xt7ksn01040n https://exploreuk.uky.edu/dips/xt7ksn01040n/data/mets.xml Frankfort, Kentucky : D Unger 1851  books b92hv6248b38l54018512009 English D Unger : Frankfort, Ky. Contact the Special Collections Research Center for information regarding rights and use of this collection. Beauchamp, Jereboam O., 1802-1826. Sharp, Solomon P. Cook, Anna. Criminals --19th century. The life of Jeroboam O. Beauchamp : who was hung at Frankfort, Kentucky, for the murder of Col. Solomon P. Sharp ... text The life of Jeroboam O. Beauchamp : who was hung at Frankfort, Kentucky, for the murder of Col. Solomon P. Sharp ... 1851 2009 true xt7ksn01040n section xt7ksn01040n 
   THE AVENGER'S DOOM,

SINGULAR, THRILLING, AND EXCITING HISTORY

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11 lAill MI MISS MS CDDKE.

      KI IT H GUTT

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EARLY DAYS OF BEAUCHAMP   THE STORY OF COL. SHARP AND MISS ANN COOKE   INTERVIEW BETWEEN BEAUCHAMP AND MISS COOKE   THE VOW OP VENGEANCE     MEETING OF SHARP AND BEAUCHAMP IN THE STREETS OF FRANKFORT.

BEAUCIIAMP-S WATCH IN THE STREETS OF FRANKFORT   HIS RETURN HOME AND MEETING WITH . MISS COOKE   LOVE, LAW AND MARRIAGE-PREPARATIONS FOR VENGEANCE    THE MASK AND THE DAGGER   THE CONSUMMATION OF REVENGE.

   E&ma in,

THE MURDERER'S RETURN HOME    THE ARREST     THE HANDKERCHIEF   THE TRIAL   LOVE, SUICIDE, AND THE SCAFFOLD.

m

LOUISVILLE, KY.:

PUBLISHED BY E. E. BARCLAY, A. 21. OETON & CO.

1851. 
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
   THE LIFE

OF

JEROBOAM 0. BEAUCHAMP,

WHO WAS

HUNG AT FRANKFORT, KENTUCKY, FOR THE MURDER OF

COL. SOLOMON P. SHARP;

COMPRISING,

a full and complete history op his intercourse and marriage  WITn  the  beautiful, accomplished, but unfortunate

MISS ANNA COOKE,

(THE SEDUCED VICTIM OF SHARP;) WITH

A MOST INTENSELY EXCITING AND THRILLING DETAIL OF THE PLOTTED ASSASSIN.I TIO.N OF THE LATTER BY THE WRONGED LADY AND HER ARDENT LOVER; TO AHICH IS ADDED, THE AWFUL DEATH OF MRS. BEAUCHAMP BY SUICIDE, WHILST LN JAIL WITH HER HUSBAND; A CLEAR AND DISTINCT REPORT OF THE EXTRAORDINARY TRIAL FOR THIS SHOCKING

MURDER;

AND BEAUCHAMP'S FINAL, DREADFUL, AND HEARTRENDING END UPON THE GALLOWS.

COMPILED FROM THE MEMOIR WRITTEN  BY BEAUCnAMP HIMSELF, AND BEQUEATHED WHILST ON THE SCAFFOLD, TO HIS DISTRESSED AND HEART-BROKEN FATHER.

MUstmbu tuitjj tfSngroiiigs.

FRANKFORT, KY., PUBLISHED BY D'UNGER & CO.,

185C

if-'! 
    
   LIFE

of

JEROBOAM 0. BEAUCHAMP.

Je roboam O. Beauchamp was the second son of a very worthy farmer in Kentucky. He was volatile, idle and eccentric, but showed such indications of genius as made him the pride and favourite of his father, who sent him to the best schools in the country, and macie great personal sacrifices to give him a liberal education. The early part of his education was pious and salutary, for his parents were professors of religion.

