Lust and Lead.

Around 1:30 a.m. on February 5, 1881, police were summoned to 109 Poplar Street in St. Louis to investigate gunshots. Inside, they found a scene of bloody carnage. At the top of a staircase, a woman lay on her back, the blood from three gunshot wounds slowly dripping down the steps. Sprawled across the bottom steps in a pool of blood lay the corpse of a man with a single wound to the head. It was a murder-suicide. 

The victims were Xavier and Aglae Wilhelm (no relation), who were married in France sixteen years earlier. She was 16 and he was 25. The age difference was a problem from the beginning; Aglae liked to flirt, and Xavier was profoundly jealous.

They emigrated to America and ended up in St. Louis. Aglae had some money, and they used it to open a coffee restaurant and ice cream parlor. They were raising two children, but business was bad, and Xavier and Aglae were constantly quarreling. Aglae couldn’t take it anymore, and in 1880, she took the children back to France.

Xavier followed soon after and persuaded her to return to St. Louis. They left the children in France and came back to the city with a new business plan. They purchased the two-story building on Poplar Street, opened a saloon on the first floor, and a brothel on the second floor. 

Sometime later, Xavier returned to Paris to recruit new blood for their house of ill-fame. He secured three young girls by telling them they would work as domestics in a fine hotel, for fabulous wages. The authorities in France got wind of his scheme and managed to rescue two of the girls. He returned to St. Louis with one.

During his absence, Xavier put his bartender, Jean Morrel, in charge of the saloon. Upon his return, Xavier began to suspect that Morrel had taken charge of his wife as well. The old jealousies returned, and he swore out a warrant charging his wife and her paramour with adultery. On February 5, the case came before a judge who dismissed it for want of evidence. Racked with jealousy and devoid of hope, Xavier put an end to their problems with four gunshots.

The coroner’s inquest returned the only possible conclusion: 

Verdict: Aglae Wilhelm came to her death from the effects of bullets fired from a revolver at the hand of her husband, Xavier Wilhelm, deceased at 109 Poplar Street. 

Verdict: Xavier Wilhelm, suicide by gunshot wound.

Morbid fascination with the crime was so strong in St. Louis that people visited the scene of the crime all day to gaze upon the place where blood had been shed. Crowds gathered at the morgue, though the bodies were covered and kept behind closed doors. 

Public fascination with the crime was matched by utter disdain in the press for both Xavier and Aglae. The Memphis Daily Appeal called it A “fitting end to a bad pair.” The St. Louis Post-Dispatch said: 

Mr. Wilhelm is to be congratulated upon his success. As a rule, the blackguards who murder women are so exhausted by the manly exercise that they miserably fail when they attempt to do a good turn in the same line for themselves.

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Sources: 

“Bathed in Blood,” St. Louis Globe-Democrat, February 5, 1881.
“The Bloody End,” The Cincinnati Enquirer, February 6, 1881.
“Fitting End of a Bad Pair,” Memphis Daily Appeal, February 6, 1881.
“Lust and Lead,” St. Louis Globe-Democrat, February 6, 1881.
“News Article,” St. Louis Post-Dispatch, February 5, 1881.
“The Wilhelm Horror in St. Louis,” Illustrated Police News, February 26, 1881.

"Your Time has Come!"

 

--"'Your Time has Come'", Illustrated Police News, December 8, 1883.

Thomas Barrows was found dead in his home in Kittery, Maine, on November 14, 1883.  He was lying in his bed with six bullet wounds in his arms, legs, and head. His wife, Mary, told the coroner that Thomas had committed suicide. The coroner was faced with two immediate mysteries: if Thomas Barrows had committed suicide, why did he wound himself five times before firing the shot to the head that killed him? And how had he shot himself six times with the five-barreled revolver found near the bed?

In fact, his wife, Mary, persuaded her son-in-law, Oscar Blaney, to murder her husband. Blaney ambushed Barrows by the barn, shot him four times, and fled. But Barrows was not dead. Mary brought Blaney back to finish the job. found Barrows sitting on the side of his bed, groaning.

“Oscar, I guess I will go soon,” said Barrows.

“Yes, your time has come now,” Blaney said and fired two more shots.

Read the full story here: The Kittery Crime.

Dr. John W. Hughes.

