WAIPORI MURDER.—EXECUTION OF

Hawke's Bay Times, Volume 7, Issue 370, 23 April 1866, Page 1

WAIPORI MURDER.—EXECUTION OF

JONES. (From the Daily Times, 7th. April.) A second criminal has been hanged in Otago. John Jones alias Hoole alias King, was put to death at eleven o’clock yesterday forenoon, within the Dunedin Gaol, for the murder of Richard Atkinson, at Waipori, on the 23rd December. The convict maintained during his last night of existence the calm bearing which he showed from the time of his conviction. His conduct was throughout composed. He listened attentively to the exhortations of the Rev Mr Smith, chaplain of the Gaol and the Rev R. Connebee, whom he desired to see as soon as he was told that he was to be executed. He declared himself to be and he appeared to be, most sorry for his crime. He denied that he had any intention of killing poor Richard Atkinson. He had drunk to great excess he said on the day previous to, and on the morning of the murder ; and he did not know what he had done, until he was told told of it next day, when taken into custody. The convict went to bed at eleven o’clock on Thursday night, and slept soundly until seven yesterday morning. The Revs Messrs Connebee and Smith were with him almost uninterruptedly from that time until the end. He wept as he listened to their exhortations and their prayers ; and he repeated in substance, that when he stabbed Atkinson he was mad from the effects of drink, and that he did not know until the day after, what he had done. A few minutes before eleven o’clock, the Sheriff went to the cell, and demanded “ the body of John Jones, for execution.” The convict walked out into the day-room, and the hangman walked in. v ' Disguised in a much worn dirty prison jacket or smock frock, his face hidden by a black calico mask aud a tattooed old grey felt bat, the minister of the law looked simply repulsive. But he did his work handily. The convict, when he came into the room, saw one of the warders, to whom he turned with something like a flush of welcome and thankfulness, and advancing, grasped the warder’s hand. He did not speak. He stood passively, but quite firmly, while being pinioned. And during that time he was addressed by Mr Connebee. He was evidently a man of very sluggish intellect and stolid temperament —to be affected, but only by tbe most simple aud direct earnestness. Said the reverend gentleman, “ There is a beautiful hymn, from which many have got comfort. If you wish, I will repeat to you a verse of it.” And he said the verse beginning, “ Jesus, lover of my soul, let me to Thy bosom fly.” “‘Oh ! receive my soul at last!”’ repeated the minister, “that is a most fitting prayer for you, now !” The pinioning bad meanwhile been completed, by the putting on of the linen cap, and the removal of the neckerchief and collar: the hangman being still an expert workman.

The Rev. R. Connebee. commenced the burial service; and while the little gaol bell clanked, the short procession started for the gallows. It is but a brief walk in Dunedin Gaol! The convict walked steadily, and placed himself on the drop. What remained to be done was soon done ; and the bolt was drawn. The officers of the gaol were on the scaffold with the ministers, and there was, perhaps, a score of spectators in the yard. There was but slight evidences of spasm as the body hung, but more than an ordinary time passed before the Provincial Surgeon was satisfied that pulsation had ceased. It is inexpressibly horrible to see a man go to a violent and an infamous death, as John Jones went. There he is, a strong stoutly-built man, w T ho has probably never known, as a man, wliht illness means. He is not “ dying game,” as it is called in the slang of thieves and ruffians. There is not a trace of bravado about him. He is probably as sorry that he has killed a fellowbeing as it is consistent with his nature that he should be sorry for anything. But there are no evidences that he realises either the guilt of a murderer, or the infamy of the punishment to which man’s law has doomed him. He has to die, and in the narrowest acceptation of that phrase he “ realises his

position.” Nothing more. Try to think of what he is thinking as he feels the hangman's iirsi grasp. Before you can begin almost, there he dangles in the hole, dead, with the hangman tugging at his thongbound legs, and his face twisted round and upturned as far as the cord will allow it to turn, presenting a hideous mask to the sunlight. How hideous that linen mask is—how terribly worse than the sight of the naked face of one who has died the most agonising death—those only know who have stood upon a scaffold, and have thought of the poor hanged wretch apart from the crime for which he had been executed. The usual inquesf was held on the body, and a verdict returned that the deceas d had been hanged by the neck until dead, iu due course of law.