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NEVER in the history of Australia has a more awful catalogue of crime, or a more desperate fight, been chronicled than that which took place last week, and which ended in the almost total annihilation of the most bloodthirsty gang of outlaws that ever infested the colonies. Herewith we give an account of their procedings from the re-appearance of the gang. It will be recollected that on Saturday, June 26, the Kelly gang re-appeared, after months of seclusion, at a place named Sebastopol, about eight miles from Beechworth, and there murdered a young fellow, 25 years of age, named Aaron Sherritt, an alleged informer. The following evidence given at the inquest is worthy of attention:—  


Antoine Weekes said: I am a market gardener.   I remember last Saturday, June 26. On that evening I went out to John Weiner's. I went as far as the house, and as I saw no light there I went back again. Weiner's house is close to Sherritt's place, about 10 or 15 yards away. I returned to my own place about ten minutes past 6 o'clock, and about 100 yards away I met two bushrangers, Byrne and Dan Kelly. They were on horseback. Byrne was riding one horse

and leading another. I think I said "Good    

evening" as they passed me. They did not answer, but Byrne rode about five yards past me, then turned round and came back again. He asked me, "What is your name?" I said "Weekes, from the Woolshed." He drew up close,   looked into my face, and asked if I knew him. I said, "No." He said, "I am Joe Byrne." I replied, "I don't believe you." He put his   hand back, and showed me a revolver, at the same time saying, "Will you believe it now?"     He pointed to his mate and said, "That is Mr.   Kelly." He next told Kelly to put the handcuffs on me. Kelly came off his horse and put the handcuffs on me. Byrne told me not to be frightened, for although I had summoned him once for using a horse, he forgave me. I had, in fact, summoned him for such an offence in this court. He said, "You must go with me to   Sherritt's, and if you do what we tell you we will do you no harm." They walked me between them to Sherritt's, and when we got about 20 yards from the place we turned off into the bush to the right. We went about half a dozen yards into the scrub, and the bushrangers got off their horses. One of them tied his animal to a bush. Byrne said to me, "Now you have nothing to do except what we tell you." Kelly went out from the bush upon the main road. Byrne stopped with me and said, "You go with me and knock at the door." We   went to Sherritt's house, and he placed me in front of the back door, about a yard away. He said "Knock." He was standing just behind   me. When they left the bush both of them took a rifle from off the packhorse. When Byrne told me to knock I did so. He then said "Call   Aaron." I called Aaron. He said, "Call loud."   I did so, and received an answer from inside, "Who is there?" Byrne told me to say Weekes,     and I obeyed. He told me when I was asked what I wanted to say, "I have lost myself."    

Aaron opened the door and came out. Byrne,  

when he heard the door opening, moved a   yard or two away, and stood behind the chimney. When the door was fully opened he stepped from behind the chimney and got under cover of me again. Aaron sang out, "Who is there ?" Byrne then shot him   at once. He fired from the right side of me. I am not sure whether he fired a second shot. I think he did, but I was so frightened I could not say. Aaron fell inside the house upon the floor. Byrne looked into the place and said, "That's all; that is the man I want." He next saw Mrs.   Barry and Mrs. Sherritt, and asked them to send the men out. The women were close to where Aaron fell, near the chimney. Mrs. Barry came out. Byrne kept her outside for about half or three-quarters of an hour. After he shot Aaron he put a shot through the bedroom. Fifteen minutes afterwards he put another shot through the bedroom, and said, "I   want those men out, or I'll burn the place down." I heard two shots fired from the front. Byrne then took the handcuffs off me, and made me go away from the house. He did not let me go out of his sight. Some little time afterwards he sent Mrs. Barry into the house. I heard some person speaking near a bush a short distance away from

me. This was after the shots were fired from the front. Byrne called out to Kelly, "Shall I   send Weekes in too?" Kelly said, "No, don't send him in." They both waited about for some time. They next went a little way out into the bush. I remained there about three-quarters of an hour and then left. I did not hear the bush- rangers leave. I think they left before me, but I cannot say, as I heard nothing. I reached home about half-past 9 the same night. I had been absent about three hours. To a juryman: I had   no chance of sending information. When Byrne took the handcuffs he asked me if my horse was  

at home? I said, "No." He then said, "Give   no information about this."

Ellen Sherritt stated: I am the wife of the de-   ceased Aaron Sherritt, and resided with him at Sebastopol. On Saturday evening last my hus-

band and myself were present at our house. The other persons in the house were four constables and my mother. A knock came to the back door and a voice called out "Aaron." I k[n]ew it was Mr.   Weekes's voice and I told my husband so. My husband went to the door and asked him what he wanted. Weekes said, "I am lost, come out and show me the road." He opened the door and went outside. As he did so he heard a man move behind the chimney and he sang out, "Who is there?" Just then Joe Byrne said something and fired off his rifle. My husband endeavoured to make his way back into the room. Byrne followed him to the door and fired a second shot at him. He (my husband] staggered and fell down near the table. He moaned once, but that was all. No word or other exclamation escaped him. After the second shot I ran into the room out of the way. Byrne appeared at the door again, and I asked why he had shot Aaron. He said, "If I had not shot him, he would have shot me if he could get the chance." He heard one of the constables going into the room, and he asked who the man was. I said he was a person staying with us for the night; and he was looking for work.   He told me to bring him out. Before this he di- rected my mother to go and open the door. She did so, and just then Dan Kelly made his appearance there. He had a re- volver with him, which he pointed at me. Byrne then called my mother out to the back door and he stood talking to her with Weekes between them. He asked me why I had not brought the man out. I told him the man would not come. He then sang out to Dan Kelly, "Look out, there   are windows at the front." Dan replied, "It's all   right," and stepped to the cover of the door, point- ing his rifle into the room all the time. He fired two shots into the bedroom where the men were. Byrne sent me in two or three times to get the men out, but kept himself covered by the forms of Weekes and my mother. About the same time he went up towards the bush at the back, whist- ling and calling to someone, and asking them to come on, as there were men in the place. When he came back he must have heard the policemen doing something with their rifles, for he said to my mother, "There's more than   one man there, and if you don't tell me the truth I will shoot both you and your daughter." He also said that he would burn the place down, and Dan Kelly went about gathering bushes. They

did not set fire to the bushes. We then went in and remained in the house all night. About two hours after my husband was shot one of the police- men came out of the bedroom, closed the door, and shifted the box against which the head of my husband's dead body was resting. The first message sent to Beechworth was at 8 o'clock. It was given to Mr. O'Donohoe. Before that they tried to send a Chinaman, but could not do so, as they could not make him understand what was wanted. They then sent the Chinaman to Mr. O'Donohoe's with a letter. Mr. O'Donohoe came to the place with the letter and said he would go straight to Beechworth. He, however, soon came back and said he could not go. I heard after- wards that a man galloping up and down the bush had prevented him from going. The police- men said they were afraid to leave the place earlier because there were few enough of them there in case the place was attacked again. When O'Donohoe came back they sent a message with another man; but Constable Armstrong said he   would not trust this person and so left the place himself to go to Beechworth.

