smoking fiercely as if for life. Cigar after cigar was lighted and flung away. In the course of this restless reverie he suddenly asked of the policeman who stood outside the door, with a betrayal of nervousness in his tone: "What do you think, is the man seriously injured ?" The officer said that he did not know. Stokes resumed his nervous movement and kept it up until the reporters left at a late hour, smoking and muttering to himself. In another part of the station house was locked the boy who tends the door of the ladies' entrance to the Grand Central Hotel. He was closely guarded from the reporters until taken away to be examined by the Coroner. His name is Redman, and he witnessed the shooting of Fisk by Stokes. He, knew both of the principals in this fearful tragedy, he had frequently admitted them into the hotel through the "ladies entrance." He had, a few mo ments previous to the assassination, opened the door for Fisk and saw him shot down, almost at his side. Now, under the system of "justice" in practice in New York City, he was as much a prisoner as the man who had fired the shot. Stokes was in prison as a murderer, Redman as a witness. Redman, however, soon gave in his testimony and was released. The story of this servant is the only account of an eye witness, as he alone saw the whole scene enacted. A. Stair-case by which Stokes ascended. B. Position of Stokes while waiting for Fisk, Jr. C. Position of Stokes when he fired. D. Position of Fisk, Jr., ascending the stairs when first shot. E. Position of Stokes when captured. Amity Street. Clinging to a Thread of Hope. It was hoped that, as the Colonel was very fat, the intestines might have escaped fatal injury. As the Colonel had recently suffered from a bilious attack, and used cathartics to good effect, it was thought that he might stand a better chance for life than would another man in his position. About half past five the Colonel's colored servant entered the room. "What is the matter, Colonel ?" he asked. Col. Fisk-I have been shot, but I think there is a good chance of my life, and I hope it won't amount to much. The Arrival of Friends. Mrs. Morse and her two daughters, on whom Col. Fisk was about to call when Stokes shot him, entered the room. They did everything in their power to soothe his sufferings. As the moments flew hope for his recovery vanished, and the fearful truth, that the wounded man must die, sank deep into the hearts of his friends, who had gathered in large numbers at his bedside and in the halls of the hotel. A telegraphic dispatch had already carried the sad intelligence to Mrs. Fisk, in Boston, and she immediately hastened to the scene of her heart-rending sorrow. His Will. For some hours after the shooting he maintained complete composure and full possession of his mental faculties, and with the assistance of his principal lawyer, Mr. D. D. Field, made his will. After Fisk had given his attornies general instructions, they retired and drew up a will, which, when it had been read to the dying man, he approved and signed. It is as follows: I, JAMES FISK, Jun., of the city of New York, being of sound mind and memory, do make, publish, and declare this my last will and testament, hereby revoking all former wills by me made. 1. I give, devise, and bequeath all my estate and property, real and personal, except the special legacy hereinafter mentioned, to my beloved wife, Lucy D. Fisk, subject, however, to a trust to pay to my dear father and mother jointly, or to the survivor of them, $3,000 a year for their support during the life of them or either of them; and further, to pay to Minnie F. Morse and Rosie C. Morse each $2,000 a year during their lives, respectively, until marriage, when the annuity of the one marrying shall cease; the property and estate aforesaid to rest absolutely in the said Lucy and her heirs forever, subject only as aforesaid; and the said trust shall not affect her right freely to dispose of and transfer any such property. 2. I give and bequeath to my sister, Mrs. Mary |