The front page is dominated by the lurid details of the 'Princeton Murder'—the trial, conviction, and execution of Charles Lewis (also known as George W. Simonds), who brutally murdered jeweler James Rowand in November 1862. Lewis ambushed Rowand near Princeton's cemetery with a club he'd hidden beforehand, crushing the respectable Methodist's skull with a single blow and leaving him face-down in a pool of blood. The murderer then robbed his victim's carpetbag and ransacked Rowand's store, escaping with approximately $1,598 in Treasury notes. Lewis was apprehended two days later in nearby Millstone with damning evidence: fragments of Rowand's business cards, bloodstains on his shirt (later confirmed through 'delicate chemical process' to be human brain matter), and documents under the alias George W. Simonds. Witnesses placed him shadowing Rowand on the evening of the crime, and two passersby reportedly heard 'three knocks' and sounds like 'cats yelling' near the cemetery. The newspaper also covers the recent elections: Rhode Island's decisive victory for the Republican Union ticket (James B. Smith elected Governor by over 3,000 votes) and anticipation for Connecticut's election the following day, framed as critical battles against 'Copperhead' Democrats who allegedly sympathize with the Confederacy.

This April 1863 dispatch captures America at a pivotal moment in the Civil War—roughly two years into the conflict, with massive numbers of soldiers absent from home. The editorial commentary reflects the intense political divisions roiling the North: 'Copperheads' (Northern Democrats opposed to Lincoln's war) are portrayed as enemies nearly as dire as the Confederate South itself. The Rhode Island election result is celebrated as proof that Union loyalty will prevail, even with soldiers away fighting. Meanwhile, the sensational murder case reflects how crime reporting—particularly narratives of moral depravity and social danger—served as compelling counter-programming to war news, offering readers both entertainment and moral edification about the consequences of abandoning civilization's rules.

• The newspaper's subscription price was $2.50 per year, yet a single copy cost five cents—meaning an annual subscription cost only 52 copies' worth. For Canada, subscribers had to add 25 cents extra 'to prepay American postage,' revealing the postal complications of maintaining international circulation during wartime.
• Ole Bull, the famous Norwegian violinist, is briefly discussed in a 'Music' column. The dispatch notes he 'was originally destined for the church' and 'first visited the United States in 1843'—casual biography sandwiched between advice columns, showing how celebrity culture existed even during civil war.
• A reader asks about evicting passengers from omnibuses for non-payment of fare. The newspaper advises that drivers 'cannot lawfully evict a passenger for non-payment of fare previous to arriving at his destination'—yet acknowledges it's company policy anyway, essentially telling readers to just comply or refuse to board. This reveals the gap between law and practice in 1860s public transit.
• The classified section includes verification that actress Mary Provost is indeed married, with details about her age (25-30) and stage career (2½ years). This personal information would later be considered invasive, showing how Victorian-era newspapers treated celebrities' private details as public entertainment.
• A steamboat record is mentioned almost in passing: the Alida made the 160-mile trip from New York to Albany in 6 hours and 21 minutes—approximately 25 mph, showcasing the engineering marvel of 1860s steam transportation.

• The Dispatch mentions that James Rowand 'had resided in Princeton for twenty years' and was a jeweler—exactly the kind of prosperous, respectable tradesman who represented stable middle-class life that the Civil War was beginning to upend. By 1863, his murder represented not just individual tragedy but anxieties about social chaos amid national conflict.
• Charles Lewis reportedly deposited $100 to the New York Savings Bank under the alias George W. Simonds in July 1862—four months before Rowand's murder. This suggests premeditation and that Lewis may have been scouting victims. The New York Savings Bank, founded in 1819, would survive into the 20th century, but Lewis's crime predated modern forensic banking that might have caught him sooner.
• The newspaper notes that Lewis had previously been arrested in Philadelphia in May 1862 on a watch-theft charge but escaped prosecution because 'the owner of the watch did not want to write in prosecuting him.' This casual victim non-cooperation would have horrified modern law enforcement—one person's reluctance to prosecute directly enabled a future murder.
• Ole Bull, mentioned in the music column, had been criticized by Schubert's Hand-book of Music for insufficient diligence: 'If he had studied more diligently, he would have been the greatest of living players.' Despite this mixed review, Ole Bull went on to be one of the 19th century's most celebrated virtuosos—proof that contemporary critics aren't always right.
• The Connecticut election, awaited 'to-morrow,' would help determine whether the North remained unified behind Lincoln's prosecution of the war. The Dispatch calls it crucial for securing 'staunch supporters of the Union.' Historical records show the Union/Republican ticket indeed prevailed decisively—a psychological boost for Northern morale at a critical war moment.