To Mr. Foster: There were no shots fired by   the police. I was in the bedroom with the police. Two of them were standing with their rifles ready. In order to fire on the outlaws they would have had to come out through the calico door, which if they had attempted to disturb they would have at once been shot down by Dan Kelly. On the other hand, if they had rushed out and tried to shoot Byrne at the back door, they would have shot either my mother or the German Weekes. There were about five or six shots fired in addition to the two which killed my husband. These were fired from the front of the house. About half an hour elapsed between the time my husband was shot and when my mother returned after speaking to the outlaws. We thought the other two con- federates of the outlaws were there, because Dan Kelly and Byrne made themselves so bounceable. We had no other reason for thinking so. To a juryman: The police did not come out of the bedroom until two hours after my husband was shot. When it was daylight they went out and looked round the house, to see if the gang were about. (Laughter.) This was the first time they went out of the house. The outlaws would have   been able to see the police, but the police could

not see them.

At the termination of the inquest the jury ac- quitted the police of blame, and found that Joseph Byrne murdered Sherritt, and that Daniel Kelly

aided and abetted in the murder.


It is evident that, although Byrne and Dan Kelly were the only persons seen about the hut, the other two members of the gang could not have been far off. In fact, it is known to the police that at the very time Sherritt's house was sur- prised Ned Kelly was engaged in an interview in the immediate vicinity with a young woman, friendly to the outlaws, to whom he is understood to have been deeply attached. From the evi- dence given at the inquiry to-day it seems that long after the gang had left Sherritt's hut loud talking was indulged in by some persons outside the place. There can be no doubt that if this was so more people than the outlaws must have been concerned, either di- rectly or indirectly, in the attack upon the police. It is inadvisable at this stage of events to     mention any particular names, but it is no breach of confidence to say that the authorities have the matter diligently in hand, and are taking steps towards bringing the alleged implication in the outrage home to two suspected individuals,.


According to Ned Kelly, the gang, after shoot- ing Sherritt at Sebastopol, rode openly through the streets of Beechworth, and then came onto

Glenrowan for the purpose of wrecking any special police train which, might be sent after

them, in the hope of destroying the black trackers.   They descended on Glenrowan about 8 o'clock   on Sunday morning, and rousing up all the in-   habitants of the township, bailed them up. Feel- ing unable to lift the rails themselves, they compelled the line-repairers of the district and others to do so. The spot selected was on the first turning after reaching Glenrowan, at a culvert and on an incline. One rail was raised on each side, and the sleepers were   removed. The diabolical object in view was the destruction of the special train. Having per- formed this fiendish piece of work Kelly returned to the township, and, bailing all the people up, kept them prisoners in the station-master's house and Jones's hotel. By 3 o'clock on Monday morn- ing, they gathered all their captives into the hotel, and the number of those unfortunate people amounted at one time to 47. The police then  



"I am stationed at Greta, five miles from Glen-   rowan. At 11 o'clock on Sunday night I was called by Edward Reynolds. I was then at the

police station, which is one mile from the railway     station. I had been suffering from a bilious at-

tack, and was very weak. At first I didn't reply,   but another voice called me, and then I opened the door. Just as I did so, Ned Kelly presented a revolver at my head. He was masked with an iron helmet, and I didn't at first know it was Ned Kelly. The mask was like a nail-

can. He told me to bail up, and throw my hands up. I said, 'You are not Ned Kelly; you are only one of the police trying my mettle.'

He continued, 'Throw up your arms or you are a    

dead man.' I put one hand up, and he said,   'Put the other up; we want no nonsense.' I

complied. He then took my gun and revolver,  

and asked me for cartridges. I told him I had     only those the gun and revolver were loaded   with. Then he said, 'I believe you have a very    

fast horse.' He referred to a horse called 'Sir   Solomon,' which I possess. Sir Solomon is   crippled, but I had a good horse in the stable.   He ordered me to lead him to the stable, and I did so. We saddled the horse,   bridled it, and then he told me to mount. Ned     Kelly was accompanied by Byrne. Both were mounted, and a man named Reynolds was with them on foot. Byrne took hold of my bridle, and   Ned Kelly followed up behind with Reynolds on   foot. We proceeded to Jones's hotel. Robert   Gibbons, another prisoner, also accompanied us. When we arrived at the hotel, we found a lot of

people stuck up there. We were put in one of  

the rooms of the hotel. The gang were all armed   with revolvers and rifles. There were   only three of them there, Hart being,

I believe, at the postmaster's house at   the time. Byrne locked the front door, and   I watched where he put the key. He laid it   carelessly near the chimney. Believing a special train would be coming up with police, I secured

the key when Byrne's back was turned and put it   in my pocket. I heard the special train arrive. Thereupon the gang went into a back room. This was my opportunity, and I quietly went to the front door, unlocked it, and rushed out. I ran to

the railway station, found the train had arrived,   and the police on the platform; told them where  

the Kellys were, and asked them to   surround the place immediately. After a few minutes Superintendent Hare re-

turned with his arm wounded. I then   secured a horse and rode off to Wangaratta, about 12 miles distant. Told the police there what had happened, and sent telegrams all over the dis- trict, and the police of Wangaratta immediately started for the scene, I returning with them. When we were held prisoners in the hotel Ned Kelly began talking about policies. 'There was one — in Parliament,' he said, 'whom he   would like to kill, Mr. Graves.' I asked why he had such a desire, and he replied, 'Because he   suggested in Parliament that the water in the Kelly country should be poisoned, and that the grass should be burnt. I will have

him before long.' He knew nothing about Mr.   Service, but he held that Mr. Berry was no — good, as he gave the police a lot of money to secure the capture of the gang; too much by far. He   then asked me 'What was the policeman's oath?'     I replied, 'That policemen were sworn to do their duty without malice or favour, and to deal evenhanded justice all round.' He rejoined, 'Constable — of Greta, once told me that the   oath was that a policeman had to lag any person, no matter whether it was father, mother, brother, or daughter, if they were but arrested.' He also asked if there were not 19 or 20 men in the force who were as great rogues as himself. I, of course, concurred with him. He then said, 'We are just after shooting one — traitor,' alluding to Aaron Sherritt, 'and we now want that — Detective Ward, but he is not game to show up. The next I want are those six little demons,' alluding to the black trackers.

