Roman Citizen
December 23, 1887
Last Sunday morning, George Dodge, aged 60 years, a lifelong resident of Hatch's Corners, a small hamlet soutwest of this city (Rome, New York), made a desperate attempt to kill his wife, and failing in that, cut his own throat so badly that he died the following day. It seems that for some time Mr. Dodge had been subject to nervouness which seemed to affect his brain, and during these spells Mrs. Dodge has exercised great watchfulness lest he should do some damage. When he arose Sunday morning, he said to his wife that he thought he was going to have another spell. She advised him to take some fresh air and endeavor to ward it off. While Mrs. Dodge was dressing herself, her husband entered the room with a razor in his hand and told her that they both must die. She endeavored to pacify him, but he insisted that their time had come, and made a pass at her with the razor. Although badly frightened, the plucky woman grappled with her assailant and endeavored to wrest the razor from him. They both fought fearfully, he doing his best to slash her with the weapon. He finally succeeded in throwing her to the floor, and as he did so she managed to gain possession of the razor, but cut her hand in doing so. It seems miraculous that Mrs. Dodge should have come off as well as she did, for her husband was a large and powerful man. When he saw he had been foiled, he rushed out of the house and ran to the barn. His wife hastened to the window and called to Samuel Hatch, their nearest neighbor, who responded promptly and followed Mr. Dodge to the barn, where he found him in the act of adjusting a rope about his neck. By this time Thomas Hatch and other neighbors had arrived on the scene, but before they could interfere the insane man had drawn a shoe knife from his pocket and commenced to slash at his throat, cutting two ugly gashes in each side. He then fell, apparently bleeding to death. He was carried into the house and Coroner Millington sent for, who soon arrived, accompanied by his father, Dr. S. Millington. They made an examination, and found the jugular vein, to all appearances, untouched. The wounds were dressed, and the chances for his recovery seemed favorable. The injured man was rational and appeared to fully understand his condition.
His symptoms continued favorable until about 1 P.M. Monday, when the blood suddenly spurted through one of the openings in his neck, and he died in ten minutes. At the time a young man of the neighborhood was sitting by his bedside, and Mrs. Dodge was in an adjoining room, conversing with Rev. James H. Taylor, of this city, who had called. The jugular vein, it seems, was pricked by the knife, however, and as the wound became inflamed, the aperture enlarged and allowed the blood to escape.
Mr. Dodge was born on the homestead where he died. He succeeded to the business of his father, that of conducting a tannery and shoe shop at the Corners, and for many years carried on a lucrative business, securing a comfortable competence on which to live during his declining years. He always stood well in the community, and this last act in his life's drama casts a gloom over his friends.
December 23, 1887
Last Sunday morning, George Dodge, aged 60 years, a lifelong resident of Hatch's Corners, a small hamlet soutwest of this city (Rome, New York), made a desperate attempt to kill his wife, and failing in that, cut his own throat so badly that he died the following day. It seems that for some time Mr. Dodge had been subject to nervouness which seemed to affect his brain, and during these spells Mrs. Dodge has exercised great watchfulness lest he should do some damage. When he arose Sunday morning, he said to his wife that he thought he was going to have another spell. She advised him to take some fresh air and endeavor to ward it off. While Mrs. Dodge was dressing herself, her husband entered the room with a razor in his hand and told her that they both must die. She endeavored to pacify him, but he insisted that their time had come, and made a pass at her with the razor. Although badly frightened, the plucky woman grappled with her assailant and endeavored to wrest the razor from him. They both fought fearfully, he doing his best to slash her with the weapon. He finally succeeded in throwing her to the floor, and as he did so she managed to gain possession of the razor, but cut her hand in doing so. It seems miraculous that Mrs. Dodge should have come off as well as she did, for her husband was a large and powerful man. When he saw he had been foiled, he rushed out of the house and ran to the barn. His wife hastened to the window and called to Samuel Hatch, their nearest neighbor, who responded promptly and followed Mr. Dodge to the barn, where he found him in the act of adjusting a rope about his neck. By this time Thomas Hatch and other neighbors had arrived on the scene, but before they could interfere the insane man had drawn a shoe knife from his pocket and commenced to slash at his throat, cutting two ugly gashes in each side. He then fell, apparently bleeding to death. He was carried into the house and Coroner Millington sent for, who soon arrived, accompanied by his father, Dr. S. Millington. They made an examination, and found the jugular vein, to all appearances, untouched. The wounds were dressed, and the chances for his recovery seemed favorable. The injured man was rational and appeared to fully understand his condition.
His symptoms continued favorable until about 1 P.M. Monday, when the blood suddenly spurted through one of the openings in his neck, and he died in ten minutes. At the time a young man of the neighborhood was sitting by his bedside, and Mrs. Dodge was in an adjoining room, conversing with Rev. James H. Taylor, of this city, who had called. The jugular vein, it seems, was pricked by the knife, however, and as the wound became inflamed, the aperture enlarged and allowed the blood to escape.
Mr. Dodge was born on the homestead where he died. He succeeded to the business of his father, that of conducting a tannery and shoe shop at the Corners, and for many years carried on a lucrative business, securing a comfortable competence on which to live during his declining years. He always stood well in the community, and this last act in his life's drama casts a gloom over his friends.