Dr. John W. Hughes was a restless, intemperate man whose life never ran smoothly. When his home life turned sour, he found love with a woman half his age. Then, he lost her through an act of deception, and in a fit of drunken rage, Dr. Hughes killed his one true love.

Read the full story here: The Bedford Murder.

The Mysterious Murder.

A boatman working near the foot of Little Street in Brooklyn, on October 3, 1864, saw a package floating on the water. Thinking it might contain something of value, he took it into his boat. He unraveled the enameled oilcloth surrounding the package, and inside, covered in sheets of brown paper, was the trunk of a human body. The head, arms, pelvis, and legs had been cut off with a saw or sharp knife, as if by a butcher.  The clothing had not been removed. He took the package to the 42^nd Police Precinct.

Was Abbott Innocent?

Illustrated Police News, February 28, 1885.

Joseph Crue returned from work to his home in Groton, Massachusetts, on January 18, 1880, and found his wife, Maria, lying dead in the bedroom.  She had been shot three times in the face, and the Medical Examiner determined that she had been raped.

A tramp was seen in the neighborhood that day looking for work. A neighbor of the Crues, Jennie Carr, identified the tramp as Stearns K. Abbott from a police photograph. Abbott had recently been released from New Hampshire State Prison, where he had served time for larceny. He had also served prison time in Massachusetts and Connecticut. Abbott had already left town, so the police circulated his photograph among New England police departments. Ten days later, Abbott was arrested in East Weare, New Hampshire.

Abbott was convicted of murder and sentenced to hang, but there was lingering doubt as to his guilt. In February 1885, Chief Wade of the State District Police said:

I never thought Abbot Killed that woman. Why, there was a whole hour of her husband’s time that was unaccounted for, and that length of time was sufficient for him to commit the deed in. It was the old story, though, of giving a dog a bad name and everybody will kick it. Abbott had a bad reputation and no friends to look out for his interests. That Jennie Carr that swore so strongly in the case knew a good deal more than she swore to. She didn’t care to tell all she knew. I have no doubt that the truth will come out in this case and that it will be at last cleared up. Stearns Kendall Abbott is an innocent man, so far as the murder of Mrs. Crue is concerned. 

The truth never did come out, but public pressure led the state governor to commute Abbott's sentence to life in prison. Abbott served thirty years of his sentence before being pardoned in 1911. He never wavered in his assertion of innocence. 

Read the full story here: The Groton Tragedy.

Views of the Fisk Assassination.

James Fisk Jr. was a robber baron, stock manipulator, and financial fraudster. In spite of this, he was a popular, much-loved public figure. On January 6, 1872, he was assassinated on the staircase of the Grand Central Hotel in New York City by his friend and sometime business partner, Edward “Ned” Stokes. Fisk and Stokes were both in love with Josie Mansfield, considered by some to be the most beautiful woman in America. 

The murder became a national sensation and was graphically illustrated many times in magazines and books.

Read the full story here: Jubilee Jim.
 

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1. Life, Adventures, Strange Career and Assassination of Col. James Fisk Jr. (Philadelphia: Barclay and Co, 1872.)
2. Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper, January 20, 1872.
3. The Life of James Fisk Jr. (Philadelphia: Union Publishing Company, 1872.)
4. “The Stokes-Fisk Assassination,” Illustrated Police News, January 11, 1872.

Parting from Her Doomed Lover.

National Police Gazette, December 29, 1888.

Franklin Asbury Hawkins murdered his mother on October 29, 1887, and dumped her body, beaten and shot, by the side of the road in Islip, Long Island. 22-year-old Hawkins was angered that his mother objected to his desire to marry Hattie Schrecht, a servant girl. Hawkins was easily convicted of first-degree murder and sentenced to be hanged in December 1888.

Hattie Schrecht visited Hawkins in his jail cell the night before his execution. She blamed herself for the murder, but the weeping girl assured her doomed lover that they would meet again in heaven.

Read the full story here: The Hawkins Matricide. 

Shot Down in Court.

Police Officers Farson and Conway were patrolling the neighborhood of Orleans and Washinton Streets in Memphis, Tennessee, on the night of April 28, 1890, when they heard a cry of,” Help! Murder!” They hurried to the source and opened the door to find a woman lying on the floor with a heavy-set man over her with a death grip on her throat. They arrested the man and took him to Central Station, where they learned that they had captured Jake Ackerman, one of the most successful and dangerous criminals in the country.

Mary and Oscar.

