE. 25 
 
 Some one called out: 'Take him off!' Ellington was on the 
 top of Monroe, confining his left hand in which he held the other 
 pistol. 
 
 (The witness here described to the jury the position in which 
 the parties were at the beginning of the affray and throughout the 
 struggle, and hia relative position to them during the time.) 
 
 " Duinas Yan Deren ran in at this time, and catching hold of El- 
 lington, partly pulled him off of Monroe and broke his grasp on 
 Monroe's hand, and then the pistol fired. Mr. Ellington then ap- 
 peared to be enraged and more determined to hurt Monroe, com- 
 mencing to beat him in earnest. Ellington and Monroe were 
 separated and the latter ran out. I said : ' For God's sake, don't 
 let him escape ; he has killed Ellington !' I then went to the 
 bank and found Eastin guarding him." 
 
 In reply to a question, witness said he was about twenty feet 
 from them when they met on the street, but, the conversation being 
 carried on in an under tone, he could not hear what they said, ex- 
 cept Ellington remarked that they would go over to Byrd Monroe's 
 store. Witness also stated, in reply to a question, that Ellington 
 stated to Monroe that he had previously brought him before Byrd 
 and John Monroe and they had always sustained his (Ellington's) 
 statement. Witness also stated that when Ellington told Monroe 
 he had told forty lies on him and his family, Monroe said, " If I 
 have told forty lies, you have told sixty," stepping back and partly 
 pulling out the pistol in his right pocket, so as to disclose two 
 thirds of it, which he, the witness, then saw. When the pistol was 
 discharged, they were very close together, face to face, Ellington 
 near or against the counter, and Monroe with his hands in his 
 pockets. Monroe stepped back very much excited, and as Elling- 
 ton put his hand on his shoulder, or took him by the collar, the pistol 
 immediately fired. The pistol was fired as Monroe was against the 
 counter, though he was not on it then. This occurred (witness 
 thinks) on the 19th of October last. Ellington pushed Monroe 
 partly on the counter, his feet hanging off. 
 
 (Witness here described to the jury the position of the counter 
 and of the room and the doors of the store.) 
 
 " They scuffled from the counter to the floor and were near the 
 middle door. Witness said John Eastin, James Fallen and Geo. 

 
 26 LIFE AND WEITINGS OF 
 
 Monroe were there ; and that Dumas Van Deren and, perhaps, one 
 or two others, came in after the first pistol was fired. Witness was 
 seven or eight feet from the parties when the second pistol was fired ; 
 saw the pistol two or three times in Monroe's left hand while El- 
 lington held it. When the second pistol was fired, Ellington was 
 pretty much on his feet. When Yan Deren pulled Ellington 
 partly off they were in front of witness. When Van Deren pulled 
 Ellington it broke his hold on Monroe's hand, and, then, the 
 second pistol was fired. Ellington then began to choke and gouge 
 Monroe, who cried, 'Murder! take him off!' There was no out- 
 cry from either of the parties until after the firing of the second 
 pistol. Witness saw Ellington strike no blow previous to the 
 firing of the second pistol." 
 
 (Witness here stated that Monroe's pistols were self-cocking 
 and could be discharged by striking on the hammer or pulling the 
 trigger.) 
 
 Cross examined : "The second pistol was fired before Yan 
 Deren parted them. Witness was not noticing them all the 
 time, as he sometimes had his eyes on George Monroe. When 
 Ellington had Monroe down Yan Deren broke his hold. Didn't 
 see Ellington gouge Monroe before the second pistol was fired. 
 Some twenty seconds, perhaps, intervened between the two fires. 
 After the first pistol was fired, they scuffled on the counter and on 
 the floor. About this time George Monroe came running up with 
 a pistol in his hand ; witness pushed him back and told him to let 
 them, alone ; witness thought he was going to shoot Eastin, and 
 intended to eat him up alive if he did. Ellington was taken off 
 almost immediately after the firing of the second pistol. George 
 Monroe called out to part them and some one said, ' No ! let him 
 stamp his d d guts out!' Witness don't know who made this 
 remark, but thinks it was Eastin. 
 
 "Monroe was running on in the drugstore the morning of the 
 difficulty, and witness told him it was an ' old song ;' witness had 
 heard SD much he was tired of it. About this time, Monroe drank 
 freely and would generally have liquor in him, and when Elling- 
 ton's name was mentioned he would become excited. Witness 
 frequently heard him say, if Ellington crossed his path he would 
 kill him, and has heard other similar threats. Monroe said, he
 
 ADOLPHUS F. MONROE. 27 
 
 had been told they were going to tar and feather him, and by 
 G d, if they came for that purpose, they would meet a warm re- 
 ception. A great many times when witness had gone into the 
 drugstore, Monroe would be running on about Ellington. Wit- 
 ness would tell him this was an old song ; that he had heard it so 
 often he was tired of it, and believed it meant nothing. When 
 Monroe said ; ' this difficulty shall be settled this morning,' he was 
 addressing himself perhaps to Hackett, but witness don't know. 
 Monroe said, ' D n Ellington's old soul, he is afraid to come out 
 and meet me,' and said, in reply to a remark of witness, ' never 
 mind, this difficulty will be settled this morning.' There has been 
 no difficulty between Monroe and witness. Monroe said, in this 
 conversation, that Jim Ellington would brag. Witness replied, 
 that Jim Ellington was a d d coward, or he would have killed 
 him (Monroe) before now ; and that Jim ought not to brag after 
 he (Monroe) left here. In regard to the boys making mention of 
 the Ellington family, to hear Monroe talk about them, witness 
 knows he never did it. When witness saw Ellington in the street 
 he had his cane in his hand ; it was a walking-stick of pretty good 
 size ; witness did not see Ellington wave his cane as if to strike, 
 nor did witness hear Monroe say, 'Don't strike me with your 
 cane, Mr. Ellington.' In the conversation at, Byrd Monroe's store, 
 Monroe said, ' By G-d ! if I have told forty lies, you have told 
 sixty !' As well as witness remembers, Monroe's back was against 
 the counter; witness did not see precisely how Ellington held 
 Monroe ; when Van Dereii took hold, to separate them, Monroe 
 was on the floor, under Ellington, with his face downward. After 
 the second pistol was fired, Ellington took hold of Monroe in 
 earnest, and Monroe began to cry, 'Murder! take him off!' etc. 
 Witness did not see Mr. Cole in the store at this time, and does 
 not remember saying to any one, ' let them alone ! another pistol 
 will be fired !' 
 
 " In answer to the question why he didn't let George Monroe go 
 up, witness said it was because he saw George had a pistol in his 
 hand, and besides, after seeing Ellington have Monroe by the hand, 
 he knew Monroe couldn't shoot him. Has frequently heard Monroe 
 say he would give fifty dollars for a difficulty. Monroe was in 
 the habit of carrying his hands in his pockets. When the second
 
 28 LIFE AND WKITINGS OF 
 
 pistol was fired witness didn't see Monroe use it. Monroe drew 
 the first pistol from his right pocket." 
 
 JOHN EASTIN. "Have known Ellington since 1830, and Mon- 
 roe for five or six years ; have heard Monroe have many talks 
 about Ellington and family for several months before the affray ; 
 Monroe would become very much excited on such occasions ; 
 would say how the difficulty between them came about and curse 
 the family, sometimes one member of it and sometimes another ; 
 would say that Mrs. Ellington was a d d old bitch ; that she led 
 Ellington by the nose and wanted to lead him (Monroe). These 
 conversations were quite common. He said he had made Elling- 
 ton eat his own words and G d d n his old soul if ever he 
 crossed his path he would kill him. Witness had talked to Monroe 
 frequently, and told him he was doing Ellington injustice. He 
 would reply that Mrs. Ellington led her husband by the nose ; 
 would curse and threaten Ellington, and say, if such and such 
 things happened, he would kill him. Witness told him that El- 
 lington would not notice his talking around, but, if he went to El- 
 lington and talked in this style, that Ellington would slap him, and 
 then Monroe would kill him and this would be the end of it. 
 Monroe would swear he was prepared and would kill him. Mon- 
 roe had two pistols ; have seen him shooting these pistols in the 
 back part of the drugstore, but heard no threats at such times ; 
 saw him shooting three or four times, perhaps oftener. On one occa- 
 sion, when witness and others were in the second story of the drug- 
 store, Monroe had been telling his troubles, when Ellington came 
 out of his office ; seeing him, he took out his pistols, saying, ' You 
 d d old s-n of a b h; it would do me good to blow you 
 through !' This occurred two or three weeks before the affray, per- 
 haps longer. Witness frequently heard the prisoner talk of his 
 troubles. He was always excited and said he was badly treated 
 by all the family except Lizzie ; thinks he always excepted her ; 
 can't name any particular day on which he made threats ; it was 
 so common an affair, that the boys would frequently laugh about 
 it, and Dick Norton would sometimes say, ' Hold on, boys ; Dolph 
 will soon be in and branch out on the Ellington family.' On the 
 evening previous to the killing, there had been a difficulty between
 
 ADOLPIIITS F. MONROE. 29 
 
 Jim Ellington and Byrd and Dolph Monroe about something., 
 which led, witness supposes, to this affair. Dolph Monroe and 
 Ellington went over to the court-house and talked the matter over 
 
 o 
 
 and left in pretty good humor. Next morning witness was in the 
 drugstore, when Dolph came in a good deal excited about the 
 difficulty of the previous evening. Shortly after Monroe quit 
 talking about the matter, Ellington came out of his office and 
 walked across the street toward the drugstore. The prisoner went 
 out and met him about the middle of the street. Witness expected 
 a difficulty and went out to the post on the sidewalk. Monroe 
 spoke to him, but witness did not hear what he said. Ellington 
 seemed to be offended and a little excited ; he was walking with 
 his cane, and partly raising it up, he said, ' You puppy, don't talk 
 to me that way !' The prisoner said, 'Byrd Monroe said so,' and 
 Ellington replied, 'Byrd Monroe will not say so.' Witness 
 thought, from the movements of both parties, that Ellington had 
 a notion to strike Monroe. Dolph said, ' Byrd Monroe will say 
 BO,' when Ellington replied, ' Let's go to the store, and Byrd will 
 say no such thing.' They then started, Monroe rather reluctantly, 
 witness thought. Witness, expecting a difficulty, followed. Byrd 
 was not in. Ellington said : ' I have been with you to Byrd and 
 John before, and they always sustained my statements.' Monroe 
 replied, that he didn't see why, if others lied, he should be brought 
 into the scrape. They talked on and became more calm. Witness 
 thinks Wilkinson, Fallin and John Monroe, onty, were in at the 
 time. Witness stepped out to see a man, and as he got out on the 
 pavement heard short words ; turned to go back and heard the 
 first pistol ; ran in and saw Ellington have hold of Monroe 
 against the counter. In the scuffle, Ellington threw Monroe near 
 to the back door. George Monroe came running up once or twice 
 with a pistol, and witness pushed him back. Monroe was rather 
 on his hands and knees, and Ellington on him, as witness thought. 
 Dumas Van Deren ran in at this time, saying: 'Don't let the 
 men kill each other !' He grasped Ellington, partly took him off, 
 and, then, rather let him go, at which time the second pistol was 
 fired. Witness did not see the pistol before during the affray, but 
 saw one afterward. Witness caught Monroe and held him until 
 he got to the front door, at which place he let him go. Ellington
 
 
 30 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 then said, 'Don't let that man escape!' Witness went out after 
 him and found him at the bank. He seemed to be considerably 
 scratched and bruised. Witness told him to remain until the 
 sheriff came, and the prisoner replied, that he didn't want to es- 
 cape. The sheriff came and arrested him. The injuries done to 
 Monroe's eyes were, for the most part, done after the second pistol 
 was fired, and witness heard no hallooing from Monroe until after 
 the second fire." 
 
 Cross examined : " Mr. Ellington, in the conversation before 
 the drugstore, proposed to go to Byrd Monroe's ; prisoner rather 
 hesitated, when Ellington said, ' come along,' and they, then, went 
 over walking side by side. Monroe would frequently tell over his 
 troubles, sometimes speaking of one thing and sometimes of an- 
 other ; would frequently speak of things somebody had told him. 
 He seemed to think he had been badly treated ; said Ellington had 
 refused to pay for a set of china which he had bought for his (Mon- 
 roe's) wife. He seemed to think it hard that Mrs. Ellington had 
 ordered his mother from his own house. Never heard him say El- 
 lington had threatened to tar and feather him. Have heard him say 
 Ellington was a liar ; that he had so and so, and that he (Monroe) 
 had called on him and made him take his words back ; that had 
 he not taken them back he would have blown him through. In 
 the scuffle on the floor, Monroe's face was turned toward the floor ; 
 Ellington seemed to be gouging him. Monroe did not cry out 
 until the second pistol was fired, after which Ellington seemed 
 anxious to hurt him. The second pistol was fired after Yan Deren 
 had partially parted them. The whole affray lasted, probably, a 
 minute. George Monroe ran up and cried, ' Fair play !' Witness 
 said, ' Let them alone, let him stamp his guts out !' Said this after 
 the first fire and before the second. George Monroe came up with 
 a pistol in his hand. I never saw Ellington strike or kick Mon- 
 roe ; thought he was gouging or choking him ; never heard 
 Monroe call out for help until after the second pistol was fired. 
 In the conversation between Ellington and Monroe on the street, 
 Ellington raised his cane as if about to strike ; I heard the re- 
 mark, ' You shan't talk to me that way, you puppy.' Monroe had 
 his hands in his pockets, and stepping back, said, ' Byrd Monroe 
 had said so and so, and would say so.' Ellington replied that
 
 ADOLPHDS F. MONROE. 31 
 
 ' Byrd Monroe wouldn't say so,' and then said, ' let's go over to 
 Byrd's,' and Monroe seemed to go rather reluctantly. In the 
 threats which Monroe would make, he would say if Ellington dis- 
 puted his word he would do so and so. Witness would tell him 
 that Ellington wouldn't mind his talking around the streets, but 
 if he went to Ellington and talked that way to him he would slap 
 him over, and Monroe would reply, that if he did he would blow 
 him through. Witness don't know that he ever heard prisoner 
 say that he intended to attack Ellington and kill him. Monroe 
 would generally speak as though he would go and make Ellington 
 acknowledge so and so, and if he didn't he would kill him. Has 
 heard him say all he asked of them was to be let alone, and that 
 if it were not for Mrs. Ellington he could get along. Witness 
 knows of Monroe preparing to move away from here ; has advised 
 him to take his wife and go away, and that they would then live 
 happily. He talked as if he intended to go away. Witness don't 
 remember any threats after his making preparations to leave. In 
 these conversations, he would say he intended to protect his mother ? 
 and to take her with him wherever he went. Witness told him 
 not to take his mother as that would not satisfy Mrs. Ellington. 
 Monroe said Ellington had lied on him, and he had made him 
 take it back, and that if he had not, taken it back, he would have 
 killed him." 
 
 JAMES W. FALLIN. " Was present at the difficulty . Saw El- 
 lington and Monroe talking on the street, near the drugstore, but 
 couldn't hear what they said. They went from the street to Byrd 
 Monroe's drugstore and witness followed. Heard Monroe, at the 
 store, say to Ellington, ' You did say so, or Byrd Monroe lies.' 
 Ellington said, ' You have told forty lies on me and my family,' and 
 Monroe replied, ' If I have told forty, by G d, you have told 
 sixty !' Ellington then put his hand on Monroe's shoulder and said, 
 ' Young man, you must not talk to me in that way !' and, perhaps, 
 gave him a push. Monroe fired ; Ellington then took hold of 
 him ; had him on the counter first, and then on the floor. About 
 this time, Dumas Van Deren ran in, and, taking hold of Elling- 
 ton partly pulled him off. The second pistol was fired. When 
 witness first saw them talk in the street, they were directly west
 
 LIFE AND WHITINGS OF 
 
 of Ellington's office. Could not hear what they said, except 
 something about going over to Byrd Monroe's store. Witness 
 was then on the door-sill. Monroe said in the store, to Ellington, 
 ' You shouldn't blame me for Byrd's lies,' and then Ellington told 
 him he had told forty lies ; to which Monroe replied, ' If I have 
 told forty, by G d, you have told sixty,' stepping back with both 
 hands in his pockets. At this Ellington laid his hand on him, 
 perhaps giving him a little push, and then the first pistol was fired. 
 Monroe was standing with his back to the counter and Ellington 
 faced him. When the pistol fired, Ellington merely put his hand 
 on his shoulder. Witness could not describe the scuffle, he was 
 BO much excited ; Ellington was on top ; didn't see their hands. 
 Yan Deren caught Ellington by the back and pulled him nearly 
 straight up and then the second pistol was fired. After the second 
 pistol was fired, don't remember any more scuffling, didn't see the 
 pistol, don't remember any outcry." 
 
 Cross examined : " Didn't see Monroe when Ellington had 
 him down. Yan Deren separated them just after coming in." 
 
 At the request of Gen. Linder, John Eastin was recalled. 
 " Ellington was a large and very stout man ; witness once con- 
 sidered himself stout, and Ellington could always handle him. 
 Ellington could handle Monroe very easily; he weighed about 
 two hundred pounds, and his health had never been impaired. 
 
 E. S. NORFOLK. "Knew the prisoner ; knew he was in the 
 habit of carrying a couple of small Minnie pistols (a small pistol 
 was exhibited to witness, which he said was like Monroe's). 
 Don't know when he got them ; knew he had them five or six 
 weeks before the killing. He always kept them loaded, and have 
 seen him shoot at a mark with them in the back room of the 
 drugstore. He shot them frequently, and would always load them. 
 Never heard him make direct threats ; have heard him say if ever 
 Ellino-ton brought the hands over to tar and feather him he would 
 
 O O 
 
 hurt them. Monroe said, they had denied so and so, and if they 
 had acknowledged that they had said so and so, he would have 
 hurt them. Never heard any direct threats more than, if Elling- 
 ton crossed his path, he would hurt him. Have heard Monroe 
 talk this way perhaps every day, and sometimes several times a
 
 ADOLPHITS F. MONKOE. 33 
 
 day. He would always become excited when he talked of the 
 difficulties between him and the Ellingtons." 
 
 Cross examined : " Was with Monroe in the drugstore every 
 day, and never heard him make a direct threat ; it was always 
 conditionally. Have heard him say he always intended to act on 
 the defensive, but he would branch off." 
 
 The counsel for the prisoner asked the witness if it was not cus- 
 tomary for young men about town to carry pistols ? To this ques- 
 tion objection was made by the attorney for the State, and, the 
 point having been discussed, the court sustained the objection. 
 
 R. H. NORFOLK. " Knew that Monroe carried pistols before 
 the encounter with Ellington ; he carried them in the pockets of 
 his pantaloons. Thinks he usually had his hands in his pockets ; 
 thinks he had the pistols two or three months before the difficulty 
 with Ellington ; have heard him say if Ellington ever crossed his 
 path he would hurt him ; he did not say he would kill him ; have 
 heard him curse him, say he was a d d low rascal and use other 
 similar epithets. Never heard him say he would shoot or kill him. 
 I once told him that Ellington could whip him, and he replied that 
 he could shoot Ellington before he could get to him ; have heard 
 him say he ached to get into a difficulty, with him ; have heard 
 him say this often ; he shot his pistol off frequently, though per- 
 haps not daily. Monroe and witness were partners in the drugstore 
 up to a few weeks before the killing ; witness was in the drugstore 
 the morning before Ellington was killed, and Monroe was there 
 firing his pistol ; said he was going to get Mr. Ellington, Jim El- 
 lington and Byrd Monroe together, and he would hurt some of them 
 yet. The morning of the difficulty, Monroe said something about 
 some one having lied. Witness saw Monroe and Ellington meet on 
 the street. Monroe said nothing when he went out of the drug- 
 store to meet Ellington. He said, that morning, he would make 
 some of them swallow the lie. Witness didn't think he was in 
 earnest. Didn't hear any thing they said on the street ; saw no 
 cane drawn by Ellington ; didn't know which of them proposed 
 going to Byrd Monroe's store. Never heard Monroe say he drank 
 to raise his courage." 
 
 Cross examined: " Never heard Monroe make a direct threat."
 
 34 LIFE AND WRITINGS OE 
 
 The witness was asked if he had ever heard Monroe say he only 
 intended to defend himself? He replied : " The prisoner told me 
 one day, ' I intend to defend myself.' ' : 
 
 J. E. WYCHE. " Some three or four weeks before the killing 
 of Ellington, Monroe commenced a conversation with me on the 
 street in reference to a business transaction between us. It was 
 near Compton & Mount's store. Monroe requested me to go into 
 the shed part of the store where we sat down. The prisoner said : 
 ' Wiche, I am a little drinking to-day, you see ; and I am so on 
 purpose ; I want a difficulty with Mr. Ellington ; the Ellingtons 
 have called me a coward, and I intend to show them I am not 
 afraid of them.' Witness then told the prisoner nobody thought 
 him a coward, but, if it would gratify him, he might tell Ellington 
 he was not afraid of him, and there drop it ; that Ellington was the 
 last man on earth he should kill ; and represented to him the un- 
 pleasant position in which it would place his wife, she being El- 
 lington's daughter. To all this prisoner seemed to assent. Wit- 
 ness told him as he had now sold out, he had better leave Charleston, 
 as he thought they could not live pleasantly there. Monroe said he 
 intended to leave, but, before he went, he was going to show Elling- 
 ton that he was no coward. Prisoner said there was no difficulty 
 between himself and his wife, and seemed to censure Mrs. Ellington 
 more than any one else ; said that Mrs. Ellington forbade his own 
 mother to come to his house ; said he should always defend his 
 mother, she had been such a good friend to him ; and that he could 
 not desert her to please anybody. Monroe went on to enumerate 
 various grievances, but he did not say he intended to attack or kill 
 Ellington. Said he wanted a difficulty with him ; that the Elling- 
 tons had said he was a coward, and he intended to show them that 
 he was not. Mr. Monroe seemed a good deal moved during the 
 conversation, and, before its close, shed tears freely." 
 
 Cross examined : " Never heard Monroe say he intended to at- 
 tack or kill Ellington. This conversation occurred three or four 
 weeks before the killing of Ellington, and witness never, on any 
 other occasion, heard Mr. Monroe say any thing about Mr. Elling- 
 ton or his family." 
 
 Court adjourned to 10 o'clock, next day,
 
 ADOLPIIUS F. MONROE. 37 
 
 THURSDAY ITitA, 10 d* clock, A. M. 
 Court met and proceeded with the evidence for the prosecution. 
 
 STANLEY B. WALKER. "Was not present at the difficulty; 
 don't remember any direct threats ; has heard Monroe say he 
 would do so and so, under certain circumstances ; heard him say 
 so once at the store, Bledsoe and others being present ; can't 
 state word for word what he said ; he was talking about the Elling- 
 ton family, for good reasons, as he thought ; he said that Mrs. El- 
 lington was a long tongued old b h, and that probably there would 
 be a difficulty, and that, if Ellington ever struck him or began a 
 difficulty, he would kill him. Monroe talked a great deal, and 
 witness paid but little attention to him, passing it lightly by. He 
 showed no weapons in this conversation ; can't remember any 
 thing further ; can't tell just when this conversation occurred ; 
 don't remember how long before the killing." 
 
 Cross examined : "Don't remember how many were in the 
 store when Monroe came in and commenced talking about the El- 
 lingtons ; Monroe said, in this conversation, he had heard they 
 were going to tar and feather him ; and he further stated that he 
 had said what he had said that it might go to Mr. Ellington. 
 Bledsoe said he was the last man that would take it. Monroe 
 said the Ellingtons had made some threats against him, but wit- 
 ness don't remember just what they were. Monroe said he would 
 do something, but witness don't remember what, if Ellington did 
 so and so to him. This was sometime before the affray, but wit- 
 ness don't remember the precise time. It was before witness went 
 to Springfield, which was about the first of October, but can't say 
 how Ions' before/ 
 
 * * 
 
 By counsel for the prisoner : " Didn't Monroe say, in that 
 conversation, all he asked of them was to be let alone?" 
 