Roman Citizen
December 23, 1887
Last Sunday morning, George Dodge, aged 60 years, a lifelong resident of Hatch's Corners, a small hamlet soutwest of this city (Rome, New York), made a desperate attempt to kill his wife, and failing in that, cut his own throat so badly that he died the following day. It seems that for some time Mr. Dodge had been subject to nervouness which seemed to affect his brain, and during these spells Mrs. Dodge has exercised great watchfulness lest he should do some damage. When he arose Sunday morning, he said to his wife that he thought he was going to have another spell. She advised him to take some fresh air and endeavor to ward it off. While Mrs. Dodge was dressing herself, her husband entered the room with a razor in his hand and told her that they both must die. She endeavored to pacify him, but he insisted that their time had come, and made a pass at her with the razor. Although badly frightened, the plucky woman grappled with her assailant and endeavored to wrest the razor from him. They both fought fearfully, he doing his best to slash her with the weapon. He finally succeeded in throwing her to the floor, and as he did so she managed to gain possession of the razor, but cut her hand in doing so. It seems miraculous that Mrs. Dodge should have come off as well as she did, for her husband was a large and powerful man. When he saw he had been foiled, he rushed out of the house and ran to the barn. His wife hastened to the window and called to Samuel Hatch, their nearest neighbor, who responded promptly and followed Mr. Dodge to the barn, where he found him in the act of adjusting a rope about his neck. By this time Thomas Hatch and other neighbors had arrived on the scene, but before they could interfere the insane man had drawn a shoe knife from his pocket and commenced to slash at his throat, cutting two ugly gashes in each side. He then fell, apparently bleeding to death. He was carried into the house and Coroner Millington sent for, who soon arrived, accompanied by his father, Dr. S. Millington. They made an examination, and found the jugular vein, to all appearances, untouched. The wounds were dressed, and the chances for his recovery seemed favorable. The injured man was rational and appeared to fully understand his condition.
His symptoms continued favorable until about 1 P.M. Monday, when the blood suddenly spurted through one of the openings in his neck, and he died in ten minutes. At the time a young man of the neighborhood was sitting by his bedside, and Mrs. Dodge was in an adjoining room, conversing with Rev. James H. Taylor, of this city, who had called. The jugular vein, it seems, was pricked by the knife, however, and as the wound became inflamed, the aperture enlarged and allowed the blood to escape.
Mr. Dodge was born on the homestead where he died. He succeeded to the business of his father, that of conducting a tannery and shoe shop at the Corners, and for many years carried on a lucrative business, securing a comfortable competence on which to live during his declining years. He always stood well in the community, and this last act in his life's drama casts a gloom over his friends.
December 23, 1887
Last Sunday morning, George Dodge, aged 60 years, a lifelong resident of Hatch's Corners, a small hamlet soutwest of this city (Rome, New York), made a desperate attempt to kill his wife, and failing in that, cut his own throat so badly that he died the following day. It seems that for some time Mr. Dodge had been subject to nervouness which seemed to affect his brain, and during these spells Mrs. Dodge has exercised great watchfulness lest he should do some damage. When he arose Sunday morning, he said to his wife that he thought he was going to have another spell. She advised him to take some fresh air and endeavor to ward it off. While Mrs. Dodge was dressing herself, her husband entered the room with a razor in his hand and told her that they both must die. She endeavored to pacify him, but he insisted that their time had come, and made a pass at her with the razor. Although badly frightened, the plucky woman grappled with her assailant and endeavored to wrest the razor from him. They both fought fearfully, he doing his best to slash her with the weapon. He finally succeeded in throwing her to the floor, and as he did so she managed to gain possession of the razor, but cut her hand in doing so. It seems miraculous that Mrs. Dodge should have come off as well as she did, for her husband was a large and powerful man. When he saw he had been foiled, he rushed out of the house and ran to the barn. His wife hastened to the window and called to Samuel Hatch, their nearest neighbor, who responded promptly and followed Mr. Dodge to the barn, where he found him in the act of adjusting a rope about his neck. By this time Thomas Hatch and other neighbors had arrived on the scene, but before they could interfere the insane man had drawn a shoe knife from his pocket and commenced to slash at his throat, cutting two ugly gashes in each side. He then fell, apparently bleeding to death. He was carried into the house and Coroner Millington sent for, who soon arrived, accompanied by his father, Dr. S. Millington. They made an examination, and found the jugular vein, to all appearances, untouched. The wounds were dressed, and the chances for his recovery seemed favorable. The injured man was rational and appeared to fully understand his condition.
His symptoms continued favorable until about 1 P.M. Monday, when the blood suddenly spurted through one of the openings in his neck, and he died in ten minutes. At the time a young man of the neighborhood was sitting by his bedside, and Mrs. Dodge was in an adjoining room, conversing with Rev. James H. Taylor, of this city, who had called. The jugular vein, it seems, was pricked by the knife, however, and as the wound became inflamed, the aperture enlarged and allowed the blood to escape.
Mr. Dodge was born on the homestead where he died. He succeeded to the business of his father, that of conducting a tannery and shoe shop at the Corners, and for many years carried on a lucrative business, securing a comfortable competence on which to live during his declining years. He always stood well in the community, and this last act in his life's drama casts a gloom over his friends.
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