 

Mary Barrows and Oscar Blaney.
Illustrated Police News, May 9, 1885,

In 1883, Mary Barrows of Kittery, Maine, persuaded her son-in-law, Oscar Blaney, to murder her husband, Thomas Barrows. Mary had been married before and had a daughter by her first husband. Thomas never got along with his stepdaughter, and he despised Oscar. He went into a rage whenever they visited because he believed Mary planned to transfer the deed of their farm to her daughter.

Mary and Oscar agreed that there would be no peace in their lives until Thomas was dead and they decided to make it happen. On November 14, 1883, Oscar ambushed Thomas near the barn, shot him three times, and fled. The shots did not kill Thomas, and he managed to crawl back to the house. Mary went to get Oscar to finish the job. Oscar shot Thomas twice more, killing him.

Mary tried to claim that Thomas had committed suicide but had trouble explaining five bullet wounds. Mary Barrows and Oscar Blaney were both convicted of murder.

Read the full story here: The Kittery Crime.

Mother and Son Murderers.

 

A driverless horse and wagon wandered aimlessly in the prairie between Fort Gibson and Tahlequah in Indian Territory on December 3, 1883. Jim Merrill heard the wagon come up to his front gate and went out to investigate. In the bed of the wagon, he found the body of Arch Casey with a large bullet hole in his left breast.

The wagon tracks were clearly visible in the dirt. They followed a meandering route, sometimes on the road, sometimes off. Then, at one point, they stuck to the road as if someone had guided the wagon to that spot and then abandoned it. The tracks led back to the house of Mrs. Mary Matoy, about a hundred yards north of the road to Tahlequah.

Mrs. Matoy was a widow who had "...born the reputation of being loose in character—a hard case—shrewd, bold and dangerous." Her son Jimmie (age reported variously 12-15) also had a bad reputation. They claimed to have no knowledge of the murder, but the Indian Police searched the house and found blood stains under a bed and a splotch of blood where the wagon had stood. The day before, Jimmie had borrowed a large-bore gun and four cartridges from a neighbor. He returned it the next morning, having shot two of the cartridges.

Captain Sam Sixkiller of the Indian Police was convinced of their guilt. He arrested them both and conveyed them to Muskogee. From there, they were taken to Fort Smith, Arkansas to await trial in the U.S. District Court.

Arch Casey was an Irishman who came to Fort Gibson in 1866 with the 19^th Regiment of the U.S. Infantry. After discharge, he remained in the district. He married a native woman and had three children. Casey was described as industrious and peaceable but sometimes drank too much. His wife died several years earlier, and he began a relationship with Mary Matoy. He lived, off and on, at her house during the last three years.

While in jail in Fort Smith, Mary Matoy had her four-year-old daughter in the cell with her. They lived that way for the next six months until her trial the following June.

Both Mary and Jimmie persistently denied all knowledge of the killing until a few days before their trial, when they acknowledged the crime but claimed self-defense. On the witness stand, Mary explained what happened:

Casey came to my house shortly after dinner time, and alighting from his wagon came in and began to abuse me. I went out in the yard. He followed and pushed me down over a pile of rocks. Jimmie ran into the house and got a gun. When he came out, Casey chased him around behind the house with an ax-handle. I then heard the gunshot, and going around there saw Casey lying on the ground. He died almost instantly. We were scared, and concluded the best thing we could do was to conceal the crime; so we dragged the body into the house, and taking the bedding from the slats laid Casey on them, and then put the bedding back on top of him. We did this to prevent anyone from seeing him who might chance to pass during the evening. After dark, we dragged the body to the wagon in the yard, and placed it in such a way as to make it appear that he had been shot in the wagon, and fallen off the seat. We then got in the wagon, taking my little girl along, and drove in a round-about way to where the team was found next morning, sometimes driving out of the road to make it appear that the team had got there without any driver. After abandoning the team we walked back home through the woods, a distance of nine miles, arriving there about daylight, carrying my little girl all the way back.

The Matoys had been charged with murder, but Mary’s explanation was enough to convince the jury to find them guilty of the lesser charge of manslaughter. The judge gave them the maximum sentence—ten years in prison and a $1,000 fine.

Chief Deputy U.S. Marshal C.M. Barnes took Mary and Jimmie, along with nine other convicts, to the House of Correction in Detroit, Michigan. Mary was not allowed to take her little daughter to prison with her. They had an emotional farewell in Arkansas before leaving. The girl was adopted by a family in Fort Smith.