 Witness : " I don't remember his saying so then, but he has 
 told me that since the conversation." 
 
 J. V. BROWN. " Heard Monroe a month or so before the 
 affray, one Sunday, talking of Mrs. Ellington. He said she was a 
 d d whore, a d d thief, and a d d liar ; that Mr. Ellington and 
 Jim were both cowards ; that he intended to provoke them, and, 
 if they resisted, shoot them down. He said if they insinuated
 
 38 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 that he lied he would shoot them down. Witness did not see any 
 weapons. Monroe spoke of a conversation that Byrd Monroe and 
 he had had with Mr. Ellington in reference to something which oc- 
 curred at Wabash Point. Have heard Monroe make other similar 
 threats at other times ; have heard him say something about giv- 
 ing any one fifty dollars to get Jim Ellington in a fuss, but is not 
 positive about it." 
 
 Cross examined by counsel for prisoner : " Did not Monroe 
 say he would give fifty dollars, with reference to the report that he 
 was to be tarred and feathered ?" 
 
 Witness : " Monroe did say they were going to tar and feather 
 him, and that he would give fifty dollars if they would undertake 
 it. This conversation occurred a week or so before the State Fair. 
 Monroe and wife were living together at the time of the affray, 
 between him and Ellington." 
 
 JOHN MORTON. " Had heard no particular threats, and knew 
 nothing particularly about the affair." 
 
 Mr. Ficklin, for the prosecution, stated he had had no conversa- 
 tion with the witness, and asked him if he knew for what he was 
 called? 
 
 The witness did not and was directed to leave the stand. 
 
 DENNIS F. HANKS. "Lives over the drugstore; has heard 
 Monroe many times speak of the Ellington family very improperly, 
 but heard him make threats but once. He said he wished some 
 of his friends would get Ellington out so that he could kill him ; 
 this was some three or four weeks before the killing; did not 
 remember having heard him make threats at any other time. 
 Prisoner was very much excited when he spoke of killing Elling- 
 ton. Witness knew Mr. Ellington before he was married ; has 
 heard Monroe speak of Mrs. Ellington in a way a gentleman 
 should not, but don't remember his words. He never said much 
 about Mr. Ellington, but that he blamed Mrs. Ellington more 
 about their difficulties." 
 
 MRS. HANKS. " Lives over the drugstore. Has heard Monroe 
 make threats ; he was generally excited ; he said, if Ellington 
 crossed his path he would kill him ; said he wished somebody
 
 ADOLPHUS F. MONROE. 39 
 
 would tell Ellington of this, and that if Ellington would come out 
 he would kill him, and that he wanted to kill him. He seemed 
 at times to be drinking and perfectly crazy." 
 
 Cross examined: "Heard these threats a good time before the 
 affray, some six or eight weeks ; never heard any subsequent to 
 the coming together of Monroe and wife after their separation." 
 
 J. B. BLEDSOE. " Don't remember ever to have heard Monroe 
 threaten to kill Ellington. Have heard him say he was a s-n of a 
 b h, a d d old s-n of a b h. Witness has known him three or 
 four years, and during that time Monroe has carried arms. "Wit- 
 ness has seen his little white-handled pistols." 
 
 The prosecution having rested their case at this point, the first 
 witness called for the defense was 
 
 DUMAS VAN DEREN. " "Witness was in the street, and, hearing 
 the report of a pistol in Byrd Monroe's store, ran in. Saw Elling- 
 ton on a man who was on the floor ; witness thought it was Byrd 
 Monroe ; the man was wheezing. "Witness exclaimed, ' For God's 
 sake, don't let him kill the man !' and ran up and took hold of El- 
 lington. Mr. Ellington looked up at witness and said, ' Don't 
 take me off; he has shot me, let me kill him !' The man under 
 Ellington was then calling out, ' Murder ! take him off!' Witness 
 did not succeed in taking him off this time, and it was just about 
 this time that the second pistol was fired. Witness took hold of 
 Ellington, who then yielded to him, and witness saw that he was 
 shot and the clothes on his breast burning. Ellington walked over 
 to his office. The shot seemed a smothered one. It was a few 
 seconds from the time witness first took hold of him before he 
 finally took him off. The second pistol was fired sometime after 
 witness got into the store. Ellington appeared very much excited, 
 and seemed to be beating or choking Monroe." 
 
 Cross examined: " When witness first took hold of Ellington, 
 the latter looked up to him and said, ' Don't take me off; he hae 
 shot me, let me kill him !' Witness did not see the pistol at all. 
 Monroe hallooed before the second pistol was fired. Don't know 
 when Ellington's grasp was loosened ; did not see Ellington have 
 hold on Monroe's hand. Monroe was breathing as if he was dying. 
 Did not see where Ellington had hold of Monroe, but heard Mon-
 
 40 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 roe make a noise as though he was strangling. There was not 
 much done after the second pistol was fired." 
 
 DR. HENRY. " Was sent for to see Monroe some time after the 
 affray ; was called to see his eye ; it seemed to be badly gouged 
 or scratched ; it was not much swollen then, but was considerably 
 so when I next saw him ; saw some bruises on his forehead." 
 
 GEORGE RUPERT. "Don't know much about this matter; was 
 in his grocery and some one came in and said there had been a 
 fight in Monroe's store. Witness went over to the store. Mon- 
 roe had no hat on ; I saw a hat over back of the counter ; George 
 Monroe picked it up and handed it to the prisoner who put it on ; 
 the hat was eight or ten feet from the end on the west side." 
 
 DR. FERGUSON " The first ball struck the upper part of Elling- 
 ton's forehead and then ranged upward and outward, cutting the 
 skin and passing off without inflicting serious injury. Mr. El- 
 lington died the ninth day after he was shot from the effect of his 
 wounds." 
 
 t 
 WILLIAM GILMAN. " Saw the parties a short time before the 
 
 affray sitting in the west door of the court-house, and observed 
 nothing angry between them at that time. Supposed they had 
 made up, and was glad to see it." 
 
 JAMES McORORY. " Monroe was brought into my office directly 
 after the affray. His left eye was pretty badly gouged and he had 
 some marks on his throat which he said smarted. Ellington was 
 as stout as Monroe and witness both; he was a very stout man, 
 indeed." 
 
 MR. COLE. " Was in the street, and, hearing a pistol fired, ran 
 into Byrd Monroe's store ; saw the parties on the floor, Ellington 
 having Monroe under his arm. Heard somebody say, ' Part them !' 
 but, as witness did not know how many more pistols were to be 
 fired, he didn't go up. The second pistol was fired while Elling- 
 ton held Monroe under his arm. As witness stepped in, the 
 second pistol went off and the man under Ellington made a noise 
 as if he were choking. Did not hear anybody say, ' Take him off!'
 
 ADOLPHUS F. MONROE. 4:1 
 
 Never saw either of the parties before or since. Don't know 
 whether the prisoner here is the man or not, but supposes he is." 
 
 Cross examined: "As witness got there, the prisoner was on 
 the floor, near the counter when the second pistol was fired. "Was 
 standing before Winchester & Smith's hardware store when the 
 first pistol was fired." 
 
 It was here announced to the court that the evidence on that 
 side was exhausted, and the prosecution not desiring to offer any 
 further testimony the court adjourned until the afternoon. 
 
 The argument began on Thursday afternoon and lasted until 5 
 o'clock, P. M., the following Saturday. 
 
 There was no report, not so much as a synopsis of the argument 
 of counsel made at the time, and the reader must, therefore, par- 
 don the omission in this work. 
 
 At the conclusion of the last speech for the prosecution, the 
 instructions were read and delivered to the jury, and they were 
 instructed to retire and consider the case. In the mean time, the 
 court adjourned, with directions to the jury that should they agree 
 upon a verdict to inform him of it, through the officer in charge 
 of them, and he would take the bench to receive it. 
 
 The jury were in their room about two hours, when the ringing 
 of the court-house bell announced the fact that they were about to 
 return into court. Between the time of the ringing of the bell 
 and the delivery of the verdict, what suspense there was ! To the 
 prisoner it was more awful than a fire-bell in the night to the 
 startled citizens ; or softer and sweeter than a wedding chime, to 
 the expectant bridegroom, as his fears or hopes alternately sunk 
 or elated his heart. 
 
 The judge took his seat on the bench and ordered the jury to be 
 brought into court. They came into a chamber, filled with human 
 forms, yet as silent as a vault for the dead. His honor asked if 
 they had agreed upon a verdict. The reply was, " "We have !" and 
 the foreman of the jury said, " "We, of the jury, find the prisoner 
 guilty as charged in the indictment !" 
 
 The court addressing each juryman in turn until the question 
 had been proposed to all, asked, " Is that your verdict ?" and each 
 of them replied, " It is !" 
 
 The court then adjourned until Monday. 

 
 42 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 MONDAY, January 21, 1856, 10 o'clock, A. M. 
 The court having met pursuant to adjournment, the counsel for 
 the prisoner made a motion for a new trial. The motion was dis- 
 cussed by the counsel on both sides. At the conclusion of the 
 argument the judge remarked, that one of the instructions did not 
 read exactly as he thought it did, and, as he, at that time, had 
 doubts of its legality, he would take until 10 o'clock the next day, 
 to examine the law and reflect about it ; and that if he found the 
 instruction to be erroneous, a new trial would be freely granted. 
 
 TUESDAY, January 22, 10 o*dock, A. M. 
 
 The court met and the prisoner was placed at the bar. His 
 honor remarked that if the counsel in the case had no other sug- 
 gestion to make in reference to the motion for a new trial, he was 
 ready now to dispose of it. Nothing being said, the court pro- 
 ceeded to give the result of his investigations, and concluded by 
 remarking that, as the instruction given, was, in his opinion, 
 legal, the motion would be overruled, and if the prisoner or his coun- 
 sel had nothing to say to the contrary, he would proceed to pass 
 the sentence of the law. Having been informed that the prisoner 
 had nothing to say, the court proceeded in this way to pronounce 
 
 THE SENTENCE. "It now only remains for me to pass the sen- 
 tence of the law upon you. That sentence is, that you be remanded 
 to jail to be kept in safe custody until the 15th day of next Febru- 
 ary, upon which day, between the hours of 10 A. M. and 2 p. M., 
 you will be taken hence, by the sheriff, to some convenient spot, 
 and there hanged by the neck until you are dead ! May the Lord 
 have mercy in your soul !'' 
 
 Immediately after the sentence had been passed upon him, the 
 prisoner was remanded to jail, and the court adjourned. 
 
 It was Monroe's intention to have delivered the following speech 
 when he should be brought up to receive the sentence. At the 
 earnest solicitation of his counsel, however, he omitted to pro- 
 nounce it. It was afterward published, under his directions, at 
 Paris, and circulated through the country. We give it without 
 alteration as one of the parts of the melancholy drama, believing 
 that the reader is entitled to a hearing of the whole case, and that 
 it may greatly serve in the elucidation of the subject.
 
 MONROE'S SPEECH. 
 
 SIR: YOUR HONOR 
 
 GENTLEMEN AND LADIES I arise before you, for the first time 
 in my life, to attempt to make a speech, and if I should blunder, 
 or seem to be confused and agitated, let it be attributed to its 
 true cause, to the natural agitation of the young and inexperienced 
 speaker, and not to my present unfortunate position, or to fear. I 
 do not expect or intend to make a finished speech. Such is not my 
 province, for I am neither practiced nor experienced in the art. I 
 simply wish to say a few words to you, as the last evidence of a 
 dying man. I wish now to take my place on the stand as a witness 
 in this case, and give in my testimony for the sake of truth and 
 posterity when I am gone ; and to enter up before this court, this 
 people, the world and before high Heaven, my solemn protest 
 against this awful mockery ! 
 
 " On the 19th day of October last, I was arrested and cast into 
 prison, on a charge of the murder of Nathan Ellington, my father- 
 in-law. The excitement was great ; so great, that, by the advice 
 of my counsel, I was not present at the examination, a circum- 
 stance, which, however necessary and prudent, I shall ever regret. 
 My counsel was forced there to pledge himself not to change the 
 venue ! the mob threatening that if I ever attempted it, I should 
 be mobbed and murdered anyhow ; that I should be tried here, 
 and even if cleared, they, the mob, would hang me, whether I be 
 innocent, or whether I be guilty ! A pleasant and agreeable pros- 
 pect, truly! Even thus early the counsel for the prosecution 
 betrayed a knowledge of the weakness of their case, and that if 
 I was ever tried out of this county I would be most surely acquitted. 
 From the first I have been denied even the common privileges of 
 the law. Now, it does seem to me that the law which can not 
 protect a man, should not condemn him. Laws should be made 
 to protect the innocent as well as to punish the guilty: and no 
 man should be tried by a law for his life, liberty or property, unless 
 
 43
 
 44: LIFE AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 that law can protect him while he is a prisoner. For weeks 
 after I was committed to prison, I was threatened by a mob. The 
 forces were to be collected even from other counties. Cut off so 
 suddenly from the world, and shut out from the sweet sun-light of 
 day ; deprived, at once, of liberty and the presence and society of 
 iny friends ; denied even the dear sweet privilege of being with 
 my wife and child, and the natural endearments of love and the 
 joys and delights of home and domestic peace and happiness, I 
 grew impatient of restraint and confinement, and, contrary to the 
 advice of my counsel, called a court that I might have either a 
 speedy trial, or a change of venue, as might seem best ; and that, 
 if compelled to change the venue, my trial might come on at the 
 usual time in the spring instead of having to be laid over until 
 fall. The laws of my country gave me a right to a change of 
 venue, or to put off my trial, as I chose, but, in this case, both 
 have been denied me by the mob. All of this time I had no power 
 of course to meet and mingle with the world or to hear and answer 
 any of the charges made against me. 
 
 " The court came on. My witnesses, the most important 'ones, 
 at least, were not here and could not be here in time. The excite- 
 ment was still so great that 1 was at once advised to apply for a 
 change of venue. This the mob again refused to allow ; and my 
 counsel, having been forced by the mob to pledge himself never to 
 change the venue, had to go out of the case, or seem to do so, at least 
 as far as this court and county were concerned. But my friends, who 
 attended to matters for me, employed Thomas F. Marshall, of 
 Kentucky, to defend me. Owing, however, to the condition of the 
 Ohio River, he was unable to reach here. I then concluded, by 
 lander's advice, to put the trial off until Spring, and then change 
 the venue if necessary. On Tuesday morning, however, I was 
 informed, by Linder and the sheriff, that there was a band of 
 ruffians and murderers in the town, with a drum and flying colors, 
 determined to murder me if I attempted either to change venue or 
 put off my trial. Again, I suffered myself to be overruled by my 
 friends, and consented to a trial, rather the outside form of one, 
 and the result has been as all predicted, and as all knew it would 
 be. I was, of course, convicted and now stand before you ready 
 to receive the sentence.
 
 ADOLPIIUS F. MONROE. 45 
 
 " Be it so ! I can meet my fate with a smile, for my heart is 
 at peace and my conscience is clear. I have my faults like other 
 men. I am a child of impulse, as all who know me can testify ; 
 and, when excited, apt to speak harshly and threaten my best 
 friend and five minutes after ask his pardon and entrust him 
 with the dearest secrets of my heart. But, in all of this affair, 
 whatever' errors I have committed have been caused and brought 
 on by that love and adherence to those very feeling and principles 
 which all good and true men hold most sacred and dear pride 
 of character, independence, love of courage and honor. I may 
 have been, perchance, foolish and imprudent. I may have been 
 too hasty and impatient in resenting a wrong and returning an 
 insult, too open in my manner, and rash and unguarded in my 
 speech and deportment ; yet, I know that my motives have been 
 good and my intentions pure. My conscience tells me that I am 
 far more unfortunate than criminal, far more sinned against than 
 sinning. I regard both Ellington and myself as rather the victims 
 of circumstances, and the malice and machination of others, than 
 to any faults of our own. 
 
 " The world is ever ready to pull down and trample upon the 
 unfortunate, and there are those who now triumph over me and 
 gloat upon my misfortunes, who are far more guilty in His eyes 
 than I am. They have succeeded in bringing desolation and ruin 
 upon happy homes and hearts, and grief and sorrow to loving 
 hearts that never wronged them for which they yet shall answer 
 terribly in time or in eternity. 
 
 "There are always spirits in any community so low and grovel- 
 ing in their natures, that they can not rise above the base feelings 
 of malice and envy, and who can not bear to see another prosper, 
 particularly if he is so unfortunate asto be poor, and too proud 
 and independent to stoop to fawn upon and natter them without 
 seeking, by every means in their power, however low and base, 
 to abuse and injure them, stooping even to the foulest slander 
 and lies of the darkest hue to every thing mean and servile to 
 accomplish their object, which, when accomplished, does them 
 no good, except to gratify their depraved minds, passions and 
 appetites. 
 
 " There is always a feverish desire in the public, particularly
 
 46 LIFE AND WHITINGS OF 
 
 among the lower and baser classes, to see a fellow being suffer 
 and to convict him, right or wrong, when once in the strong clutches 
 of the law a kind of fiendish pleasure and excitement in seeing 
 a neighbor fall degraded. It is a spirit worthy the scorn and con- 
 tempt of all honest men. ' T is the same fell spirit that prompted 
 the Jews to cry out against our Saviour, " Crucify him ! Crucify 
 him !" Let a man be but once unfortunate, and the world is ever 
 ready to pull him down, to sink him lower and lower, and to stamp 
 and trample upon him while he is weak and helpless. Who does 
 not know and has not seen, even in the canine species, that when 
 once poor Tray is down he is set upon and torn to pieces by the 
 whole pack of hounds ? Alas ! for me, like poor Tray, I have some- 
 times been caught in bad company. 
 
 "Such has been the evident determination in my case from the 
 first. I blame not the judge; for, though the old and valued 
 friend of the deceased, he has conducted this trial with a fairness 
 and moderation for which I thank him from my inmost heart I 
 thank him. I blame not the counsel of the opposite side; two of 
 them, at least, have shown great delicacy and forbearance. My 
 counsel has done all that could be done all that man could do, 
 and more perchance, than any other man could have done. But 
 all, of course, was in vain. An angel from heaven a messenger 
 from God could not have changed the decision in this case. 
 What counsel what law what court could conquer or govern a 
 mobl What jury could dare bring in a verdict of acquittal under 
 such instructions, and in the face of such a mass of frowning brows 
 and scowling countenances, ferociously demanding blood to havo 
 their blood -thirsty appetites appeased? Indeed, I suppose it was 
 a fortunate thing for me and for the honor and the memory of the 
 county forever that I was not acquitted by that jury, for I would 
 have been instantly murdered by a band of ruffians and mur- 
 derers God knows who or wherefrom who were there (so ' t is 
 said by the officers themselves) in the court-room, ready and pre- 
 pared with a rope to murder me if not convicted of a capital 
 offense. My God ! can Coles county be sunk so low, so lost to all 
 morality, decency and honor? Whence comes this hord of law- 
 less scoundrels? Are they of this county? Are there any respect- 
 able men and citizens even of his friends and relatives, among
 
 ADOLPHUS F. MONKOE. 47 
 
 them ? I hope not. The common murderer who goes out at mid- 
 night and raises his single arm against his sleeping foe, and 
 plunges the assassin dagger into the heart of his unconscious 
 victim, is a brave and honorable man a Christian when com- 
 pared to him who leagues with a mob, composed perhaps of 
 hundreds, to murder a single, unarmed, weak and helpless prisoner, 
 already in the merciless hand of the law ! Of all crimes, of all 
 murders this is the most foul and horrible the most hellish and 
 cowardly ! 
 
 "I feel indebted to, and indeed thank all of the counsel for 
 the prosecution, for their moderation and fairness, except, be it 
 forever remembered, except the Honorable Orlando Obediah 
 Bustamente De La Ficklin, Esq., who seems to have been spe- 
 cially hired and paid to lie and slander, rail and abuse in this 
 case. In truth, he seems fully competent to the task ! His con- 
 science must indeed be seared, and his heart hardened, for he 
 seemed utterly regardless of all human sympathy and feelings 
 of all truth and honor ! Truly, as he remarked, there was but 
 ' one heart ' in all that family that ever received and welcomed me. 
 True it is too, that heart has never failed me! never faltered 
 or fallen from me ! 'jT 'is mine yet! all mine! notwithstanding he 
 so pathetically alluded to the ' beautiful, worthy and accomplished 
 young lady who had so unfortunately married the prisoner !' 
 Beautiful she is, and worthy, far more worthy than beautiful ! 
 Worthy ! aye far worthier than such a soul as his could ever honor 
 or appreciate ! Go to her to-day, and ask her whom she censures 
 in all this sad affair, whom she thinks the guilty parties ? Go. ask 
 her if she ever blamed me even for an instant or ever had cause 
 to regret our union ? and if she does not answer in my favor, 
 freely and fully, and say that the love and trust that is burning in 
 her heart for me this day, even as I stand here convicted of the 
 murder of her father, is glowing with a far higher, purer and 
 holier, more lasting, deep, fond, confiding and tender, deathless 
 and undying love, than it was upon our bridal morn then, I 
 am a murderer ! 
 
 " Go, ye who seek for vengeance, to those who have done this 
 deed! Ye who are crying 'blood for blood!' and demanding a 
 victim, go, if ye would find and punish the guilty parties, go seek
 
 48 LIFE AKD WRITINGS OF 
 
 them elsewhere. His Hood is not upon my hand ! Oh ! if ye 
 really wish to know who are the true criminals, who are his true 
 murderers, then go, in God's name, I'd bid you go, seek them 
 nearer home ; you will find them there ! Ay ! as my counsel 
 said, ' there is an under current and a mystery in all this affair, 
 which the world may never know but had her evidence been 
 admitted here all would have been as open and as bright as day. 
 But God forbid that I, even in self-defense, should drag out the 
 secret of this family difficulty. Some day all may and all will 
 be known ; and long after I am gone, when the green grass shall 
 wave above my lowly tomb, when the trees shall have budded and 
 blossomed and the leaves withered and fallen again and again, 
 and when, one by one, all those present shall have passed away, 
 after long years, 't will be said, ' Dolph Monroe fell unjustly !' that 
 4 he was foully and cruelly murdered and by those who were the 
 guilty parties, by those who have caused and brought on this whole 
 affair and by those who have hunted him down and sworn his 
 life away.' 
 
 " But a tone, a word, a memory of my fate shall hang forever 
 upon the viewless air, with a curse, a bitter curse, and haunt them 
 throughout all time and eternity ; wring their false hearts, shake 
 their craven souls, weigh down their guilty consciences with 
 remorse and regret, and drag them down to hell forever. 
 
 "On the 12th day of December, 1853, 1 was married to Nannie 
 Ellington, with whom I lived most happily, and with whom I could 
 live most happily forever, for she is truly amiable, good and pure 
 worthy of all man's best affection, all love and praise. But, 
 alas ! difficulties soon arose, dark and fierce, between her relatives 
 and mine ; and finally between her and mine, and her relatives 
 and myself. "What they were, I will not now state or drag to 
 light. Suffice it to say that between her and myself all was peace, 
 harmony, confidence and love ; and, right here, I will state a 
 fact which may take some by surprise and seem strange, yet it is 
 no less true than strange ; notwithstanding it was sworn to here 
 in court in evidence and the world regarded it so, there never was 
 a separation between me and my wife. She was at her father's 
 house just a week, but 't was a pre-arranged affair between us, 
 known and understood between ourselves. I only mention this,
 
 ADOLPHUS F. MONKOE. 49 
 
 however, as an evidence of the fallacy and frailty of human knowl- 
 edge aud testimony for it matters riot either way. 
 
