you expect to be killed? Didn't know but I should. If you expected to be killed what made you go; did you go to get money No.' Did you expect to get money? 'No.' Did you intend to get the horse? 'No.' How did you come to take him? Broke my things, (meaning knives)-hand was cut-came into my mind take the horse-go-and-get so—could do no more work.' If you had not broke your things, what would you have done? Kept to work.' Did you mean to keep right on? I meant to keep to work.' Would you have killed me if you had met me? "Spose I should. What made you begin at that house? Stopped two or three places, thought it wasn't far out enough to begin.' Are you not sorry you killed so many ? 'Don't think anything about it."

The prisoner has invariably given similar answers to every person who has asked him the motive for his crime.

WARREN T. WORDEN, Esq., says, "I asked him why he took the horse? He answered, 'My hand was hurt, and I couldn't kill any more.' I asked him why he killed them? and he answered, Why did they send me to State Prison when I wasn't guilty.' And in making this reply he trembled, and I thought he was going to weep. I told him they would hang him now; he showed no feeling."

Dr. FOSGATE says that Dr. Hurd asked him what he killed those folks for? He replied, "They put me in prison."

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JOHN R. HOPKINS says, "I turned his attention to the idea of pay-if he had got his pay for his time in prison? That question raised him up, and he looked comparatively intelligent, and brightened up his whole countenance. He said 'No.' Who ought to pay you? All of them.' Ought I? He looked up with a flash of intelligence, said nothing, but looked intently at me, and the answer was conveyed by the look. I asked if this man, (pointing to Hotchkiss) ought to pay him? He looked at him, as at me, and said, 'Do what's right,' or 'we'll do what's right.' We then spoke about his trial, and he was stupid and dull again.”

The Rev. J. M. AUSTIN says: "I put questions to find his motive for killing that family. His answers were very broken and incoherent, but invariably referred to his being in prison innocently. Had the persons you killed, anything to do with putting you into prison? 'No.' Did you know their names? 'No.' Why did you kill that particular family? No direct answer, but something

about being put in prison wrongfully. Do you think it right w kill people who had no hand in putting you in prison? He gave an incoherent reply. I gathered, 'shall do something to get my pay. How much pay ought you to have? Don't know.' Was it right to kill those innocent persons for what had been done by others? ( They put me in prison.' Who did-The Van Nest Family? No. Why then did you kill them? Did you think it right to kill that innocent child? I understood from his gestures in reply, that he was in a labyrinth, from which he was incapable of extricating himself. How did you happen to go that particular night? 'The time had come.' Why did you enter that particular house? 'I went along out and thought I might begin there.' I asked if he ever called on Mrs. Godfrey. He said, 'I went to Mrs. Godfrey to get pay, and she wouldn't pay me. I went to Esquires Bostwick and Paine and they wouldn't do nothing about it.” Mr. IRA CURTIS, says: "I asked him how he came up there. 'I went up south a piece.' How far? Stopped at the house beyond there.' What for? To get a drink of water.' What did you go into Van Nest's house for? Don't know.' Did you go in to murder or kill them? Don't know.' Was it for money? Didn't know as they had any.' Did you kill the child? They said I killed one, but I didn't. What did you kill them for? You know I had my work to do.' Had you anything against these people? Don't know.' Why didn't you commence at the other place? Thought it wasn't time yet.' He said, 'they wouldn't pay him. He had been imprisoned and they wouldn't pay him.'

Dr. HERMANCE says: "Dr. Pitney asked him how he happened to go up. It rained and I thought it would be a good time.' Why did you go to Van Nest's, and not to some other family? No answer. Why didn't you come and kill me? He smiled but gave no answer. Don't you think you ought to be hung for killing Van Nest and his family? The same question was repeated authoritatively, and he replied: 'Sent to prison for nothing—ought I to be hung? Suppose you had found some other person, would you have killed any other as well as Van Nest? 'Yes.' I asked why did you kill Van Nest and his family? For that horse.' What do you mean by killing for that horse? They sent me to prison. and they won't pay me.' Had Van Nest anything to do with sending you to prison? "No.""

Dr. BRIGGS says: "When I repeated the question, why did you

kill Van Nest? he replied, Why was I put in prison for five years?'"

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WILLIAM P. SMITH, asked: "Why did you kill those people? 'I've been to prison wrongfully five years. They wouldn't pay me. Who? The people, so I thought I'd kill somebody.' Did you mean to kill one, more than another? 'No.' Why did you go so far out of town? Stopped at one place this side; wouldn't go in-couldn't see to fight, 'twas dark, looked up street, saw a light in next house, thought I'd go there, could see to fight.' Don't you know you've done wrong? 'No.' Don't you think 'twas wrong to kill the child? After some hesitation, he said, Well-that looks kind o'h-a-r-d.' Why did you think it was right? I've been in prison five years for stealing a horse, and I didn't do it; and the people won't pay me-made up my mind, ought to kill somebody.' Are you not sorry? 'No.' How much pay do you want? 'Don't know-good deal.' If I count you out a hundred dollars, would that be enough? He thought it wouldn't. How much would be right? Don't know.' He brightened up, and finally said he thought about a thousand dollars would be about right.""