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Sources:

“[Capt John A,” Cherokee Advocate, December 14, 1883.
“[Casey; Fort Gibson; Mrs,” Cherokee Advocate, December 7, 1883.
“[Matoy; Casey],” Cherokee Advocate, December 14, 1883.
“Arrested for Murder,” Rockford Daily Register., December 19, 1883.
“Capt.Hyde,” Indian chieftain., December 28, 1883.
“Mother and Child Acting as Murderers,” National Police Gazette, July 26, 1884.
“Mother And Child Take a Sad Farewell, the Former Leaving for a Prison Cell,” Daily Arkansas Gazette, July 23, 1884.
“Mother and Son Sentenced,” Fort Worth daily gazette., June 20, 1884.
“Woman Convicted of Murder,” Rockford Daily Register., June 20, 1884.

Shot by a Prodigal Son.

Foully slain by his scapegrace son -- Emanuel Breist meets a terrible fate at Kikngerstown, Pa.

Emanuel Breist was one of the wealthiest farmers in Mahantongo Valley, Pennsylvania. He had four daughters and one son. In 1880, Breist fought with his 17-year-old son, Henry, and as a result, Henry ran away from home.

The family heard nothing from Henry for four years; then, on December 4, 1884, the prodigal son returned. The hatchet was buried, the fences were mended, and Emanuel welcomed his son with open arms. He was so happy to have his son back that he gave Henry all the money he asked for.

Henry, however, had not changed his prodigal ways. He spent his father’s money on wild women, and he became notorious around Klingerstown for drunkenness and dissipation. Henry became intimate with Mary Heckman, the wife of William Heckman, proprietor of the Klingers Gap Tavern. The Heckmans had always borne a bad reputation.  Mary Heckmen was described as “34 years of age and very ugly.”  William, apparently, had no problem with his wife’s dalliance with young Henry.

When reports of this relationship reached Emanuel, he was livid. He told his son to have nothing more to do with Mrs. Heckman. Henry agreed, but later that evening, he and Mary Heckman went on a sleigh ride and came home intoxicated. Emanuel drove his son out of the house. After some friends intervened and Henry solemnly vowed to cease intimacy with Mrs. Heckaman, Emanuel relented and let Henry back in.

On December 29, Emanuel’s son-in-law, Isaac Mock, told him that Henry and Mrs. Heckman were enjoying themselves at the Klingers Gap Tavern. Emanuel did not believe him, so Isaac took him to the tavern. William Heckman told them that Henry was not there, but Emanuel pushed his way into the back room. There, he found his son and Mrs. Heckman sitting at a table with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses.

“This is no place for you,” Emanuel said to Henry, “Go home.”

“I guess I know what is good for myself. I’m old enough now,” Henry replied and burst out laughing.

Enraged, Emanuel struck a sharp blow across his face. He was ready to strike again when Henry drew a revolver and shot his father, point blank, in his right side. The old man fell to the floor. Henry dropped the pistol and fled the scene.

Emanuel Breist died at 11:00 the following morning. The search for Henry proved fruitless; he was never apprehended.

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Source: 

“A Fatal Infatuation,” St. Louis Post-Dispatch, December 31, 1884.
“Killed by His Rake of a Son,” Illustrated Police News, January 17, 1885.
“Killed His Father,” Wilkes-Barre Times Leader, the Evening News, January 1, 1885.
“Killing His Father In A Tavern,” New-York Tribune., December 31, 1884.
“A Rake Kills His Father,” New York Herald, December 31, 1884.
“Shost by a Prodigal Son,” Alexandria Gazette, December 31, 1884.

The Terrible Tragedy at Uniontown.

Illustrated Police News, January 13, 1883.

Nicholas L. Dukes of Uniontown, Pennsylvania, was outraged to learn that his fiancée, Lizzie Nutt, had been intimate with other men. Instead of confronting Lizzie, he sent a letter to her father, A.C. Nutt, explaining that Lizzie was promiscuous and probably pregnant. Dukes stressed that he was not the daughter’s seducer and, using proper Victorian innuendo, implied that abortion would be the best course for all involved. The resulting conflict between the two families was so divisive and violent that it would take two murders and two controversial trial verdicts to restore honor to Uniontown.

