The new charges against Mr. Beecher brought by the last
snail from New York are still more revolting than any of which we had as yet heard, and the details of some of them at least, —especially those which accuse him of silencing Mr. Moulton by threatening to poison himself with some poison which he had obtained of a photographer, ostensibly for photographic purposes, —do not read like the truth. There is something suspicious about this very gradual divulging by his enemies of accusations so frightful. When an accuser arranges his indictments so that the latest com- pletely eclipse the first, and form a kind of climax of iniquity, the gravest suspicion is not only warranted, but almost required. Had Mr. Moulton known what he now tells, from the first, his ostentatiously-expressed desire to be lenient to Mr. Beecher would have been in the highest degree wicked. It looks very much as if Mr. Beecher's foes were over-reaching themselves in their anxiety- to annihilate him. If the Law Courts are to sift all this disgusting evidence, assuredly the trial will not in any case conduce to edification.
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