 " Numerous threats have been sworn to here, some true and some 
 false all false, in the words and spirit with which remembered 
 and delivered. I never made any threats against Ellington except 
 on the condition of being attacked by him and in self-defense ; 
 and as warnings in answer to threats of theirs. I often said I did 
 not blame Ellington so much as I did others, and always said, I 
 only asked to be let alone ; and in threatening, I usually used the 
 word 'them,' instead of ' him,' as all know. 
 
 " On the night of the 18th of October last, James Ellington and 
 Byrd Monroe had a quarrel about some accounts, during which 
 the young man, I suppose, got into a tight place, and, coward-like, 
 shuffled the affair off upon his father's shoulders but for which 
 base and dastardly act his father would have been upon the earth 
 to-day. My name too was called upon that night by the young 
 man during the quarrel, and I was sent for and hunted up, but 
 took no part in the difficulty. The next morning, the 19th of Oc- 
 tober, and the one upon which the fatal tragedy occurred, I was in 
 the drugstore and was giving an account of the manner in which 
 Byrd Monroe had talked to James Ellington, mimicing Byrd Mon- 
 roe's voice and gestures, when he told Jim that he 'could find 
 twenty or fifty men who could swear that he could not tell the 
 truth ;' and I remarked that they were going to get together that 
 morning and I supposed that they would settle the matter when 
 Jimmie would be in a tight place again, for I did not believe his 
 father had stated what he said he did. Mr. Ellington's name was 
 mentioned but the one time and then in that way. Here, Mr. 
 Wilkinson, who seems to have got his evidence from some book, 
 and memorized it for the occasion and repeated it by rote with a 
 gladiatorial air and swagger, was, to say the least of it, grossly 
 mistaken. Indeed, his whole testimony was a tissue of mistakes, 
 from which the prosecution wove a web of very plausible but 
 flimsy circumstances against me. Whether he has done this thing 
 for the ' thirty pieces,' or from hate, malice or envy, or, merely 
 from a blood-thirsty appetite, I can not say. According to his own 
 evidence, however, he went there, not to prevent a difficulty but 
 to see one, and to eat up George Monroe alive ; and yet, this man ,
 
 50 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 this California gambler and faro-dealer ; this butcher, who by his 
 own account has murdered a dozen men while there for merely 
 disputing his word and asserting their rights when he was swindling 
 them at the faro-table ; this professed gambler who lives by enticing 
 unwary young men to the card-table to swindle them out of their 
 money this man, this perjurer, who has sworn my life away, has 
 been styled by the prosecution, ' a respectable young man /' 
 
 " But enough of him ! God and his conscience for it ! From the 
 drugstore, I started to go to dinner, as we ate very early at my 
 boarding-house ; and Mr. Moore not being at home, I was hastening 
 to see that Mrs. Moore had sufficient wood cut, as I had sent a boy 
 to cut some. I will here state that I had a horse and buggy in 
 readiness to go with my wife to Cunningham's that evening, and 
 would have gone in the morning but for the absence of Mr. Moore, 
 my wife not feeling inclined to leave Mrs. Moore alone. When I 
 started to dinner, as was my usual custom, I took a straight and 
 direct line from the drugstore to the house, not following the side 
 walks. I did not see Mr. Ellington until within a few feet of him, 
 and then I perceived he was very angry. God knows what his son 
 Jim had gone home that night and told him ; none may ever know 
 until the secrets of all hearts are known, but this much I do know, 
 that he had told him something of his affair of the night before with 
 Byrd Monroe in which all said he was wrong, but of that I know 
 nothing which made him very angry with both Byrd Monroe and 
 myself ; and when I met him he had been once to Byrd Monroe's 
 to see him, and was on his way there again. Seeing him, and 
 feeling certain from his manner that Jim had told him of the affair, 
 I laughingly remarked to him : 
 
 " I suppose Jim told you of his muss last night. They sent for 
 me and hunted me up, but I did not see that I had any thing to 
 do with it I only laughed at them. 
 
 " He raised his cane and said : ' Yes, you have something to do 
 with it, you puppy ! Byrd Monroe has been lying some time and 
 you have denied things you said to him.' 
 
 " I stepped back several steps, and told him not to strike me 
 with his cane, that Byrd Monroe would not say bo. He replied 
 that he would. I again asserted that he would not. He then 
 asked me to go with him to the store. I hesitated, and he again
 
 ADOLPHUS F. MONROE. 53 
 
 said, 'Come on! 'come along!' Thus urged the second time, I 
 went. Byrd Monroe was not there. I remarked to Ellington that 
 I did not see why he should blame me for every lie that he heard , 
 that if, as he said, Byrd and John Monroe lied, it was no business 
 of mine but he and they for it ; that I knew nothing about this 
 scrape, cared nothing about it, nor did I want to know any thing 
 about it, and I did not see why in the h 11 1 was dragged into it. 
 He then said, ' I have no doubt but that you have told forty lies 
 about it.' I commenced to make a kind reply, but passion got the 
 better of my tongue and reason, and I said, ' Oh ! well, now, if 
 I have told forty lies, you have told sixty.' At this time he was 
 standing with his back to the east counter, leaning with his elbow 
 on the show-case, with his cane in his hand grasped about the 
 middle. I was standing by the west counter, which is not so long 
 by six or eight feet and below the pile of goods on the end, at least 
 ten or twelve feet from him. Upon my reply, he said, ' Ha ! you 
 trifling puppy, you talk to me in that way!' Throwing up both 
 arms, he ran at me ; I stepped back several steps as he came ; 
 catching me with his right hand by the collar, and by the throat 
 with his left, his cane striking me upon the left hand, as I threw 
 it up to ward off his attack, skinning it considerably and striking 
 me smartly upon the forehead. He then choked me back upon 
 the counter when I fired the first shot at him, or rather toward 
 where I supposed he was, for I was choked so far back with my 
 head over the counter that I could not see him at the time. Mr. 
 Wilkinson states that he saw my pistol in my right hand partly 
 drawn. Again ' the honorable and respectable young man' was 
 mistaken. My hand did not touch it, nor was it drawn till I was 
 upon the counter. Pie then threw me upon the floor, with my face 
 downward, springing upon me, choking and gouging me rapidly. 
 I could then have drawn my second pistol and shot him again, but 
 a thought of my wife and child flashed over me, and I called out 
 several times for help, when I heard Eastin say in answer to my 
 call, 'Stamp him to death! stamp him to death! d-n him!' I 
 did not know until afterward, that any one was offering to take 
 him off at all. In a second after, I called again twice, for help, 
 when I heard Ellington say to some one, ' No ! no ! don't touch 
 me ! let me kill him !' I was then choked almost to death ; my
 
 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 eyes were nearly gouged out, and with this threat ringing in my 
 ears, in despair, with a desperate effort, I arose to my knee 
 and fired the second and last shot, when we were instantly 
 separated. 
 
 " The second pistol was never drawn until the instant ' t was 
 fired. And, here, again, Mr. "Wilkinson was mistaken. Elling- 
 ton never had hold either of my hands or wrists, but on the con- 
 trary, I held his hands from my eyes and throat, while I called 
 upon the crowd ' to take him off,' and God knows had that assist- 
 ance been given when called for, or had not Ellington said he 
 would kill me, that second shot would never have been fired. I 
 could have shot him before, but I did not wish to do so. Even 
 then the thought of my wife and child prevented me, and I wished 
 the difficulty to end without any more harm being done. But, 
 alas ! fate willed it otherwise, and he is gone and I am here ! 
 Why, I would ask of those who best may answer ; why, why was 
 Ellington's last dying statement riot brought forward here? I 
 asked it ; my friends asked it ; my counsel asked it ; why was it 
 not here ? The counsel for the prosecution refused to permit it. 
 Let the fact speak for itself! It is awfully significant. 
 
 " From the first of this affair, I have been hunted down with 
 blood-hound ferocity, by false witnesses, envy, malice and hate. 
 May God forgive all those who have sought my fall as freely as I 
 do ! Rather, far rather, aye ten thousand times rather had I stand 
 here to-day, their victim, than to live on, even for ages, with the 
 awful weight of agony, regret and remorse which time must and 
 will surely bring home to their hearts and consciences. 
 
 " But a few more words and I have done. Soon this heart shall 
 cease to beat and the tones of this voice be hushed, and the places 
 which have known me 'know me no more forever!' My place 
 by the side of my friends, of my mother and sister, my wife and 
 child, shall be left vacant, never more to be filled again on earth. 
 Be it so ! This solemn farce is over, this awful mockery is ended, 
 and I fall a victim to popular fury and rnobocracy ! The victim 
 stands before you ready to receive his sentence ; prepared for the 
 sacrifice / am ready ! Cut off in the morning of life, so early, 
 so unfortunately, so unjustly, with all so fair and bright before me, 
 with the future opening up so many sweet views and visions of joy 

 
 ADOLPHUS F. MONROE. 55 
 
 and happiness, peace, prosperity, fame and honor a happy hus- 
 band and a father I fall without a murmur ! The lamb is dumb 
 before the altar. I ask not your sympathy ; I need it not. 'T is 
 the sympathy of the tiger for his prey, of the wolf for the lamb 
 which he devours and 't is literally the sympathy of the mob for 
 their victim. 
 
 " Oh ! if there is any consolation in death after a calm heart, 
 clear conscience, faith and hope, 'tis the thought of leaving this 
 foul nest of liars and slanderers ! 'T is hard, it is true, to die so 
 young, so loving and beloved ! 'T is true, I had rather live, for 
 there are those whom 't is worse, far worse, and more bitter than 
 death itself to leave ; and I am no stoic ! Though calm, my 
 heart is sad, aye very sad ; sad for him who has gone before ; sad 
 for my friends, and sad for my own sad fate and early doom, so 
 undeserved ; and sad oh ! how sad ! for an old and infirm 
 mother, who leans upon me for support ; and sadder, far sadder 
 still, for my poor, broken-hearted, unhappy widowed wife and help- 
 less orphan child for her, my wife, with all her fond affections 
 crushed and bright hopes blasted for her ! in her sad and unfor- 
 tunate position and how sad and unfortunate her position is the 
 world may never know ; for, in the midst of her kindred, she is in 
 the midst of her foes ! For her, in her desolation and woe, my 
 heart bleeds, my spirit shrinks, and my head is bowed in grief to 
 the dust. 
 
 " But though my heart is sad, I stand here before you to-day 
 with no pale face of fear, no shrinking form of terror. This frail 
 body you may hew from the earth and trample upon my dust 
 when I am gone ; but my heart you can not change my soul you 
 can not reach ; my spirit you can not conquer ! Far better, and 
 higher, and holier men than I have fallen, and fallen far more 
 ignominiously and unjustly. Our Saviour died upon the cross, 
 and kings and princes have perished on the scaffold. I fall, but I 
 will fall proudly ! Strong in the conciousuess of my own inno. 
 cence, knowing the purity of my own motives and intentions, I 
 go with a calm heart and a firm and even soul to meet my 
 God! 
 
 " Across the dark waters of that mysterious stream which flows 
 between time and eternity, I will ' paddle ray own lone canoe,' to
 
 56 I>IFE AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 the unseen shores of that Great Beyond that dread unknown, 
 that awful world of the solemn hereafter, fully satisfied and believ- 
 ing that Ms shade, who has gone before, freed from the frailties of 
 human nature and the vail which darkens mortal eyes, will there 
 read my heart aright and be among the first to meet and extend to 
 me the hand of welcome in the spiritlaud ! 
 
 " You have rendered your verdict which posterity and heaven 
 shall sit upon and reverse. But from an earthly court and an 
 earthly tribunal, I appeal to that court and that tribunal before 
 which we all must one day appear ; and I summon you now to 
 meet me there, and answer each and all of you for this foul deed 
 of murder and wrong ! Before Him who sees the sparrow fall, 
 who numbers our hairs upon our heads ; before the Great Searcher 
 of human hearts and souls, we'll meet again ! To that tribunal 
 I now appeal to that tribunal, I am now going. That court must 
 soon pass upon my heart and deeds. But there, with God for my 
 judge, Christ for my advocate, and angels for my jurors, I have 
 nought to fear!" 
 
 Amazement must take possession of the mind of every reader, 
 when one by one the circumstances of this extraordinary affair are 
 developed. From the very beginning there seems to have been a 
 determination on the part of those who in the end participated in 
 the horrid tragedy about to be described, that neither the acquittal 
 of a jury nor the executive clemency should save the prisoner from 
 the bloody doom to which they intend to consign him. He was 
 not allowed to be present at the court of inquiry by which he was 
 formally committed to jail to await his trial. When restive at the 
 confinement to which he was subject, and asserting that no jury 
 could convict him of a capital offense, he asked a court to be called 
 that he might have a fair and impartial hearing, it was announced 
 to him in the most unmistakable manner that the mob had deter- 
 mined that he should not have a change of venue and that he 
 should not be acquitted ; that if he succeeded in procuring either 
 he should be instantaneously murdered. When the court met it 
 was filled with an excited and infuriated populace. Ropes, more 
 than one, had been prepared with which to hang him, provided 
 his application for a change of venue should prove successful.
 
 ADOLFHUS F. MONROE. 
 
 57 
 
 Overawed by the display and threats of this determination, what 
 could he, single and a prisoner, do against the crowd that stood 
 around him? He was compelled to submit and to suffer himself 
 to go through with the form of a trial which he new must result 
 in his conviction, rather than on the spot to be hanged by the 
 mob. "We have seen how this trial began, proceeded, and how it 
 has now concluded in a sentence of death against him. Few situ- 
 ations are entirely without hope. There opened up to him but 
 two prospects of escape from his unhappy situation. These were, 
 on the one hand, that the supreme court of the State might reverse 
 the sentence for irregularity in the proceedings and order a new 
 trial of his case ; or, if that should fail, that the Governor of the 
 State, upon a proper representation of the facts, could scarcely 
 refuse to pardon him, or, at least, delay the execution of the sen- 
 tence affording him thereby an opportunity more effectually to 
 make some shift to relieve himself entirely. 
 
 The first hope soon failed him, for on an application to the su- 
 preme court to reverse the sentence of the inferior one by which 
 he had been tried, it was refused. 
 
 The last hope was now in an application to the Governor. It 
 was made by the two persons who of all the inhabitants of earth 
 were fittest to present it the prisoner's mother and his wife. 
 The one, upon whose bosom he had slept in his innocent child- 
 hood ; and the other, who had folded him to her heart in the first 
 warm gush of womanhood, with the fond devotion of a young 
 and loving wife. The one pleaded for the son whom she had 
 hoped would be her staff in her declining years for whom she had 
 offered a thousand petitions, and whom, in the midst of his dark- 
 ness, she loved more fondly than ever ; and the other interceded 
 for the father of her child and the husband of her woman's heart. 
 Unmindful of the fact that all her kindred were arrayed against, 
 her, and that he for whose pardon she implored had been convicted 
 of the murder of her own father, she left nothing undone in behalf 
 of her husband and applied herself to his cause with unswerving 
 devotion. The darkest picture has some ray of light, and often, 
 in the darkest night, some bright star appears to tinge with silver 
 the edges of the cloud through which it breaks. How beautiful ! 
 how worthy of all admiration appears the devotion of this young
 
 58 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 and devoted woman ! Her love for her husband burns as brightly 
 as burns the lamp, which in some countries is lighted by love and 
 watched by memory above the tombs of departed friends ! 
 
 A respite was granted by the Governor who extended the time 
 of the execution from the 15th of February until the 15th of May. 
 
 No sooner had intelligence of this action on the part of the Gov- 
 ernor reached Charleston, than the community was thrown into 
 the wildest excitement. Threats were loud and furious. To an 
 observing man it was very apparent that the clemency of the 
 highest officer of the State found no response in the hearts of the 
 excited populace, and that the days of the prisoner were not only 
 numbered but that the number was fewer than those allowed by 
 the respite. 
 
 The end of this fearful affair was discribed, bv the messenger 
 
 ' / O 
 
 who was dispatched to Charleston with the respite, in a letter to 
 the Missouri Republican. Coming as it does from an individual 
 wholly impartial, it is supposed to be entirely worthy of credit and 
 is given in the writer's own language. The time referred to in the 
 first line being the 14th of February, 1856. 
 
 " About six o'clock crowds began coming in ; about four hun- 
 dred came in on the evening train, and about one thousand persons 
 in all were present. It was rumored that the prisoner would be 
 taken out that night and hung, but such was not the case. 
 
 "At an early hour next morning, Friday the 15th, the day 
 upon which Monroe was sentenced to be hung, crowds of people 
 were seen coming into Charleston in wagons, sleds, and by every 
 means of conveyance. In these crowds were women and children, 
 who were coming ' to see the fun,' as they said. 
 
 " At about 11 o'clock, it was estimated that four or five thou- 
 sand persons were present and assembled in and around the 
 square. At about 10 o'clock, I saw the crowd moving toward the 
 court-house, in the center of the square, where I learned that 
 speeches were to be made, and being desirous of hearing what 
 was said, I passed up and stood close to the stand to be occupied 
 by the speaker. 
 
 "A man named Cunningham, who it is understood is the ring- 
 leader of the mob, and who could control it as he desired, first 
 mounted the stand and spoke as follows:
 
 ADOLPHUS F. MONEOE. 59 
 
 " 'Fellow-citizens : I appear here as a friend of Ellington, and 
 to inform you that a respite has been granted by the Governor, 
 postponing the execution till the 15th of May. I have always had 
 respect for the law. I have consulted with some of old Nathan's 
 friends, and many of the citizens of Cole, upon the subject of 
 obeying the respite, and have come to the conclusion, upon reflec- 
 tion, to postpone the execution, until the time fixed upon by his 
 Excellency, upon the condition that the sheriff, who now stands 
 upon my left, will chain the prisoner down, and pledge himself 
 to be responsible for his safe keeping until the day fixed on by the 
 Governor for his execution, and that he shall be executed on that 
 day, notwithstanding his Excellency the Governor. (Loud and 
 long cheering.) I want the Governor to understand that we, the 
 people of Coles county, are competent to attend to our own 
 affairs, without his interference, and that we are determined he 
 shall not do as he previously did in a case above here. (Enthu- 
 siastic cheering.) I now move that we prepare resolutions and 
 get up a petition, the first giving our consent to the time fixed 
 upon by the Governor for his execution, and the second for the 
 purpose of contradicting the many misrepresentations and false- 
 hoods which have been sent to the Governor, upon which said 
 misrepresentations and falsehoods he granted the respite and to 
 request him to SHORTEN the time for hanging. 
 
 " ' Gentlemen, these are my views, and what I am willing to 
 submit to notwithstanding my intimate connection with the de- 
 ceased, upon the ground that the sheriff will pledge himself as a 
 man, and as sheriff of Coles county, to iron the prisoner, and that 
 he shall be executed on that day. (The sheriff, standing near him, 
 responded that he would.) 
 
 " 'Gentlemen, in saying what I have, I speak the sentiments 
 of some of old Nathan's friends with whom I have conversed to- 
 day, but only a part of them? 
 
 " After the speech of Cunningham, a man named McNary was 
 called upon who said, speaking of the prisoner, 'Take him out, 
 G d d-n him ; take him out and hang him !' 
 
 After the speeches of the above named men and others, the 
 court-house bell commenced ringing, which seemed to be a signal 
 for an attack on the jail. The mob, inflamed and excited by the
 
 60 LIFE AND WETTINGS OF 
 
 speeches they had heard, rushed en masse to the jail-yard, where, 
 yelling like demons let loose from the infernal region, they began to 
 make an attack on the north side of the jail. Some ten or fifteen 
 minutes after they had commenced the attack, the sheriff made his 
 appearance and addressed the mob for about two minutes, com- 
 manding them to desist, but made no appeal to the spectators 
 to assist him in enforcing the law. The sheriff then disappeared, 
 and made no further effort either to resist the mob or to protect the 
 
 v> 
 
 prisoner. 
 
 " The mob were about two hours in making a breach in the wall 
 of the jail. I think not more than ten or twelve men did the 
 actual work, but they were encouraged by a large portion of the 
 crowd, who used every means to keep up the excitement. During 
 all this time were heard the sounds of fife and drum amid the de- 
 moniac yells of the multitude. 
 
 " Several men who were placed in jail as a guard stood in the 
 open windows with guns in hand, and called upon the crowd to 
 assist in the work and to take the prisoner out and hang him. 
 Some of these men were placed there by the sheriff. The others 
 were placed there by other parties for the purpose of watching the 
 movements of the prisoner and preventing any escape. One man 
 displayed out of the window a portrait of Monroe's wife the 
 daughter of Ellington and called upon the crowd in a vehement 
 manner to behold the daughter of the father the prisoner had 
 murdered. It is proper here to state that Monroe's wife has always 
 sustained him in this dreadful affair. 
 
 " At times during the attack upon the jail, the excitement of the 
 mob would die away, and I have no doubt that had the sheriff, or 
 any other prominent citizen, made the effort, he might have suc- 
 ceeded in quelling the excitement and restoring order. 
 
 " I wish here to give the names of a few of those most promi- 
 nent in doing the work. Wm. Hart, grocery keeper, of Charles- 
 ton, principal actor in breaking the jail. This man worked at 
 times with an ax, sledge-hammer, crowbar, etc., and when he 
 would be exhausted he would call upon the crowd to come up and 
 assist him in taking vengeance. Solomon Corsel, said to be a 
 resident of Clark county, and Thomas and John Epperson were 
 said also to be the names of some of the workers. The name of
 
 ADOLPHUS F. MONROE. 61 
 
 the man who displayed the portrait is Dennis Bell. The names 
 of many others of the active participants it is said are known. 
 
 " When the breach was made large enough, the prisoner was 
 dragged through, badly bruised and insensible amid the deafening 
 shouts of* the mob, who immediately moved with him toward the 
 square, the fife and the drum in the mean time sounding. The 
 crowd pressed around and it would have been impossible to 
 know the position of the prisoner, had it not been designated by 
 one who carried a long staff. 
 
 "The mob then proceeded to the public square, with the inten- 
 tion of there hanging the prisoner, and thus completing the hellish 
 transaction ; but about this time I noticed a prominent citizen 
 edge his way through the crowd with the intention, as I supposed, 
 of addressing the mob, but in this I was disappointed. However 
 the mass commenced moving toward the square, and the cry im- 
 mediately arose, 'To the woods ! to the woods !' 
 
 "Immediately the mass moved with the prisoner to the woods. 
 After proceeding about half a mile southwest of the square an- 
 other halt was made, and those most active pressed the crowd back 
 and succeeded in making a ring in which some six or seven held 
 the prisoner. In the middle of the ring was a tree against which 
 a ladder was placed, on which a man ascended with an ax, with 
 which he trimmed off the smaller branches. The rope \vas now 
 made fast to the tree, and all things appeared ready for the black- 
 est outrage which has at any time been perpetrated by any people, 
 much less those who have claims to civilization. 
 
 " During all the time the prisoner appeared insensible of what 
 was going on, being unable to sustain himself alone. He ap- 
 peared like a man who had taken poisonous drugs which had 
 taken effect upon him. He did not seem to heed the crowd, but 
 would occasionally laugh in a wild and insane manner. 
 
 " All being now prepared for the execution of their purpose, 
 the mob seem for the first time to reflect upon what they were 
 about to do. All was silent, yet no one dared to assert the right 
 of the prisoner and the supremacy of the law: could such an 
 one have been found the dreadful end might have been avoided. 
 
 " Again the cry was raised, ' Take him back to jail !' ' Will you 
 hang a dead man ?' but some demon's voice was heard saying.
 
 62 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 ' You G d d-n cowards ! are you afraid to hang him after bring- 
 ing him here ?' The prisoner was now placed in a wagon under 
 the rope, and again the mob hesitated. It seemed that no one 
 could be found blood-thirsty enough to adjust the rope to his neck. 
 Finally, a tool in the hands of others by the name of Thomas 
 Fleming placed the rope around the prisoner's neck while others 
 held him up. The wagon was pulled away and the awful deed 
 accomplished, the victim as he hung not making the least struggle. 
 