Read the full story here: A Matter of Honor.

Charley and Mary.

Charley McGill and Mary Kelly.

In 1874, Charley McGill saw Mary Kelly on the street in Columbus, Ohio. He struck up an acquaintance with Mary that soon turned into “desperate infatuated love.” They traveled together throughout Ohio, and although not married, they lived together as man and wife.

Mary was a virtuous girl before meeting Charley, but reportedly, in Cleveland, they lived off Mary’s earnings as a prostitute. After an angry quarrel, Mary moved out. Charley searched for four weeks before finding Mary living in a Cleveland brothel. She invited him to her room, and as they lay together in bed, he pulled out his revolver and shot her in the head.

At his murder trial, Charley McGill pleaded not guilty by reason of insanity, but the jury did not buy it. He successfully appealed the verdict and was retried but found guilty again. McGill was hanged in Cleveland on February 13, 1879.

Read the full story here: Love and Lunacy.

The Buzzell Shooting Case.

Susan Hanson

Susan Hanson of Brookfield, New Hampshire, was sitting in the kitchen with her mother and brother on the evening of November 2, 1874. Susan was knitting, trying to relax in preparation for a court appearance the following day. She was suing Joseph Buzzell for breach of promise. Around 7:00, peace in the Hanson kitchen was shattered by a shotgun blast fired through the window. Buckshot and lead hit Susan in the face and neck, killing her instantly.

The Meierhoffer Execution.

On January 6, 1881, Mrs. Margaret Meierhoffer and her alleged paramour, Frank Lamens, were hanged in Newark, New Jersey, for the murder of Margaret’s husband, John. Two years earlier, the Meierhoffers hired Lamens to work on their farm, but Lamens’s presence put further strain on their already troubled marriage. John was dissatisfied with Lamens's work and wanted him gone, but Margaret insisted that he stay.

On October 9, 1879, the police found John Meierhoffer’s body at the foot of the cellar stairs with a gunshot wound in his throat. Upstairs they found Margaret Meierhoffer in bed with Frank Lamens. Neither confessed to the murder; they each accused the other. The state found them both guilty and sentenced them to death.

The illustration is incorrect. The New Jersey gallows was not configured to hang two at a time. Margaret was launched into eternity at 10:25, an hour later Frank Lammens followed her.

Read the full story here: Who Shot Meierhoffer?

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Picture from Illustrated Police News, January 15, 1881.

A Mysterious Tragedy.

Dr. Henry Clark of Boston was summoned to 11 Hamilton Place at around 7:00 the morning of December 30, 1879. A woman had been shot and needed urgent care. When he got there, she was nearly gone, and there was nothing he could do. 

A policeman and a medical examiner arrived soon after and determined that the woman, Mrs. Helen J. Ward, had been shot twice in the head. One shot entered her temple and went through her head, the other fractured her skull without entering. 

Her 18-year-old daughter, also named Helen, did her best to explain what happened. Mother and daughter shared a bed. They worried about burglars, so they kept a revolver on a chair beside the bed. Miss Ward believed she had been in a somnambulant state and fired at a moving object that she thought was a burglar. Alternatively, she thought the gun may have discharged accidentally. This took place around 4:00 am, raising the question of why she didn’t contact someone sooner. Miss Ward was considered cold and unfeeling because she did not seem overly affected by her mother’s death.

A Youthful Murderer.

George Wilbur and Michael Kildorf, both 17 years old, were good friends in North Plains, Michigan. On January 28, 1879, they went together into the woods to hunt rabbits. At some point during the hunt, a dispute arose between them. The cause of the disagreement was not disclosed, but it continued to escalate. Kildorf was resting on the root of a tree when Wilbur came up behind him and shot him in the back of the head, killing him instantly. Wilbur took Kildorf’s revolver and went back home.

Later that day, Kildorf’s body was discovered, and the authorities tracked Wilbur to his father’s house. They arrested him and brought him before Esquire Simpson. Wilbur waived examination and was committed to jail.

George Wilbur was from a good family and was “respectably connected.” Michael Kildorf was a stranger in North Plains, living with his aunt, Mrs. Burke.

