might justly doubt on which side, under all the circumstances, the truth lay, and in such case the accused party was entitled to the benefit of the doubt. All that a jury could be expected to do was to be reasonably and morally certain the facts which they declared to be their verdict. In illustration of this point, Judge Cox quoted the charge of Chief-Justice Shaw, of Massachusetts, in the case of the Commonwealth against Webster.

With reference to the evidence in this case very little comment was required by the court, except upon one question-the others being hardly matters of dispute. That the defendant fired at, and shot, the deceased President was abundantly proved; that the wound was fatal had been testified to by the surgeons, who were competent to speak, and they were uncontradicted; that the homicide was committed with malice aforethought (if the defendant were capable of criminal intent or malice), could hardly be guinsaid. It was not necessary to prove that any special or express hatred or malice was entertained by the accused toward the deceased. It was sufficient to prove that the act was done by deliberate intent, as distinct from an act done under a certain impulse in the heat of blood and without previous malice. Evidence had been exhibited to the jury tending to show that the defendant admitted in his own handwriting that he had conceived the idea of "removing the President," as he called it, six weeks before the shooting; that he had deliberated upon it and come to the determination to do it, and that about two weeks before he accomplished it he stationed himself at certain points to do the act, but for some reason was prevented. His preparation for it by the purchase of a pistol had been shown. All these facts came up to the full measure of the proof required to establish what the law denominated malice aforethought. The jury would find little difficulty in reaching a conclusion as to all the elements that made up the crime charged in the indictment, except it might be as to the one of sound mind, memory, and discretion-but that was only a technical expression for a responsible, sane man. He now approached that difficult question. He had already said that a man who is insane in the sense that makes him irresponsible can not commit a crime. The defense of insanity had been so abused as to be brought into great discredit. It was the last resort in cases of unquestioned guilt. It had been an excuse for juries to bring in a verdict of acquittal when there was a public sympathy for the accused, and especially where there was provocation for the homicide according to public sentiment, but not according to law. For that reason the defense of insanity was viewed with disfavor, and public sentiment was hostile to it. Nevertheless, if insanity were established to a degree necessary, it was a perfect defense for an indictment for murder, and must be allowed full weight. It would be observed that in this case there was no trouble with any question about what might be called total insanity, such as raving mania or absolute imbecility, in which all exercise of reason is wanting, and where there is no recognition of persons or things or their relations. But there was a debatable border-line between sanity and insanity, and there was often great difficulty in determining on which side of this line a person was to be put. There were cases in which a man's mental faculties generally seemed to be in full vigor, but where on one single subject he seemed to be deranged. A man was possessed, perhaps, by a belief of something absurd which he could not be reasoned out of (what was called an insane delusion), or he might have some morbid propensity, seemingly in harsh discord with the rest of his intellectual and moral nature. Those were cases which, for want of a better term, were called partial insanity. Sometimes its existence and sometimes its limits were doubtful and indefinable, and in those cases it was difficult to determine whether the patient had passed the line of moral or legal accountability for his actions.