'Then O'Connor and Hare. If I had them killed,   I would feel easy and contented.' He questioned the ability of the blacks to track in the Victorian   bush, and said he himself could track an emu in Queensland. The prisoners were then all called together, and Ned said, 'If any of you ever hear     or see any of us crossing the railway, or at any other place, and if the police should come and

ask if you had seen any such party, you must say,   "No; we saw nobody," and if I ever hear of any     of you giving the police any information about us,

I will shoot you down like dogs. I do not   mind a policeman doing his duty so long as he does not overdo it. I remarked that the police were only earning an honest living, and asked how he, if he was an honest man, could get on without them? He turned upon me and de-   manded, 'And am not I an honest man?' I     replied, 'I'm damned if you are' and nearly all   laughed. Kelly next called a man named Sulli- van before him, and said, 'I have seen you some-   where else. Have you been in Wangaratta lately.' Sullivan replied in the affirmative.

Kelly then asked if he had ever been in New

Zealand, and received a similar answer. 'How      

long ago,' he next asked, and Sullivan re-

plied, 'Ten or twelve years ago.' In answer to other questions, Sullivan said that he was in New Zealand, when the notorious murders were committed there by strangling, but denied with truth that he was the Sullivan who turned Queen's evidence on his mates, and who is understood to be living in this district at pre- sent. Kelly then said to me, '£8,000 has been   offered for our capture. I promise to give you a   similar amount if you tell me where that Sullivan is to be found, and the same amount for infor- mation as to where I can find Quinlan, the man who shot Morgan.' Between 12 and 1 o'clock on Sunday morning one of Mrs. Jones's sons sang the Kelly song for the amusement of the gang, and his mother occasionally asked him to sing out louder. Most of the prisoners were then cleared from the front parlour, and the gang had a dance. They danced a set of quadrilles, and Mr. David Mortimer, brother-in-law of the school-     master, furnished the music with a concertina. Ned Kelly had the girl Jones for a partner, Dan had Mrs. Jones, and Byrne and Hart, danced with male prisoners. Thinking they heard a noise out- side the gang broke away from the dance ab- ruptly, and Dan went outside. It was at this time that I secured the key of the door. Doub- ling up my trousers at the feet, I placed the key in the fold, and when I heard the special arrive I raised my leg, picked out the key, stealthily un- locked the door, and bounded away. When the train was heard stopping Kelly said, 'You will see some play now, boys. We will shoot them all.' When the constable's escape was dis- covered Byrne, who noticed if first, exclaimed, "Let me but catch him, and I will make a Bracken

of him."  


It will be remembered that a little more than three weeks ago it was reported that Joe Byrne had been seen near his mother's residence at the Woolshed. That story was quite true, and it has been suspected that they have since been lurking in the vicinity. A week before Sherritt was mur-   dered, Superintendent Hare and Detective   Ward were in his house, and the dead    

man then expressed his conviction that the outlaws were not far distant. After perpe- trating the foul murder of Sheritt it is probable that the gang at once rode for Glenrowan cross- ing the Goulburn over the Pioneer Bridge, the King River at Oxley, and thence through Greta where Mrs. Skillion and Kate Kelly reside. The sole object of their visit to Glenrowan appears to have been to murder the police and the black trackers. The hatred which the leader of the gang had for the black trackers appears to have been very great, and it is certain that the fear of them has kept the gang quiet so long. Kelly knew that the trackers had gone to Melbourne, and he correctly formed the opinion that as soon as the intelli- gence of the murder was made known the trackers and police would be sent on by special train. It was with the object of destroying that train that he tore up the line. The way in which this cold-blooded attempt to commit wholesale murder was frustrated appears very surprising; and   although it is now known that it was Mr. Curnow, the local schoolmaster, who gave the warning to the train, the reason which induced Ned Kelly to give him his liberty when he detained nearly every other person in the neighbourhood, is a mystery. Mr. and Mrs. Curnow, with Mr. Mortimer, a relative, were driving in a buggy through the railway gates when Ned Kelly bailed them up.


Mr. Mortimer states: "After we were bailed   up we were taken over to Mrs. Jones's hotel, and were kept there until it was determined by Kelly to stick-up constable Bracken. He permitted Curnow, Mrs. Curnow and myself to go with him in our buggy to the police station, which is about three-quarters of a mile from the railway station, and is not far from Mr. Curnow's residence.

Kelly permitted Mrs. Curnow to get out of the buggy in case there might be some firing when Bracken was bailed up. I was ordered by Kelly to knock at the front door and call Bracken, and I did so, but he did not answer, and then Kelly, with a young Reynolds, whom he had just bailed up, went to the back door and succeeded in arousing Bracken, who came to the door without dressing. What Bracken states then occurred is substantially correct. Byrne was with Kelly, and Curnow asked Ned if he would not let him go home with his wife. Kelly replied, 'Oh, yes, you may go home and   have a sleep; but mind you don't dream too loud.' Having given this warning to him, he was   permitted to go home. I do not know how he heard that the line had been torn up, but I sup- pose he heard it at the hotel, and after he ob- tained his liberty he determined to warn the train of the danger. Reynolds, Bracken and myself

were taken back to the hotel. We all then heard that the line had been torn

up. The whole of the members of the gang were very jolly, and Ned told us that they had come there to settle the black trackers, and that he would be on the spot when the train ran over the culvert, and would shoot all who were not killed. We knew we could do nothing, and therefore did not take any steps to warn those in the train of the danger. Every member of the gang was then sober. They showed us their armour, and seemed to think that the police could do them no harm. At half-past 2 on Monday morning Ned Kelly said something to the effect that he did not think the special train was coming, and I then asked him if we could go home. He said 'Yes,' and I thanked him. We could all then have gone, with perhaps the excep- tion of Bracken, but we foolishly stopped listen- ing to the remarks of Kelly. Just then Dan Kelly, who had been standing outside, rushed in and said, 'Ned, here comes the —— train.' Our opportunity of escape was gone. Ned Kelly rushed out, and commenced to examine his fire- arms. He spoke to one of the gang, and then left on horseback. Byrne locked the doors, and I believe that Bracken then succeeded in