Young Beauchamp had the good fortune to be placed under the tuition of Dr. Benjamin Thurston, a man of worth, learning and ability; who, by the time he reached his sixteenth year, had given him a tolerable English education, a knowledge of the Latin tongue, and a respectable acquaintance with many branches of science. Young Beauchamp, now perceiving that his father had much difficulty to provide for a large rising family, resolved to depend for the future upon his own exertions. To raise money to defray the further expenses of his education, he betook himself to book-keeping, but finding it left no time for his studies, he obtained recommendations from Dr. Thurston and others, and obtained the preceptorship of a school. When he had earned a little money in this way, he gave up his employment and resumed his studies. Shortly after, he was invited by his former friend and benefactor, Dr. Thurston, into his school, where he remained, as an usher, till he was eighteen years old; by which lime he had completed his education as far as was necessary preparatory to the study of law. He then began to attend the courts at Glasgow and Bowling Green.

About this time, public indignation was excited to the utmost against Solomon P. Sharp, an attorney of high reputation and a colonel of militia.   The act which incurred the general disapprobation was the

(5) 
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LIFE OF

seduction of Miss Ann Cooke, accompanied with circumstances of peculiar atrocity. She belonged to one of the best and most wealthy families in Kentucky, and was herself celebrated for beauty, talents and accomplishments. What added a darker shade to Sharp's wickedness was, that he owed his success in life to the patronage of her family, which had been extended to him when he was young and poor. But when the case was reversed, when the Cookes had met with reverses, and he had become rich and powerful, he requited their benefits by seducing their only daughter, whose strong mind was not proof to his talents and promises. The offspring of his guilt did not long survive its birth, whereby hangs a tale. By a strange succession of calamities, Miss Cooke's father, brethren and friends, liad descended successively to the grave, and she now retired with her aged mother, her only surviving near relation, to a small farm near Beauchamp's father's farm. Here she setluded herself from the world, refusing to be comforted, and hiding herself from society.

Shortly after, Colonel Sharp paid his addresses to a Miss Scott, and to remove her scruples touching his connexion with Miss Cooke, forged a certificate, stating that the child of his sins was a mulatto, thus degrading his victim still lower.   He then married Miss Scott.

Beauchamp was well acquainted with Sharp, who had evinced much good will towards him. He had also heard much of the beauty and accomplishments of Miss Cooke. When, therefore, the transactions we have briefly related became the common topic of discourse, his indignation at Sharp's conduct was vehemently kindled. A gentleman who lodged in the same apartment with him, and whom he regarded as his nearest friend, had formerly paid court to Miss Cooke, and he now spoke of her in such exalted terms, and with so much contempt and abhorrence of Sharp, that lie inspired Beauchamp with his own feelings. The latter had been delighted with Sharp's eloquence and had sought his acquaintance, nay, had expressed a desire to study the law under his direction; but now he treated him very coldly. On one occasion, Sharp asked Beauchamp if he intended to begin the study of law. Our hero replied that he did, in a few months. Sharp then observed that he had heard he intended to come to Bowling Green to study with him. Beauchamp sternly replied that he did intend to come to Bowling Green to study, but not with him. Though something surprised at his incivility, Sharp complimented-him with an augury of his success, and said it would give him pleasure to facilitate his progress in any way. ,

With these prepossessions for Miss Cooke, and against Sharp, Bean-champ went to his father's house, in Simpson county, for the benefit of his health, which he had impaired by hard and constant devotion to his books. Here he learned that Miss Cooke dwelt in the neighbourhood, with her aged mother and a few servants.   He immediately 
   jekoboam 0. beauchamp.

7

resolved to become acquainted with one of whom he had heard so much, but was at first deterred from the attempt by hearing that she refused to make any acquaintances or receive any company. However, the more he heard of her, the stronger his curiosity grew; and at last, he ventured to her house. As he approached, he saw her through a window, but on his arrival she retired. On his entrance, he was received by the servants, who set refreshments before him, but the object of his visit declined to see him. He sent a second message, which brought her into the apartment, and he introduced himself. He told her that though he knew she was not inclined to receive visits, he had resolved to hazard the mortification of a denial. His strong desire to become acquainted with her, sprung, he said, from the conversation of his friend before mentioned, who had spoken very highly of her. He found it hard, he continued, to pass away the time in retirement without books or society, and hoped she would grant him the use of her library, even though she should decline his acquaintance, and the visits of his sisters who wished to call on her.

