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The Daily Dispatch: may 29, 1861., [Electronic resource], The character of the war before us. (search)
is the infamous Billy Mulligan, who for his many crimes and rascalities, was some years since driven from California. Last winter he was sent to the State Prison in New York, for manslaughter, and he is now outside its walls on a legal quibble for the purpose of obtaining a new trial. He has long been a pest and a terror to the peaceable, honest portion of the city in which he has lived, but he will find fighting the South a different affair from that of a ward fight in New York. E. Z. C. Judson, better known by his nom de plume of "Ned Buntline," has received an appointment as Colonel in the army of subjugation. This blast upon humanity — this defamer of woman's virtue, but now valiant son of wars, was once publicly horse-whipped in Broadway, New York, by a prostitute. The poor, miserable, craven-hearted wretch begged and cried for mercy like a child. He was finally prevented from receiving his just deserts, by the interposition of some gentleman who saw the castigation adm
The Daily Dispatch: may 29, 1861., [Electronic resource], article 2 (search)
our feet depended from the iron rings of the fetters. The adjustment of the height was left to the judgment of our kind-hearted parent, who stood by to see that it was not high enough to endanger life, nor low enough to exempt from pain.' The other six who were Mr. Gouger's companions on the bamboo were the following: Mr. Laird, a Scotchman, recently kidnapped at Rangoon; the unhappy Rodgers, whose naturalization and long residence in the country could not shield him from the royal fury; Dr. Judson, and Dr. Price, two American missionaries, who were confounded with the British by ungeographical Burmese; and two Hindu servants of Mr. Gouger. All conversation, even moanings themselves, died away among this wretched community, when 3 o'clock was proclaimed each afternoon by the palace gong. A death like silence prevailed. 'It seemed as though even breathing were suspended under the control of a panic terror, too deep for expression, which pervaded every bosom. We did not long remain