stealing the key. Ned Kelly returned in a few minutes, but remained outside. He asked

some of the others to come out with him, but,  

none of them did so. Just then we heard the train stopped at the station, and it then became apparent that the gang expected they would have   to fight. Almost immediately the firing com- menced, and we dropped on the floor. The bullets whizzed through the weatherboards in all direc- tions. Our feelings at that time were indescrib- able. The poor women and children were scream- ing with terror, and every man in the house was saying his prayers. Poor little Johnny Jones was   shot almost at once, and I put my hands in my ears so as not to hear his screams of agony and the lamentations of his mother and Mrs. Reardon, who had a baby in her arms. We could do nothing, and the bullets continued to whistle through the building. I do not think that the police were right in acting as they did. We were frightened of them, and not of the bushrangers. It was Joe Byrne who cursed and swore at the

police. He seemed perfectly reckless of his life.   But the three of them got into an inside room into which the bullets seldom penetrated. We frequently called on the   police to stop firing, but we dared not go to the door, and I suppose they did not hear us. Miss Jones was slightly wounded by a bullet, and when Mrs. Reardon and Mrs. Jones with the children ran out, Reardon and his son attempted to fol- low, but as soon as the police saw the figures of   the men they fired. Young Reardon was hit by a bullet in the shoulder, and he and his father ran back into the house. One of the men carried young Jones away, and succeeded in passing the police without being fired on. Dan Kelly told us we had better remain in the house, because the police would shoot us if we attempted to leave. Some one said to him, 'You had better go out and surrender;' and he replied, 'We will never sur- render, but most likely we will leave directly.' I   think they intended to do so, but shortly after 5 o'clock in the morning Byrne was shot. He had just walked into the bar and was drinking a glass of whiskey when a ball struck him in the groin. I heard him fall, and saw the blood spurting from, him. I think he died very soon. This seemed to dishearten Dan Kelly and Hart. They had been calling for Ned all night, and they re- newed their calls for him. We had not seen

the leader of the gang since the firing commenced,   and did not know where he had gone to. Dan and Hart went into the inside room, and I heard one say to the other, 'What will we do?' I did       not hear the reply; but Reardon said he thought   they intended to commit suicide. We prayed for  

daylight, thinking that we might then escape, but even when the morning broke we dared not venture out. It must have been about this time that poor Martin Cherry was shot. He was sitting on the floor of the kitchen aat the time. There were two other men there with him, but they were protected from the bullets of the police by bags of oats, behind which they were sitting. During the morning Dan Kelly told that Ned Kelly had been shot. After that one of our company held a white pocket handkerchief out of the door, and we all ran out. Poor Cherry could not move and he was   left behind. He was a decent honest man."

CONSTABLE ARTHUR'S STATEMENT.   The statement of Constable James Murdock

Arthur with regard to the encounter shows the effect which the appearance of Ned Kelly and his   extraordinary conduct had upon the police. Arthur says:—"I was one of a party of police     which arrived at Glenrowan with the special train, and was just behind Superintendent Hare when he was shot; after that Hare asked Ser-   geant Kelly to place the men. He did so, and took me round to the north- western side of the hotel. We crawled

under what shelter we could find. I paused behind a tree, about 100 yards from the hotel. There was a bush close to the tree. I kneeled down to get a look at the hotel, and in doing so I put my hand on a revolving rifle, which was covered with blood. A skull cap was close beside it. I was startled, and could not speak to draw attention. Sergeant Kelly picked it up, and

formed the opinion that one of the out-   laws had passed that way just previously,   and hearing a sort of ringing noise listened, but could not see or hear anything. I have no doubt Ned Kelly was near. He told me afterwards he was. He said he could have shot both me and Kelly. I moved from that place to a log within 80 yards of a house, into which I commenced to fire. Sergeant Kelly left me there,

and a bullet from the hut tore up the ground   underneath my stomach. I consequently deter- mined to go to another part of the log. It   was very cold, and I filled my pipe to have   a smoke. Just at daylight I was in the act of lighting my pipe, and heard Ned Kelly coming behind me. His extraordinary appearance so startled me that I let the pipe drop out of my mouth, and gazed at the strange object for a minute, not knowing but that it was a madman who had conceived the idea of storming the hotel with a nail-can on his head. I then said to him, "Go back you d— fool, you will get shot." The figure replied, "I could shoot you   sonny," and at that moment fired his revolver at me, but missed. He evidently was crippled, and did not take proper aim. We were then only between 20 and 30 yards apart. I levelled my Martini rifle, and fired at his helmet, thinking I would knock it off. It only staggered him slightly. An opening in the helmet looked like a huge mouth, and I fired at that, and hit him again. He still came on. I fired a third shot at his body, and heard it scud off him. I was com- pletely astonished, and could not understand what the object I was firing at was. The men around me appeared astonished too. Someone said 'He is a madman!' Dowsett,     the railway-guard, said, 'He is the devil!' Ser-   geant Kelly exclaimed, 'Look out, boys, he   is the bunyip!' At once I sought shelter, and     tried to get round at the back. I did so because I found it was no use firing at him in front. Before I could succeed in doing so Sergeant Steele ran up from behind and shot him. When I shot   at him first, Sergeant Steele thought I had made a mistake, and called to me to stop firing. After he had been captured, Kelly shook his fist at me,

and swore."

Constable Arthur is the man Ned Kelly said was a very fine shot.



Sub-Inspector O'Connor reports as follows of the part taken by himself and his Queensland black trackers in the extermination of the Kelly gang:—"I went down by the special train on   Sunday night, at the request of Captain Standish. I collected my troopers, and started three hours after I received notice. I agreed to go on condi- tion that the Government of Victoria would see me held blameless, as we were under orders to leave for Queensland. On our arrival at Glenrowan we heard that the rails had been taken up some distance further on. We thought the best course

would be to get the horse and proceed to the spot. Bracken then appeared, and informed us that the Kellys were at Jones's-public-house.   Superintendent Hare, myself, and four or five men, rushed up to the house. When we got within 25 yards   we were received with a single shot, and then a volley. We returned the fire. Hare said, 'O'Connor, I'm wounded—I'm shot in the arm.   I must go back.' He left immediately. We remained, and our incessant fire drove the out- laws into the house, which we heard them barri- cade. Mr. Hare returned to the station, stayed a short time there, and then went to Benalla. I stood at my post until half-past 10 o'clock in the forenoon, when I was sent for by Superintendent Sadlier. I was within 25 yards of the house the whole time. At daybreak I got behind shelter. One of my troopers was shot alongside me—cut across the eyebrows. He jumped on the bank, fired five shots in tho house, and said, 'Take   that, Ned Kelly.' It seemed to afford   him great relief, but rather amused us. I was in charge of the men from the time Mr. Hare left until Mr. Sadlier arrived on the ground. I hear from Mr. Sadlier that the remainder of my men behaved splendidly. I must also say that as a body the Victorian police could not have behaved more coolly in taking up their positions, and they displayed great presence of mind during the whole affray. I also consider that it was through Mr. Sadlier's coolness and presence of mind that there were no lives lost on our side, and the affair brought to such a success-

ful termination."