She replied, that she had left Bowling Green purposely to avoid society, and never would again mingle with the world. She was, therefore, unwilling to receive visits, but her library was perfectly at his service. She then showed him her books, and they spent the afternoon together, reading, and conversing upon what they read.

Toward night, when about to take leave, Beauchamp selected a book to take home, though Miss Cooke would have had him take several. He said he would read the one he had selected, and then return for more. She smiled, on perceiving that his design was merely to have a pretext for repeating his visit. However, he took but one book, and scarcely delayed long enough to read that before he returned and got another. Pity, it is said, melts the mind to love, and so was seen in this case. The enthusiastic youth had seen Miss Cooke but once, and had lost his heart and his reason wholly. She was a fascinating woman, and he was a mere boy, little acquainted with the world, and of a romantic disposition. Therefore, there is little matter of astonishment in the fact. Perhaps, too, she exerted herself to gain him to her purpose; but, we scarce believe this, for, whatever she may have thought of him at the first interview, her attachment soon became as strong as was his. Indeed, her heart must have been hard indeed, had it withstood the proofs of his devotion.

On his return, Miss Cooke refused to see him, but caused him to be conducted to her library, where he read for some hours alone, and finally departed without seeing her. He met the same reception on a third visit, and this treatment very much inflamed him, as, perhaps, she intended it should. She now haunted his mind in a way that every man older than twenty will readily comprehend, and he went a fourth time to her house, determined not to be repulsed. 
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LIFE OF

After reading some hours, he sent for her, alleging some especial reason for his conduct. She came, and he remonstrated long and urgently against her refusal to see him. He said, that she and not her books brought him to her house, and employed all his rhetoric to persuade her to relax in her resolution, and suffer his sisters to be introduced to her. She refused firmly, giving him such reasons why his sisters should not see her, as his own reason would have suggested, had he not been led astray by passion. She could never be happy in society again, she said, and as she could not return the visits of his sisters, they would not wish to see her. As to his own visits, she would admit them when the use of her library was the object.

The next day, Beauchamp ventured to take his sisters with him. her refusal to see them notwithstanding. She received and entertained them politely, but refused to return their visit, nor did she ask them to come again. After this, Beauchamp very often visited her, and always insisted on having an interview; so that, at last, by his impoi-tunate perseverance, he prevailed on her to receive him as a friend and acquaintance. She consented to meet and spend part of the time of his stay in the same room with him, after which she would retire to read, design, or other amusements. However, as his language to her began to grow warm, she imposed on him, as an indispensable condition, that he should not speak of love, but regard her merely as a friend.

Every one knows what such friendships end in : in a short thin   . such an affection was enkindled between them, as mortals seldom feel. He, to use his own language, " was in love, with all the ardor of passionate and feeling youth, when it first feels the buddings of that sweetest of all passions, which reciprocated, makes a heaven of earth !'.' Though he kept his promise, and did not mention his folly to Miss Cooke, she read it plainly enough in his eyes. Yea, he soon perceived that with all her pretended Platonism, she felt something more than mere friendship for him. Alas! that what was so sweet to the taste, should have been so hitter in digestion.

At last, his passion broke all bounds, and he declared himself. He could see that the avowal awakened no very violent displeasure, sej she declined hearing anything more on the subject. Where the fox can enter one paw, his body soon finds admittance, and, the ice behiir broken, they could now talk about the tender passion, not, it is true, as lovers, but as friends. She always said, that there was an insuperable barrier between herself and any houorable man ; but Beauchamp would not believe. When, at last, he broke through all restraint, and formally solicited her hand, she burst into an agony of passion, and told him that, although her heart could find no objection in him, there was yet an insuperable obstacle to her happiness. For a long tjme she refused to name the obstacle, but at length lie would take no denial, and obliged her to declare herself. 
   43^696 
    
   JEF. OBOAM 0. BEAUCHAMP.