 "Sickened and disgusted with the scene, I retired, and by the 
 next train left the town. I heard, on my return from Terre Haute, 
 that the body was taken down by the mob who had not yet satiated 
 their brutal vengeance and carried in a wagon twice round the 
 public square of the town as in triumph of their disgraceful deed. 
 Upon the appeal of the sister of Monroe his body was surrendered 
 to his friends for burial. 
 
 " Thus ended one of the most hellish outrages that ever dis- 
 graced Illinois. May its history never be marked by another. 
 
 " In addition to the above, we will add, that it can be proved 
 by two or more respectable citizens of Edgar county, as we are 
 informed, that previous to the trial of Monroe a man stated that 
 he wanted to get upon the jury for the purpose of hanging the 
 scoundrel (meaning Monroe) ; and it can also be proven that the 
 same man was on the jury ! It can also be proven that two, or 
 one, in particular, of the witnesses for the prosecution are men of 
 doubtful character, being professional blacklegs. 
 
 " It is not our present purpose to inquire whether Monroe had 
 the full benefit of the law whether he had a fair trial but it is 
 our purpose to inquire where were the men the prominent and 
 influential men of Coles county, that they should let such a damn- 
 able outrage blacken not only the town of Charleston, not only 
 Coles county, but cast a stain upon our whole State? 
 
 " "Where was the sheriff of Coles county, that he should not do 
 his duty and uphold the sanctity of the law ! that he should let a 
 mob murder a man in the broad light of day in this free and com- 
 mon country, without making scarcely the slightest resistance, 
 without calling upon the law-abiding people to assist him, when 
 his call would have been responded to by numbers ? 
 
 " We confess that in all the annals of barbaritv and crime we
 
 ADOLPHUS F. MONROE. 63 
 
 have never known of, never read of such inhuman brutality as has 
 recently been perpetrated in the hitherto fair county of Coles." 
 
 No comment upon this unvarnished narrative is necessary. The 
 wild excitement of the mob added to and supported by the sound 
 of martial music ; the inflammatory speeches of the mob orators, 
 who, while pretending to allay, really sought to increase the mad- 
 ness and ferocity of the crowd ; the display of Mrs. Monroe's por- 
 trait from the prison window ; the wild hurrah with which the brutal 
 industry of the assailants of the jail was kept alive and with which 
 their successful attempt was hailed ; the timidity, to say the least of 
 it, of the sheriff; the shrinking even of that crowd of blood-thirsty 
 men at the thought of the murder they were about to commit ; 
 their wavering and hesitation ; the prisoner's helplessness ; his 
 frantic appearance, and loud insane laugh ; the final and fearful 
 exclamation of that human fiend who called for his execution ; 
 the murdered man exhausted, fainting, and senseless before tho 
 knot was tied, and then dying without a struggle ; and then the 
 horrible and savage delight with which his lacerated body was 
 dragged about the public square what need is there to dwell 
 upon such sights as these ? Already is the mind of the reader 
 amazed that such a thing could be perpetrated in the midst of 
 civilized life, in this age of the world, and at the recital his heart 
 has sickened and his blood run fiercely through its channels. 
 
 He is now beyond the reach of human power. His soul has 
 returned to Him who gave it with its sins, we hope, in a great 
 measure expiated by the cruel ordeal by which it was released. 
 As in life he had retained through all variations of his checkered 
 fortunes the love of his wife and mother and of his sister and her 
 husband, so they were not unmindful of him in his death. With 
 broken hearts they took charge of his remains after the mob had 
 expended its fury upon them and bore them back to Kentucky. 
 There, amid the places which were so dear to him in youth, his 
 ashes await the general resurrection. Near the shores of the beau- 
 tiful stream which ever murmured in his ear when far away from 
 it, in a resting-place decorated in accordance with his own request, 
 he sleeps the sleep that knows no waking !
 
 64: LIFE AND WHITINGS OF 
 
 MY PKESENT POSITION AND ITS CAUSES. 
 
 ON the 12th of December, 1853, I was married to Miss Nannie 
 Ellington, much against the will of her mother, who was so bit- 
 terly opposed to our union that she threatened to turn her daugh- 
 ter out of doors, if I ever came there to see her ; so, of course, I 
 never visited the house. Her only cause of opposition and hatred 
 of rne was her inveterate dislike of all the Monroe family, and 
 no fault of mine ; and, strange as it may appear, I did not even 
 know her, and never saw her in my life, until I was introduced to 
 her by Nannie, to ask her consent to our marriage ; which she 
 ungraciously gave, for she could not help herself. Nannie was 
 determined, and her father willing, but she never forgave me, and 
 seemed determined, from the first, to produce a separation between 
 my wife and myself, for which end she labored unceasingly abus- 
 ing me continually, and begging Nannie to leave me, which, 
 though she failed to effect it, has at length ended in the present 
 unfortunate affair. May God forgive her ! 
 
 Ellington himself was a good man, and meant to do right; and, 
 but for her baneful influence, was my friend, and would have 
 treated me well ; but, misled by her and others, he became preju- 
 diced against me abused me and my mother very often in dis- 
 gusting terms, until, finally, on the 19th day of October last (1855), 
 lie gave me the lie, and struck me ; choking me back upon the 
 counter ; when I fired upon him striking him upon the top of 
 the head, but wounding him very slightly. He then threw me 
 upon the floor upon my face, all the while beating, gouging, and 
 choking me. He was a very large and stout man, able to handle 
 three or four men of my physical strength. I called upon the 
 crowd, several times, " to take him off," which they did not do, 
 and which he refused to let them do. I then, as my last resource, 
 to save my eyes, and to prevent being choked to death, shot him 
 again, which resulted in his death on October 27th, eight days 
 afterward. Had not John Eastin called out to Ellington to 
 "stamp him to death, d-n him," after I had told the crowd to 
 take him off, and had not Ellington refused to be taken off, I
 
 ADOLPHUS F. MONROE. 65 
 
 should not have shot the second time. I was arrested, and confined 
 here in prison. My wife was then forced to go to Ellington's for 
 a home, as I could no longer protect her, and she is now there, 
 almost as unhappily situated as myself, for she is abused and mis- 
 treated by her mother and her family, and not allowed to have any 
 correspondence with me, on pain of being turned out of doors ; 
 and, by her father's will, she is not an heir, unless she consents 
 never to see me again, and gets a divorce from me. Her only 
 resource is to accept a home there on any terms, as I am no longer 
 able to provide her one or protect her ; but she defies them to 
 force her to speak ill of me, to desert me, or suffer them to speak 
 of a divorce. My God ! I feel her sorrows more than I do my 
 own ! May good angels protect, and God forever bless thee, my 
 noble,, noble, wife ! 
 
 COPY OF A LETTEK 
 
 WRITTEN BY MONROE TO HIS WIFE, DATED NOVEMBER 12, 1855. 
 
 Nannie : Dear Nannie, my sweet, my noble wife, what mis- 
 fortunes have come upon us ; what a cruel fate is ours, rudely torn 
 asunder in the midst of joy and happiness, peace and love. 
 (Alas! we loved too well for this world too well to last!) Oh, 
 why should this sorrow have come upon us, at such a time, too, 
 when we were and could have been so happy together ; when you 
 had just proved your love to be as deep and devoted as my own ; 
 when you had just proved your love and truth by clinging to me, 
 even when discarded and disowned by your relations for so doing. 
 I never knew how happy I was until then, Nannie, for I never 
 knew before how much you loved me. I never knew how inex- 
 pressibly dear you were to me, until I thought I had lost you ; nor 
 can you ever know, until you know it in a better world than this, 
 how well I have loved you, how well I love you now. You are 
 all the world to me ; without you and my child, without you and 
 your love, I do not wish* to live. Oh! Nannie, when I have 
 seemed cold and harsh to you, it was only because I thought you
 
 66 LIFE AJSTD WRITINGS OF 
 
 
 
 ought to have had more confidence in me, and loved me better 
 than all the rest of the world. If you had resented it when your 
 friends insulted and abused me, I never would have doubted you, 
 but loved you all the better for it. It wounded me to think you 
 would allow them to persuade you to leave me. It wounded me to 
 the soul, and steeled my heart to hide all its love and tenderness 
 for you, though my proud heart was breaking then to own all my 
 love, and to know that you loved me as well. Oh ! Nannie, had 
 your relatives ever treated me kindly, even as a friend ; if I had 
 been welcome even in their house ; if they had shown but common 
 politeness toward me, I could have loved them for your sake, and 
 all would have been well now ; but, alas ! why I know not they 
 hated me from the first. You can bear me witness, Nannie, that 
 I never mistreated any of them, or gave them cause to abuse me. 
 Oh ! if your father and mother had come to me with kindness, I 
 would have done any thing on earth to please them, granted any 
 thing they asked, and done as they wished, to serve or please them. 
 If they had not said so much about their wealth, Nannie, and my 
 crime of being poor, but proud and independent ; if they had done 
 their duty to you as their daughter, and treated me well, at least, 
 for your sake ; then there would not have been any trouble, your 
 father would now be alive, and we living happily together. Do 
 not think I will justify my relations, Nannie, for they, too, have 
 been to blame ; we have all, no doubt, been more or less to blame. 
 I have been too proud and unbending, but you can not blame me, 
 Nannie, for refusing to let them give me any thing, after all they 
 said about me ; not only charging me with having married you 
 for their money, but, also, with being a spendthrift and a drunk- 
 ard ; and after thier begging you to leave me, oh ! why should they 
 thus have sought, not only to make my home unhappy, but, you, 
 too, miserable? Was this the province, the love and duty of 
 parents ? I know you do not and can not blame me, and if I had 
 acted otherwise you could not have respected me ; neither do I 
 blame your father as much as I do others. I never thought he 
 meant to do wrong bat, alas ! your mother and the town tattlers 
 completely poisoned his mind against me, and when you hear all, 
 you will not blame me, Nannie, for his death. As God is my 
 Judge, /did not bring on this sorrow. I wished to avoid it, but
 
 ADOLPHUS F. MONROE. 69 
 
 could not. I was forced into it, and acted only in self-defense to 
 the last. I am unfortunate, but not criminal ; unhappy, but guilty 
 of no crime but that the laws of God and man allow. No human 
 being can regret the sad termination of this affair more than I do. 
 It has surely brought more misery upon me and mine than any one 
 else. It has torn me from my wife and child whom I loved better 
 than life itself, and cast me into prison, where I may have to stay 
 until spring, if I do not die before of cold and exposure. Oh ! 
 Nannie, you can not imagine what a lamp it is, lighting up the 
 gloomy darkness of this dungeon, the thought that, though unfor- 
 tunate and suffering here, you are you will be true to me still ! 
 Now is the time, Nannie, in adversity, and trial, and trouble, for 
 a wife to prove her love and devotion, and nobly, my sweet wife, 
 have you stood the test ! May you be happy, Nannie ; may you 
 find others to love you half as well as I have done, and ever shall. 
 I want to see you and my child again. Surely your mother can 
 not prevent your coming to see me. Come, and let me know 
 what you intend to do, and what you wish. May God forever 
 bless you and my child. I will try and bear this sorrow for your 
 sakes. Farewell, until I see you again. May all good angels 
 
 comfort you. 
 
 Your unfortunate, but devoted husband, 
 
 A. F. MONKOE. 
 
 MY DESTINY. 
 
 " L'HOMME PROPOSE, ET DIEU DISPOSE." 
 
 Napoleon and Byron, two of the most gifted but unfortunate 
 men on earth, both believed in destiny, and both met a sad, strange 
 fate. Napoleon was the " child of destiny," and Byron the 
 " sensitive plant" of misfortune. I do not quote their examples 
 and sorrows to compare them with my own, but merely as a 
 proof that all, both great and small, high and low, rich and poor, 
 master and slave, king and subject, priest and laity, must sub- 
 mit, alike to fate, whose stern and irrevocable decrees, whether 
 for good or evil, surround, embrace, and encircle all, governing
 
 70 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 and controlling our lives and actions, from the cradle to the 
 grave. 
 
 My own life has been a curious, " a shifting scene," composed 
 of good and evil, smiles and tears ; always succeeding, and 
 always failing, too. My life has been of extremes. My hopes 
 and fears, thoughts and feelings, loves and hates, have always 
 been in extreme. My whole life, my fate is but an extreme one 
 way or other. I think, feel, act, and suffer in the extreme. Why 
 this is I know not, I only know the fact, but can not change my 
 nature. My good and ill luck in life, my fortunes and misfortunes, 
 have been a succession of extremes ; first extremely happy, and 
 then extremely miserable : one hour success, and hope and joy ; 
 the next, doubt, despair and ruin. Now all this, from every thing 
 I can see, I take to be FATE. My whole life has been what seems 
 an accident a succession of circumstances and accidents, call 
 them what you will, have made me what I am, deciding all I have 
 been, and may be hereafter, for " the end is not yet," and my fate 
 is not quite, though so nearly fulfilled. 
 
 SOLITUDE AND KEFLECTIONS. 
 
 Alone, here, shut up from the world, buried as it were in this 
 living tomb, in silence and solitude, I have at length found time 
 to look into my own heart and to know myself. Alas ! in this 
 secret examination of my own soul, I find much to deplore, much 
 to regret. Though deeply and bitterly wronged by my savage 
 mother-in-law, Ellington himself and family, I have not been 
 altogether blameless, myself. Ellington, I always thought and 
 still think, was a good and true man, and would but for his wife, 
 have done his duty to his daughter and to me. I think and believe 
 he meant to do right, but was led to wrong his better nature by 
 his wife and others. As to his wife, who has been the sole origin- 
 ator and cause of all this trouble and affliction, I have but little 
 to say, for words are vain and inadequate to express the foul de- 
 formity of a being so lost to humanity and heaven a blot upon
 
 ADOLPHUS F. MONROE. 71 
 
 her sex, and stain to the human race. Unnatural woman and un- 
 natural mother, God and her own conscience will haunt her, wring 
 her wretched heart, and sink her soul to perdition with speedy, 
 sure and dreadful vengeance. 
 
 Jim Ellington, with all the town tattlers, news-mongers, and 
 busy-bodies, I leave to his own reward. I (though provoked 
 beyond human endurance, and goaded beyond mortal forbearance 
 with petty annoyances and galling insults, particularly bitter and 
 wounding to my proud and sensitive soul, and warm, ardent, and 
 passionate nature), am not altogether blameless myself. I was 
 ever too impulsive and imprudent in my words and feelings. I 
 never could be a fawning sycophant or hypocrite. Had I pos- 
 sessed the power of cool and calculating worldly deceit and selfish- 
 ness, or been less open and frank in my nature I had not now 
 been here. Long before my marriage, I knew of the hatred and 
 opposition of my wife's relations to me, but fondly, vainly hoped 
 that time, and so close and dear a tie would soften their feelings 
 to kindness, if not to love, for Nannie's sake ; and, for her sake, 
 I should have borne more and longer than I did. I have been 
 too hasty to resent the injuries and wrongs they heaped upon me ; 
 I have been too proud and sensitive, too unbending and unforgiv- 
 ing, too ready to resent and return an insult. By prudence and 
 mildness, time and patience, I might have overcome their malice 
 and hatred ; but, alas ! though easy to be led by kindness, I never 
 could be driven. Nannie, though much to blame, was never 
 intentionally so ; young and inexperienced, she was too easily led 
 and influenced by others, though her very errors were but proofs 
 of her love and devotion for me. Of a warm and ardent temper- 
 ament, she loved me with all the fervor of her true and guileless 
 heart, with a depth and tenderness of affection, and an undying 
 devotion that few, very few men are blest with on this earth, even 
 in the best of wives. Forgive me, Nannie, oh! forgive me, if I 
 have sometimes seemed careless and indifferent to your fond and 
 tender caresses. If I have sometimes seemed cold and harsh in 
 my words and manner toward you, when troubled and oppressed 
 with the trials and cares of business ; it sprang not from any want 
 of love for you. Oh ! I was ever ready to share all my joys with 
 you, but hid my sorrows in my own bosom, that I might not give
 
 72 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 your gentle heart one useless pang. If I have not always s?town 
 and expressed that tenderness and affection which thy fond and 
 yearning heart exacted and required (women ever cherish and 
 remember the little tokens of love and regard more than we are 
 aware of), believe me, it was not because I did not know and 
 feel your worth and truth, or prized your affection. Ah ! forgive 
 me for any such apparent indifference. My heart was ever fond 
 and true as yours, and I was proud of and happy in your love. 
 Oh ! Nannie, I have been too much blessed in the possession of 
 you and your love, I fear, to be sufficiently grateful to Heaven for 
 all my happiness. "We never appreciate our greatest blessings as 
 we should until they are taken from us. I never knew how happy 
 I was in you and your love, or how much I loved you, until now 
 when I am torn from the rich blessings of home, of wife and child, 
 and all the fond endearments of mutual love and confidence. Oh! 
 Nannie, my heart is wrung to think that you must suffer for my 
 sake. May God grant to make you happy. 
 December 3, 1855. 
 
 FATE. 
 
 WE are creatures of circumstances, though, to some extent, we 
 are free agents, or seem so ; yet, " there is a destiny which shapes 
 our ends, rough hew them as we will." " IShomme propose, et 
 Dieu dispose" A thousand little circumstances over which we 
 have no control, and of which we frequently have no knowledge, 
 influence our actions and conduct, shape our thoughts and feel- 
 ings, and affect our whole lives ; thus forcing us to meet, make, and 
 fulfill our destiny. I have always been, more or less, a fatalist; 
 made such by the strange singularity and fatality of my own life 
 I will only speak of a few instances of my past life, since I first 
 came to Illinois ; of my course and the circumstances that led to 
 my present unfortunate position. 
 
 By an accident, very trifling in itself, I first was induced to 
 come to Charles town, Illinois. The morning after my arrival, 
 before making myself known to my relatives, I repaired to the
 
 ADOLPHUS F. MOKKOE. 73 
 
 barber-shop, in company with a man named David Hamlin, whose 
 acquaintance I then formed. While there, he exhibited to me a 
 miniature of a young lady, his cousin, he said, which he had 
 stolen from her, for mischief. I admired the picture very much, 
 and remarked that I had seen the original, as the face looked very 
 familiar to me ; but when he told me her name was Nannie El- 
 lington, I knew she was a stranger ; yet, I warned him laugh- 
 ingly, that if she was his " sweetheart," I was destined, I thought, 
 to marry her myself; that she was the first lady I had seen in 
 Charleston, and if I was half so well pleased with the rest of the 
 town, I certainly would make it my home for life. 
 
 One year from that time I had not met the original of the da- 
 guerreotype, and I was about to leave the State again forever, when 
 an accident happened, which forced me to prolong my stay another 
 year : I most strangely got into a difficulty with a man by the name 
 of Allen, and became entangled so in the meshes of the law, that 
 I was compelled to stay a year more than I had anticipated. By 
 accident I met and was introduced to the original of the daguerre- 
 otype. I was much pleased with her, and she seemed so with me. 
 She invited me to call and see her, which, for a long time I failed 
 to do. She sent me word, repeatedly, that she would be pleased 
 to have me call upon her. I finally went there, by accident, to a 
 party. By accident, I went alone, and by accident I was left alone 
 with her after the company had retired, and though with her but 
 a few moments became aware that I loved her, and was beloved in 
 return. By accident she first confessed her love, and I left her 
 engaged to be married to her, and proud and ha^py of my good 
 fortune. I met with many rivals, better known and wealthier and 
 more fortunate in the good will of "the old folks," but, thanks be 
 to the good faith and love of Nannie, I was the conqueror. We 
 were married but against the will of Nannie's mother, and of all 
 the town-tattlers, and match-makers. But, in spite of them all, 
 we lived happy, regardless of their envy and malice, until another 
 accident occurred with some of our friends (my wife and my re- 
 lations), which caused her mother to rage a-fresh against me; to 
 abuse me, and endeavor to effect a separation between myself and 
 Nannie. By a succession of accidents to aid her malice, she at 
 length brought about an inveterate hatred of her husband, family,
 
 74 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 and friends against me, but without effect, upon ray wife, at least, 
 though they nearly drove her to madness and me to desperation. 
 By an accident, James Ellington and Byrd Monroe quarreled, and 
 drew me into it. By an accident, I met Ellington, and we spoke 
 of his son's quarrel, and he being excited, abused and attacked 
 me ; when, in self-defense I shot him, from which he died. By 
 accidents and misconceptions the whole affair was brought on, 
 and, what seems stranger still, the night before the affair which 
 resulted in Ellington's death, and my arrest and committal here, 
 my wife dreamed that her father murdered me, and that he was 
 dead himself; and I dreamed three times, that some one told me 
 I was sleeping the last time with my wife ; and several expressed 
 fears that something sad would happen that day, so much so that 
 I promised Nannie to be on my guard, and to stay at home that 
 day, but, by accident, I was called away, and met with an accident 
 which has up to this time, and may forever prevent my return. 
 
 These are a few of the accidents and circumstances which have 
 produced all this past happiness and all this present misery. I 
 have loved my wife as man seldom loves woman, and I have been 
 blessed in her love beyond the common lot of man. We were 
 very happy ; we are now as miserable. Whether it may be per- 
 mitted by fate for us to ever be happy again together, I know not. 
 I can only hope for the best, and leave our cause in the hands of 
 heaven. 
 
 December 3, 1855. 
 
 MY JEWELS. 
 
 I HAD a jewel a rich and noble jewel bright, brilliant, and 
 beautiful, with a few slight spots upon its surface, which seemed 
 but to increase rather than diminish its beauty and worth ; and I 
 loved it with a miser's love. It was the joy of my heart, the light 
 of my life, and the pride of my soul. It was my beacon-star of 
 hope and love. Day by day I wore it on my bosom, proud of its 
 sweet luster and beauty, and blessed in its untold worth ; and 
 night by night I pressed it to my^heart, and kissed it o'er and o'er 
 again, blessed, beyond expression, in every mutual caress, and
 
 ADOLPIIUS F. MONROE. 75 
 
 fond and tender glance of its soft, sweet, and love-lit eyes ; while 
 its rosy cheeks were suffused with the bright blushes of modesty 
 and love, and its ripe, red lips were glued to mine in long and 
 lingering kisses of rapture and bliss. Oh ! I was never weary of 
 loving and caressing my jewel, my own, my beautiful ! 
 
 Upon its bosom there grew a pearl, a sweet and tiny gem ; 
 bright and lovely as angel's eyes, and I was wild with the thrilling 
 excess of love, and joy, and happiness. Alas! I fear I worshiped 
 them more than I did my God, for soon, oh! how soon, were 
 they torn from me by the cruel, envious hands of FATE. By the 
 stern decree of destiny, in one day, in one hour, I lost my all, my 
 gem and jewel, my fortune and my liberty. 
 
 That jewel was my wife ; that gem was my child! Oh ! God, 
 grant, in mercy grant, that they may once more be mine again. 
 
 December 5, 1855. 
 
 k ? ?;* J 
 
 LIFE. 
 
 .-]ft 'Mf-l - 
 
 I SAW a youth wandering upon the shores of time; restless 
 and weary h.e seemed, straying hither and thither, as if he sought 
 to drown his soul's unrest in search of pleasure, or new and dan- 
 gerous adventures. Sometimes he would suddenly start forward 
 with rapid, hasty steps, as if in pursuit of a fair and fleeting form, 
 which seemed fading forever in the dim distance far before him ; 
 then pausing again, he would look back upon the path he had just 
 traveled, back upon the past as if in sorrow and regret ; then turn, 
 and with eager, anxious steps haste forward again, as if to catch 
 the object of his vain pursuit, till wearied at length with disap- 
 pointment and fatigue, he sank upon the earth, and gave vent to 
 his sad complainings : 
 
 "Oh ! why," he murmured, " are our hopes to be thus forever 
 cheated ? Why should man be thus forever doomed to pursue the 
 false and fleeting form and airy phantom of happiness, which ever 
 eludes his grasp ? Oh ! that some good spirit would but teach me 
 how to secure this prize, and set my weary soul at rest!" 
 