The jury would bear in mind that a man did not become irresponsible by the mere fact of his being partially insane. Such man did not take leave of his passions by becoming insane. He might retain as much control over them as in health. He might commit offenses, too, with which his infirmity had nothing to do. He might be sane as to the crime he committed, might understand its nature, and might be governed by the same motives in relation to it as other people, while on other subjects having no relations whatever to the crime he might be the victim of delusion. Whenever this partial insanity was relied on as a defense, it must appear that the crime charged was a product of the delusion or other morbid condition, and connected with it as effect with cause, and that it was not the result of sane reasoning which the party might be capable of, notwithstanding his limited and circumscribed disorder. Assuming that that infirmity of mind had a direct influence on crime, the difficulty was to fix the character of the disorder which fixed responsibility or irresponsibility in law. The outgoings of the judicial mind on that subject had not been always entirely satisfactory nor in harmony with the conclusions of medical science. Courts had, in former times, passed upon the law in regard to insanity without regard to the medical aspect of the subject; but it would be only properly dealt with by a concurrence of harmonious treatment between the two sciences of law and medicine. The courts had, therefore, adopted and again discarded one theory after another in the effort to find some common ground on which to stand, and his effort would be to give to the jury the results most commonly accepted by the courts. It would be well to say a word to the jury as to the kind of evidence by which courts and juries were guided in this difficult and delicate inquiry. That subtile essence called mind defied, of course, ocular inspection. It could only be known by its manifestations. The test was as to whether the conduct of the man and his thoughts and emotions conformed with those of persons of sound mind, or whether they contrasted harshly with it. By that a judgment was formed as to a man's soundness of mind. And for that reason evidence was admissible to show conduct and language that would indicate to the general mind some morbid condition of the intellectual powers. Everything relating to his mental and physical history was, therefore, relevant, because any conclusion on the subject must often rest on a large number of facts; and letters, spontaneously written, afforded one of the best indications of mental condition. Evidence of insanity in the parents was always pertinent; but juries were never allowed to infer insanity of the accused from the mere fact of its existence in the ancestors. When, however, there was evidence tending to show insane conduct on the part of the accused, evidence of insanity in the ancestors was admissible as corroborative of the others. Therefore it was that, in this case, the defense had been allowed to introduce evidence covering the whole life of the accused and reaching also his family antecedents. In a case so full of detail, he should deem it to be his duty to call the attention of the jury to particular parts of it, but he wished the jury distinctly to understand that it was their province, and not his, to decide upon the facts; and if he, at any time, seemed to express or intimate an opinion on the facts (which he did not design to do) it would not be binding on them; but they must draw their own conclusions from the evidence.

The instructions which he had already given to the jury imported that the true test of criminal responsibility, where the defense of insanity was interposed, was whether the accused had sufficient use of his reason to understand the nature of the act with which he was charged, and to understand that it was wrong for him to commit it. If those were the facts, he was criminally responsible for the act, whatever peculiarities might be shown of him in other respects. On the other hand, if his reason were so defective, in conse

quence of brain-disease, that he could not understand what he was doing, or could not understand that what he was doing was wrong, he ought to be treated as an irresponsible lunatic. As the law assumed every one, at the outset, to be sane and responsible, the question was, What was there in this case to show the contrary as to this defendant? A jury was not warranted in inferring that a man was insane from the mere fact of his committing a crime, or from the enormity of the crime, because the law presumes that there is a bad motive, and that the crime is prompted by malice, if nothing else appears. Perhaps the easiest way for the jury to examine into the subject was, first to satisfy themselves about the condition of the prisoner's mind for a reasonable period of time before any conception of the assassination had entered it, and also at the present time, and then consider what evidence exists as to a different condition of mind at the time of the commission of the act. He should not spend any time on the first question, because to examine it at all would require a review of the evidence relating to over twenty years of the prisoner's life, and this had been so exhaustively discussed by counsel that anything he could say would be a wearisome repetition. It was enough to say that, on the one side, this evidence was supposed to show a chronic condition of insanity before the crime, and, on the other side, to show an exceptionally quick intelligence and decided powers of discrimination. The jury would have to draw its own conclusions. Was the prisoner's ordinary, permanent, chronic condition of mind such that he was unable to understand the nature of his actions, and to distinguish between right and wrong in his conduct? Was he subject, all the time, to insane delusions, which destroyed his power so to distinguish; and did those continue down to, and embrace, the act for which he is on trial? If so, he was simply an irresponsible lunatic. On the other hand, had he the ordinary intelligence of sane people, so that he could distinguish between right and wrong as to his actions? If another person had committed the assassination, would the prisoner have appreciated the wickedness of it? Would he have understood the character of the act and its wrongfulness if another person had suggested it to him? The jury must consider these questions in their own mind. If the jury were satisfied that his ordinary and chronic condition was that of sanity--at least so far that he knew the character of his own actions, and how far they were right or wrong-and that he was not under any permanent insane delusion which destroyed his power of discriminating between right and wrong, then the remaining inquiry was, whether there was any special insanity connected with this crime. It would be seen that the reliance of the defense was the existence of an insane delusion in the prisoner's mind which so perverted his reason as to incapacitate him from perceiving the difference between right and wrong as to this particular act.