It would be tedious to gather all the evidence of similar import. Let it suffice, that the witnesses who have conversed with the prisoner, as well those for the people as those for him, concur fully in the same statement of facts, as to his reasons and motives for the murders. We have thus not merely established the existence of an insane delusion, but have traced directly to that overpowering delusion, the crimes which the prisoner has committed.

How powerful that delusion must have been, may be inferred from the fact that the prisoner, when disabled, desisted from his work, and made his retreat to his friends in Oswego county, not to escape from punishment for the murders, but, as he told Mr. E. A. WARDEN, to wait till his wounded hand should be restored, that he might resume his dreadful butchery; and, as he told Dr. BIGELOW, because he couldn't "handle his hand." The intenseness of this delusion exceeds that under which Hatfield assailed the king; that which compelled Henriette Cornier to dissever the head of the child entrusted to her care; and that of Rabello, the Portuguese, who cut to pieces with his axe the child who trod upon his feet.

The next feature in the cause which will claim your attention,

gentlemen of the jury, is the MANNER AND CIRCUMSTANCES OF THE ACT ITSELF.

In Ray's Medical Jurisprudence, at page 224, are given several tests by which to distinguish between the homicidal maniac and the murderer.

We shall best consider the present case by comparing it with those tests:

I. "There is the irresistible motiveless impulse to destroy life." Never was homicide more motiveless, or the impulse more completely irresistible, than in the present case, as we have learned from the testimony already cited.

TI "In nearly all cases, the criminal act has been preceded, either by some well marked disturbance of the health, or by an irritable, gloomy, dejected, or melancholy state; in short, by many of the symptoms of the incubation of mania." How truly does this language describe the condition of the prisoner during the brief period of his enlargement!

III. "The impulse to destroy is powerfully excited by the sight of murderous weapons-by favorable opportunities of accomplishing the act by contradiction, disgust, or some other equally trivial and even imaginary circumstance."

While we learn from HERSEY's testimony, that the prisoner kept a store of knives fit for such a deed, we find in the denial of his demands for settlement, for pay, and for process, by Mrs. GODFREY, and the magistrates, the contradiction and causes of disgust here described.

IV. "The victims of the homicidal monomaniac are either entirely unknown or indifferent to him, or they are amongst his most loved and cherished objects."

Freeman passed by his supposed oppressors and persecutors, and fell upon a family absolutely indifferent, and almost unknown to him, while he reserved the final stroke for his nearest and best friend, and brother-in-law.

V. "The monomaniac sometimes diligently conceals and sometimes avows his purpose, and forms schemes for putting it into execution, testifying no sentiment of grief.”

The prisoner concealed his purpose from all but HERSEY. He purchased the knife which he used, in open day, at a blacksmith's shop, in the presence of persons to whom he was well known, and ground it to its double edge before unsuspecting witnessess, as

coolly and deliberately as if it were to be employed in the shambles. He applied at another blacksmith's shop where he was equally well known, to have another instrument made. He shaped the pattern in a carpenter's shop, carried it to the smith, disagreed about the price, and left the pattern upon the forge, in open sight, never thinking to reclaim it, and it lay there until it was taken by the smith before the coroner's inquest, as an evidence of his design. So strange was his conduct, and so mysterious the form of the knife which he required, that MORRIS, the smith, suspected him, and told him that he was going to kill somebody; to which he answered with the nonchalance of the butcher, "that's nothing to you if you get your pay for the knife." On the two days immediately preceding the murder, he is found sharpening and adjusting his knives at a turner's shop, next door to his own dwelling, in the presence of persons to whom he is well known, manifesting no apprehension, and affecting no concealment.

The trivial concerns of his finances and occupation are as carefully attended to, as if the murder he was contemplating had been an ordinary and lawful transaction. HYATT demands three shillings for the knife. The prisoner cheapens until the price is reduced to eighteen pence, with the further advantages that it shall be sharpened and fitted to a handle. Hyatt demands sixpence for putting a rivet into his knife. He compromises, and agrees to divide the labor and pay half the price. He deliberately takes out his wallet and lays down three cents for Simpson the turner, for the use of the grindstone. On the very day of the murder he begs some grease at the soap factory to soften his shoes, and tells AARON DEMUN that he is going into the country to live in peace. At four o'clock in the afternoon he buys soap at the merchant's for MARY ANN NEWARK, the poor woman at whose house he lived. He then goes cautiously to his room, takes the knives from the place of their concealment under his bed, throws them out of the window to avoid exposure to her observation, and when the night has come, and the bells are ringing for church, and all is ready, he stops to ask the woman whether there is any chore to be done. She tells him, none, but to fill the tub with snow. He does it, as carefully as if there were no commotion in his mind, and then sallies forth, takes up his instruments, and proceeds on his errand of death. He reconnoiters the house on the north of Van Nest's, Van Nest's house, and Brook's house on the south, and finally de