I woke him up, and he immediately began to sweat—God, _how he did sweat_! I charged him with passing counterfeit money, because I did not want his wife to know what the real charge was. We got his baggage together, and took him with it to the watch-house. I searched him, and found in his pocket the silver watch, since identified as Capt. Burr’s, also, his knife, pipe, and among the rest, two small canvas bags, which have since been identified as those used by the captain to carry his silver. In his pocket-book was $121, mostly in five and ten dollar bills of the Farmers’ and Citizens’ Bank of Brooklyn. There was no gold in his possession. I didn’t take his wife’s baggage, and I felt so bad for her that I gave her $10 of the money. Poor woman! as it was she cried bitterly, but if she had known what her husband was really charged with, it would have been awful. I took the $6 from the landlady that he had paid in advance, because I didn’t know but the money might be identified. When we got him to the watch-house, I told him to let me see his hands, for if he was a counterfeiter, and not a sailor, as he represented, I could tell. He turned up his palms, and said, “Those are sailor’s hands.” I said yes, and they are big ones, too; and then I told him I did not want him for counterfeiting, and he replied, “I thought as much.” So I up and told him what he was charged with, and he declared upon his soul that he was innocent, and knew nothing of the matter, and was never on the sloop. I don’t think his wife knew anything about it. Some time before he had picked up a yacht, and was to get $300 salvage, and when he came home so flush with money he told his wife he had got the prize money. I asked him if he would go on to New York quietly with us, or stay in jail ten or fifteen days for a requisition. He said he would go with us, and we started at 7 o’clock in the morning. He behaved so coolly and indifferently that I at one time almost concluded we had mistaken our man. At the New London depot there was an immense crowd of people waiting to see the prisoner, and, when we went through the crowd, they cried out, “There’s the murderer; lynch him—lynch him!” I told him that I would shoot the first man who touched him. At every station after that, as we came through there were large crowds curious to see the prisoner. THE IDENTIFICATION OF THE PRISONER. Soon after the arrival of the prisoner, the man John Burke, with whom he had lived in Cedar street, was confronted with the prisoner, whom he identified at once as William Johnson, the man who, with his wife and child, had left No. 129 Cedar street on Wednesday afternoon, and went on the Fall River boat. Mr. Simmons also stepped forward, and recognized the prisoner as one of the hands who sailed from this port with Captain Burr on board the sloop E. A. Johnson. Upon being asked if he knew Captain Burr, he said he did not, he never saw him, and never sailed in the vessel commanded by him.