As a part of the history of judicial sentiment on this subject, and by way of illustrating the difference between insane delusions and responsibility, he would refer the jury to a celebrated case in English history which had already been commented on in the arguments. Judge Cox here quoted from the opinions of the judges in the McNaughton case and from some American authorities on the same subject. He went on to say that the subject of insane delusion played an important part in this case and demanded careful consideration. The subject was treated to a limited extent in judicial decisions, but more was learned about it from works of medical jurisprudence and from expert testimony. Sane people were sometimes said to have delusions proceeding from temporary disorders and from mistakes in the senses. Sometimes they speculated on matters beyond the scope of human knowledge, but delusions in sane people were always susceptible of being corrected and removed by evidence and argument. On the contrary, insane delusions, according to all testimony, were unreasoning and incorrigible. Those who had them believed in

The

the existence of facts which were either impossible absolutely or impossible at least under the circumstances of the individual. A man might, with no reason for it, believe that another was plotting against his life, or that he himself was the owner of untold wealth, or that he had invented something which would revolutionize the world, or that he was the President of the United States, or Christ, or God, or that he was inspired by God to do a certain act, or that he had a glass limb, and those were cases of insane delusion. Generally, the delusion centered around the patient himself, his rights or his wrongs. It came and went independently of the exercise of will and reason, like the phantom of a dream. It was, in fact, the waking dream of the insane, in which ideas presented themselves to the mind as real facts. most certain thing was, that an insane delusion was never the result of reasoning and reflection; was not generated by the mind, could not be dispelled by them. A man might reason himself, or be reasoned by others, into absurd opinions and be persuaded into impracti cable schemes, but he could not be reasoned or persuaded into insanity or insane delusions. Whenever evidence was found of an insane delusion, it was found that the insane delusion did not relate to mere sentiment or theory, or abstract questions in laws, politics, or religion. All these were subjects of opinions, and were founded on reasoning and reflection. Such opinions were often absurd in the extreme. Some persons believed in animal magnetism, in spiritualism, and other like matters, in a degree which seemed absurd to other people. There was no absurdity in regard to religious, political, and social questions that had not its sincere supporters. Those opinions might arise from natural weakness, bad reasoning powers, ignorance of men and things, fraudulent imposture, and often from perverted moral sentiment; but still they were opinions founded on some kind of evidence, and liable to be abandoned on better information or on sounder reasoning, but they were not insane delusions. An insane delusion was the coinage of a diseased brain, which defies reason and ridicule, and throws into disorder all the springs of human action. Before asking the jury to apply these considerations to the facts in this case, he wished to premise one or two things. The question for the jury to determine was, What was the condition of the prisoner's mind at the time when this project was executed? If he were sufficiently sane then to be responsible, it mattered not what might have been his condition before or after. Still, evidence had been properly admitted as to his previous and subsequent condition, because it threw light, prospectively and retrospectively, on his condition at the time. Inasmuch as these disorders were of gradual growth and of indefinite continuance, if he were insane shortly before or shortly after the commission of the crime, it was natural to infer that he was so at the time. But still, all the evidence must center around the time when the deed was done. The jury had heard a good deal of evidence respecting the peculiarities of the prisoner through a long period of time before this occurrence, and it was claimed on the part of the defense that he was during all that time subject to delusions that were calculated to disturb his reason, and to throw it off its balance. The only materiality of that evidence was the probability which it might afford of the defendant's liability to such disorders of mind, and the corroboration which it might yield to other evidence tending to show such disorder at the time of the commission of the crime. The jury must determine whether at the time the homicide was committed the defendant was laboring under any insane delusion prompting or impelling him to do the deed. Naturally, they would look first to any explanation of the act that might have been made by the defendant himself at the time, or immediately before or after. Several papers had been laid before them that had been in the prisoner's possession, and that purported to assign the motive for the deed. In the address to the American people of the 16th of June he