9

She said, coolly and firmly, that the hand that should clasp hers before the altar, must revenge the injury she had sustained. Her heart could never cease to ache till Colonel Sharp received his death wound through her means. He had blighted her earthly happiness, and she should feel unworthy of an honest man's love, till he was in his grave. She would kiss the hand and adore the person who would avenge her, but she would not consent that any but Beauchamp should do it.

Far from thinking this condition hard, the infatuated youth was delighted with it. Indeed, he had thought of the matter before, and considered Sharp's death as the necessary consequence of his marriage with Miss Cooke. Such, in his opinion, was the only way to repair his wife's honour and secure his own. He had now heard her sav what she only required, and it being precisely what had been his desire, he calculated upon it with rapture. He told her that it had been his fixed purpose to slay Colonel Sharp, if he married her. She consented to become his wife, and in the ardor of his feelings, he resolved to fight Sharp immediately, for he had not yet resolved on assassination ; as a stranger, not allied to Miss Cooke, he did not feci himself justifiable in killing Sharp, if he should refuse to fight. It may seem strange that he could have believed such an act justifiable in any case; but, be it remembered, that at that period, a human life was regarded as a small matter in the Western and Southern States.

Col. Sharp was then in Frankfort. He had just received the appointment of Attorney-General, and was to send for his family, in order to fix his residence where he was. Beauchamp resolved to po thither immediately, though Miss Cooke remonstrated against it. She said Sharp was a coward, who would fight in no case, and that being surrounded by his friends in Frankfort, he would have every advantage. She desired him to wait till Sharp should come to Bowling Green, where her friends lived, who would support him in his purpose. But Beauchamp would listen to no expostulation. His determination wi' to force Sharp to a personal combat, if possible; but, if that could not be done, he pledged himself to Miss Cooke, by an oath, that he would do the murder in a way to endanger his own life as little as possible. He took leave of her in the presence of his sister. She burst into tears, and invoked Heaven to be his defence and shield in his unhid-lowed enterprise. Miss Beauchamp was much astonished, as was ail his family, to whom his business in Frankfort was a mystery.

When Beauchamp reached Frankfort, the legislature was in session, but he saw no one he knew till he met Colonel Sharp at the Mansion House. He accosted Beauchamp in the most cordial manner. The latter took him by the arm, telling him he had come to Frankfort to see him on some very important business, and asked him to take a walk. They walked along the river bank out of the town till they came ;o 
   10

life of

a retired spot, where they halted, as the bell of the Mansion House was ringing for supper. Beauchamp then turned short upon Sharp, and asked him if he remembered the last words the injured Miss Cooke had spoken to him. At the question Sharp stood still, pale and trembling.

" Colonel Sharp," said Beauchamp, " I have come, deputed and sent by her, to take your life. I am the man, who, in the spirit of prophecy, she spoke to you, when she forbade you her presence. She says you will not light me.   Will you, sir, or will you not ?"

Sharp stood still, without replying, and Beauchamp continued    

" Answer me, Colonel Sharp,   will you light me a duel ?"

" My dear friend," replied Sharp, " I cannot fight you on Miss Cooke's account."

On this Beauchamp drew his dirk, and, assuming a menacing attitude, bade him defend himself.

''Upon my honour, sir," said Sharp, " I have no weapon but a small penknife."

Beauchamp took from his pocket a Spanish knife, and offering that and his dirk to Sharp, said    

" Choose one of these, sir, and I'll throw it to you."

" My dear friend," Sharp repeated, " I cannot fight you on Misa Cooke's account."

Beauchamp threw the knife toward him, lifted his dagger, and cried   

"You damned villain, what do you mean by that?   that she is not worthy you should fight her friend and avenger ?"

" My friend," replied Sharp, " I meant that I never can fight the friend of that worthy, injured lady. If her brothers had murdered me, I never could have had the heart to raise my hand to defend myself. And if you, my friend, are her husband, I will never raise my hand against you."