 Immediately, as if at his invocation, three forms appeared. At
 
 76 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 MB right hand stood a bright and glorious presence ; at his left a 
 dark and shadowy outline of an evil, shrinking form ; in front an 
 old man of venerable form and appearance. The latter gazed 
 with pitying eye upon the restless, wearied youth, and thus ad- 
 dressed him: 
 
 " Alas ! my friend, it is not ours to give what thou requirest. 
 We can but place the means before thee. It is the province of 
 these spirits on thine either side to make or mar. They are the 
 guardians of thy fate, the angels of thy destiny. The angel upon 
 thy right of such celestial light and heavenly form, is thy guardian 
 angel, who is ever by thy side to appeal to thy better nature, and to 
 whisper sweet words of hope and truth within thine ear, ever coun- 
 seling thee to thine own good. Listen, oh ! listen to that ' still, 
 small voice.' 'T will lead thee to do good ; and to do good is to 
 be happy. That upon thine left, that dim, and dark, and shadowy 
 form, is thy evil spirit, who appeals to thy passions, to thy impa- 
 tient desires and imaginings. Oh ! beware of the charms thou 
 wilt meet in its siren voice and fatal power 1 Be wise, and learn, 
 and know thyself. Be temperate and moderate in all things. 
 Have forbearance and kindness for other's faults. Judge not par- 
 tially. Consider thyself. Have ' Faith, and Hope, and Charity.' 
 Govern thy passions. Love thy neighbor as thyself. Be slow to 
 anger slow to resent and punish quick to forgive and forget, 
 and thou wilt be happy and at length find that for which thou 
 longeth, peace and rest. Peace is happiness, and rest is peace. 
 The grave, too, is rest, but rest is also beyond the grave ; beyond 
 time and death the boon of eternity." 
 
 "When he had finished speaking, the old man's form vanished 
 away into airy nothingness, and the seeker after happiness pursued 
 his life-march, attended by his two angels. 
 
 Oh ! how I longed to lay down my mortality and put on my 
 immortality, and in the quietude of the grave forget my troubles 
 and persecutions. When, oh! when shall my "weary spirit flee 
 away and be at rest ?" 
 
 How forcibly I can feel the Psalmist's wail : "I am sick at heart ; 
 my soul is weak ; the flesh is strong, but now subdued." I am 
 weary, weary of life and hope, of doubt and fear, and, oh ! how I 
 long for death.
 
 ADOLPHDS F. MONROE. 77 
 
 A DARKER VIEW OF HUMAN NATURE. 
 
 NANNIE, my wife, has herself caused, in a great measure, the 
 unfortunate event so lately enacted, and to a great extent has 
 brought on all these misfortunes. She from the first time I ever 
 met her, loved me loved me well and truly, so much so that she 
 first declared her passion ; and this devotion and excess of love 
 on her part first caused me to propose and resolve to make her 
 mine. Willful and obstinate, warm and passionate, she braved 
 her relatives' opposition, and loved me, I think, the better for it ; 
 met me often, and, finally, married me against their will. She 
 was ever fond and tender in her love for me, and like all of her dis- 
 position, very exacting and requiring in the due and full return 
 of her own warmth and tenderness. I was ever careless of out- 
 side show, and though I loved Nannie with all my heart and soul, 
 I fear I never was, at least not always, as considerate and careful 
 to show it, or to return her own quick advances and warm endear- 
 ments, as I should have been. My heart reproves me, now, for 
 not noticing or returning her tender words and fond caresses, with 
 which she met me ever, even when absent only an hour. Often, 
 when oppressed with business and care, and harassed by the malice 
 of her own relations, I have went home to my meals unfit to 
 notice or return the fondness of her welcome and the tenderness 
 of her caresses ; and though my heart was sensible of and grate- 
 ful for all, yet, I fear, I often seemed to her fond exacting heart, 
 indifferent and cold. Before my marriage I was a sad rake, court- 
 ing and engaging myself to every girl I met. This Nannie knew, 
 and, after I told her all my follies, I was too confident and secure 
 in her love and devotion to me, and of my own power, to be 
 strictly just to her and myself. I knew her love and confidence in 
 me so well, that I fear I sometimes abused both. There was one 
 of my amorous engagements (the last, I believe, before my mar- 
 riage, and of which I fully informed her, before and after we were 
 married), in which I now believe I did wrong. I allude to my 
 
 engagement to . After I was married, for a long time, I 
 
 foolishly kept up my flirtation with ; and that, with my
 
 78 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 frequent carelessness, coldness and indifference to Nannie, now 
 makes me feel that I wronged, grossly wronged and outraged her 
 trust in me. 
 
 She would willingly have sacrificed family, friends, and all the 
 endearing and hallowed associations that lingered around her 
 childhood's home, and been more than compensated aye, per- 
 fectly happy in my love. But I was goaded to madness by the 
 treatment and insults I ever and continually received at the hands 
 of the Ellingtons, and, finally, give way to my long pent feelings 
 of indignation I began to return insult for insult. My poor Nan- 
 nie, who had of late grown somewhat jealous and doubtful of my 
 love, for which her sweet heart was always yearning and only re- 
 quired, was, by these doiibts and yearnings, very uneasy and dis- 
 satisfied, and often complained to them of my apparent coldness 
 and indifference, and often complained to me of the treatment 
 she experienced from her family (only seeking to find if I truly 
 loved her). Encouraged by these things, her mother became 
 bolder in her abuse of me, and openly begged Nannie to leave 
 me. She came to my house quarreled with my mother ordered 
 her, my mother, out of my own house and then came to my 
 house again to beg Nannie to leave me ; accusing me of having 
 married Nannie for her money / that she (Mrs. Ellington) had 
 never liked me ; and that I was a spendthrift and a drunkard, and 
 that if they ever gave me any thing I would spend it for whisky, 
 etc., against all of which accusations my soul rose up in arms. I 
 then ordered Mrs. Ellington and my own mother (oh ! God, for- 
 give me for that last !) never to come to my house again, unless they 
 could come in peace and kindness toward Nannie and I. Satisfied 
 I was is in the right, I resolved and swore never to receive any 
 thing from my wife's parents, since they had charged me with 
 such baseness, and publicly declared they never would give Nan- 
 nie any thing unless she would leave me. I then refused to let 
 Nannie visit them, thinking it best and not right that she would 
 desire to visit a house where I was abused so much, and not wel- 
 comed to, even as a son-in-law, and maddened, too, to find that 
 she did not resent their insults, as I thought she ought to do. 
 
 Ellington about this time, refused to pay for a set of china which 
 they had presented to Nannie when we were first married, and 
 sent and took away a cow which had been given her, and treated 
 me and my mother very harshly. He was led to act thus, no 
 doubt, by his wife, and the many tattlers who were striving to in- 
 crease the flame. I had always liked Nannie's father, and loved 
 him, too, for he was a good man, deserving of any one's love ; but 
 this last was too much, more than I could bear, and I became 
 enraged, and made Nannie return all and every thing which they
 
 ADOLPHUS F. MONKOE. 79 
 
 had given her ; and then all was explained between us, and I 
 verily believe we loved each other better, and were happier in 
 each other's love, than if nothing had ever transpired to mar our 
 peace. But, alas ! this peace and happiness were not to last. El- 
 lington, driven on by his unnatural wife, still pursued me, till the 
 difficulty which ended in his death and my imprisonment occurred, 
 for all of which Mrs. Ellington must one day answer before God ! 
 for, verily, but for her, and her hatred and insane abuse of me, all 
 this sorrow had never been. I believe Ellington meant well, and 
 would if left to himself, have done right ; but, driven on by his 
 wife and a thousand busy tattlers, he abused me I resented he 
 attacked me I defended myself, and his death and my incarcera- 
 tion were the consequences. Oh ! let parents, by all these warn- 
 ings and misfortunes, learn to use more charity and kindness 
 toward their children, and never oppose, to such excess, their free 
 and settled choice. How much, oh ! how much misery have such 
 family jars and disturbances brought on, when all might have 
 been peace and happiness ! But for this unjust hatred and abuse 
 of me by Mrs. Ellington, Nannie and I would have been happy 
 still, and Ellington alive. 
 
 After my arrest and commitment, and Ellington's death, Nan- 
 nie was left without a home or protector. By her father's will she 
 was disinherited unless she procured a divorce from me. She 
 was not suffered to stay in her mother's house, except upon condi- 
 tion of never seeing me again. I was committed to jail, without 
 bail, charged with murder, and the whole community excited 
 against me, and nothing, apparently, to hope, but that I would be 
 sent to the penitentiary. What could Nannie then do alone, 
 friendless, and helpless, as she was with no home to go to? She 
 was forced to accede to their wishes, and accept a home with 
 them upon their own terms. 
 
 [ In the following paper will be found Monroe's version of the 
 killing of his father-in-law. The paper, as originally written, 
 contains nothing valuable save what we have extracted. It is a 
 letter to his wife, filled with requests, and expressions of endear- 
 ment, and valuable only to her. He conceived it but a simple act 
 of justice due to his wife that he should state the truth, the whole 
 truth, and nothing but the truth to her, in regard to the killing of 
 her father. It is needless to state that the important features in 
 the case, as stated below, are fully corroborated by the evidence 
 deduced at the trial in which he was convicted. EDITOR.]
 
 80 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 A STATEMENT OF FACTS. 
 
 IN justice to myself, Nannie, as due to you, I feel called upon to 
 narrate the true circumstances of this last sad affair. They are 
 these : 
 
 On the night of the 18th of October, Byrd Monroe came to me 
 very much excited (having already sent Howlett to me), and re- 
 quested me to go with him, as he had just had a difficulty with 
 James Ellington, in which he (James E..) had said your father 
 had given him (Byrd Monroe) and me the lie. I went with him, 
 but in good humor. "We did not find your father, but he and Jim 
 quarreled again ; in which I took no part, but laughed at them ; 
 only at the last I told Jim that if his father or any one else gave 
 me the lie, I would then tell them they lied. We parted, and I 
 came home and narrated to you all that occurred, as you will re- 
 member, and I also promised you I would not have a difficulty 
 with any of them, if I could help it, unless I was attacked ; and 
 that I only asked, as I had ever done, to let me alone. The next 
 morning I met your father accidentally in the street, and the affair 
 of the night before was mentioned. I told him that I had nothing 
 to do with it, and that I had been sent for and dragged into it, and 
 that Jim had said that Tie had accused me of lying. He then 
 gave me the lie, and offered to strike me with his cane. I drew 
 back, and told him not to strike me. He then proposed and in- 
 sisted that I should accompany him to Byrd Monroe's. I went with 
 him to the store, but Byrd was not there. I then asked him why 
 he should blame me for all that others said ; that if, as he said, 
 Byrd and John Monroe lied, let it be with him and them, and not 
 blame me for all; that /had nothing to do with it that I knew 
 and cared nothing about it, nor did I see any good reason why I 
 should be dragged into it. He then said I had told forty lies, to 
 which I, of course, gave the lie. He tlien struck me twice, and 
 choked me back upon the counter, when I shot at him, the ball 
 just grazing the temple. He then threw me on the floor and 
 jumped upon me, choking, beating and gouging me. I called 
 upon the crowd to take him off. John Eastin called out, " D n 
 him, stamp him to death :" and he refused to be taken off, saying 
 he wanted to kill me. What was I to do ? I could not submit to 
 be beaten to death, or have my eyes gouged out ; and then, as my 
 dernier resort, I fired again ; which shot, alas ! proved fatal. We 
 were then separated, but too late. If John Eastin had not told 
 him to kill me, and they had taken him off when I called upon 
 them, all would have been well. But what else could I have 
 done? He was a strong and powerful man; I was small and
 
 
 ADOLPHUS F. MONROE. 81 
 
 weak in physical strength. I did not wish to hurt him, nor would 
 I have harmed a hair of his head, but to save myself. I acted in 
 self-defense to the last. I always liked your father, and thought 
 him one of the best men in the world, until he was misguided 
 and prejudiced against me, and abused and insulted me ; and even 
 then I did not censure him so much as I did others. It is not ne- 
 cessary for me to speak of what has previously passed. That you 
 already know, and how much I had to bear ; and if I did do wrong, 
 't was by returning defiance and contempt, insult and abuse, with 
 prompt resentment. For your sake, I should have borne more ; 
 but who is perfect ? As to the threats which I hear so much said 
 about, I never made any more than you know, which was to de- 
 fend myself if they attacked me, as I heard so often they intended 
 to do. But I am here and can not help myself, and so, of course, 
 many lies and much abuse will be heaped upon me. 
 
 A REQUEST. 
 
 NANNIE, I am no religious bigot, no canting hypocrite. I 
 despise, heartily despise the hollow, disgusting mummeries of all 
 the reverend fools, and the whole sanctimonious crew. I despise 
 them all there's no religion in them ; but, still, Nannie, I am, or 
 hope I am, a Christian my heart tells me I arn. God does not re- 
 quire loud, open, public professions from the street corners and the 
 house-tops, but daily, hourly love and worship, and pleasing to 
 Him is the closet Christian. Long faces and prayers, hollow 
 voices and sanctimonious airs, make up the sum of worldly reli- 
 gion. But the true Christian believes in his heart, and worships 
 in silence, practicing ' Faith, Hope, and Charity.' 
 
 "Believe and you shall be saved." "Thou shalt be buried 
 with me in baptism." " By the Holy Spirit and by water ye are 
 born again." 
 
 My request is, Nannie, that you will be baptised, and that by 
 immersion. I do not ask you to join any church I do not care 
 whether you do or not ; nor, if you do, which one, so you will be 
 baptised, for I know you believe, is all I ask. I hope we shall 
 meet again, in a better land. But, at least, there's no promise 
 to those who do not believe, and are not baptised. This is a 
 simple request, Nannie, and it may be simple in me to make it: 
 yet, I hope, you will do what I ask be baptised by immersion. 
 
 DOLPII.
 
 82 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 LEAVING HOME. 
 
 A LEAF FROM A YOUNG MAN 5 S DAIRY. 
 
 ONE glorious evening, in November, 1851, 1 strolled away from 
 
 the little town of , in the State of Kentucky. Passing 
 
 through " Beech Grove," I spent an hour or more in tracing out 
 the initials of the many names engraven upon the smooth bark of 
 the majestic beech, seemingly of a century's growth, and towering 
 to the skies. Oh ! if you are a lover of nature, of the sublime and 
 beautiful, go seek its shades and spend an hour in rambling there, 
 and deem yourself a happy man if you should chance to meet 
 with the fair maid of "Beech Grove." Passing thence and taking 
 my way along the clear, silvery Licking, I soon found myself 
 seated upon a knoll in the center of a fairy little isle, not far from 
 town. 'T was that loveliest of all lovely seasons, Indian Summer ; 
 though somewhat sad and melancholy, I love it well. 'T is my 
 favorite season. There is something so exquisitely sweet, so touch- 
 ingly beautiful in it to me, like the sad sweet expression of sorrow 
 upon the brow of youth, as if the spirit of summer was hovering 
 over hill and dale and sighing o'er the stream and through the 
 bowers, taking a last farewell of every tree and flower, and linger- 
 ing long, as a bride lingers to take a last fond look at her many 
 charms, ere she resigns them into the rude arms of the stem old 
 winter. 
 
 The air was soft, warm and balmy every gentle zephyr's breath 
 that kissed my flushed cheek, or fanned my feverish brow, came 
 laden with the fragrance of a thousand flowers. The golden eye 
 of day was fast closing upon the scene ; his last bright glance lay 
 lingering upon the hill and stream in softened radiance. The sky 
 was clear, save one snowy cloud, mirrored like an isle of light in 
 the blue unfathomable depth of Heaven, touched and tipped by the 
 rays of the setting sun, with crimson and gold, till it looked like 
 some bright seraph's car. 
 
 All was calm and peaceful as an infant's dream ; not a sound 
 disturbed the sweet and soothing influence of the scene, but the 
 warbling of the birds in the trees, and the low, soft murmuring 
 of the stream as its waves rolled in silver brightness at my feet. 
 Just at this time, I was aroused from my revery by that strange and 
 indiscribable feeling of restless uneasiness, by which the mind, 
 without the aid of any of the senses, becomes aware of the pre- 
 sence of another. Looking up, I observed a young man appa- 
 rently some twenty -two or three years of age, walking slowly toward 
 me, from the other extremity of the island. He was too deeply 
 absorbed in his thoughts, apparently not of the most pleasant char
 
 ADOLPHU8 F. MONROE. 83 
 
 acter, to perceive ine. He advanced within a few feet of the 
 knoll where I sat, and threw himself, with a deep sigh, at the foot 
 of a large hawthorn tree. 
 
 Strangely interested in spite of myself, I remained still and 
 motionless, gazing upon his sad pale face and dejected air ; and thus 
 became an unwilling listener to his meditations, which were uttered 
 aloud in a sad and earnest tone of voice : 
 
 " Here, in this lone little isle, cut off as it were and shut out 
 from the world, I seat myself again, and perhaps for the last time, 
 at the foot of this tree, to recall many former visits here, with a 
 lovely companion, who had an eye to see, a heart to feel and a 
 mind to appreciate all the magic beauty of this lone little spot. 
 Oft, at evening, have I wandered here with my book and flute, to 
 enjoy the cairn serenity of the scene, reading, musing and playing 
 all my favorite airs, till wearied, I have laid them aside to listen 
 to the more tuneful melody of nature's own sweet choir of feathered 
 songsters in the grove ; and soothed into forgetfulness of the 
 world and all its cares, I have fallen asleep, while visions, sweet 
 as ever visited our first parents in the garden of Eden, hovered 
 over me. 
 
 "Here, the young and pleasure seeking folk of hold all 
 
 their pleasant gatherings. Here, the first of May last, was as- 
 sembled a joyous party of ' beautiful women and brave men,' and 
 a fairer scene never met the eye or made the heart glad ; there 
 were music and dancing, strolling and promenading, while some 
 were reclining in listless repose upon the velvet-like sward ; there 
 was the clear, ringing laugh of merry maidens, sweet as the 
 echoes of a silver bugle ; there was some flirting, a little coquetting, 
 and much down right courting, done that day ; there were whisper- 
 ing and blushing, ogling of eyes and squeezing of hands, all sea- 
 soned with the most delicate refreshments and generous wines. I 
 never can forget that scene, so bright, so full of joy. If I should 
 live on for ages, till the last day beams upon the world, 't would 
 still recall some of the sweetest memories of life. But, oh! 
 how changed is every thing here, now. The verdant bloom 
 of spring has given place to the sear and faded leaf of au- 
 tumn, that slowly, gently, and silently falls at my feet ; so pass 
 away the generations of the sons of men. Oh ! where are all the 
 
 freen trees and the clustering vines, and fragrant, bright hued 
 owers those beautiful beds of blue-bells, violets, cowslips and 
 water-lilies, so lately springing up on every side, filling the air 
 with their perfume, waving gracefully in the breeze, and bowing, 
 as if in mock civility, to their own fair images reflected in the 
 bright waters beneath ? They are gone all gone. Even the pure 
 limpid stream that went rippling by so gaily, and laughing in the' 
 sun, seems sorrowing for its faded beauties, and goes moaning by
 
 84 LIFE AND WKITINGS OF 
 
 as if in grief- weeping for the sunny month and sky of May. Sit- 
 ting here and pondering on the joys of that bright scene, I imagine 
 I can almost hear the sound of their busy, tramping feet, and the 
 familiar tones of tkeir merry voices, borne upon the gentle breeze, 
 while I hold my breath and listen close, to catch the whispering 
 tones, the low remark, and soft reply. 
 
 " Here we spread the feast, and here sat two youthful forms, 
 whose young hearts had just awakened to the first soft touch of loye ; 
 and here upon this bright spot, so thickly carpeted with grass and 
 flowers, we danced away the rosy hours. Methinks I can see 
 them now those sylph-like forms gliding gracefully through the 
 mazes of the dance. Here stood my dearest friend, besides his 
 lovely partner, while, opposite, I stood by the side of her fair 
 sister, just budding into womanhood, though still retaining all the 
 sweet and artless grace and simplicity of the child which like 
 the opening bud, is sweeter far than the full blown rose. Here, 
 with speaking eyes, glowing cheeks and heaving bosom, I first 
 vainly tried to tell my love. 
 
 " But, why dwell upon the scenes ? 'T is past, and never more, 
 perchance, will I see another so bright, or mingle again with so 
 many of the early friends of my youth. But a few short months 
 have passed away since then, and they all are gone, while I sit 
 here in sadness and alone, and the unavailing tears steel down my 
 cheeks, all unheeded, and the wailing wind bears away each heav- 
 ing sigh of grief. Ah ! where are all of the fair forms and warm 
 hearts and angel faces, that hallowed this spot, that day? They 
 have all long since dispersed to their homes and avocations. 
 Many a long and weary mile intervenes now, between hearts so 
 closely united there in the bonds of friendship and love. Some 
 have sought the busy haunts of the crowded metropolis some are 
 at the bar some in the pulpit, and some, perchance, have sought, 
 (as I am about to do) the distant West to build up a home in its 
 wilds. This spot is sacred to me. It is hallowed by a thousand 
 sweet associations of the past. Here I have wiled away many an 
 hour in sweet converse and social intercourse with those I love. 
 But alas ! in a little while a few hours at most I must leave my 
 boyhood's home and all these scenes so clear, to see them again, 
 perchance, no more forever. May we all meet again, a happier 
 company, midst brighter scenes, in a better world than this ; and 
 now, while pure thoughts and holy feelings come over me, let me 
 kneel with full heart and streaming eyes, to pour out my soul in 
 prayer." 
 ****** 
 
 An hour later, I stood upon the thronged wharf where hundreds 
 were assembled to see the mighty vessel cut her way through the 
 trackless water. On she came like a thing of evil, belching forth
 
 ADOLPHUS F. MONROE. 85 
 
 fire and sinoke, leaving a glittering sheet of foam in her wake, and 
 rounding-to with a shrill scream that would seem startle the spirit 
 of the dead. Then, for the first time, I observed a group gathered 
 around the same youth, whose meditations I had overheard ; 
 scores of old acquaintances and friends and youthful associates, 
 were pressing eagerly forward to bid him farewell while one, a 
 tall graceful looking girl, apart from the rest, stood timidly back, 
 with clenched hands, pale face and tearful eyes, gazing fondly 
 upon him. Hastily bidding them all farewell, and brushing the 
 tears from his eyes, he wrung his mother's hand, kissed her pale 
 cheek, dashed down the steep bank and sprang aboard. Then, 
 stationing himself upon the hurricane deck, he took a last fond 
 look upon all his heart held dear his boyhood home. With 
 another shrill yell, warning all to get aboard, she glided swiftly 
 away, and was soon lost to view behind a neighboring bend; 
 bearing him on to his new home in the "far West," where we 
 may, perchance, some time follow him in his future career. As 
 the vessel passed out of sight, many a white handkerchief was 
 waved from the shore, to that lone form, with many a heartfelt; 
 wish of kindness and sympathy ; but the mother's eyes were raised 
 to Heaven, and her lips moved as if in prayer ; her eyes were 
 tearless, but a deep and settled agony was stamped upon her pale 
 and care-worn features. Slowly, with bent form and tottering 
 steps, and lingering looks, she turned to seek what now must 
 seem the deserted walks of home. 
 
 THOUGHTS OF DEATH. 
 
 " To think of summers yet to come, 
 
 That I am not to see ; 
 To think of flowers yet to bloom 
 
 From dust that I shall he." 
 