said: "I conceived the idea of removing the President four weeks ago. Not a soul knew of my purpose. conceived the idea myself, and I kept it to myself. I read the newspapers carefully, for and against the Administration, and gradually the conviction dawned upon me that the President's removal was a political necessity, because he proved a traitor to the men who made him, and thereby imperiled the life of the nation." Again he said in this address: "Ingratitude is the basest of crimes. The President, under the manipulation of the Secretary of State, has been guilty of the basest ingratitude to the Stalwarts. His express purpose has been to crush General Grant and Senator Conkling, and thereby open the way for his renomination in 1884. In the President's madness he has wrecked the once grand Republican party, and for that he dies." And again: "This is not murder; it is a political necessity. It will make my friend Arthur President, and save the republic." The other papers were of similar tenor. There was evidence that, when arrested, the prisoner refused to talk, but said that the papers would explain all. On the night of the assassination the prisoner had said to the witness Brooks that he had thought over it and prayed over it for weeks; that he was satisfied that he had to do the thing, and had made up his mind and had done it as a matter of duty. He had made up his mind that the President and Secretary Blaine were conspiring against the liberties of the people, and that the President must die. In addition to this, the jury had the important testimony of Mr. Reynolds as to the prisoner's statements, oral and written, about a fortnight after the shooting. There he was found reiterating the statements contained in his other papers, and saying that the situation at Albany suggested the removal of the President, and that, as the faction fight became more bitter, he became more decided; that he knew that Arthur would become President, etc.

Judge Cox proceeded to quote from the address to the American people which was written and given to Mr. Reynolds:

"I now wish to state distinctly why I attempted to remove the President. I had read the papers for and against the Administration very carefully for two months before I conceived the idea of removing him. Gradually, as the result of reading the newspapers, the idea settled on me that if the President were removed, it would unite the two factions of the Republican party, and thereby save the Government from going into the hands of ex-rebels and their Northern allies. It was my own conception, and, whether right or wrong, I take the entire responsibility." A second paper, dated July 19th, addressed to the public, reiterated these statements, and added, "I have got the inspiration worked out of me." The jury had now before it everything emanating from the prisoner about the time of the shooting. There was nothing further from him until three months afterward. And now he would pass to consider the import of all this. The jury would consider, first, whether this evidence fairly represented the feelings and ideas that governed the prisoner at the time of the shooting. If it did, it represented a thing which he (Judge Cox) had not seen characterized in any judicial utterance as an insane delusion. They would consider whether it was evidence of insanity, or whether, on the contrary, it showed an ample power of reasoning and reflection on the arguments and evidence for and against, resulting in the opinion that the President had betrayed his party, and that, if he were out of the way, it would be a benefit to his party, and would save the country from the predominance of their political opponents. So far there was nothing insane in the conclusion. It had doubtless been shared by a good many heated partisans who were sane people, but the difference was that the prisoner reached the conclusion that to put the President out of the way by assassination was a

political necessity. When men reasoned, the law required them to reason correctly, so far as their practical duties were concerned. When they had the capacity to distinguish between right and wrong, they were bound to do it. Opinions, properly so called (that is, beliefs resulting from reasoning, reflection, and the examination of evidence), afforded no protection against the penal consequences of crime. A man might believe a course of action to be right, and the law might forbid it as wrong. Nevertheless, he must obey the law, and nothing could save him from the consequences of the violation of the law except the fact that he was so crazed by disease as to be unable to comprehend the necessity of obedience. [The court here quoted the decision of the Supreme Court in the Mormon case.] In like manner, he said, a man might reason himself into a conviction of the expediency and necessity of protecting the character of a political association, but to allow him to find shelter from punishment behind that belief would be simply monstrous. Between one and two centuries ago there had arisen a school of moralists who were accused of maintaining the doctrine that, whenever the end to be attained was right, any means necessary to its attainment were justifiable. Consequently, they incurred the odium of nearly all Christendom. By that method of reasoning the prisoner seemed to have gotten the idea that, in order to unite the Republican party and to save the republic, whatever means were necessary would be justifiable; that the death of the President by violence was only a proper and necessary means of accomplishing it, and was therefore justifiable; and that, being justifiable as a political necessity, it was not murder. That appeared to be the substance of the idea which the prisoner had put forth to the world, and if this was the whole of his position, it presented one of those vagaries of opinion (even if it were sincere) for which the law had no accommodation, and which furnished no excuse whatever for crime. There was, undoubtedly, a form of insane delusion, consisting of a belief by a person that he is inspired by the Almighty to do something to kill another, for example-and this delusion might be so strong as to impel him to the