Mr. Curnow was in Benalla to-day, and had an interview with Captain Standish. I was, un- fortunately, unable to see him, but from what I could glean from Mrs. Curnow, I learned that after he returned to his house he kept a good look out for the special train, and when he heard the train approaching he ran along the line to give the warning. Both Mr. and Mrs. Curnow fear that in consequence of the action which he took, that the friends of the gang will do them injury. The fearful end of the gang, however, will, I imagine, deter anyone from openly exhibiting their sympathy for them. With regard to the brave conduct of the Catholic priest at the fire, I regret to say that I was wrongly informed as to his name. Gibney is his     name, not Tierney, and it appears that he was simply on a visit to the district. The police are in possession of information which causes them to suspect that a certain country blacksmith made the armour for the gang, and it is possible that proceedings will be taken against him. The plough shares and mould boards out of which the

armour was manufactured was stolen from five farmers at Greta, at Easter. One of the farmers has identified some of the plates by marks on them. The police at the time were informed that it was intended by the gang to turn the mould-boards into armour, but they laughed at

the idea.


"When we started from the platform we ran   down towards the railway gates, hearing that the gang were in Jones's public-house. We had not time to scatter, but made at once for the front of the house, a few of the men going round to the back. As we neared the place the gang slipped out on the verandah, and began to fire at us. Superintendent Hare was near me, as was also Mr. Rawlins, a volunteer from Benalla. Two or   three constables fired, and Mr. Hare was wounded, a bullet striking his wrist. He said to me, 'Kelly, for God's sake surround the house and don't let them escape.' With his right hand he forthwith fired two shots. Handing his gun to Mr. Rawlins he then retired, saying, 'Kelly, place the men under cover.' I immediately placed the men round the house. Inspector O'Connor, with his   trackers, took up a position in front, and I went round to the further part of the premises, taking Constable Arthur with me. We crept on our faces and hands for about 400 yards, and reached a tree about 50 yards from the house. We got at the back of this tree, which was in the scrub. There we found a six-barrelled revolving rifle, covered with blood, and a skull-cap. We kept a look out and every time we fancied we saw anyone in the hotel we fired. We shot four horses which were saddled and tied up at the back door, with a view to prevent escape on them. When he left the train Constable Bracken, who had just escaped from the hotel, told us that the gang were all in- side. He jumped on one of our horses, which was saddled, and rode off to Wangaratta for additional assistance. At half-past 6 o'clock he returned in company with Sergeant Steele and eight men, who at once assisted in mounting guard round the house. We continued firing on the house until about 8 o'clock, when Ned Kelly made his appear-   ance under the brow of the hill, about 150 yards from the hotel, and deliberately fired a revolver at me. He was heavily armoured, and our men kept up a continuous fire at him, Sergeant Steele being at one side of him, and myself and Dowset (a railway guard) on the other side. Gradually we closed on him, all the while keeping up a steady fire from the rifles. Finding our shots had no effect on his body we aimed at his head, arms, and legs. He walked boldly forward, as if to defy us. Some of our men retired behind trees and logs, and in about ten minutes afterwards he fell beside a fallen tree at which we were posted. We at once rushed forward and caught him. I caught him by the head, and Steele grasped his hand, in which he held a revolver. He fired it off, but it did no

damage. We took his armour off and carried him    

to the railway station. Found, on searching him,

only a 3d. piece, a silver Geneva watch, and a   quantity of ammunition. I asked him to tell me

where Sergeant Kennedy's watch was, so that I       might get it for Mrs. Kennedy. He replied, 'I can't tell you; I would not like to tell you about   it.' He said—'I had to shoot Sergeant Kennedy

and Scanlan for my own safety, and I can't tell  

you any more.' We then gave him over to Mr.  

Sadlier and the medical gentlemen."    

HOW NED KELLY WAS CAPTURED     Whilst at Glenrowan this morning I met the   railway guard, Dowset, who distinguished himself   by his bravery during the fight with Ned Kelly.   He made me the following statement: My name   is Jesse Dowsett. I left Benalla at 5 o'clock on Monday morning by the special train, which was sent for to convey more police to the fight. On

ariving at Glenrowan I found that the fight was  

going on, and that the police and the gang were       still firing. The police were firing at the house then I was armed with a Colt's breechloading revolver, and I rushed up to within 30 yards of the house. I heard Mrs. Reardon crying in front

of the house, and I called to her softly to come to  

the police. She came towards me and I caught hold of her, and as soon as I thought it safe I   brought her to the railway station. I then got   some more cartridges for my revolver from an-     other guard, Archie M'Vie, and made the best of   my way back from tree to tree, and joined a con- stable who was behind a tree close to the hotel.   Before I joined him he challenged me and I called out "railway." The firing after that became very   warm. All the shots from the hotel came from the window in the back building. When it was day-

light I at once saw a strange figure at our back   about 150 yards away. I said, "My God who is     that?" Senior-constable Kelly, or some one else   challenged him twice, and he answered by firing several shots in quick succession. He then steadily came on, as if it was his intention to go to the hotel. He then scattered for cover, and I made towards him. Ned Kelly (for it was he) fired a number of shots all round him, and then he sat down by the side of a tree. I think he was then

re-loading. When he was in that position I called     to Senior-constable Kelly, "Can't you hit him      

now?'' Senior-constable Kelly fired, and I said,     "You have hit the tree beside him." Senior-

constable Kelly then fired again. The only por-  

tion of Ned Kelly then exposed was his hand. I   saw that Senior-constable Kelly had hit him on

the hand, and I told him so. Ned Kelly rose from  

the tree and walked towards me. When he was     within 12 or 15 yards of me I fired 5 or 6 charges  

straight at him. I heard the bullets scud off him,       and he still continued walking. I then cried out to the others, "This man must be the devil."  

