a few feet in advance of where Terry stood. Not more than two seconds after Terry, who had raised his weapon, deliberately covering with it the breast of his opponent, fired. The ball penetrated Broderick's right breast, causing him to fall before his seconds could reach him. "The shot is not mortal," exclaimed Terry. "I have struck two inches to the right." When he saw his proud enemy stretched upon the ground, he slowly retired with his friends. How these murderers can live, basking in the wrath of heaven, as Juvenal would say, is a mystery to those who feel within them conscience and humanity.
For four days Broderick lingered, suffering, when not delirious, the greatest agony. "They have killed me because T was opposed to the extension of slavery, and a corrupt administration," he exclaimed in one of his conscious moments. On the morning of the 17th of September he died. The city was profoundly moved. Two thousand citizens, beside the Pioneers who buried it, followed the body to Lone Mountain cemetery, where a granite monument now marks its resting-place. Broderick seemed to find politics profitable, as he left an estate of some $400,000. He left a will at Washington, which was vigorously contested at San Francisco, one of his seconds playing a conspicuous part in it, but was finally admitted to probate.
Writing the day of Broderick's death, the editor of the San Francisco Bulletin says: "Whoever reads the correspondence between Messrs Broderick and Terry that preceded the late fatal duel, must be struck with the trifling nature of the original quarrel between the parties, and the absence of everything like an imperative cause for a hostile meeting. Judge Terry, in the heat of an extemporaneous speech, used language of a general nature calculated undoubtedly to excite anger in the breast of Mr Broderick. Yet that language, when analyzed, did not reflect upon Broderick's personal character or honor. It was injurious to his political interests, being calculated to estrange his