commission of crime. The defendant in this case claimed that he labored under such a delusion at the time of the assassination. His unsworn declarations in his own favor were not, of course, evidence, and were not to be considered by the jury. A man's language, when sincere, might be evidence of his condition of mind, but not evidence in his favor of the facts declared by him. He could never manufacture evidence in that way in his own exoneration. The law allowed a prisoner to testify in his own behalf, and therefore made his sworn testimony on the witnessstand legal evidence, to be received and considered, and given such weight to as it deserved. No verdict, however, could be safely rendered on the sole evidence of an accused party under such circumstances. Otherwise, a man on trial for his life could secure his acquittal by simply testifying that he had committed the crime under a delusion or inspiration, or irresistible impulse. That would be to proclaim a universal amnesty to criminals in the past, and unbounded license in the future, and courts of justice might as well be closed.

He would say a word about the characteristics of that form of delusion. The idea of being inspired to do an act might be either a sane belief or an insane delusion. A great many Christian people believed not only that events were providentially ordered, but that they themselves received special providential guidance and illumination in respect both to their inward thoughts and their outward actions. But this was a mere sane belief. On the other hand, if a man sincerely, though insanely, believed that, like St. Paul on his way to Damascus, he had been smitten to the earth and had seen a great light and had heard a voice from heaven warning and commanding him to do a certain act, that would be a case of imaginary inspiration amounting to an insane delusion. The ques

tion was, whether the case of this defendant presented anything analogous to that. The theory of the Government was that the defendant committed this homicide in full possession of his faculties and from perfectly sane motives; that he did the act from revenge, or, perhaps, from a morbid desire for notoriety; that he calculated deliberately on being protected by those who were to be benefited politically by the death of the President; that he made no pretense of inspira tion at the time of the assassination, nor until he had discovered that his expectations from the so-called Stalwart wing of the Republican party were delusive; and that then, for the first time, he broached this theory of inspiration and irresistible pressure to the commission of the act. Whether this was true or not the jury must determine from the evidence. It was true that the term "inspiration" did not appear in the papers first written by the defendant, nor in those delivered to Mr. Reynolds, except at the close of the one dated July 19th, in which he said that the inspiration was worked out of him (although what was meant was not clear), and it was true, also, that that was after he was informed that he was being denounced by the Stalwarts. Judge Cox referred to the testimony of Dr. Noble Young, Dr. McDonald, and Dr. Gray, and this, he said, was about the substance of what appeared in the case on the subject of inspiration. The question for the jury was whether, on the one hand, the idea of killing the President first presented itself to the defendant in the shape of a command or inspiration of the Deity, in the manner in which insane delusions of that sort arose; or whether, on the other hand, it was a conception of his own, and whether the thought of inspiration was not simply a speculation, or theory, or theoretical conclusion of his own mind. If it were the latter, it was nothing more than one of the vagaries of reasoning, which he had already characterized as furnishing no excuse for crime. He had dwelt upon the question of insane delusion simply because the evidence relating to that was evidence touching the defendant's power or want of power (from mental disease) to distinguish between right and wrong as to the act done by him. This was the broad question for the jury to determine, and was what was relied upon by the defense. It had been argued with force on the part of the defense that there were a great many things in the defendant's conduct which could not be expected of a sane man, and which were only explainable on the theory of insanity. There were strange things in his career, and whether they were really indications of insanity, or could be accounted for by his ignorance of men, by his exaggerated egotism, or by his bluntness of moral sense, it might be difficult to determine. The only safe rule, however, was for the jury to direct its attention to the one test of criminal responsibility, namely, whether the prisoner possessed the mental capacity, at the time the act was committed, to know that it was wrong, or whether he was deprived of that capacity by mental disease. must not lose sight of, and they must decide how far There was one important distinction which the jury it was applicable to this case. That was the distinction between mental and moral obliquity; between the mental incapacity to distinguish between right and wrong, and the moral insensibility to that distinction. In conclusion, he said:

From the materials presented to you two pictures have been drawn to you by counsel. The one represents a youth of more than average mental endowments, surrounded by certain immoral influences at the time his character was being developed; commencing life without resources, but developing a vicious sharpness and cunning; conceiving "enterprises of great pith and moment that indicated unusual forecast, although beyond his resources; consumed all the time by unsated egotism and a craving for notoriety; violent in temper, selfish, immoral, and dishonest; leading a life of hypocrisy, swindling, and fraud; and finally, as a culmination of his de

praved career, working himself into the resolution of startling the world with a crime which would secure him a bad eminence. The other represented a youth born, as it were, under malign influences-the child of a diseased mother and of a father subject to insane delusions, reared in retirement and imbued with fanatical religious views; subsequently, his mind filled with fanatical theories, launched on the world with no guidance save his own impulses, evincing an incapacity for any continuous employment; changing from one pursuit to another-now a lawyer, now a religionist, and now a politician-unsuccessful in all; full of wild, impracticable schemes, for which he had neither resources nor ability; subject to delusions; his mind incoherent and incompetent of reasoning coherently on any subject; with a mind so weak and a temper so impressionable that he became deranged, and was, therefore, impelled to the commission of a crime the seriousness of which he could not understand. It is for you, gentlemen, to determine which of the portraits is the true one.

And now, gentlemen, to sum up all I have said to you, if you find from the whole evidence that at the time of the commission of the homicide the prisoner was laboring under such a defect of his reason that he was incapable of understanding what he was doing, or of seeing that it was a wrong thing to do-as, for example, if he were under the insane delusion that the Almighty had commanded him to do the act-then he was not in a responsible condition of mind, but was an object of compassion and should be now acquitted. If, on the other hand, you find that he was under no insane delusion, but had the possession of his faculties, and had power to know that his act was wrong; and if, of his own free-will, he deliberately conceived the idea and executed the homicide, then, whether his motive were personal vindictiveness, political animosity, a desire to avenge supposed political wrongs, or a morbid desire for notoriety; or, if you are unable to discover any motive at all, the act is simply murder, and it is your duty to find a verdict of guilty as indicted. Or, if you find that the prisoner is not guilty by reason of insanity, it is your duty to say so. You will now retire to your room and consider your verdict.

The jury retired at 4.40 P. M., and shortly afterward the court took a recess until 5.30. Some time before the court reassembled, or within thirty minutes from their retirement, the jury intimated that they had agreed upon a verdict. When order had been restored after the recess, the foreman of the jury, in answer to the customary question as to the verdict, answered, "Guilty as indicted." On the demand of Mr. Scoville, the jury was polled, and at the call of his name each juryman answered,

Guilty." As the last name was called, the heads of that jury. Don't you forget it!" Mr. prisoner shrieked: "My blood will be upon the Scoville again addressed the court, saying: "Your Honor, I do not desire to forfeit any rights I may have under the law and practice in this District. If there is anything that I ought to do now to save those rights, I would be indebted to your Honor to indicate it to me." Judge Cox, in reply, assured him that he should have every opportunity; that the charge would be furnished to him, in print, and he would be accorded all the time allowed by law within which to file his exceptions, and that he would also be entitled to four days within which to move in arrest of judgment. Guiteau called out in tones of desperation, "God will avenge this outrage!" Judge Cox then turned to the

jury and said: "Gentlemen of the jury, I can not express too many thanks for the manner in which you have discharged your duty. You have richly merited the thanks of your countrymen, and I feel assured you will take with you to your homes the approval of your