 The above beautiful lines will express the feelings in which we 
 all, more or less, indulge when contemplating our final end. 
 Death the common lot of all ; none, great or small, high or 
 low, rich or poor, but must sooner or later bow alike to thy dread 
 scepter. Oh! Death! truly "in the midst of life, we are in 
 death." Every breath brings us but nearer to the tomb, and 
 proves, at the same time, the funeral knell of some departing 
 spirit. After the few brief days of our short lives have passed 
 away in turmoil and in strife, we turn away, sick at heart, to go 
 and dwell in the silent city of death, and there find, beneath the 
 sod, the rest we can not find on earth. Quietly do the eternal 
 sleepers rest on their sepulchral couches. There is no strife, no 
 vain distinctions there. The prince and peasant, master and 

 
 86 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 slave, lie moldering together generation after generaton is 
 brought and laid by their side the vain and pompous inscription 
 on their monumental marble, tells of the centuries that have 
 passed away ; but the dead observe it not ; all is unheard and 
 unseen by them ; the busy world of life goes on above them, but 
 they hear it not ; the sound of joy, or the sigh of grief, the voice 
 of song, or the wail of despair, breaks not the solemn stillness 
 which reigns in the silent city. The deep-toned bay of the watch- 
 dog, the cannon's awful roar, or the thunder's rolling might, 
 
 " No more disturbs the deep repose, 
 Than summer evening's latest sigh 
 "That shuts the rose." 
 
 Even now, while writing, the solemn- knell of the tolling bell 
 strikes mournfully upon my ear, and she, who was but yesterday 
 the light and joy of the social circle in which she moved, and the 
 home she made so blest and happy, is borne to her last resting- 
 place. 
 
 Oh ! in youth, when the heart beats high with hope and we are 
 looking forward to the future with bright anticipations of joy and 
 happiness, how unwelcome comes thy summons, oh, Death ! yet 
 't is ever thus. The loveliest of our race the soonest pass away, 
 and life seems but a waking dream like the morning mist or the 
 early dew, they pass from earth to Heaven. 
 
 In middle age, 't is yet the same. The spoiler comes and finds 
 us, perchance, surrounded by a blooming family, in all the enjoy- 
 ments of mutual love, and the endearments of connubial bliss, 
 and whether he strikes ourself, the wife of our bosom or the cherub 
 at her breast, the stroke is equally severe. 
 
 Even old age, dark and unlovely as it is, shrinks from death 
 and would gladly stay yet a little while longer. "We all dread to 
 die we all cling to life and shudder to think of thee, insatiate 
 Grave ! But oh ! how dark and drear must be the gloom that 
 overspreads the lost and hopeless sinner's soul, when death has 
 summoned him hence and is about to depart on that long journey, 
 to try the realities of the unknown future, to meet the Great Judge, 
 face to face ! All has failed him now. All that he has set his 
 heart upon and clung to through life alas ! what are they now ? 
 "What can wealth, and rank, and power, avail him ? He sees, he 
 he feels, that all is vanity. Oh ! what would he not give to live 
 his short life over again 2 How differently would he live it ? The 
 earth, the beautiful earth, with all its joys, all its blessings, is fast 
 fading from his view. What arc all his idols now? ' He- must die 
 and leave them. And oh ! worse than all, he feels that he must 
 stand condemned before the judgment-seat of an offended 'God ! 
 Oh ! how he longs for one of his many misspent hours, in which he
 
 ADOLPIIUS F. MONROE. 87 
 
 might repent in which he might make a covenant of peace with 
 Heaven ! 
 
 How differently does the Christian die ? How calm his look, 
 how sweet his smile, while his spirit is passing away. To him 
 the grave hath no terrors, death no sting ; he knows that his Re- 
 deemer liveth, and that He will accompany him through the dark 
 valley and shadow of death ; that He will go with him into the 
 narrow bounds of the cold and dreary tomb, to bring him forth 
 again and clothe him in the bright and glorious robes of blissful 
 immortality, and place upon his brow the crown of eternal life. 
 How exultingly can the dying Christian sing, as he faces the dread 
 "King of Terrors," 
 
 " Oh, Grave ! where is thy victory ! 
 Oh, Death ! where is thy sting ?" 
 
 He knows that his body must die and be laid in the cold and 
 silent tomb, to become food for worms ; but he feels that his soul is 
 immortal and can never die ; and 't is he alone, who can truly say, 
 " I do not fear to die." 
 
 As we, when weary with the toils and labors of the day, seek 
 our chambers for repose, so will the Christian, when done with the 
 sufferings of this world, welcome thee, oh, Death ! and seek repose 
 in thy last, long sleep. He will calmly fall into the Redeemer's 
 arms, knowing that, in the morning of the resurrection, he will 
 awake in His likeness. 
 
 Oh ! who can doubt the immortality of the soul ? "Who after 
 once raising his eyes aloft and contemplating the movements of 
 those celestial worlds, can for an instant believe that man after a 
 few short years of trial and trouble, shall be swept away, even as 
 the brute creation, without one solitary trace remaining, as to who 
 and what he was ? Mind and matter differ widely in their elements, 
 and man is the only animal endowed with mind. Even in sleep 
 (that emblem of death), it is never at rest but ever active. Of 
 matter we can not destroy one particle, though we see it changing 
 its form every day without surprise. Look at the silk-worm un- 
 dergoing change after change, and passing from one stage of 
 existence to another, until, at last, we see it a dark brown grub, 
 apparently without- life or motion ; but lo ! in a few days we behold 
 coming forth from that loathsome object, a beautiful and bright- 
 winged butterfly. See it spread its wing of azure and gold, soar- 
 ing gracefully away upon the summer breeze ; roving from flower 
 to flower and basking in the warm sun light. 
 
 Oh ! if God, from that dull worm, can bring forth a thing so 
 beautiful, 'what shall the Christian be when he shall have burst the 
 bars of death, arisen triumphant from the grave, with form divine, 
 and put on celestial livery,'to fly away on angel's wings to the bright
 
 88 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 and gorgeous courts of Heaven? How shall the Christian appear 
 when arrayed in those shining robes, washed white in the blood 
 of the Lamb, and mingle with that innumerable host congregated 
 round the Throne of God ? I sometimes feel as if I were tired of 
 staying in this prison-house of clay, and long for angel-wings to 
 " flee away and be at rest." 
 
 Oh ! who would not be a Christian ; who would not have the 
 blessed hope and promise of life immortal beyond the tomb, eter- 
 nal in the Heavens ? 
 
 THE MAY PARTY. 
 
 ON the first of May, 1851, the sun rose clear and bright ; the 
 sky was cloudless and every thing giving promise of a beautiful 
 day, the young people of Falinouth indulged the brightest anticipa- 
 tions of a merry May day. But, alas ! like many of the fondest 
 hopes of youth, they were doomed to disappointment. The sky, 
 hitherto so clear and bright, became suddenly overcast with black 
 and heavy clouds, from whose dark bosoms came muttered thun- 
 der tones. A storm arose. Doubt, anxiety and gloom were now 
 seen in the countenances lately so bright and joyous. The clouds 
 soon passed away from the blue and laughing sky, but a heavy 
 wind sprung up and increased in fury, until the stoutest trees, 
 groaned and creaked and bowed their stately heads before the blast. 
 So, by general consent, it was agreed to call the day 31st of April, 
 and postpone the party till the morrow. 
 
 The ensuing morning was soft and balmy, and richly perfumed 
 with the sweet odors of spring. The company, consisting of 
 about twenty couple, were soon wending their way to the lovely 
 little island, adjacent to the village, where all our parties of this 
 kind were usually held. They soon arrived and gave themselves 
 up to unrestrained mirth and glee. 
 
 It was a bright and lovely scene, and is engraven upon my 
 heart with the magic pencil of memory too deep to fade while life 
 shall last. Soon they broke up into groups some feasting, some 
 promenading, some romping and dancing and some sitting apart, 
 were conversing in soft low strains. Conspicuous among the 
 " love sick," was a long, lean doctor from Ohio, sitting close to 
 and making himself particularly agreeable to his fair Dulcinia. 
 They seem to be utterly unconscious that there were any other 
 persons present and did nought but sigh and gaze into each other's 
 eyes. As for myself, like the bee, I roved from flower to flower, 
 sipping sweets from all, and romping and chatting with every one 
 till the rosy hours flew away with the day, and evening came on.
 
 ADOLPHUS F. MONROE. 89 
 
 I then fell into a fit of musing. The thought that the day, bright 
 and beautiful as it had been, must soon close, and that all the 
 light and happy hearts of that gay company must soon be sepa- 
 rated, made my soul sad. While musing thus, sweet visions of 
 the past came thronging quick upon me, but conspicuously shone 
 the well-remembered scene that took place here one short year ago. 
 Here, upon this spot, were there assembled most of the company 
 now present. 
 
 Some that were here then, are missing now. She who was 
 then the fairest of the fair and the gayest of the gay, is not here 
 now. I miss that lovely form and angel face, and vainly listen to 
 catch the sound of her sweet voice. Ah ! never more its musical 
 tones thrill the hearts of her mourning friends. She is gone her 
 voice is hushed in death. The places that knew her once and 
 grew bright with her presence will know her no more forever. She 
 is now an angel in Heaven. She is gone. Her short life has fled 
 as some sweet dream, but her memory, like the music heard in 
 other days, will long haunt and linger about the hearts of her 
 friends. Her mourning sister I miss her, too like a drooping 
 lily, is pining in sorrow at home. 
 
 From these sad reflections I roused myself, and sought the side 
 of a fair but somewhat pensive nymph (whose eye grew brighter 
 at my approach), and was soon deeply engrossed in reading, as in 
 a book ; every thought and feeling in it found utterance of her 
 fresh and guileless heart. Here I sat until the company were pre- 
 paring to go ; we then reluctantly rose to leave. She told me she 
 was going away from home, and would be absent for months, and 
 that ere she departed, I must come and see her. Of course, I pro- 
 mised to do so. Taking her hand, I tenderly bade her farewell, 
 promising to write her and entreating her not to forget me. Her 
 eyes filled with tears, which I kissed away, endeavoring to soothe 
 and comfort her. Looking up into my face with a languishing 
 glance of love and desire, she pressed upon my finger a plain gold 
 ring, with a wish and a sigh, a smile and a tear, and ere we parted, 
 we had again and again exchanged vows of eternal love and con- 
 stancy ; vows to be forgotten in an hour, or only to be remem- 
 bered with a smile. 
 
 THE VOYAGE OF LIFE. 
 
 AN ALLEGORY. 
 
 Tins was one of the scenes of my ever changeful dreams. In a 
 fairy-like boat, so light was its construction, I floated swiftly but 
 smoothly down a silvery stream. How I got there, I know not, as
 
 90 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 there are no way-stations in the railway land of dreams. I only 
 know, that it was the fairest scene I ever beheld. On either side 
 were green banks and far-stretching fields, whose verdure was 
 interspersed and dotted with white cottages and shady groves ; 
 while here and there, creeping like silver serpents, little rivulets 
 sparkled and glanced brightly in the sunlight. The bank, on either 
 side, was strewn with sweet, gaudy and fragrant flowers, which 
 ever and anon, I tried to pluck. 
 
 Methought my frail bark was oarless, so that I had no power to 
 check or guide its course. But little recked I of that. As I 
 glided down the stream, and onward, and still onward, I cast a 
 delighted eye on all around me. The banks were carpeted with 
 flowers, while the sweet melody of innumerable birds and bees 
 greeted my ravished senses, as it poured in one continuous music- 
 stream from the green woods. I uttered an involuntary exclama-' 
 tion of delight, which was quickly changed to one of affright, when 
 I discovered the form of a decrepid old man rise up in the far end 
 of my boat. In faltering accents I demanded of him who and 
 what he was. 
 
 "If you were wise," said he, "you would already have known 
 me." 
 
 His tones were so harsh and discordant, that I shuddered in 
 every nerve. At length, I ventured to ask him how he came 
 there, and requested him to leave my boat, as his presence was 
 disagreeable to me. As to leaving the boat, he refused, saying : 
 
 " Even were I so disposed, I could not do it, for the river of life 
 admits of no stopping. When once you have embarked upon its 
 waters, you must sail to your destined port and tarry not." 
 
 "But," said I, "this boat is not yours, and I wish not your 
 company." 
 
 " True, sir," replied my strange companion ; " the boat is not mine ; 
 yet am I the one appointed by faith to pilot all who voyage to the 
 ocean of eternity. When once you reach the shore unseen by mor- 
 tal eye, then, and then only, can I leave you to return and pilot 
 others, as I do you. Such is my duty and such has been my con- 
 stant labor since the beautiful earth first sprang from chaos ; and 
 such will be my task until time shall be no more." 
 
 I now gave myself up in despair and gazed in silence upon 
 the beautiful scene around me. At length, rendered desperate, I 
 turned to the grim old pilot, and ultimately threatened and expos- 
 tulated and exhorted him to hasten on to the end of the dismal 
 journey. He coldly bade me be quiet. 
 
 "Foolish boy," said he, "if I could comply with your threats, 
 your prayers and your expostulations, and put leagues that are 
 now far ahead, in our rear, you would but be the nearer to yon dis- 
 mal port," pointing with his long and bony finger to a frightful
 
 ADOLPHUS F. MONROE. 91 
 
 gulf roaring in the dim distance and whose solemn sound now for 
 the first time reached my ears. In fear and trembling, I drew closer 
 to the strange old man. 
 
 "And must my boat enter that dismal gulf?" I cried. 
 
 "That whirling vortex, is death," was the answer. 
 
 Then I prayed him to stop, but he laughed at my entreaties. 
 
 " Be wise, foolish mortal," said he, " and treasure up my words ; 
 improve your opportunity, and I will be your friend. Look again 
 on that sea of death. To the left, see that black and yawning 
 gulf, and listen to the hideous groans and screams that issue from 
 its awful depth ; that is the gulf of the damned, and there, shall 
 surely perish all who fail to make me their friend. Now cast 
 your eyes to the right. See that calm and placid lake, teeming 
 with bright and beautiful islands, from which comes such heavenly 
 melody such sweet songs of praise that, is called the haven of 
 rest the harbor of the ransomed. Be wise, listen to me, and I 
 will pilot thee there." 
 
 I seized his hand, and with tearful eyes and quivering lips, 
 thanked him for his good counsel, and vowed to him eternal devo- 
 tion. He smiled and laid his hand upon my head so gently, that, 
 as I looked up into his hitherto repulsive face, I thought he had 
 more than earthly beauty. 
 
 "Wondrous man," I exclaimed, "tell me who and what thou 
 art." 
 
 " I am one feared and hated by all mankind ; represented as 
 a fell destroyer, wielding a scythe and mowing down the race oi 
 men. My name is TIME. But I am the friend of man, and yet, 
 he will not know it. I soothe his sorrows and mitigate his sever- 
 est vows. If thou wilt, I will be thy friend also. I am the friend 
 of all who are good and wise." 
 
 "Then," said I, "be the friend, also, of my mother and my 
 sister." 
 
 "Thy mother," he replied, "has long known me. We are al- 
 ready friends. Thy sister, too, shall know me better, soon. Look," 
 and gazing in the direction he pointed out, I beheld my sister in 
 another tiny bark, gliding down the rapid-rolling river, and gayly 
 plucking the flowers that laved their blushing cheeks in the silver 
 stream. Her merry laugh was echoing musically from shore to 
 shore, and, in her happiness, she seemed unconscious of the presence 
 of her grim old pilot, Time. Near her was a childish form, play- 
 ing carelessly with the rippling waves. 
 
 " Now look again" I looked, and far down the fast widening 
 stream, beheld gliding tranquilly along, the boat bearing my 
 mother. Methought, ever and anon, she would gaze through the 
 dim distance till her eyes would rest upon our tiny bark, beckon- 
 ing us on, with smiles and tears, to join her; and then she would 
 6
 
 92 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 turn again and gaze far down the stream, through clouds of mist, 
 upon the vast expanse of the future. 
 
 Memory ran back through all the days of my childhood, dwelling 
 here and there, upon some act of disobedience to thee, oh ! my 
 mother; and I silently vowed, for thy sake, to sin no more 
 k ' against heaven and in thy sight," but to make friends with the 
 old man, Time, and sail to that " haven of rest," to join thee there, 
 forever. 
 
 My dream was ended. 
 
 MY MOTHER. 
 
 I love my neighbor, love my friend, 
 
 And my Masonic brother ; 
 I love all who will right defend, 
 
 But more, I love my Mother. 
 
 I love my fair fame far before 
 All things on earth together ; 
 
 I love my own just right, but more 
 Than life, I love my Mother. 
 
 I have a sister good and kind 
 With life I would defend her, 
 
 But love my mother more refined, 
 And still more strong and tender. 
 
 I have a little orphan niece, 
 
 I love her like a father ; 
 But, oh ! I will, till life shall cease, 
 
 Still love thee best, my Mother. 
 
 I know a little maiden fair, 
 
 Of fairy form and feature ; 
 Of guileless heart and beauty rare 
 
 I love the little creature. 
 
 She 'a gentle, good and true, I know, 
 I lov'd when first I met her ; 
 
 I love her passing well but, oh ! 
 I love my Mother better. 
 
 Whene'er I wander far and wide, 
 
 From one land to another, 
 Then, more than all the world beside, 
 
 I think of thee, my Mother. 
 
 When towards home in haste I hie, 
 
 I know there is no other 
 That will so patient watch and fly 
 
 To meet me, as my Mother. 

 
 ADOLPHUS F. MONROE. 93 
 
 When happy-hearted, light and free, 
 
 There 's not on earth another 
 That can so sympathize, or see 
 
 The good that 'a in me, Mother. 
 
 When sorrow clouds my brow with care, 
 
 And all the world together, 
 Look coldly on, oh ! who shall dare 
 
 To love me as my Mother ? 
 
 And when in danger, doubt and dread, 
 
 And troubles darkly gather, 
 Whose heart has e'er so quickly bled 
 
 For me, as thine, my Mother ? 
 
 And when the world's cold selfishness, 
 
 My best afflictions smother, 
 I come to thee, in my distress, 
 
 To counsel me, my Mother. 
 
 Oh ! Mother, oft I 've made thee feel 
 
 Full many a pang distressing, 
 But thou didst quick forgive and kneel 
 
 To ask for me a blessing. 
 
 I was a wild and wayward child, 
 
 And oft was found transgressing, 
 But, Mother, thou wast ever mild, 
 
 And gentle and caressing. 
 
 Oh ! Mother, thou wast early left 
 
 A widow, poor and lonely, 
 With none to help, though sore bereft, 
 
 With God to look to, only. 
 
 And those who should have been thy stay, 
 
 Would no assistance render, 
 But planned how they might take away 
 
 Thy means, though they were slender. 
 
 * 
 Thou couldst have had, at thy command, 
 
 Those friends of widowed mothers, 
 That great, and good, and glorious band, 
 
 My father's Mason brothers. 
 
 But thy proud heart could never ask 
 
 From all the world a penny, 
 But, bravely took thee to thy task, 
 
 Depending not on any. 
 
 For twenty years, since Father 's gone, 
 
 Of suffering and of sorrow, 
 Thou bravely toiled, still hoping on 
 
 For better things to-morrow.
 
 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 With aching heart, and failing sight, 
 And fingers sore and bleeding, 
 
 Thou hast toiled on, both day and night, 
 Thy orphan children feeding. 
 
 But, Mother, God has heard thy prayer, 
 
 To thee a son He 's given, 
 Who '11 nourish thee with tender care, 
 
 'Till thou 'It go home to Heaven. 
 
 And, Mother, now I 've grown to be 
 A man, both strong and willing, 
 
 I '11 work for thee, and comfort thee, 
 While I can earn a shilling. 
 
 Ah ! Mother, thou art growing old, 
 Thy feeble frame 's fast failing, 
 
 Thy hands are thin, thy limbs are cold, 
 And thou art ever ailing. 
 
 Thine eyes are dim, thy hair is gray, 
 And death is o'er thee creeping ; 
 
 But when thou 'rt gone, I '11 come and lay 
 Me down where thou art sleeping. 
 
 Oh ! Mother, soon thou 'It go from me^- 
 Would we could go together ! 
 
 But, though we part, I '11 come to thee 
 Again, in heaven, Mother. 
 
 Say, Mother, who shall then advise 
 Thy son, with truth and feeling ; 
 
 Still, thou wilt whisper from the skies, 
 " Be faithful, and believing." 
 
 Dear Mother, when we meet up there, 
 Say, shall we know each other ? 
 
 Ah ! yes, my joy you first will share, 
 You '11 first receive me, Mother ! 
 
 Oh ! there I will my Father meet, 
 
 My Sister, and my Brother ; 
 Then, Mother, there, in union sweet, 
 
 We '11 all praise God together ! 
 
 "I'M WEARY Of THIS LIFE." 
 
 I'M weary, weary of-this life of all this senseless round, 
 Of this vain search for happiness, for pleasures never found ; 
 Of silly pride of place and power, and this cold world's mistrust, 
 This groveling strife for worldly wealth and things of earthly lust.
 
 ADOLPHUS F. MONROE. 96 
 
 I 'm weary of this dull routine this daily round of care, 
 
 Of this vain toil, this petty strife, for gold and silver ware ; 
 
 Of hollow hearts, and shallow brains, and would-be Christians, too, 
 
 Of reverend hypocrites, and all the sanctimonious crew. 
 
 I 'm weary of all human joys, of human hopes and fears ; 
 Of every source of happiness, of the ebb and flow of years ; 
 Of all this yearning soul's unrest, this " prison-house of clay," 
 This crumbling frame of earth and air, its slow but sure decay. 
 
 But soon this heart shall cease to beat, this fount of tears be dry, 
 And this immortal soul shall test its aspirations high ; 
 My yearning spirit then may find, freed from this aching breast, 
 Its destined paradise of love, its happy home of rest. 
 
 Then with some kindred spirit sweet, I '11 roam in bowers above^ 
 Where all is joy, unending bliss, and sympathy and love ; 
 Where days and years, and hopes and fears, no more shall ever be, 
 But youth shall last, and know no past, through all eternity. 
 
 LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 How few observe, or even dream, 
 
 What little things may bring about ; 
 We seldom are just what we seem, 
 
 And few know how to draw us out. 
 In us, each day, great change is wrought, 
 
 We never are two days the same ; 
 Each day brings some new scheme, or thought, 
 
 To change our object, end, and aim. 
 
 I was once, in heart, a very child, 
 
 But manhood's cares oppress me now ; 
 Maturer years have made me mild, 
 
 And left their record on my brow. 
 'T was little things that. changed my heart, 
 
 And made me cold, and stern, and calm ; 
 And little things but gave the start 
 
 To all that 's made me what I am. 
 
 I know men's minds, amd seldom fail 
 
 To ken them like an open scroll ; 
 I listen to each flattering tale, 
 
 But read aright the secret soul. 
 And gentler woman's softer heart, 
 
 I read it in her soul-bright eye ; 
 The conscious blush the sudden start, 
 
 Betrays the most reserved and shy. 
 
 Of smallest parts our life 's made up, 
 And parts but form a perfect whole ; 
 
 Of little drops, the bitterest cup 
 Is filled, that stirs the human soul.
 
 And love, with winning ways and wiles, 
 The saddest human heart can bless ; 
 
 And gentle words, and kindly smiles, 
 Make up the sum of happiness. 
 
 I sometimes gay and cheerful seem, 
 
 And smile as once I smiled of yore ; 
 Ere childish joys, and boyhood's dreams, 
 
 Had fled, alas ! forevermore. 
 When nature weeps, the bow is born, 
 
 Of hope and promise in the skies, 
 So a mother's care, in youth's bright morn, 
 
 Taught faith and hope, that never dies. 
 
 Soft, murmuring streams, among the hills, 
 
 That, sparkling, leap the pebbles o'er ; 
 And tiny rills, the ocean fills, 
 
 And swells Niagara's awful roar. 
 From little things the comet springs, 
 
 To burn and blaze through endless years ; 
 His song at eve the emmet sings, 
 
 To swell the music of the spheres. 
 
 TO MY CIGAE. 
 
 I LOVE to sit for hours alone, 
 
 And muse o'er my cigar, 
 Of happy hours I once have known 
 
 With early friends afar ; 
 Of childhood's scenes, and youth's sweet dreams, 
 
 That still my heart holds dear, 
 Till the present, past, and future seems 
 
 To blend in one soft tear. # $ 
 
 I love the " weed," the grateful " weed," 
 
 It soothes my troubled mind ; 
 'Tis an ever ready " friend in need," 
 
 A friend both true and kind. 
 Its fragrance sweet, when sad, I sip 
 
 To " drown dull care" awhile ; 
 'Tis sweeter far than woman's lip, 
 
 More constant than her smile. 
 