When I said so he struck his helmet with the butt of his revolver, causing it to ring, and at the same   time he said, "You — dogs, you can't shoot me." I called out, "He must be mad; he is ringing a bell to let us know where he is." When     he struck his helmet it made a ringing noise. Ned        

Kelly then came to the fork of the lying tree. I       was standing behind the trunk. I said to him,

"You had better surrender, throw up your hands."     He replied, "Never while I have a shot left." I     had then taken deliberate aim at him, resting the     revolver on the tree. I fired at him, saying,

"How do you like that, old man ?" He was lean-   ing against the log at that time and at once stood up. He fired at me, and said, "How do you like     that old man?" I then saw sergeant Steele rush   from the tree behind Kelly and run to within 15 yards of him. He then fired twice at him, and Kelly dropped. Senior-constable Kelly, myself and Sergeant Steele at once rushed on him. Steele seized him by the wrist, Kelly caught him by the head, and I laid hold of the revolver. The reporters then came up, and Senior-constable   Kelly removed the helmet. When he did so he remarked, "By God, it is Ned Kelly." Steele put

his hand on his head and said, "I have got you;   I said I would be in at your death." Kelly's arm-

our was then taken off, and he was removed to the  

railway station.    

NED KELLY'S STATEMENT  . "I was going down to meet the special train with some of my mates, and intended to rake it

with shot; but it arrived before I expected, and     I then returned to the hotel. I expected the train   would go on, and I had the rails pulled up so that these — backtrackers might be settled. I do not say what brought me to Glenrowan, but it seems much. Anyhow I could have got away last night, for I got into the bush with my   grey mare, and lay there all night. But I wanted

to see the thing end. In the first volley the police   fired I was wounded on the left foot; soon after-

wards I was shot through the left arm. I got   these wounds in front of the house. I do not care

what people say about Sergeant Kennedy's death. I have made my statement of the affair, and if the public don't believe me I can't help it; but I am  

satisfied it is not true that Scanlan was shot kneeling. He never got off his horse. I fired   three or four shots from the front of Jones's   hotel, but who I was firing at I do not know. I simply fired where I saw police. I es- caped to the bush, and remained there overnight. I could have shot several constables if I liked. Two passed close to me. I could have shot them before they could shoot. I was a good distance away at one time, but came back. Why don't the police use bullets instead of duck-shot? I have got one charge of duck-shot in my leg. One policeman who was firing at me was a splendid shot, but I do not know his name. I daresay I would have done well to have ridden away on my grey mare. The bullets that struck my armour felt like blows from a man's fist. I wanted to fire into the carriages, but the police started on us too quickly. I expected the police to come." Inspec- tor Sadlier.—"You wanted, then, to kill the   people in the train?" Kelly.—"Yes, of course I     did; God help them, but they would have got   shot all the same. Would they not have tried to

kill me?"  


Ned Kelly left the hotel in which his mates were secured before the special train arrived, and was

never seen by them afterwards. He was not in       the place at all during the fight. Byrne, Hart

and Dan Kelly became very anxious about his ab- sence, and seemed undecided how to act. They missed the loss of their leader greatly, and were continually calling out for him. Up to the time that Byrne was shot they indulged in a great deal of firing. Byrne used the most powder, firing   whenever he got an opportunity. After he fell, Hart and Dan Kelly lost all heart, and fired very seldom. Just before the civilians left the place they were unhurt, but appeared quite despondent. Dan said to Hart, "What shall we do now, Steve?"       and from the answer that the latter made the peo- ple confined in the place were impressed with the belief that they intended to shoot each other. Reardon, a plate-layer, is certain that this is what they meant to do. As the last of the prisoners left the place the two outlaws went into the ad- joining bedroom, and it is thought fired at one an- other. Their remains were found lying in close proximity, and as they were divested of their ar- mour there could be little doubt but that in their

last spirit of desperation they took off the iron so

as to allow their shots to take effect.


Early on Sunday morning Ned Kelly made them all keep about the hotel, telling them that if they obeyed him they would not be harmed. Both he and his mates were evidently the worse for drink  

when they arrived. During the whole of Sunday they conversed with the residents. Amongst other things they said their intention in tearing up the rails was to "salt the black trackers."   They appear to have had a great dread of these people. So far as could be gathered, they were not anxious anyone else should suffer injury. Ned himself said, "If other people will come up in a   special on Sunday they must take the consequen- ces." He also said his intention was to send the police on to Beechworth, wreck the train at the    

place where the rails were dismantled, and on Monday morning, whilst the troopers were away, take possession of the Benalla barracks. When he found that his plot to destroy the train had  

failed, he said he had come to Glenrowan to fight it out, and that he was about tired of the hunted life he was leading. During Sunday afternoon the four outlaws seemed in good spirits, and amused themselves at intervals with jumping, dancing, and singing. The armour plates with which the gang tried to protect themselves have been made out of mould boards, and the police have received information to the effect that they were provided by a blacksmith in the district. The boards were stolen from various places. Up- wards of four months ago the police believed the gang were at the bottom of the theft, but it was thought the iron was wanted by them for protect- ing their haunts in the Strathbogie ranges.


When the first attack subsided, the outlaws were heard calling, "Come on, you —; the — police can't do us any harm." The armour in which each member of the gang was clad was of  

a most substantial character. It was made of

iron a quarter of an inch thick, and consisted of a long breast-plate, shoulder-plates, back-guard,

and helmet. The helmet resembled a nail can without a crown, and with a long slit at the eleva- tion of the eyes to look through. All these arti- cles are believed to have been made by two men, one living near Greta, and the other near Oxley.  

The iron was procured by the larceny of plough shares, and larcenies of this kind having been rather frequent of late in the Kelly district the police had begun to suspect that the gang were preparing for action. Ned Kelly's armour alone weighed 97lb, a considerable weight to carry on horseback. There are five bullet marks on the helmet, three on the breast-plate, nine on the back-plate, and one on the shoulder-plate. His wounds, so far as at present known, are:—Two on the right arm, several on the right leg, one on left foot, one on right hand, and two near the groin.


With the view of gathering any fresh particulars obtainable concerning Monday's encounter I re- visited Glenrowan to-day. I found the debris of Jones's Hotel still smouldering, and a crowd of people fossicking among the ruins for mementoes of the gang. Two brick chimneys were all that remained standing, and the black ashes of the building were covered in part by the sheets of corrugated iron which had formed the roof. The iron was pierced with innumerable bullet and slug holes, and on the chimneys were also a number of bullet marks. The wrecks of two iron bedsteads and of a sewing-machine and a few tin cans, some of which contained shot marks; were the only recognisable objects in the debris.

