Dispatch, January 19, 1889

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Moral -- Other violent crimeMoral -- Other

Onancock via Tasley, Va. January 18 --Information received here from Craddockville, a small village in the southern part of Accomack, of a rather singular shooting affray that recently occurred there. Andrew Ashmead, who lives near that place, has long been laboring under the hallucination that he is a woman. Among the young men of the neighborhood to whom he has paid court is John Kellam, a youth of twenty and the son of a widow who resides near the village. Young Kellam humored Ashmead's peculiar whim and led him to believe that his affection for him was reciprocal. Kellam had popped the question. Ashmead had accepted him, and the day for the nuptials had been set. Unmindful of the fact that a trick was being played on him, Ashmead left all business to prepare for his marriage and summon his friends and neighbors to the feast. According to agreement Kellam escorted him to a neighbor's house several nights ago, where they spent some time and then started home. While in the midst of a deep pine forest they got into a dispute about the color of the dress which Ashmead, the prospective bride, should wear at his approaching marriage to Kellam. Ashmead insisted strongly that he would wear nothing but a bright red dress, while Kellam with equal emphasis insisted on his wearing a dress of another color. The quarrel was warm, and Kellam, in order to frighten Ashmead, drew a revolver and brandished it in the air, threatening to shoot Ashmead unless he would give in. But instead of getting alarmed Ashmead flew into a towering rage and, drawing his pistol, shot Kellam through the hand and arm, cutting off one of his fingers. Kellam then shot Ashmead twice, one of the balls inflicting a flesh wound in the leg. The other striking him in the back and glancing off on a rib till it came out of his side, where it tore away the flesh for more than an inch. Both went home and crept to bed without telling what had happened. The next morning it was found that Ashmead had flooded his bed with blood, and Kellam's wounded hand and arm confirmed the suspicion that something wrong had happened. An attempt was made to hush the matter up, but the fact leaked out among the neighbors and finally came to the ears of the local justice of the peace, who had both parties arrested and placed them under bonds to answer before the next grand jury of the County Court.

It is said that ball that struck Ashmead in the back would have been fatal had it not struck a rib and glanced off.

Ashmead, who is a tailor by trade, lived for some time in this town, where he was regarded as a drunk. While here he indited several effusive love letters to some crusty old bachelors of the vicinity, who made things so hot for him that he was glad to get away. This singular occurrence revives the memory of the once famous Duer-Hearn tragedy, that occurred some twelve years ago just across the Virginia line near Pocomoke City, Md., where Miss Lily Duer, who while laboring under the delusion that she was a man, shot and killed Miss Hearn, of whom she pretended to be jealous, because she thought her fonder of some one else than herself. Miss Duer's trial, which resulted in her acquittal on the plea of insanity, was one of the most remarkable in the criminal annals of the Eastern Shore.