Beaufort Republican

The Nathan Case,—Notwithstanding the moral certainty expressed by the police of New York of Forrester's guilt, the prosecution of that gentleman has been discontinued, as the technicalities of its evidence will not bear the test of cross-examination. So ends the dozenth fiasco in this famous case. Forrester himself, it appears, is in a fair way to escape his thirteen years' imprisonment in Illinois owing to some reported flaw in the requisition from the Government of that State.

The Nathan Murder,

The murder of Nathan, that mystery of horror and darkness, which more than two years ago thrilled the nerves of humanity with a terror more dreadful than that inspired by any former deed in the annals of crime, has recently been raised like some ill-omened ghost from the shadows of oblivion in which it was almost lost to public view, and is once more the subject of tragical conjectures among all classes of people.
The story of the bloody butchery of the wealthy Jewish banker is vividly imprinted on almost every mind, and its impression can scarcely be dissipated until at length the assassin shall be brought to justice and its strange mystery explained.
On the 29th of July, 1870, Benjamin Nathan was foully murdered near his bed, being found in robe and cruelly battered on the head and face until his venerable features were scarcely recognizable to his own sons. At half past six o'clock the cry of murder was raised at the door of his princely mansion in Twenty-third street, and young Washington Nathan rushed upon the sidewalk in his night dress, frantic with terror. He had come home at half past twelve, and gone to his couch to sleep. At the hour of the alarm he had arisen and gone to his father's room to awake him, when he entered upon a scene of horror which no pen has yet been able to picture. The gray-haired banker lay stretched upon the floor, between his library and private drawing room, covered with clotted gore from head to foot, but cold and stiff, with the rich carpet under him saturated with the red torrent of his life-blood, which had spattered every piece of furniture and every wall and door of the room. There were evidences of a most fearful struggle, and it seemed that the first blow must have been struck by the desperate murderer while his victim was quietly sitting at his desk in the library. The desk was covered with streaks and miniature pools of blood and on the floor beneath the chair, which had been overturned in the terrible conflict that ensued, was a mass of gore.
Then there were traces of blood and conflict from the desk to the door of the drawing room, near which the body was found, and here the dreadful deed was finished: the murderer then burst open the safe, took out papers and valuables and escaped. All he left behind him that could throw any light upon the manner in which the deed was done was a heavy iron "dog"—the tool of a ship carpenter—which was found in the vestibule of the mansion, covered with blood, hair and pieces of flesh. During that night of crime, not a sound of danger was heard by the inmates of that fated house, and all seemed to repose in peace and perfect quietude. The servant who slept in the room next to that occupied by the banker was ignorant of the tragedy until aroused by the cries of the son of his master. The policeman who had passed the house shortly after one o'clock, had then tried the door and found it locked and secure. He had done the same at half past four and with the same result.
At six o'clock, when Washington Nathan came down stairs to give the alarm of murder the door was open. The deed must have been done between the hours of half past four and half past six in the morning, when slumbers are heaviest and life before arousing grows motionless and quiet as death. In the adjoining house on Fifth Avenue Dr. Peckham and his wife, about the same hour heard through the thick walls a heavy sound repeated several times, and this is supposed to have been occasioned by the blows inflicted by the murderer on his helpless victim.