 I love to watch the circling rings, 
 
 As round they wheel and play ; 
 Bright images, like angels' wings, 
 
 Float gracefully away ; 
 Unnumbered forms of air and light, 
 
 I see with half closed eyes ; 
 And strange, fantastic figures bright, 
 
 Like mimic rainbows rise.
 
 ADOLPHUS F. MONROE. 97 
 
 Each fragrant puff my spirit warms, 
 
 And elevates my muse ; 
 Each gentle breath and taste hath charms 
 
 To chase away the " blues." 
 Let learned doctors rail and rant, 
 
 Their bills (pills) are under par, 
 While I 've the " tin," despite their " cant," 
 
 I '11 smoke a good cigar. 
 
 SOME THINGS I LOVE. 
 
 I LOVE a man with an independent soul, 
 
 Who reasons, thinks, and proudly spurns control ; 
 
 With a proud, high heart that brooks no wrong, 
 
 No insult, from the overbearing strong ; 
 
 But will, if rightly asked, forgive the wrong, 
 
 Try to forget, and strive to get along. 
 
 I love a woman, with a woman's heart, 
 Unsullied by the base, deceitful art 
 Of coquette, or of flirt, but true and kind, 
 For such is woman's nature, when refined. 
 
 I love a maid, with maiden modesty, 
 And artless grace, and sweet simplicity ; 
 Those pure and guileless hearts, an open scroll 
 Of love, and truth, and constancy of soul. 
 
 I love a friend with an open heart and hand, 
 With an open eye, and speech of fair demand ; 
 That 's ever ready, quick, and bold of heart, 
 When I 'm not by, to bravely take my part ; 
 That loves me for myself, and not for gold ; 
 Who would be true, though all the world were cold ; 
 True to his friend, true to his own true love, 
 True to himself, and true to God above. 
 
 LINES 
 
 TO A T.OUNG LADY ON THE DEATH OF HEB SI8TEB. 
 
 SCARCE eighteen summers yet had flown 
 
 Away in joy and mirth, 
 Scarce eighteen winters yet had blown 
 
 The roses from the earth ; 
 When thy sweet sister, like a rose, 
 
 Fell blasted in full bloom, 
 Her weary spirit sought repose, 
 
 And found it in the tomb.
 
 98 LIFE AJJJD WRITINGS OF 
 
 She was a mild and gentle child, 
 
 And kind and dutiful, 
 She was as fair as angels are, 
 
 And good as beautiful ; 
 She was too fair, and pure, and bright, 
 
 To linger longer here ; 
 The sweetest flowers soonest fade 
 
 In this terrestrial sphere. 
 
 Though sickness, sorrow, pain and death, 
 
 Are found in every clime, 
 They can but blast our bloom and breath, 
 
 They can but shorten time ; 
 We should not fear, nor from them flee, 
 
 They're angels in disguise, 
 And sooner, o'er life's troubled sea, 
 
 They waft us to the skies. 
 
 Amid a band, a glorious band, 
 
 Before God's throne of light, 
 Thy angel sister now doth stand 
 
 Most beautiful and bright ; 
 With unseen hand she beckons thee 
 
 To join that glorious throng, 
 Whose golden harps ring loud and free, 
 
 In sweet celestial song. 
 
 & 7of I 
 
 vji iiulj t'jt li '**/> f) !' * Kfnllw ' i A. 
 
 The memory of her virtues may 
 
 Still guide thy steps aright, 
 For unseen angels 'round thv way 
 
 * i i i V j 
 
 Are hovering day and night ; 
 And her immortal spirit now, 
 
 From sin and sorrow free, 
 Doth unto God with angels bow. 
 
 To intercede for thee. 
 
 Then weep not, wail not, though she 's gone- 
 
 That from thy side she 's riven, 
 For fast the day is rolling on, 
 
 When you may meet in heaven. 
 Eemember what her last words were : 
 
 " I do not fear to die ; 
 I 'm going home oh ! meet me there ; 
 
 Meet me beyond the sky ! 
 
 " I am prepared I want to go 
 
 I know I am forgiven 
 Oh ! do not weep it must be so 
 
 We 'tt meet again in Heaven !" 
 Then weep no more, shed not a tear, 
 
 But trust the word God 's given j 
 Embrace his cause, the way is clear, 
 
 You shall meet her in Heaven.
 
 ADOLPHUS F. MONROE. 99 
 
 !!' I. 
 :<' 
 
 THE HAWTHORN. 
 
 AT the close of the evening, as twilight came down, 
 I strolled to the grove at the east of the town ; 
 And along a lone path, with a lingering tread, 
 I strayed, sadly musing on joys that had fled. 
 
 'Neath the bright waving boughs of an old hawthorn, 
 That were blooming so gayly, one beautiful morn, 
 I sat on the trunk of a moss-covered tree, 
 And a maid of sixteen was sitting by me. 
 
 But the scene was now changed to darkness and gloom, 
 Its beauties all faded, its brightness and bloom, 
 As I sat on the trunk of that same old tree, 
 For the sweet girl no longer was sitting by me. 
 
 The leaves were all fallen, and desolate the scene, 
 Where I wandered that morn with the maid of sixteen ; 
 But the bare, naked boughs, so dear to my heart, 
 Were watered with tears ere I rose to depart. 
 
 "TO ADA." 
 
 You bid me forget thee, you say that all 's over, 
 That you must no longer remember the past ; 
 
 You tell me to meet thee no more as a lover, 
 That the sweet spell is broken, is ended at last 
 
 " I wish not to remember," then go, and forget 
 
 The bright, glowing schemes of the future we planned ; 
 
 When I kissed away fondly the sweet tears that wet, 
 
 Thy cheek, when you pledged me your heart and your hand. 
 
 Yes, go, and forget me, I '11 never complain, 
 
 Whatever of sorrow my soul may endure, 
 I '11 bear it in silence ; but never again, 
 
 Will I trust in the faith that any are pure. 
 
 I '11 never forget thee, 'tis all a vain task, 
 
 To stifle the feelings I 've cherished so long ; 
 I can not forget thee, my love I may mask, 
 
 But my heart can ne'er sing another new song. 
 
 There 's a charm in thy name, a holy, sweet spell 
 
 'Round the innermost chords of my sad heart entwined, 
 
 And though I must bid thee a final farewell, 
 Thy image, in memory, 's forever enshrined.
 
 100 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 I '11 think of thee ever, wherever I go, 
 
 Through each scene of life, in sadness or mirth ; 
 
 I '11 think of thee ever, in weal or in woe, 
 
 As the brightest, the purest, the dearest on earth. 
 
 Farewell, then, though dear one, may God ever hless 
 Thy heart with true friends, who '11 never deceive ; 
 
 May the angels of love, with a gentle caress, 
 And a sweet smile of welcome, thy spirit receive. 
 
 MY FLUTE. 
 
 f ,.j( 
 I LOVK thee well ! dear, good old flute, 
 
 I love each soft and gentle tone ; 
 To me thy lips are never mute, 
 
 With thee I never am alone. 
 
 Thy gentle voice, when I am sad, 
 
 Awakes, inspires my languid muse ; 
 And my proud heart, when I am glad, 
 
 It soothes, and softens, and subdues. 
 
 Thy thrilling tones, so wildly clear, 
 
 So sadly sweet, go where I will 
 In this wide world, I seem to hear 
 
 Their echo sounding near me still. 
 
 To thee I freely speak each thought 
 
 A confidant of thee I 've made ; 
 And thou art true, for ne'er in aught, 
 
 Hast thou my confidence betrayed. 
 
 I know thy worth, I 've tried thy truth, 
 
 For many long and weary years, 
 From that sweet, sunny season, youth 
 
 That April day of smiles and tears. 
 
 Companion, relic, friend, and part 
 
 Of happy days, that 's gone before ; 
 From boyhood thou hast cheered my heart 
 
 With loving, sweet, and holy love. 
 
 Of all my early dreams and hopes, 
 
 The sweetest memories are thine ; 
 I '11 cling to thee 'till heaven opes, 
 
 Her golden gates to me and mine. 
 
 I 've other friends, whose love I prize 
 
 As life itself, for friends are few ; 
 But none so free from all disguise, 
 
 And none so constant, none so true.
 
 ADOLPHUS F. MONROE. 101 
 
 A battle with the world, whose cold, 
 
 And hard, and hollow hearts I hate ; 
 I smile to see them sell for gold, 
 
 Their hopes of heaven, and call it "fate /" 
 
 I mingle with the young and gay, 
 
 In pleasure's bright and brilliant train, 
 But soon I sadly turn away 
 
 To pour my soul in some wild strain. 
 
 I feel that each sweet song of thine 
 
 Has been to me in mercy given, 
 My thoughts and feelings to refine, 
 
 And lead my spirit up to heaven. 
 
 Like some bewildered, shipwrecked tar, 
 
 Whose hopes and prayers are all to see 
 His " friend and guide," the Polar Star, 
 
 So ever turns my heart to thee. 
 
 Let others sneer, in cold disdain, 
 
 I '11 speak in praise of thee, old friend^ 
 And seek thee still, in joy or pain, 
 
 When I 've an idle hour to spend. 
 
 And oh ! with faith, and hope, and love, 
 
 As day by day I 'm toiling on, 
 Thy songs shall waft my prayers above, 
 
 Where many, that I 've loved, are gone. 
 
 In thy sweet voice I seem to hear 
 
 Familiar tones from "spirit land;" 
 As if the " loved and lost" were near, 
 
 With many an unseen angel band. 
 
 On rushing pinions, pure and white, 
 
 My angel father seems to come, 
 With kindred angels, flashing bright, 
 
 To bear my weary spirit home. 
 
 TO "BAT" A FAREWELL. 
 
 FAREWELL, fair friend ! a long farewell, 
 
 From thee I sadly sever ; 
 The words to me come like a knell, 
 
 I feel we part forever. 
 
 Farewell ! if we should never meet 
 
 Again, thy memory will, 
 Like some sad strain of music sweet, 
 
 Long haunt my spirit still.
 
 102 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 Oh ! each pure thought of thee has wrought, 
 
 A spell about thy name ; 
 Thy soaring soul my spirit taught, 
 
 A higher, nobler aim. 
 
 Why should the heart thus yearn to know 
 
 A being pure and good ? 
 We seldom meet them here below, 
 
 Nor prize them as we should. 
 
 A yearning deep for the good and fair, .. , 
 
 To every soul is given ; 
 All pure and holy feelings are 
 
 As beacon lights to heaven. 
 
 I prized thee, aye, as all must do, 
 Who reverence truth and worth; 
 
 I 've ever loved the good and true, 
 The bright and pure of earth. 
 
 I loved thee as a star that shed, 
 
 Its soft, sweet light on all ; 
 But youth's sweet dreams of love have fled, 
 
 As leaves in autumn fall. 
 
 Farewell ! may angels guard and guide - 
 Thee through the ills of Time ! 
 
 We '11 meet again, though severed wide % ,,,, 
 In a brighter, better clime. 
 
 That clime where 'tis forever spring, 
 Where flowers immortal bloom, 
 
 Where every wandering zephyr's wing ' t 
 Comes laden with perfume : 
 
 Where seraphs strike their harps of gold, 
 
 And angel voices blend ; 
 Where all are young, where none grow old, 
 
 And life shall never end. 
 
 TO ONE WHO WILL UNDEKSTAND IT. 
 
 AFFECTIONS bloom and blossom bright, 
 
 But if, in blooming, blast, 
 They shrink beneath the bitter blight, 
 
 And, withering, die at last 
 
 Those early, fresh, and fragrant flowers 
 
 Of love, are sweet and pure ; 
 Too pure for this cold world of ours, 
 
 They seldom long endure.
 
 ADOLPHUS F. MONROE. 103 
 
 Their fragrance fleet our senses greet, 
 
 To pass away with tears ; 
 We '11 never meet with aught so sweet, 
 
 lu all our after years. 
 
 You might have won my hand and heart, 
 
 If we had sooner met ; 
 But on love's stage I 've played my part, 
 
 A part I '11 ne'er forget. 
 
 I might have loved thee well and truly, 
 
 As any one on earth ; 
 I do respect thee much, and duly 
 
 Appreciate thy worth. 
 
 I '11 ever love thee as a sister 
 
 May this thy heart console, 
 There 's ne'er a Miss but there 's a Mr., 
 
 To own her soft control. 
 
 Forgive my fun, no wrong I 've done, 
 
 'Tis all I ask of thee, 
 By yonder sun, I 'm not the one 
 
 To bow or bend the knee. 
 
 Of bachelors there 's^ots and scores, 
 
 A plenty and to spare, 
 Who '11 kneel to thee, upon " all-fours," 
 
 To swear that thou art fair. 
 
 Long ere we had been thrown together, 
 
 I had no heart to give ; 
 Long since I learned to love another, 
 
 And must love while I live. 
 
 'aid -T 
 A maiden lovely, young, and fair, 
 
 And graceful as a fairy, 
 With none but her I '11 fortune share. 
 
 And none but her I '11 marry. 
 
 Her brow is like a throne of light, 
 Where truth her glory twines, 
 
 Her soulful eye, a window bright, 
 Through which her spirit shines. 
 
 A gentle, guileless, girlish creature, 
 Half woman and half child, 
 
 And soul and sense, in every feature, 
 Are beaming soft and mild. 
 
 A gentle, guileless, girlish creature, 
 Though long from her exiled, 
 
 I 've sacred held each cherished feature, 
 Smct; first on me she smiled.
 
 104: LIFE AND WRITINGS OF 
 
 I '11 ne'er forget her, though I rove 
 
 On every land and sea ; 
 Her sweet, confiding love and trust 
 
 Are dearer still to me. 
 
 Oh ! love 's a living, lasting flame, 
 And gilds our sorrows o'er ; 
 
 To memory each beloved name 
 Is hallowed evermore. 
 
 "When once the heart hath learn'd to sing 
 Love's sweet and holy song, 
 
 Its music thrills each chord and string, 
 And vibrates late and long. 
 
 LINES 
 
 WRITTEN AND PRESENTED TO MY SISTER UPON HER WEDDING DAT, 
 WITH A COPY OP THE BIBLE. 
 
 SISTER, this book I give to thee, 
 
 Upon thy wedding day, 
 That it may speak to thee for me, 
 
 When I am far away. 
 This day, my sister, seals thy fate, 
 
 For weal or woe through life 
 Unites thee to thy chosen mate 
 
 Makes thee his wedded wife. 
 
 This day you give your heart and hand 
 
 To him who won your love 
 Oh ! may that union sacred stand 
 
 Till you both meet above ! 
 Thy choice, my sister, I approve, 
 
 And welcome my new brother ; 
 He is my friend a friend I love 
 
 Long we 've been friends together. 
 
 He has a proud and manly heart, 
 
 A high and noble soul ; 
 With love and truth he '11 do his part, 
 
 But will not brook control ; 
 Then, sister, let no harsh word mar 
 
 Thy peace and quietness ; 
 Nor ever let a useless jar 
 
 Disturb thy happiness. 
 
 In future, strive to please him well, 
 
 As you would strive this day, 
 Remember, that you 've said, " I will 
 
 Love, honor, and obey."
 
 ADOLPHDS F. MONROE. 105 
 
 And when his heart is bowed with care, 
 
 And trials press him sore, 
 Then, sister, then 'tis thine to share 
 
 His heart forevermore. 
 
 Oh ! ever meet his coming feet 
 
 With welcome kind and true, 
 His presence greet, with smiles as sweet 
 
 As love would have thee do. 
 Oh ! with kind words of love and grace, 
 
 And sympathizing eyes, 
 The world will prove a pleasant place, 
 
 And home a paradise. 
 
 Oh ! sister, read this book with care, 
 
 With patient mind and heart, 
 And read it with the constant prayer 
 
 For aid to do thy part. 
 Sister, may God in mercy bless 
 
 Thy union, while you live, 
 And may both find that happiness 
 
 That He, alone, can give. 
 
 And may you both in wisdom's ways, 
 
 And in the paths of peace, 
 Delight to walk through all thy days, 
 
 And all thy joys increase ; 
 And, oh ! when death dissolves the tie 
 
 You form this day, of love, 
 Oh ! may you then, beyond the sky, 
 
 Be joined again above : 
 
 Be joined where 'tis forever spring, 
 
 Where flowers immortal bloom, 
 Where every breeze or zephyr's wing 
 
 Is laden with perfume ; 
 Where seraphs strike their harps of gold, 
 
 And angel voices blend 
 Where all is youth where none grow old 
 
 Where life shall never end. 
 
 cor
 
 TO THE 
 
 FALMOUTH, December 6, 1866. 
 
 IN presenting the following pages, I feel it to be an imperative duty I 
 owe to the memory of him whose narrative you have before you, as well 
 as for the sake of the truth, to notice some of the causes that led to the 
 untimely end of Mr. Ellington ; also the illegal and unjust proceedings that 
 marked the whole of Monroe's confinement, trial and end. In doing so, I 
 shall not attempt to give the whole in detail, but shall confine myself to 
 some of the leading causes. 
 
 The family difficulty doubtless originated out of the opposition of Mrs. 
 Ellington to the marriage of her daughter with Monroe. She was opposed 
 to the marriage from the commencement of Monroe's visiting the house, 
 and even after the ceremony incessantly poured forth her invectives against 
 her son-in-law's frequently visiting the house ; and unmindful of her duty 
 as a mother, who should have had the interest of her children at heart, 
 did much to break up the harmony that existed between Monroe and his 
 wife ; thus the difficulty originated, aided by the newsmongers of the 
 town those busybodies who, never having any business of their own must 
 necessarily attend to others : such characters may be found in almost every 
 village. 
 
 For a long time Ellington and Monroe were as they should have remained, 
 friends ; but alas, they remained not so ; reports of an aggravated character 
 were whispered to Monroe purporting to come from Ellington, and vice 
 versa ; but those characters already alluded to, uniting in their exertions, 
 finally succeeded in breaking off the friendship and establishing a feeling 
 of dislike between them ; and doubtless caused both to say many things 
 against each other that otherwise never would have been said or thought. 
 It may be proper here to say, that Mr. Ellington was a man of social 
 feelings, quiet and hard to excite to anger, but firm and resolute. Mon- 
 roe, though social in his feelings, was of an excitable disposition, apt to 
 bpeak free, and quick to resent an insult. 
 
 I regard both Ellington and Monroe as the victims of circumstances, 
 rather than censure ; but from the day upon which the fatal trigger was 
 106
 
 TO THE PUBLIC. 107 
 
 pulled, the whole community, without inquiring whether there were 
 any palliating circumstances attending the fatal act, seemed determined 
 to have Monroe's life whether right or wrong. Thus the harmony that 
 existed between those men was destroyed, and consequently they frequently 
 met with thoughts not of peace in their hearts ; but after conversing, 
 would find that the reports were not true and without a shadow of foun- 
 dation, and then they would part in peace. 
 
 Ellington was a man of long standing in the county, and had perhaps as 
 many friends as any one in the county ; and I doubt not, justly so ; for, 
 from what I know of him he merited the esteem of all. He was a man 
 of considerable wealth, which perhaps added to his popularity as a man ; 
 whereas Monroe was, comparatively speaking, a stranger, having not yet 
 been in the place quite four years ; not able to command but small means, 
 and could consequently call but few his friends, and most of those after- 
 ward seemed to desert him, leaving him in the hands of Ellington 's friends, 
 and his enemies. Whether those friends were prompted thus to forsake 
 him for fear of a personal attack, or for fear of endangering their property, 
 or for fear that they should be called upon to aid him with their means, 
 yet remains to me unknown ; but doubtless they were afraid of both. 
 Those few friends who seemed to stick to him and do all they could for 
 him, did not consider it safe to openly defend or speak in his behalf. 
 
 I shall not attempt to give a history of the trial, but merely give a few 
 facts connected therewith. I have always considered it a mockery a 
 mere show or pretense of dispensing justice. During the whole course of 
 the trial, the court-room was crowded to overflowing, so much so that it 
 was impossible to keep order ; scoffs and jeers might be seen and heard 
 throughout the entire crowd. While the lawyer for the defense was mak- 
 ing his speech, he was frequently interrupted by the murmurs, or rather, 
 decided efforts of the friends, or rather, of their hired or excited multi- 
 tude. By these means the jury was intimated, or even I might say, it 
 was overawed by the mob, and were compelled even in self-defense to 
 return the verdict they did. 
 
 The judge, for not adjourning the court, owing to the threatening of the 
 mob, is reprehensible, when it was evident to every impartial mind, that a 
 fair trial, under the excitement, could not be had ; such even as the law, 
 in its most strict construction, guarantees to every one, but should be ex- 
 tended to all, let their crimes be ever so great or aggravated. During the 
 trial, the rope was in the court-room and even held up before the eyes of 
 the court and the prisoner, by some of the mob, without the judge or the 
 sheriff daring to reprimand them ; and a guard for the prisoner was not 
 7
 
 108 TO THE PUBLIC. 
 
 even allowed, but he was suffered to be pressed upon and howled after by 
 fiends wearing the human shape ; showing thereby the determination of 
 the populace, and deterring the friends of law and order from taking the 
 course that humanity and justice required at their hands. The sheriff, 
 John R. Jeffrees, of Coles county, appears to have taken particular pains 
 to court the favor of the mob populace, using all means to render the 
 prisoner's life, while yet on earth, miserable if possible more so than it 
 was ; as if giving him a foretaste of the hell which they thought he should 
 enjoy, withholding from him as far as possible the comfort of hearing from, 
 or seeing his friends. 
 
 He was placed in a dark, cold and dreary cell, not allowed fire by the 
 court, and not until he had suffered much, were his friends permitted to 
 add a little to his comfort by placing a stove in his cell and placing fuel 
 at his disposal. The Governor, by representations of a few of his friends, 
 suggested to the aforesaid sheriff of Coles county the propriety of the 
 removal of the prisoner to some adjoining county or the summoning of a 
 sufficient guard to defend him in his duty and to protect the prisoner's 
 life. He did neither ; though frequently appealed to by myself and other 
 friends of Monroe, he said he had a sufficient guard to protect the prisoner, 
 and would do it. But alas, on the day, where were the stanch guard and 
 the sheriff? They were not to be found ; no defense made ; no effort 
 made to save the unfortunate from the infuriated and highly excited 
 crowd. Thus stands John R. Jeffrees, sheriff of Coles county, on whose 
 head, perhaps, more than on any other, rests the fate of Monroe. 
 
 James Cunningham, the brother-in-law of Mr. Ellington, said to be the 
 wealthiest man in the county, to make his words good, as I frequently 
 heard, i. e. that Monroe should be hung law or no law, or he would spend 
 every dollar he was worth, rode night and day to collect his more than 
 fiends in human shape to accomplish his aim. 
 
 I shall only notice some few of those more particularly engaged 
 in the diabolical deed. One by the name of Fleming, acted as hangman 
 on the occasion, though since he has been heard to say, " he would never 
 have engaged in the like, had it not been for others." The leaders not 
 having courage to step boldly forward, and do their dirty work, pushed 
 others forward. One of these, 0. B. Ficklin, even pushed Fleming for- 
 ward, when he Avould have backed out, and compelled him to complete the 
 dastardly outrage. James D. Ellington, I should pass by unnoticed, did 
 not justice to the dead as well as to place the living in their proper light 
 before the community, compel me to do so, as it would be expected that 
 he should by all means honorable endeavor to avenge his father's death.
 
 TO THE PUBLIC. 
 
