THE CONVICT SULLIVAN.

Cromwell Argus, Volume V, Issue 223, 17 February 1874, Page 6

THE CONVICT SULLIVAN.

(PROM OtJft DUNEDIN CORRESPONDENT.) Few persona who read this but will remember the atrocious murders which were some few years since associated with the name of this crime-stained convict. In the year 1866 the inhabitants of every Province in the Colony were thrown into a state of the greatest excitement, and their indignation and their horror aroused, at the discovery that a number of barbarous murders had been committed on the West Coast of the Nelson Province by a gang of the blackest villains that were ever permitted to draw the breath of life. The news was flashed by telegram to every town in the Colony, and probably no crimes that wore ever committed—not even excepting the blackest deeds of Burke and Hare in the old country —were looked upon with such loathing, and the perpetrators so detested and hated, as were those crimes, and those fiends in the shape of men of which I npw write. People could hardly realize the fact that such dreadful deeds were being perpetrated almost in their very midst, and the names of Burgess, Sullivan, Kelly,.and Levy were in everybody’s mouth as being those of men who deserved no consideration at the hands of their fellows and for whom no punishment that could be inflicted would be too severe. The capture of these scoundrels was hailed with the very utmost satisfaction, and when at their trial sentence of death was passed upon all with the exception of Sullivan, who turned Queen’s evidence, it was admitted that the ignominious death to which

they were sentenced was never more richly deserved. Burgess, Kelly, and Levy were executed in the Nelson Gaol on Friday the 28th October, 1866, and Sullivan, in consideration of the services he rendered as approver, was spared the ignominy of perishing on the scaffold, and sentenced to penal servitude for life. That he deserved any consideration few indeed could be found at the time to admit, notwithstanding his statement that he was not guilty of the actual murder of any of the unfortunate victims who lost their lives by the hands of the gang.. His asseveration to this effect met wi th little belief by the general public. His life was at stake, and it is but natural to suppose that he would have no scruples as to what he said in the hope of saving his neck. The statement of Burgess, who made free and open confessions of the horrible crimes of which he and his partners in villainy had been convicted, seemed to be given in all penitence ; and he deliberately stated that Sullivan and he w 7 ere the worst of the whole gang. He detailed with minuteness the murder of poor young Dobson by Sullivan, and stated that Sullivan afterwards told him what a nice young fellow Dobson was, and that he (Sullivan) stopped him by mistake, and having done so, sared not let him go again, but took him into the bush, and “ burked” him. Further on in bis confession, Burgess referred to the murder of the poor old man Jamie Battle, stating that after he (Burgess) and Sullivan had had some conversation with Battle they made him ait down on the ground, and when he drew his sheath-knife and resisted them, how he was seized by him (Burgess) by the throat, and thus held till he was almost at the

last gasp, when Sullivan drew his fist and gave him a fearful blow in the abdomen which completed the horrible deed. They then, according to Burgess, raked a hole, and shoved the poor victim into it with his face downwards. Next day (to continue Burgess's confession) they fell in with a party for whom they were watching, knowing that the men had a good deal of money and gold on them. All the murderers seem to have had a finger in the pie this time ; but as usual the two arch-friends, Sullivan and Burgess were the ringleaders, bailing-up the travellers, tying their hands behind their backs and separating them. According to Burgess, Sullivan took off his sash, and tied it round the neck of one of the party named Dudley, and thus he and Burgess strangled the poor fellow. They then returned to where the others were and Burgess took Mathien to one side and shot him with a revolver, and then immediately afterwards shot Kempthorne (who had risen to his feet) with a gun ; Sullivan in the meantime having shot De Pontius, the fourth one of the party. Burgess then directed Sullivan’s attention to Mathien, showing him where he lay, and Sullivan went over to him, saying on coming back, I had to ‘ chiv’ that fellow, as he was not quite dead.” As the result of this horrible butchery, they received about £6O in money and 46ozs of gold, the property of Kempthorne. This was all told in Burgess’s confession, and if any reliance is to be placed on it, it clearly proves Sullivan to have been quite Burgess’s equal in villainy. However, that is neither here nor there. Sullivan was leniently dealt with, and as a result of his turning approver the inhabitants of this city have had his honourable company within the four walls of Her Majesty’s Gaol. Latterly rumours have been i abroad that it was the intention of the Go- j vernment shortly to liberate him. What for | I cannot tell, as any information on the sub- j ject was confined to that obtained from! rumour. Most people put it down as an idle | tale. I certainly never for one moment iraa-1 gined that such a monstrous iniquity would be perpetrated. And yet there were certain circumstances which gave some slight colour of truth to the rumour, notably among them being the fact that the prison authorities had allowed Sullivan’s hair and whiskers to grow of late, an unusual proceeding, as the prisoners are regularly shaved and cropped. And now comes the sequel, that this terror of society—this worse than wild boast—has actually been liberated. The proceedings have of course boon kept a strict lecret by

the authorities, and but for the fact of an eye-witness of Sullivan’s departure by the' Mikado having told me of the circumstance, I should not now be in a position to write you the news. You may rely on if, however, as being thoroughly correct, the facts of the case being that he has gone up in the charge of a warder to Auckland by the steamer I have mentioned en route for America. What on earth the liberating of this man means, I cannot fathom, I suppose, however, that we shall now have some explanation of it, and certainly the public are entitled to it. It is no palliation of this extraordinary proceeding to say that he has been sent out of the country. Nothing can justify the sending of so dangerous and crime-stained a man as this to another country ; and it seems to me that the San Francisco authorities will not allow such a proceeding to pass over without demanding some explanation. I only hope that those in authority here will be able to justify their strange conduct.

Two Clergymen in a Quandary. Neither the lady nor the clergymen hereinafter mentioned belong to Melbourne. The lady was easy in her virtue, and chaster in her dress and equipments than in her morals. But she could be modest in her manner when she chose, and affected virtues which she had not. One day she went in her well-known trap, constructed to hold three, for a quiet drive along a country road, and on her return to the city overtook two clergymen walking quickly to escape an impending thunderstorm. She pulled up and politely invited them to take a seat to avoid a wetting. They thanked her and accepted, and she rattled them along at a rate that put the fear of the rain out of their hearts. She talked church to them—she is everything to every man and prepared for any emergency. They were rather proud of returning to town in-such a pretty trap driven by such a pretty woman, but their pride got a fall when they reached the fashionable quarter of the city, for, quick as thought, on some impulse of the evil one, the young woman, who by her conversation might have been a district visitor, and whom each would have jumped at for his Sunday school, whipped out a cigar, lighted it with a fusee, put herself in a striking character more artistic than elegant, and, heedless of their remonstrances, drove her pair of spirited little ponies round and round the principal streets at full trot. One of the clergymen preached next Sunday to the pew-opener alone, and she declined to stay in the church with him by herself unless all the doors and windows were open.— Leader.