It may not be too late to explain here that the hotel was a wooden building of one story, and con- tained a front parlour and bar, and two bedrooms at the back. At the rear, and separated from the front tenement, stood the kitchen, a rough wooden structure. It stood about 130 yards from the rail- way station, at about the same distance from the railway line on the westside, and on the rising ground which leads up to Morgan's Lookout, which is the nearest peak of the Warby Ranges. The station-master's house stands on the line immediately below the hotel. The only other   houses in the immediate vicinity are M'Donald's Hotel and another small private house, both of which are situated on a track running about parallel with the line, at a distance of say 150 yards on the east side. The police station, post-office,

and state school of Glenrowan are about a mile

south of the railway station, and the same side as Jones's Hotel. On the east rise the Greta Ranges, and the township of Greta is only four miles


The boy John Jones, aged 11, has died at Wan-   garatta. He was shot when lying on the ground in one of the bedrooms. The bullet is said to have come through the wall, entered at his thigh, and passed into his body. Cherry was shot early in   the morning and the wound was dressed by some of his fellow prisoners. None of Ned Kelly's wounds are of a deadly character. What were supposed to be shot marks in the groin are, Dr. Nicholson states, only grazings. The charred remains of Dan Kelly and Hart were handed over to their friends, and taken to Mrs. Skillian's place at Greta, and are there now. John Grant, under- taker, of Wangaratta, was employed by their

friends to provide coffins of a first-class descrip- tion, the cost being a matter of no consequence. He arrived with them in a buggy at Glenrowan yesterday afternoon, and they were seen to be high-priced articles. The lid of the one was lettered "Daniel Kelly, died 28th June, 1880, aged   19 years," and the other "Stephen Hart, died   28th June, 1880, aged 21 years." How the re- mains are to be distinguished from each other is a problem that will not be easily solved. During the afternoon Inspector Sadlier telegraphed to the local police that the remains were on no account to be interfered with until the magisterial inquiries were held, and steps were at once taken to carry out these instructions.


After an affecting parting with his sister at Benalla, Kelly left by the ordinary train at about 9 o'clock. On the journey to Melbourne he main- tained a very reticent and sullen demeanor, answering any questions which were put to hin very gruffly. At each station there was a great rush of people to obtain a glimpse of him, and on being asked by Senior-constable Walsh if he had any objection to their crowding round the van and looking in, he replied he had none. He seemed much refreshed by his sleep on the previous night. Dr. Ryan was most attentive, and many   times during the journey attended to his wounds and administered stimulants to him. Although he was unable to see any of the country through which he passed, he displayed a wonderful know- ledge of each locality at which the train stopped and at once mentioned the name of the station. At intervals he slept, but he seemed to be very uneasy, and awoke from each slumber with a violent start. In reply to questions, he was induced sometimes to refer to his com- panions. On one occasion he was asked if he knew where he was going, and he replied in the affirmative; and later he remarked, "My     mates are all gone; it is a sad affair, but of course it can't be helped now." He further inquired if it was intended to lodge him in the Melbourne Gaol, and Senior-constable Walsh told him that that had been decided upon.


At Beveridge, he said to that officer, "Look   across there to the left. Do you see a little hill there?" Walsh replied that he did, and the out- law continued, "That is where I was born, about 28 years ago. Now, I am passing through it, I suppose, to my doom." As the train passed the Strathbogie Ranges he indi- cated their direction. Dr. Ryan asked him if he thought that Hart and Dan Kelly had shot themselves, and he stated that he did not believe it, because they were too cowardly. The rumour that was at one time circulated, to the effect that Kelly visited Melbourne, was remembered by Walsh, who asked him if it was true. He replied 'It is a question which I would not like to answer,' but he afterwards told his interrogators that he would answer any questions which affected him- self, but that he would not reply to any which re- garded his late associates. He appeared to feel his position very much, and although the police made him as comfortable as it was possible to do, it was apparent that he was suffering great pain.

It was anticipated that there would be im- mense crowds to meet the outlaw if it was made known that he would be landed at any partícular station, so the police authorities indulged in a little manœuvring in order to prevent anything like a rush to a station. Barricades were erected at the Spencer-street terminus, and Sub-inspector Larmer was despatched thither with a party of police. That, it was thought, was a sufficient indication that it was at that place Kelly would be brought. A crowd accordingly gathered but the platform and yards were cleared. Large numbers of people congregated in the street, and from the windows opposite and drays, sought to obtain a good view of what was expected to occur. They were all dis- appointed, however, for it was decided previously

that he would not be taken from the train at that place.


Inspectors Montfort and Secretan, in plain   clothes, detective Wilson and one or two police- men also without uniform, had proceeded to the North Melbourne station, and waited there in an unostentatious manner. About 50 other persons had gathered there, and at 2 o'clock the ordinary train from the north-east arrived at the siding. There were two brake vans at- tached to it. The outlaw was in the last one, lying on a pile of mattresses, and surrounded by about a dozen armed policemen. He looked terribly emaciated. His spare coun- tenance was rendered more wan by the terrible bruises with which it was covered—the effects of the bullets having struck the helmet which he wore when he had the fight with the police. His utter helplessness was apparent at a glance, and as he laid on the floor of the van there was some-

thing horribly pitiful in his appearance. The crowd quickly surrounded the van, but the police soon cleared a passage. A stretcher was handed in and the outlaw was laid upon it. Mat- tresses were then placed on a four-wheeled vehicle which stood outside the reserve, and he was carried on the shoulders of the policemen thither. Very little time was lost in placing him comfortably in the trap, but there was ample opportunity afforded for the people to see his face and thus gratify a morbid desire. Such ex- pressions as "Poor fellow," "I am so sorry," and     other pitying exclamations were given vent to by the lower portion of the assemblage, but all fur- ther remark was cut short by instructions being given to drive on. The vehicle, which was followed by several others, proceeded up to Victoria-street, and thence to the Melbourne Gaol. All the way the sudden appearance of the escort caused people to rush from the shops with a view, if possible, of seeing Kelly, but they were not afforded that opportunity. Near the gaol was an immense concourse of men, women, and children, and although an attempt was made to give a cheer, it was remarkably feeble. The con- veyance did not stop, but drove right into the gaol, the large gates being opened for the purpose, and immediately closed. There was a


strong guard of police present to prevent any rushing. Within the institution he was re- ceived by Mr. Castieau, the governor, under a warrant of remand from Benalla until July 5. Some warders and other prisoners removed him from the cab to the hospital, where he was at once placed on a water bed which had been pre- pared for his reception. Dr. Shields, the medical officer, was immediately communicated with, and on his arrival he took charge of the prisoner's case. The Rev. P. J. Aylward was also permitted to see Kelly, and that rev. gentleman kindly undertook to acquaint Mrs. Kelly, the mother of the bushranger, of the fate of himself and his brother. She was also a prisoner in the gaol, serving a sentence for having resisted and   assaulted constable Fitzpatrick in April, 1878, when he endeavoured to arrest Daniel Kelly for horse-stealing. The episode, it will be remem- bered, was the first of a series of outrages which was perpetrated by some of the members of the gang which was soon afterwards formed. When the mother of the prisoner was informed of the fate which had befallen her sons she expressed herself as not being surprised, and explained her preparedness by stating that on Saturday night she had dreamed that the gang was being encoun- tered and that the police were victorious.