 109 
 
 Though known to be a man void of truth, yet, under the circumstances, 
 he was enabled by the aid of the Charleston Courier to make an impression 
 prejudicial to Monroe. Had the difficulty not originated between himself 
 and Byrd Monroe, which originated out of some of said gentleman's knovm 
 veracity, the evening before, and his reports of said difficulty to his father, 
 Monroe and Ellington would yet be living, as Monroe was at the time 
 making arrangement to remove his family from out of the influence of the 
 said Monroe's family ; and had James D. Ellington told the truth to his 
 father, at night, Adolphus would not have been mixed up in the difficulty. 
 
 To describe the appearance of the mob on the fatal morning, would be 
 impossible ; but most men have seen some few men under the influence 
 of passion, and of the worst ; when we add to this the deleterious effects 
 of alcohol on some four or five thousand we may behold the mob. 
 
 We will give the public a few of those who were most active in urging 
 on and collecting the mob. 
 
 Jas. Cunningham, 
 Jas. D. Ellington, 
 Dennis Hanks, 
 William Eperson, 
 
 John Allen, 
 John Kelley, 
 J. B. Kelley, 
 
 Vanvarus, 
 
 William Hart, 
 Henry Stephens, 
 David Fansler, 
 Will Little, 
 J. J. Conley, 
 Sol. Cossel, 
 Thomas Fleming, 
 Samuel French, 
 Jas. Eastin, 
 Samuel Gray, 
 Wm. Hinchman, 
 
 The Tools. 
 
 Jefferson Coleman, 
 Allen Coleman, 
 John Eperson. 
 
 Thomas Bradford, 
 
 John Jones, 
 
 Drew Wallace, 
 
 Robert Davis, 
 
 French of Saulsberry, 
 
 Dr. Furguson, 
 
 McNary of Clark Co. 
 
 Jackson White, 
 
 Thomas Eperson, 
 
 Wm. Love, 
 
 Nap. Stone, 
 
 Martin Runnels. 
 
 John Hunlsneer, 
 
 Esq. Gard, 
 
 Thos. Fleming, the hangman. 
 
 We could go on and give you divers other names, some of whom we 
 do not know, but these few may answer. N. B. ATTLICK. 
 
 FALMOUTH, KENTUCKY, December 21, 1856. 
 
 The undersigned are now and have been citizens severally, of the county 
 of Pendleton, State of Kentucky, for near forty years ; much the greater 
 portion of which period, they have resided in the town of Falmouth, the 
 seat of justice of the county. Adolphus F. Monroe, who was barbarously
 
 110 TO THE PUBLIC. 
 
 and brutally murdered by an infuriated mob in February, 1856, at Charles- 
 ton, Coles county, State of Illinois, was well know by them, from his in- 
 fancy up to his cruel and lawless death. He was born and raised in their 
 said town (one of them was his guardian during his minority), and his 
 family and kindred are well and intimately known to them, as neighbors, 
 fellow-townsmen and citizens. Both his parents were, and are members 
 of families of as high repute, merit, and respectability, as the most vain 
 could desire to boast of. His mother is the daughter of David Clark- 
 son, Esq., now deceased, an early settler in this section of the State; 
 he lived to an advanced stage of life ; died, leaving a numerous family, 
 his descendants, many years since, respected, beloved, and regretted by 
 all whose favor it was to have made his acquaintance while living. 
 
 The father of Adolphus was Jeremiah Monroe, an early citizen of the 
 village. He was a physician of distinction, by profession ; commenced an 
 extensive practice, and was noted for his benevolence, as a practitioner 
 and man ; for his many virtues, his moral worth, sterling and unbending 
 integrity and candor as a citizen, as well as an exemplary deportment as a 
 professor and Christian, and as a kind and devoted father. Dr. Monroe 
 departed this life in the year 1831 ; and now lies buried within one-and- 
 a-half miles of Falmouth, the place in which he had practiced his profes- 
 sion for many years anterior to his death, and near which he died sincerely 
 bemoaned and lamented by all who knew him. 
 
 At the time of the death of Dr. Jeremiah Monroe, he left surviving 
 him, his afflicted and bereft wife and three infant children- an only son 
 and two daughters. That only son was Adolphus F. Monroe, then only 
 about four years old, and who, with a senior and a junior sister, composed 
 the family, the care and moral nurture whereof devolved upon the widowed 
 mother, as head and protector, with means, as to comforts of worldly 
 effects, limited in extent. For, though the father was a good physician, 
 commanding, in his day, a large practice, yet it was his fate, not to have 
 accumulated a large estate. Upon the mother, Mrs. Maria Monroe, his 
 widow, principally, was cast the effort to maintain, rear and educate her 
 infant children. No orphans, perhaps, were ever blessed with a more 
 affectionate and devoted mother, or who, for kindness and benevolence of 
 heart, not only toward her own children, but wherever sickness and dis- 
 tress demanded relief, commanded to a greater extent, the regard and the 
 respect of her neighbors and acquaintances. Though of a delicate physi- 
 cal constitution, and of feeble corporeal powers, none performed more 
 faithfully all the duties of mother and neighbor ; and none perhaps, suc- 
 ceeded better, in rearing her little family flock, or was more deeply imbued
 
 TO THE PUBLIC. Ill 
 
 with an abiding sense of Christian morality and the precepts of integrity and 
 honor ; and none deserved less the inhuman and barbarous fate, cruelly 
 inflicted upon a widowed mother's heart, than the Charleston mob, with 
 all its hellish and inhuman monstrosities, inflicted upon her, a stranger and 
 homeless woman in their midst, in the savage, the barbarous and the law- 
 less murder and death of her only son, be he guilty or innocent of the 
 offense charged against him. 
 
 O O 
 
 The undersigned have known that son, Adolphus F. Monroe, from his 
 cradle to his manhood, and thereafter up to 1852, then aged about twenty- 
 five years, when he left his native village or town for Charleston, Coles 
 county, Illinois. His standing and character as a boy his standing and 
 character as a man, while in the county and town of his birth was that 
 of respectability, that of morality, sobriety and good deportment, as well 
 as honesty and integrity. No youth raised, within the memory of the 
 undersigned, in the town or county of his birth, commanded more the 
 regard and respect of his fellow-citizens, for a high sense of honor, moral 
 deportment, and due observance of all the proprieties and courtesies and 
 decencies of life none, more devotedly attached or subservient in all his 
 efforts, to relieve the wants of a widowed mother and her orphan children. 
 He received, by the efforts of that mother, and of his own and that of 
 friends, a substantial common English education, at the Pendleton Acad- 
 emy in this place ; possessed more than an ordinary active, apt and intel- 
 ligent mind, and no youth, according to the circumstances which sur- 
 rounded him, had brighter and more promising prospects in the future ; 
 and though of an ardent and rather impulsive temperament, especially where 
 his honor or integrity was in the remotest manner casually or intentionally 
 involved, yet none were more true or sincere in friendship or family affec- 
 tions ; none more willing or faithful in consecrating his earliest efforts and 
 labors to the aid of a widowed mother and her family. And if ever there 
 was aught whispered to his disparagement, or an accusation of crime or 
 offense against him, before he left Kentucky in 1852, for Charleston, 111., 
 or prior to the charge against him in 1856, of having unfortunately, in an 
 affray, killed his father-in-law, it is wholly unknown to the undersigned, 
 who had full and open opportunity and every reasonable facility to know 
 his every-day walk from his birth until 1852. 
 
 Judicial murders, or lawless mob murders, perpetrated within a country 
 like ours, which boasts of its liberty, and as being regulated by laws 
 absolutely protective of the life, property and characters of its individual 
 citizens, are, upon the supposition that such atrocities have but too fre- 
 quently transpired, mournful and inauspicious subjects, presented to the
 
 112 TO THE PUBLIC. 
 
 serious contemplation of the lover of his country and its republican 
 form of government ; if not positively ominous against the experiment 
 now in progress of testing itself, upon this Continent ; whether any people 
 are sufficiently intelligent and virtuous and law-abiding in themselves, to 
 govern themselves, and while so doing to confer reliable security and safety 
 upon individuals, in the enjoyment of private property, life, and civil 
 liberty. Be the signs of the times what they may, and the action of 
 mobs against life and upon court-houses, as temples dispensing law and 
 justice, where life and property are in jeopardy either auspicious or inaus- 
 picious as to the perpetuity or destruction of the government, the 15th of 
 February, 1856, will ever mournfully be borne in memory in the simple 
 annals of the town of Falmouth, as the day upon which the inhumanly 
 beaten and cruelly mangled dead body of Adolphus F. Monroe arrived 
 in town, accompanied and guarded by his heart-stricken and grief-dis- 
 tracted mother, wife, sister, and brother-in-law, having been forced to flee 
 with that body from the worse than savage and lawless mob of Charleston 
 and seek protection and refuge in his native town, and a grave for one of 
 its native sons. The respect and sympathy entertained for him, as one of 
 its native sons, and of those who knew him from his childhood, and his 
 family, were mournfully manifested upon the day following, by a solemn 
 funeral procession, larger than is usually congregated upon ordinary occa- 
 sions, following his mangled corpse to the little island, in the bosom of one 
 of our rivers, selected by himself while the mob was being collected to take 
 his life, as the romantic spot endeared by happy reminiscences of past 
 days ; and to which he requested his mortal remains to be consigned. And 
 there he now reposes, with the clods which weigh heavily upon his bosom 
 consecrated by the bitter tears of a mother, an only sister and his wife, 
 all present upon the last sad, solemn occasion ; and that wife affectionately 
 devoted to him in death, the daughter of him whom, it is alleged, he 
 deprived of life with a murderous intent ; while no one who knew him as 
 a boy and as a man, in the long list of acquaintances and associates of 
 his earlier days, is willing to believe that Adolphus F. Monroe ever com- 
 mitted homicide with malice prepense at heart. 
 
 S. THOS. HAUSER. 
 
 REUBEN Me C ARTY. 
 
 JAMES WILSON.
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 THE MONROE CASE. 
 HOW IT WAS CONDUCTED-GEN, LINDER'S CONDUCT. 
 
 CHARLESTON, March 29th, 1856. 
 MB. NAPOLEON B. AULICK : 
 
 Dear Sir : Many things have been said, public and 
 private, of my defense of your brother-in-law, A. F. Monroe. It has been 
 charged that I did not defend him with my usual zeal and ability. Now, 
 sir, I wish you to state your opinion frankly and freely upon this subject ; 
 for, whether it is against me or for me, I intend to give it to the public. 
 
 Yours, truly, 
 
 TJ. F. LlNDEB. 
 
 CHABLESTON, ///., April 23d, 1856. 
 
 MB. USHEH F. LINDEB : 
 
 Dear Sir: Yours of the 29th ult. should have met 
 with earlier attention at my hands, but, supposing that you wished my free 
 and unreserved opinion, and also presuming that if the facts upon which 
 that opinion is based, accompanied the opinion, it would prove not only 
 very acceptable to you, but serve, at the same time, as a complete vindica- 
 tion of your course as the counsel of my late unfortunate brother-in-law, 
 A. F. Monroe. 
 
 You will doubtless remember, that on the day upon which my brother- 
 in-law was unfortunate enough to take the life of Mr. Nathan Ellington, 
 his father-in-law, in an affray between them, you was employed to defend 
 Monroe, charging only the moderate and reasonable fee of $1,000 for your 
 services. You took charge of the case, and for some reason or other, the 
 nature of which I do not know, refused to allow your client to appear 
 before the examining court. However, it may be well enough for me to 
 state (in order that the public may be made fully acquainted with the 
 fairness and zeal for the cause of your client, and the honorable manner 
 in which you commenced, and continued to the end, the conducting of 
 the case), that on the clay Ellington was shot, and in a few minutes after 
 you was employed, you started out to collect the evidence for the defense. 
 On your hunt after evidence, you met A. G. Jones, Esq., one of the law- 
 yers for the prosecution, and told Mm that you had started out with the
 
 114: APPENDIX. 
 
 intention of going round the public square, but had not got more than half 
 around, and had found, in that small compass, not only evidence enough to 
 hang your present client, but, you ivas afraid to go the remainder of the cir- 
 cuit, for fear you should find evidence enough to" lap over" and hang some 
 of your future clients! Now, sir, who can doubt that you conducted the 
 case with your "usual zeal and ability," when you commenced by telling 
 the above to one of the prosecuting attorneys ? I can not, have not, and do 
 not doubt it ? Well, a few days after the above acknowledgment to Mr 
 Jones, and while Ellington was yet alive, the preliminary examination of 
 Monroe was held. At that examination you not only would not permit your 
 client to be present, but actually refused to introduce witnesses in his behalf, 
 witnesses whose testimony would have been favorable to his cause ; and al- 
 lowed the prosecution to introduce and examine theirs ; literally making no 
 defense, and pledging yourself that your client should not have a change 
 of venue, and stating that you was authorized by your client to make such, 
 statement, and that it was his (your client's) determination to stand his 
 trial at the next term of the court. That statement, sir, was false. Your 
 client did not authorize you to make any such pledge, and you not only 
 knew it, but, also, you knew it was his intention to have made application 
 for a change of venue, as he, and every one else, was fully aware of the 
 impossibility of his obtaining a fair and impartial trial in this county. I 
 was absent from town the day of the preliminary examination, and was not 
 aware of your pledging your client for a trial in this county, until the Sat- 
 urday before the term of the court, called for the trial of this case, in Feb- 
 ruary last, when I happened to see a notice to that effect in the " Courier" 
 which was issued the week preceding the trial. I immediately came to you 
 with the paper containing that announcement, and asked you if such was 
 the fact, and if you had made such a pledge. Your reply was that you 
 had. I then asked you if you intended to redeem that pledge. You re- 
 plied that you must do it was compelled to redeem it, from the fact that 
 this was your home ; that all your property was here, and here was your all ; 
 with home, property, reputation, your all at stake, you could not do other- 
 wise than redeem that pledge ; and that your only regret was, that you had 
 not told Monroe and myself of the existence of that pledge sooner, so that 
 I might have employed other counsel in the case. Then, sir, I informed 
 you that you could consider yourself no longer a counsel in the case ; that 
 /would not submit to my friend and brother being tried in any such man- 
 ner. You then agreed to leave the case. James Monroe and 1 then went 
 down to your office, and I took up my note, and the mortgage on my land, 
 which I had given you to secure your fee. This was on the Saturday night 
 previous to the sitting of the court, which commenced on the Monday
 
 APPENDIX. 115 
 
 following. You said you released every thing in relation to the fee, thank- 
 ing your God for making you too honest to exact a fee under such circum- 
 stances, stating that you would just as soon steal the money as to exact it 
 for attempting his defense here ; that Monroe might just as well be taken 
 out into the street and shot, as to be tried in Coles county. You then dic- 
 tated, while James Monroe wrote an application to the judge for a change 
 of venue, which /was to hand to the prisoner, and he to Judge Harlan. 
 You then volunteered your services to James Monroe and myself, to put off 
 the trial (as you considered that a much safer plan for the prisoner than to 
 apply for the change of venue, as the mob had determined there should be 
 no change), on the grounds that the prisoner was not prepared to enter 
 upon his trial, important witnesses for the defense being absent. You also 
 stated that if you could not get a continuation of the trial on that ground, 
 you would do so by challenging the jurors. 
 
 Perfectly relying upon your promises, and having the utmost confidence 
 in your integrity and honesty in the matter, I left the case to be managed 
 by you, in your own way; fully understanding that if you did not suc- 
 ceed in putting off the trial, then we were to make the application for a 
 change of venue. 
 
 On Monday evening the grand jury reported a true bill against the pri- 
 soner, and on Tuesday morning, when I entered the court-room, I was not 
 only astonished to find that you had made no effort to have the trial con- 
 tinued, but that part of the jury was already impanneled, and the remain- 
 der were being found among the crowd, and you did not challenge one of 
 them ! As I do not wish to lose one item that may prove beneficial to 
 you in setting your conduct right before the people, I will now state what 
 I should have done before a remark you made during the conversation 
 with James Monroe and myself, held at your office on the Saturday night 
 preceding the trial. You said, that if we succeeded in getting the change 
 of venue, and got the prisoner out of the county, and wished you to do so, 
 you would then appear for and clear him in spite of h II ! and that the 
 most that could be made against him would be manslaughter. 
 
 After you had gone into the trial, you drew up a note for $910, 
 (having received, previously, $90 out of the 81,000), took it to the 
 jail, after night, and got the prisoner to sign it, securing said note by a 
 mortgage on 160 acres of land belonging to the prisoner. 
 
 And, again, on Tuesday morning of the term, before you entered into 
 the trial, you turned to the mass in the court-room, Avhom you conceived 
 to be the mob, and asked of them if they would allow you the privilege of 
 defending the prisoner /
 
 116 APPENDIX. 
 
 The trial consumed the entire week, and as everybody knew it would 
 be so, the jury, as a matter of course, returned a verdict of "Guilty of 
 Murder in the First Degree" against the prisoner. When the jury came 
 down to give in their verdict, you were absent, and the judge refused to 
 receive it until you were present, by your client, and you were sent for, but 
 refused to come, and the prisoner received it alone! On Monday morn- 
 ing Judge Harlan called the court together, for the purpose of passing 
 sentence on Monroe. You then appeared in court before the sentence was 
 passed, and made a motion for a new trial, founding your motion upon 
 some plan in the instructions to the jury. The judge took until Tuesday 
 morning to consider the motion, examine authorities, etc. During that 
 same day you came to me and told me that, in order to save Monroe's life 
 from the mob, you thought it was best for you to go to the judge and get 
 him to overrule the motion, and allow him to pass sentence upon the pri- 
 soner, and you would take the instructions to the Supreme Court, and get 
 a new trial from that body. Tuesday morning came, the motion was over- 
 ruled, and sentence was passed upon Monroe. Then you refused to go to 
 the Supreme Court, saying that your duties in the case had ceased ! It 
 was several days before I could induce you to go up to the Supreme Court, 
 as you had said you designed doing when you ivanted your motion over- 
 ruled by Judge Harlan. Previously to your taking the papers up to Spring- 
 field, you stated publicly, in Bill Hart's grocery, that you were going up to 
 the Supreme Court, not for the purpose of getting a new trial, but, seemingly 
 to discharge your duty and for the satisfaction of his (Monroe's) friends / 
 
 After you got to Springfield, you stated that you did not want a new 
 trial, and when the application for the new trial was decided against you in 
 that court, you said it was decided just as you wanted it! 
 
 Now, sir, you have your whole conduct as counsel for A. F. Monroe, 
 above. I have told it truly, calmly, and fairly. Now you shall have my 
 opinion. So far from your conducting the case with zeal and ability of any 
 kind, saying nothing about the "usual," I believe you were either most 
 woefully indifferent to the fate of your client, lamentably deficient in honesty, 
 or feed to hang Dolph Monroe by the mob the other side. You can choose 
 either horn of the dilemma you please it was one of the three, and, most 
 likely the latter, as you said, after the failure of your application to the 
 Supreme Court,.that you wished the mob would hang him ! Is it not aston- 
 ishing, sir, this depravity of human nature ? You were right in thanking 
 your God that he made you so honest ; and I do not blame you, for no one 
 else can do the same for you. No, Mr. Linder, your conduct in the case 
 was this : it was cowardly, it was dishonorable, it was dishonest, it was 
 two-faced. You would profess one thing and act another. But, sir, I have 
 done. I hope you are fully satisfied with my " thoughts upon this sub- 
 iect," and with that hope, allow me, sir, to subscribe myself, 
 
 Respectfully, your obedient servant, 
 
 NAPOLEON B. AULICK.
 
 APPENDIX. 117 
 
 CHARLESTON, January 3Qtk, 1856. 
 N. B. AULICK : 
 
 Dear, Dear Friend : When I am gone, take my Diaries, Books 
 No. 1 and 2, to Emmerson Bennett of Cincinnati, or some other man com- 
 petent to write out and expose all of this affair ; and my last solemn 
 request is, that no name no man or woman be spared : let the truth be 
 told, and even the very names given as they are. This I solemnly 
 request. 
 
 Pole, you are the only man I ever loved, and I have loved you far 
 beyond a brother's love I would have died for you ; for you have a heart 
 you are a man and an honest man, and they are very scarce in this 
 world. I have tried to be your friend I am now going to God and to 
 you and my mother I leave ALL I HAVE. All I request of you is, do 
 for me, when I am gone, as you think I ivould do for you. You know 
 what I mean, for you have a heart you are a man. Pole, do not grieve 
 for me, when I am gone. I'm ready I am going home. We '11 meet 
 again up there up there we '11 meet and rejoice. Comfort my poor old 
 mother 'tuill not be long. I go prepared. I only ask of you, see these 
 books published see it done. My name shall yet be mighty and strong ; 
 my name and memory shall yet be all powerful for vengeance, when I am 
 dust. My life and my words shall yet be a common and familiar sound 
 in every household in the land and I will yet be most terribly avenged 
 and my name endeared to all honest men and women. 
 
 Pole, when I am gone take me to Kentucky take me from here, bury me 
 upon Kentucky soil upon one of the islands above Falmouth, "St. Helena," 
 or Lover's Retreat. Inclose it, etc., as you will find directed in my 
 books a weeping willow at my head, and a cedar at my feet future gen* 
 erations shall visit my tomb and shed tears upon my grave. 
 
 Nannie has done this thing; but her mother led her on. Spare her, for 
 my child's sake ; spare her, when I am gone. She must and will suffer 
 much add not to the stings of her own conscience. 
 
 That is surely enough. But should she ever marry again, then I invoke 
 all the curses of hell and heaven upon her head. 
 
 Pole, if I was free but one day, I would not fall alone, or unavenged. God 
 restrains my arm. He will yet avenge my fall and fate. When I am 
 moldering in my grave, I will still speak and be avenged. 
 
 Nannie has loved me well ; alas ! too well, for she has been ever jeal- 
 ous ; and I had rather, to-day, be in my place and go to eternity, than in 
 hers, with her conscience, and live ; and I prophesy right here, that she
 
 118 APPENDIX. 
 
 will not stay long. Her heart, I think, is right and she and her relatives 
 can never get along. She can never be happy again. 
 
 Pole, when I am gone, I want you and my mother to save all you can 
 of my estate, from lander the thief, and from the hands of the law, for 
 your own use. Attend to my requests, all of them, and one is ; save 
 what you can for you and my mother. 
 
 Keep an eye upon my child, while she lives ; I don't think she will 
 ever live to be a woman ; and I prefer that she would die than to be raised 
 there. Oh God ! let her not stay there. Nannie has sworn to me that 
 she herself, nor May, should stay there. 
 
 Pole, I have loved Nannie and spoiled her. She was a spoiled child, 
 and I petted and spoiled her as my wife. I had to conquer all this and I 
 have done so. She was completely conquered and a good and loving wife when 
 this affair occurred. She was a child, but she is now a woman. She was, 
 when this thing happened, a good wife and a true woman ; 'tis true, she has 
 caused all ; but blame her mother, and not her. Her mother has mur- 
 dered Ellington and me, and how many more God alone may know. If 
 Nannie redeems half of her promises and pledges to me, when I am gone, 
 she is worthy if not, she must and will suffer. 
 
 Pole dear, dear, noble friend, this earth is but a stopping-place. You 
 and I, Pole, will meet again and then you may know how well I love you. 
 / am no common man ; I am above far above the vulgar herd, and so 
 are you, in HEART, if not in education. 
 
 In another and better world, Pole, we '11 meet again, my noble friend, 
 the ONLY MAN I ever loved. 
 
 I have done I fall but remember I fall a victim, but proudly fall ! 
 In eternity, all this thing shall be solved. A man can die but once, and 
 he who fears to die, is not a man. This day I would only ask life only 
 ask to live for those / love, and for my own fame. I am a man ; my spirit, 
 before 'God, will tower far above the low, dirty world. Pole ! I am pre- 
 pared I am safe meet me there ; meet me there, my noble-hearted friend 
 and brother. God is our Judge, and we will conquer and rejoice with 
 Him. Weep not for me, I am at rest ! / have gone home ! 
 
 A. F. MONROE. 
 
 x 
 
 THE END.
 
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