HALSTED, RICHARD FREDERICK, died May 24, 1881, in Sing Sing, N. Y., in the fiftieth year of his age, having been ill during ten years, for five of which he was almost totally blind. At the outbreak of the civil war he was first lieutenant in the sixth company of the Seventh Regiment, New York State National Guard. He accompanied that regiment on its first march to Washington. He entered the United States service, June 14, 1861, as major of the Fortieth Regiment, New York Volunteers. On April 26, 1863, he was appointed aide-decamp to General Sedgwick, and was with the Army of the Potomac until its disbandment, when he went to the Department of Texas. He served with Major-Generals John Sedgwick and H. G. Wright as staff-officer, and under division commanders Heintzelman, C. S. Hamilton, and Kearney. He was also in the Sixth Corps, and temporarily in the Second and Ninth, General Sedgwick having been assigned to these before taking command of the Sixth Corps. With this corps he made the Shenandoah Valley campaign, and was engaged at Williamsburg, Fair Oaks, the Seven Days, and Fredericksburg (the second battle where the Sixth Corps fought alone, the balance of the army being at Chancellorsville), Marye's Heights, Salem Heights, Gettysburg, Rappahannock Station, the Wilderness, and the following days, until the death of Sedgwick, May 19th, when he came home with his remains. Returning to his command June 1st, he was at Cold Harbor, in two engagements at Winchester, Fisher's Hill, Cedar Creek, besides many skirmishes, the movement against Early at Washington, and the crossing of the Shenandoah by the Sixth Corps. He was brevetted major and lieutenant-colonel of volunteers, and resigned July 1, 1866.

HAVEN, ERASTUS OTIS, born in Boston, November 1, 1820; died in Salem, Oregon, August 2, 1881. He graduated from the Wesleyan University in 1842, and was for some years an instructor at Sudbury, Massachusetts. In 1846 he was appointed Principal of the Amenia Seminary, New York, and held this position during two years. In 1848 he entered on the itinerant ministry of the Methodist Episcopal Church, and was first stationed in New York, where he was a pastor until 1853, when he became a Professor of Greek and Latin in the University of Michigan. In the following year he was appointed Professor of the English Language, Literature, and History in

consciences. With thanks, gentlemen of the jury, I dismiss you." With this announcement, the court was declared adjourned.

Subsequently a motion for a new trial was overruled, and the prisoner was sentenced to be hanged on the following June 30, 1882.

the same institution. From 1856 to 1863 he was editor of "Zion's Herald," a journal published in Boston. In 1862 he was elected a member of the Massachusetts Senate, where he served two years, and was specially prominent as an advocate of educational interests. He was also a member of the State Board of Education. In 1863 he became President of the University of Michigan, and held that position until 1869. Under his administration the university doubled in numbers and resources, becoming one of the largest in the country. Bishop Haven was next appointed President of the Northwestern University, at Evanston, Illinois, and continued to hold that office three years, giving entire satisfaction. From 1872 to 1874 he was Corresponding Secretary of the Board of Education of the Methodist Episcopal Church. In 1874 he was elected Chancellor of the Syracuse University, and in 1880 was made bishop. In 1881 he was assigned to San Francisco and the Pacific coast generally. He was a member of five general conferences, and the author of "The Young Man Advised" (1855), "Pillars of Truth" (1860), and "Rhetoric, a Text-Book for Schools " (1869).

HAYMERLE, HEINRICH CARL, BARON, Prime Minister of Austria, died at Vienna, October 10th. He was born at Vienna in December, 1828, of German parents who had been living for some time in Bohemia. After studying in the Vienna School for the Oriental Languages, he found a position as assistant interpreter to the Austrian embassy at Constantinople in 1850. During the Crimean War he was sent on a mission to Omer Pasha for securing protection to Austrian subjects. In 1857 he was sent to Athens as secretary of legation, and acted there for a time as chargé d'affaires. He was secretary of legation at Dresden and at Frankfort. After the war of 1864 he was intrusted with a mission to Copenhagen for the object of re-establishing friendly relations with the Danish Government. Returning to Frankfort in 1866, he took part in the negotiations connected with the Treaty of Prague. He was then transferred to Berlin, where he was chargé d'affaires until 1868. He was ennobled in 1867. Called to the Ministry for Foreign Affairs by Count Beust, he again went to Constantinople and from there to Athens as chargé d'affaires. He was appointed Embassador to Rome in 1877. At the Berlin Conference in 1868 he acted as the third Austrian delegate. When Count Andrassy re