" I am not her husband," said Beauchamp, " but 1 am her friend and avenger. She has sent me to take your life. Now, sir, tell me, if you will fight a duel with me ?"

With these words the speaker again raised his dagger, and seeing Sharp about to run, sprang upon him and seized him by the collar.

" Now ! you damned villain," said he, " you shall die !" Sharp fell upon his knees.

" My life is in your han'fls," he exclaimed. " My friend, I beg ray ife for mercy's sake!"

Beauchamp let him go, and struck him in the face so rudely, that he reeled backward.

" Get up, you coward," he cried," and go till I meet you to-moirovr in the street."

As he arose, Beauchamp gave him a kick. 
   jeroboam 0. beatjciiamp.

11

" Now," he said, " go and arm yourself, for to-morrow I will horse whip you in the streets, and repeat it daily till you fight me."

Sharp, calling Beauchamp " dear friend," in every instance, began to implore more lenient treatment, saying that his conduct had made him miserable. His whole estate, he said, should be at the command of Miss Cooke and Beauchamp, or he would do anything they might require, if they would only spare his life for the sake of his wife and child.   All this humility did not mollify his enemy in the least.

" Stand oft", you villain," he cried, " or I'll take your life for offering me your estate."'

Sharp said he meant no insult, but he would do anything that could be done, so his life might be spared.

" It is of no use," answered Beauchamp ; " to multiply words. You must either kill me, or I will kill you, so you had better consent to light me at once. I will give you any advantage you choose, as to the manner of lighting, but fight you must, or die!"

" Why," said Sharp, " my dear friend, if you were to take a dirk, and 1 had a sword, I could not raise it against you. My friend, if John Cooke had beaten me to death with a stick, and I had had a sword, I could never have raised it against him."

This he said weeping.

"Very good, Colonel Sharp," said Beauchamp, "you are just such a whining coward as I was told you were. But, sir, it will only give me the prolonged pleasure in killing you. For I will beat you in the streets daily, till 1 make you fight me, or till J beat you to death   one or the other I will certainly do. So now go and sleep upon that, till I meet you to-morrow in the street."

He began to look for the knife he had thrown down, while Sharp spoke again, in the deprecating style he had already used, and begged his life over and over.

" Oh !" said he, " you are the favoured possessor of that great and worthy woman's love. Be it so   here, take my life   I desire it; but do not disgrace me in the streets."

Beauchamp bade him begone instantly, or he would take him at his word, at the same time quickly approaching him, whilst Sharp, thinking it best, under the circumstances, moved oft* towards the town. After looking a long while in vain for his knife, Beauchamp also went back to his lodgings.

Such scenes of ruffianly violence were not at that day anything uncommon. Beauchamp, not satisfied with having humbled Sharp to the dust, prepared to repeat the air, with variations and additions. To this end he bought a very heavy whip, and after breakfasting in the morning, patroled the streets in search of his enemy, armed at all points. He expected that Sharp would be found surrounded by his friends, and would fire upon him as he advanced to the assault. He 
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also had pistols, and in order to keep to the windward of the law, intended to approach without uttering a word. If Sharp fired, he meant to fire from a distance in return. Thus he was sure of having the advantage, for he knew that Sharp was unskilled in the use of the pistol, whilst he was himself an excellent shot. This circumstance would convict him of cowardice, had he not before offered to light Sharp fairly ; at any rate, it proves that his moral perceptions were by no means acute.   May Heaven forgive his wickedness.

He walked round the town several times in the course of the day, and seeing nothing of his intended victim, concluded that he had kept his room. Our hero repeated his promenade the next day, till becoming impatient, he made inquiries, and then learned that Sharp had set off at daylight the morning after their rencontre, for Bowling Green, in order, as he said, to bring his family to Frankfort. Beauchamp mounted his horse and pursued, but leisurely, as he knew Sharp could not be overtaken short of Bowling Green, where Beauchamp would have sooner met him than at any other place. When he got k Bowling Green, he found he had been deceived. Sharp was not there nor was he expected.   He then returned home, and to Miss Cooke.

