ARREST OF TIRRELL THE MURDERER!

This individual has at last been arrested, and after all hopes had been given up, as it was supposed he had left the country. Captain Youenness, of the First Municipality police, received information last Sunday, by a private letter from New York, that Tirrell had shipped for New Orleans in one of the regular packet ships under the name of William Dennis. He immediately laid the facts before the Recorder, and obtaining the assistance of officers Trescazes, chartered a pilot boat and set sail for the Gulf. They boarded several vessels, but could not find the name of William Dennis among the list of passengers, and began to think their information was incorrect.

At last a vessel hove in sight, on Friday morning last, and on nearing her she proved to be the ship Sultana from New York. They boarded her, and upon inquiring of the captain whether he had a passenger named Dennis, received an affirmative reply—but neither he, the mate, nor any one else, could tell which of the passengers was Dennis. Mr. Bowditch, a custom house officer, being aboard, called the roll of the passengers; when the name of William Dennis was called, a good looking man, in a rough blue pilot-cloth suit, with a glazed cap on his head, stepped out. Youenness said, “Sir, I want you.” “What for?” inquired Dennis. “There is no occasion for any conversation; I suspect you know,” replied Youenness. “Have you got a warrant?” inquired Dennis. “Yes!” was the reply. “Let me see it.” “Here it is,” said Y., producing it and handing it to him; “are you satisfied?” “Yes.”

The handcuffs were then placed upon his wrists, and when the tow boat Porpoise came along side the officers transferred him to her, and yesterday about twelve o’clock, arrived in this city and took him before Recorder Genois.

He was called up to the Recorder’s desk about two o’clock, and Mr. Jarius Vinney, of No. 3 Magazine street, was sworn, and identified the accused as Albert J. Tirrell, from having known him for many years and being brought up in the same village with him. “What is your name?” said the Recorder, looking at the prisoner. There was a pause of a second, in which all eyes were turned upon the suspected man, expecting of course that he would deny his identity; but to the surprise of every one, he said in a soft, mild voice—“Albert J. Tirrell!”

Mr. Bates, of the firm of Bates & Tirrell, also identified the accused as Albert J. Tirrell. The Recorder then informed him that he should commit him, without bail, upon the charge of having murdered Maria A. Bickford, in Boston, until a requisition could be obtained from the Governor of Massachusetts. The prisoner bowed his head and was removed.

There was nothing found upon his person but a revolving pistol, with every barrel loaded and capped. His trunk contained nothing at all. On the way up he endeavored to jump overboard, but was prevented by the officers.

Since his arrival in the city he has maintained the most gloomy silence, scarcely answering the officers who have occasion to address him, and passing the whole of the day in a lethargic state.

There is no little doubt, from his conduct since his arrest, that he will snatch the very first opportunity to commit suicide, that the officers are continually compelled to watch him, or to put him under such restraint that it would be impossible for him to destroy himself.—New Orleans Picayune.