y
something. I cannot say to which paper I send most of my poems, as
I send to all. One of the weaknesses of the _St. John's Gazette_ is
its poetry. It is not worthy of the name. It is doggerel. I have sought
to improve it, but the editor rejected my contributions. I continued to
send them, hoping that they would educate his taste. One night I had
sent him a very long poem which did not appear in the paper next day. I
was very indignant, and went straight to the office. That was on Jubilee
Day. I was told that the editor had left word that he had just gone into
the country for two days. (Hisses.) I forced my way up the stairs,
however, and when I reached the top I did not know which way to go.
There were a number of doors with "No admittance" printed on them.
(More hissing.) I heard voices in altercation in a room near me. I
thought that was likely to be the editor's. I opened the door and went
in. The prisoner was in the room. He had the editor on the floor and was
jumping on him. I said, "Is that the editor?" He said, "Yes." I said,
"Have you killed him?" He said, "Yes," again. I said, "Oh!" and went
away. That is all I remember of the affair.

[Illustration]

Cross-examined: It did not occur to me to interfere. I thought very
little of the affair at the time. I think I mentioned it to my wife in
the evening; but I will not swear to that. I am not the Herr Bablerr who
compelled his daughter to marry a man she did not love, so that I might
write an ode in celebration of the nuptials. I have no daughter. I am a
poet.

The foreman printer deposed to having had his attention called to the
murder of the editor about three o'clock. He was very busy at the time.
About an hour afterward he saw the body and put a placard over it. He
spoke of the matter to the assistant editor, who suggested that they had
better call in the police. That was done.

A clerk in the counting-house says: I distinctly remember the afternoon
of the murder. I can recall it without difficulty, as it was on the
following evening that I went to the theatre--a rare occurrence with me.
I was running up the stairs when I met a man coming down. I recognized
the prisoner as that man. He said, "I have killed your editor." I
replied, "Then you ought to be ashamed of yourself." We had no further
conversation.

J. O'Leary is next called. He says: I am an Irishman by birth. I had
to fly my country when an iniquitous Coercion Act was put in force.
At present