They concluded to defer their marriage till Colonel Sharp should come to Bowling Green, when they intended to lure him to Miss Cooke's house, so that she might kill him with her own hand. Beauchamp did not like this plan, for he thought he should be dishonoured if Sharp fell by any hand olher than his own. But she was inflexible, desiring more than all things to avenge her own wrong; and that she might not fail, she practised daily with pistols, in the use of which her lover instructed her. At last Sharp came to Bowling Green, and she wrote a letter which she hoped would bring him within her reach.

Nothing was to be done by Beauchamp, until she had heard from Sharp.   She wrote as follows :

" Col. Sharp.   Notwithstanding the ill feeling I manifested toward you on our last meeting, and though I then forbade you ever to see me again, I find that such was not the dictate of my heart, but of a delirious passion. You should not have been surprised that the enthusiastic and chivalrous feelings of a youth like young Beauchamp made him hope to win my favour by a duel with you in my behalf. It is true, I have been pleased with Mr. Beauchamp's character, and may have encouraged his hopes by some heedless expressions, but [ have now broken off all intercourse with him, on account of the violent course he has resorted to. 1 expect soon to leave the Slate, and as you have conjured me by letter to grant you an interview, I now thought it would give me much pleasure to return you your letters, previous to my departure, and also to get back my own, if you 
   jeroboam 0. beauchamp.

13

still retain any of them. I therefore request you to call on Monday evening next, and be kind enough to apprise me verbally through the servant who brings you this letter, whether you will comply or not.

Truly, Anna Cooke.''

On reading the above letter, Colonel Sharp asked the servant whether Mr. Beauchamp was at Miss Cooke's house when he left it. The man answered no, for he had been so instructed to do. Sharp then asked if Beauchamp continued to visit his mistress, and was informed that he did. The question that next followed was respecting the time since Beauchamp's last visit, which he was informed took place several days before. He learned that a marriage had been spoken of between Anna Cooke and Beauchamp, and was falsely informed that his enemy was not in the neighbourhood. In his answer 10 this letter, he expressed no less delight than surprise at a permission to see her once more, of which he acknowledged himself unworthy, and said that nothing but death should hinder him from attending her at the hour appointed. However, he did not come, having probably some suspicion that the letter was an artifice to entrap him, as indeed it was. The next morning, Beauchamp started for Bowling Green, resolved to settle the business with Sharp in some way, but found on his arrival that he had been gone two days on his way to Frankfort. Wherefore our hero determined to pursue his studies quietly in Bowling Green, till Sharp should venture thither to arrange his affairs, which he had left in an unsettled state. He felt, as he afterwards said, that he never could consider Miss Cooke as his wife till he should have destroyed her seducer, and she thought that Beauchamp would be degraded by marrying her before her injuries should be avenged.

Beauchamp made a journey to Tennessee, of which we will speak hereafter, before he married He abstained long from any attempt on Sharp, because Miss Cooke could not be persuaded to forego the purpose of immolating him with her own hand. This womanish idea was worth many days of life to him. In June following, Beauchamp having completed his studies, married Anna Cooke, and he now thought himself privileged to avenge her, even by assassination.

That year the gubernatorial election took place, the contest being between Judge Tompkins and General Desha. Beauchamp looked forward with hopes for the success of Judge Tompkins, because he "bresaw that he would have to petition for executive clemency, and he knew that Colonel Sharp was Desha's right hand man. Ho also knew that Sharp possessed great influence in Frankfort, and was there considered the head of a powerful party, for which reasons he natu-iLilly feared to come before a Frankfort jury.

Sharp had long been expected in Bowling Green, but, as he did 
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not come, Beauchamp began to get impatient, and fearful that he never more would venture lhither. He hit on an ingenious expedient to ascertain the truth. He caused letters to be put in the Post-Offices in the neighbourhood, directed to Colonel Sharp, signed with the names of imaginary persons, and purporting that the signers wished to know when he would be in Bowling Green,, that they might consult him on business. However lie received np positive answer, and therefore determined if Sharp did not come soon to Bowling Green to seek and slay in whatever nook or corner of the world he could be hunted np. About this time an event occurred which confirmed him in his resolution.

