J. Milton Reid, Formerly of Berryhill Township, Charged With Bigamy.

WIFE NO. TWO CLINGS TO HIM

Mrs. Edie Trull Wedded On Advice of Friend -- Now She's Sorry

REID SAYS HE MEANT WELL

Because he has one more wife than the law allows, J. Milton Reid, formerly of Berryhill township, now of Charlotte, is behind the bars of the station house.

The second Mrs. Reid only assumed that unenviable position yesterday and Reid was arrested this afternoon on a charge of bigamy. He was locked up at the station house and Mrs. Reid, No. 2, determined to stick to her new found protector, spent the afternoon clinging to the bars of his cell, bathed in tears and trying to console him.

Mrs. Reid No. 1, lives at Lodo, in Berryhill township. Acccording to Reid's statement to a News' man, his was married to her November 3rd, 1887 by Rev. W. O. Cochrane. She was Miss Nannie Boyles and they have four children, all boys, who are now with their mother. They have been separated, if Reid's words are true, eight years and though he has seen her frequently, they have spoken to each other only five or six times in all those years.

Mrs. Reid No. 2 was a widow -- Mrs. Edie Trull. She was a Miss Hilton, of Brown Creek and a niece of Mr. Peter Hilton. She has been separated from Trull, she said to a News man, for nine years. Her husband died four months ago. She has three children. She was married to Reid yesterday morning by 'Squire McAllister. She knew that Reid was a grass-widower, but acting on the advice of her friend Josephine Woodruff, thought it was all right and consented to the ceremony.

Reid talked freely of his trouble to a News' man. When asked why he married Mrs. Reid No 2, he exclaimed --

"Why, I married her because I loved her."

He said in justification of his conduct, that he had been separated from his wife so long he did not think there was any harm in marrying again.

All three of the persons concerned are said to be of good family. Reid was arrested recently for drunkenness and carrying concealed weapons and is under bond to appear for trial at the next term of the Superior Court. Reid realizes the fact that he is in a peck of trouble and makes no effort at concealment.

He will have a preliminary examination before the Recorder tomorrow morning and will be held for the Superior Court. It seems that Reid's separation of eight years from his first wife was sufficient for one or other to have obtained a divorce, but Cupid and the charms of a widow led Reid into ignoring the little formality the law requires before taking unto himself another spouse.

HE SLEEPS: THE WOMAN WATCHES

J. M. Reid, Separated Eight Years from His Wife, Marries Mrs. Edie Trull, of This City -- Peculiar Ideas on the Divorce Question -- An Old, Old Story at the Police Station.

On Observer reporter found that no unseemly noise disturbed the peace at the police station at 1 o'clock this morning. Within easy reach of his two telephones Turnkey Cochrane rested on two chairs and dozed fitfully. Across the room the famous cat that honors the station with her continual presence and kittens slept and woke and purred and licked her feet and slept again. There was no sound.

The reporter walked on the cell room entrance and threw open the door. A stone corridor extends straight back a distance of 40 feet, and on either side are small cells bound in iron. Midway of the corridor is a large stove. Sitting in a chair next to this stove was a woman -- with her eyes fixed solidly on a cell to her right. As she leaned forward the flickering gaslight revealed a shimmer of grey in her hair and lines on her face that bespoke of hardship and toil.

As the reporter stepped forward to where the woman sat a negro in one of the cells raised himself from his mattress, rubbed his eyes and peered curiously at the woman and then at the visitor. In an opposite cell a white man lay, covered with a heavy quilt. He slept heavily. The woman did not raise her eyes from his face.

"You see, it will be necessary to print something about you and this man," said the reporter, "and I thought you might wish to make some statement. This is J. M. Reid and you were married to him Thursday by 'Squire McAllister, weren't you?"

"Yes."

"And you knew he had a wife living in this county?"

Words came in a dull even monotone.

"Oh, yes. I knew he was married -- knew his wife. But they didn't get along well together and he left her eight years ago. They told me that his being away from her so long was just the same as a divorce. His wife didn't love him. And I love him. And I'm goin' to stick to him." The man slept -- with a drink-flush on his cheek.

"Your own husband?"

"He died four months ago. I have four children, three of them living. Seems to me I've done no harm. His wife don't want him. And I love him. And I'm goin' to stick by him." The man slept on.

"You will sit here in this chair all night?"

"Yes."

"But you will not sleep?"

"Yes, I know."

"The man -- he is sleeping."

"Yes, I know."

The negro in the opposite cell had risen and was sitting on his mattress. With an odd, wondering look he gazed out at the women -- who watched.

The woman is Mrs. Edie Trull, who lives at the corner of Smith and Eleventh streets in this city. The man is J. M. Reid, a well-to-do farmer. He was married in 1887 by Rev. W. O. Cochrane to Miss Mamie Boyles, of this county, and they lived happily on Mr. Reid's farm, near Lodo, until about eight years ago, when a quarrel led to their separation. Mrs. Reid, with her four children, went to live with her brother at Lodo.

After the separation Mr. Reid rented part of his farm to Mr. Trull, and lived at Trull's house. Trull died four months ago and his wife came to Charlotte. Two months ago Reid come to town, taking a room at Mrs. Trull's. He also declares that he thought eight years' separation was equivalent to a divorce.

The case will come up before the recorder this morning.