The public sentiment in North Plains was overwhelmingly in Wilbur’s favor. A correspondent who did not share the “maudlin sympathy for murderers” commented sarcastically:

Now is the time to commence sympathy for poor Wilbur. Oh! he must be in jail! How unpleasant it must be when Kildorf is so comfortable underground, below the frost. Will poor Wilbur have to be tried? He ought not to be, for he must have been insane—poor fellow. Oh, how easy he whipped out that pistol and drove that bullet into the back of Kildorf's bead! He must have been ready at any time—poor fellow. And then if he had missed Kildorf's head how bad he would have felt. I hope he won't have to be tried. Can't we get him out on low bail, and then let him off—it will be so unpleasant for him to stay in jail and then be tried? And then if we had hanging for murder, how bad the poor fellow would feel when they put the rope round his neck. And then if he should be ten or fifteen minutes in dying, when he slipped Kildorf off in about one minute, and so easy. And then to be hung up and not touch the ground! Oh! horrible! Oh, the poor fellow! He will go straight to Heaven, of course.

It does not appear that George Wilbur was ever tried or sentenced for the murder.

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Sources: 

“A Deliberate Young Murderer,” Illustrated Police News, February 15, 1879.

“Minor Telegrams,” PORTLAND DAILY PRESS., January 31, 1879.
“A Youthful Murderer,” Detroit Free Press, January 30, 1879.
“A Youthful Murderer,” The Inter Ocean, January 30, 1879.

The Fatal Shot.

 

In the wee hours of February 8, 1888, burglars broke into the mansion of Amos J. Snell, one of the wealthiest men in Chicago. They went straight to Snell’s office and opened his safe and a strong box but did not find the fortune they expected. The thieves went upstairs and began gathering silver items.

The noise awaked Snell who came down in his nightshirt, armed with an old muzzle-loading pistol. Hearing the thieves in the parlor, he shouted, “Get out! Get out of here!”  and fired his pistol through the closed parlor door. The thieves responded by firing back through the door. Snell turned to run outside, and the thieves opened the parlor door and fired two more shots, killing Snell. 

The massive manhunt that followed involved the police, the Pinkertons, and many private detectives. The family offered a $50,000 reward for the killer's capture, reported at the time as “the largest amount ever offered for the capture of any human being in the world.”  Despite more than 1,000 arrests and several false confessions, the case remained unsolved until 1910, when a professional thief named James Gillan confessed to the murder on his deathbed. The confession was taken as fact, but there was little evidence that Gillan committed the crime.

Read the full story here: The Snell Murder.

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Pictures from Chicago Daily News, February 9, 1888.

Mattie Collins.

Mattie Collins lived with her mother in a large farmhouse in Buckner, Missouri, about 9 miles from Kansas City.  Also living in the house were her brother, Davis “Doc” Collins, and her sister and brother-in-law, the Darks, with their four children. 

Twenty-year-old Mattie was described as beautiful, intelligent and talented. In February 1879, she was engaged to marry John Bast. Some in Buckner believed Bast was an average young man who would make a good husband, while others thought he was a ne’er-do-well. Mattie’s family was in the latter camp and did not approve of the engagement.

On the night of February 8, 1879, Bast came calling and Mattie’s brother-in-law, Jonathan Dark, met him at the door. He would not let Bast in the house and told him he must cease his visits. Mattie was livid. She spent the rest of the night berating Dark, her anger becoming increasingly fierce.

The next morning, she was still angry. She went into a fit of rage, smashing windows and threatening Dark with an axe. Her mother was alarmed and sent for Deputy Constable James M. Adams. Mattie left the house for a while. When she returned, she was still angry but seemed more subdued. Constable Adams believed the danger was over and left the house.

When Adams was gone, Mattie approached Jonathan Dark.

“I have you now,” she said, drawing a pistol from her pocket. She fired, hitting Dark in the right breast. He fell to the floor.

The Pokomoke Tragedy.

Ella Hearn.

Ella Hearn and Lilly Duer were two young women living in Pokomoke City, Maryland, in 1878. Accounts differ as to their exact ages, but both girls were around 19. Both were from socially prominent families and had recently graduated with honors from an academy where they lived as roommates.

Both Ella and Lilly were considered beautiful but were opposites in nature. Ella was quiet and retiring with a delicate build and ladylike manners, while Lilly was described as “a madcap, independent sort of girl, and exceedingly eccentric.” Lilly wore her hair short and, on hunting expeditions, would dress in male attire.  She enjoyed target shooting and had pockets sewn into her dresses to carry a small revolver unobserved.