Sharp was a candidate for a seat in the legislature, and, as may be supposed, his political opponents did not fail to reproach him with the seduction of Miss Cooke. This injured his prospects, and to do away with the unfavourable impression, a report was circulated that the child of Miss Cooke was the onspring of a negro. Sharp supported the tale by reference to the forged certificate before referred to. He was led into this villany by reason of his wife's family, for whose satisfaction the certificate had been originally forged, and they now were the cause of his imprudenily using the paper a second time. It is by no means probable that he at first intended to make so open a use of it. Yet the story having been once told, on his authority, he was obliged to persist in it, for one falsehood is the sure progenitor of a thousand more. When this thing reached Beauchamp's ears, he determined to go to Frankfort at once, and assassinate Sharp, whatever the danger might be, and although Desha was governor.

He was encouraged by Desha's private affairs. At that moment, Isaac Desha, the governor's son, was lying in prison, awaiting his trial for a robbery and murder committed on the highway, with circumstances of peculiar atrocity. He thought, from a knowledge of the Governor's character, that he would pardon his son, and could not, therefore, refuse to extend the executive clemency to him also, lie hoped to escape with impunity for other reasons, viz:

Colonel Sharp was the main pillar of the new administration. Party rage ran very high, and Beauchamp thought, with reason, that if he should slay him on the second night of the election, his party would be glad to turn his death to account, by charging the old court party with it. Even Sharp's own family, he believed, would be glad to enhance the value of their kinsman by giving currency to the report. But for an unforeseen occurrence, the junction of the two parties, this stratagem would have had the effect he intended.

He waited patiently till the night before the meeting of the legislature, and in the meantime took his measures to divert suspicion, and to effect his escape to Missouri.   Three weeks before the meeting 
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   jeroboam 0. beauchamp.

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of the legislature, he made sale of his property, and reported on all occasions that he intended to depart for Missouri the very day on which he really intended to murder Colonel Sharp. He had his wagol and horses, and everything ready, and even hired persons to come two days previous to the time of the premeditated deed, to assist him in loading his wagon. Yet he had secretly prepared an excuse fo deferring his departure for a week later.

He had managed to have business in Frankfort, that would render it necessary for him to go thither before his departure for Missouri. However, he never intimated his intention to go there, because he wished to have it appear a casual thing. That this might be more apparent, he told his business to one Lowe, and offered to hire Lowe to go and transact the business for him, well knowing that Lowe would refuse. On Lowe's refusal, he told him he could not possibly attend to the matter himself, and would therefore get his brother to go for him. But three days before the Tuesday on which he really intended to start for Frankfort, he procured a process to be issued against him, which, if executed, must necessarily prevent his projected removal to Missouri. On Saturday evening, he was informed of this process, at which he affected the utmost astonishment. He told his informant, Mr. Bradburn, that it would ruin him by preventing his removal. Bradburn said, it was a mere vexatious thing intended to delay him, and advised him to keep out of the way and avoid it, till his friends could get his family ready to start. Beauchamp said that he would rather stay and defend himself, as the next Sunday was the day he had set apart for his departure. The next day he met Lowe, who was a constable, and forbade him to approach, as he was armed and would defend himself. On several occasions he expressed his determination to stay and brave the law, but, at last, on the urgent solicitation of his friends, consented to leave the country to avoid the process as a pretext for going to Frankfort, for which he immediately started. He carried with him a bundle of old clothes, such as ar? worn in Kentucky by negroes, to disguise himself, and had, besides, a black silk mask, made by his wife for this express purpose. So well had she fitted it on his face that he could not have been distinguished from a negro at the distance of five yards. Moreover, he was provided with a large butcher's knife, the point of which had been poisoned by Mrs. Beauchamp.

He was told at the Mansion House in Frankfort that he could not be accommodated, and had the same answer to his demand for lodgings at another tavern. Here he was told that Mr. Scott, the keeper of the penitentiary, might take him in, and accordingly went thither and was admitted. He retired early, and equippe