Drs. Ryan and Shields examined him in the gaol at 5 o'clock. It was remarked that he was in a healthy condition, and that he was excep- tionally clean. The most serious wound from which he is suffering is one in the left arm. When he was struck there he says the limb was bent,   and the bullet entered midway between the wrist and the elbow, passed through the arm, and pierced it again about 3in above the joint. There are not any bullets in his body now, but there are marks of four slug wounds in his right thigh and leg. Dr. Shields extracted the slugs from a wound in his right hand, near the thumb. This was the injury which prevented his using his rifle. He was shot in the left foot near the large toe, and the bullet passed out again near the instep. With such very serious injuries it is sur- prising how he managed to escape being killed. The doctors, however, do not consider that he is mortally wounded, and are of opinion that, unless the severe mental depression which has super- vened has a deterring influence, he should soon



I could also send you the statements of several other men who were confined in the hotel, but they would simply be a recapitulation of the facts I have already sent you. The gang have still a number of sympathisers, and many noted friends were at Glenrowan when the fight was going on. When Ned Kelly returned in the morning to fight the police, he evidently expected that the other mem- bers of the gang would join him. They un- doubtedly saw him, and when engaged with senior-constable Kelly, sergeant Steele and guard Dowsett he called on his companions to come out and back him up. After the hotel had been destroyed by fire, and the charred remains of Dan Kelly and Hart removed from the debris, the brother of Hart requested that the remains of both men should be handed over to himself and Mrs. Skillian. I was very much surprised to hear that the request had been acceded to. Cap- tain Standish arrived soon afterwards, and I sup- pose he acceded to the proposition. The remains were then taken to the residence of Mrs. Skillian, where a wake was held. The coffins were ordered from Wangaratta, and arrived there this morning. Soon afterwards an intimation was received from the coroner to stop the burial, as it was intended to hold an inquest on the remains to-morrow. Wild Wright remained at Glenrowan to-day, and became considerably the worse for liquor. During the morning four of the horses used by the Kelly gang was found by the police. Strange to say, they were stabled at M'Donald's Hotel, within 100 yards from the railway station. The bushrangers stuck M'Donald up, but gave him his liberty before the arrival of the police, but M'Donald did not say one word about the horses being in his stable. They were seen in the stables during the night by a reporter who had

been accommodated with a shakedown in the

hotel. He suspected that the horses belonged to the Kelly gang. Wild Wright was in the hotel, and he thought it best to keep his suspicions to himself. Detective Ward was a passenger by the morning train, and the reporter told him about the horses. Constable Bracken, in turn, was then placed in possession of the information, and on going to the stables he found the four horses, which he brought at once to Benalla. A very fine upstanding chestnut horse was identified as the property of Mr. Ryan, of Major Plains. The horse was stolen from Mr. Ryan about 10 days ago. There was a new saddle on the horse which had been recently made by   Bullivant, of Wangaratta. It was the horse ridden by Joe Byrne on the night Sherritt was murdered. A brown mare, which had been used as a pack horse, was also identified as the property of Mr. Ryan, and was stolen at the same time as the chestnut horse. Another brown mare was identi-

fied as the property of Mr. Fitzsimmons, stolen from his farm at the Ten-mile Creek about 10 days ago. The other horse has not yet been indentified. Ned Kelly's favourite mare was seen in the bush, near to Glenrowan, during the progress of the fight. It is believed she is wounded.


It was at first announced that the inquest on   Byrne would not be held until to-morrow. Quite unexpectedly, during the afternoon, Mr. Robert McBean and Captain Standish held a magisterial   inquiry. The proceedings were conducted very quietly—so quietly, in fact, that no one knew of the affair until it was over, and there were only two or three persons present in the court house, where the inquiry was held. Senior-constable Kelly, who was at Benalla, and was desirous of being present, knew nothing of it until it was all over. The inquiry was of a purely formal nature. The first witness called was Robert M'Intyre, police constable stationed at Melbourne. He identified the body in the possession of the police as that of Joseph Byrne, one of the outlaws who had shot the police constables Kennedy, Scanlan, and Lonigan, at Mansfield, on October 26, 1878.

Witness was one of a search party sent out to arrest the four outlaws, but principally the two Kellys, who had been concerned in the shooting of constable Fitzpatrick at Greta. Louis Piatza, a contractor living at Glenrowan, who was one of those detained in Mrs. Jones's Hotel at Glenrowan, also identified the body as being

that of Joseph Byrne, the outlaw, who, in con-   junction with the Kelly's and Hart, resisted the police at Glenrowan on Monday last. Edward Kelly, police constable, stationed at Benalla, de- posed that he knew Joseph Byrne, the outlaw, a

member of the Kelly gang, for over eight years at   the Woolshed, at Beechworth and other places. The body before the court was that of Joesph Byrne. Superintendent Sadlier produced the proclamation issued in the GOVERNMENT GAZETTE, published in October and December last, which offered £4,000 reward for the appre- hension of Edward and Daniel Kelly and two     others, known as King and Brown, who were afterwards found to be identi- cal with Hart and Byrne. He also pro- duced copies of the New South Wales GOVERN- MENT GAZETTE, offering a similar amount for the apprehension of the outlaws. The reward was to be withdrawn at the end of the present month, but as the gang had been captured before that date the reward was still in force. Mr. M'Bean entered a decision of justifiable homicide, and stated that Byrne had come by his death at the hands of the police whilst they were in the execu- tion of their duty. The body was afterwards handed over to some of the friends of deceasad, who were anxiously waiting for the police to give it up. It was taken to Greta, to be buried in the Wangaratta Cemetery with the remains of Hart and Dan Kelly.