I was going along Governor Street, picking my way by the light of the
few gas-lamps set far apart and burning dimly, when all at once I heard
a cry in front, succeeded by the noise of a scuffle, and then by a
heavy fall.
Hastening forward I reached the spot, which was not far from the City
Hall; and a glance told me all.
A wayfarer had been garroted; that is to say, suddenly attacked while
passing along, by one of the night-birds who then infested the streets
after dark; seized from behind; throttled, and thrown violently to the
ground--the object of the assailant being robbery.
When I reached the spot the robber was still struggling with his
victim, who, stretched beneath him on the ground, uttered frightful
cries. One hand of the garroter was on his throat, the other was busily
rifling his pockets.
I came up just in time to prevent a murder, but not to disappoint the
robber. As I appeared he hastily rose, releasing the throat of the
unfortunate citizen. I saw a watch gleam in his hand; he bestowed a
violent kick on his prostrate victim;--then he disappeared running, and
was in an instant lost in the darkness.
I saw that pursuit would be useless; and nobody ever thought, at that
period, of attempting to summon the police. I turned to assist the
victim, who all at once rose from the ground, uttering groans and
cries.
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