The Chronicles of Crime or The New Newgate Calendar. v. 2/2 being a series of memoirs and anecdotes of notorious characters who have outraged the laws of Great Britain from the earliest period to 1841 (part 2 of 4)

The Chronicles of Crime or The New Newgate Calendar. v. 2/2 being a series of memoirs and anecdotes of notorious characters who have outraged the laws of Great Britain from the earliest period to 1841 (part 2 of 4)

The unfortunate Hunton, it appears, commenced business at Yarmouth, as a slop-seller; and having been exceedingly prosperous, he opened a concern of some magnitude at Bury St. Edmunds, Suffolk: and also engaged in business as a sugar-baker in the metropolis. He had previously married a lady, a member of the society of Friends, to which sect it will be perceived that he also belonged, and was supposed to be possessed of property to the amount of 30,000_l._ Relinquishing these concerns he entered into partnership with Messrs. Dickson and Company, of Ironmonger-lane, who soon discovered that he was engaged to no small extent in speculations on the Stock Exchange, in which, as it turned out, he was particularly unsuccessful. A dissolution of partnership was the consequence, and then the unhappy man, driven to want and despair, committed those frauds which cost him his life. Up to the time of his absenting himself from London, he had a large establishment at Leytonstone, in Essex, where he was always looked upon as an eccentric, but highly honourable and respectable person. The appearance and demeanour of the unhappy man, at the time of his apprehension, were such as to excite the greatest commiseration among those who saw him. Although it would appear that the forgeries of which he had been guilty were of no trifling extent, at that period one hundred sovereigns only were found in his possession.

WILLIAM BURKE.

EXECUTED FOR MURDER

The unparalleled atrocities of which this diabolical murderer was guilty, with his associates, can scarcely ever be obliterated from the recollection of man. Devoid of all sense of humanity,--a butcher of the human race, he was guilty of almost innumerable murders, for which his only reward was to be the miserable amount to be paid him for the bodies of his victims, in order that they might be submitted to the knife of the anatomist.

The scene of these horrible occurrences was Edinburgh; but notwithstanding the publication of the details of the circumstances attending them which appeared at the investigations which took place before the sheriff, few could be found who had formed such an idea of the baseness of human nature, as to believe the possibility of the truth of the dreadful disclosures which were made. The traffic in human blood, with such an object as we have already pointed out, appeared too fearful a crime to be contemplated; and all suspended their judgment until the issue of the solemn inquiry of a jury should decide upon the allegations which were made. Upon that inquisition, however, the most dreadful apprehensions which were entertained as to the result were fully realised, and the reports which had been circulated with reference to the offences charged against the prisoners, were amply proved to be well founded.

The metropolis of Scotland had been long and frequently excited by statements being made of the disappearance of persons in the lower orders of life, who were suddenly missed, and of whom no subsequent traces could be discovered. Tramps entering the city with their friends were suddenly lost; Irish hay-makers, on their road to the agricultural districts of the Lowlands, in the same manner seemed to vanish from among their companions; and in one instance an idiot, who in Scotland is always looked upon as a harmless playmate for the children, as a welcome guest at every table, and as an object of universal pity, was on a sudden lost from the favourite haunts of his imbecile wanderings. Suspicions of a dreadful character entered the minds of persons, whose duty it was to superintend the police of the town,--suspicions of murder, which might well be supposed to have been excited by the influence of the Almighty, and through which the guilty were eventually discovered and brought to punishment.

The occurrence which immediately led to the disclosure of these diabolical crimes was the unaccountable disappearance of a mendicant named Mary Campbell, an Irishwoman, who, after having been seen frequenting the same vicinity for a considerable time, towards the end of October 1829, was suddenly missed. The poor woman happened to have friends, who were not disposed to treat her loss lightly, and a rigid inquiry by the police was the result. An idea was suggested that her body might be found at some of the medical schools in Edinburgh, so justly celebrated for the excellence of the anatomical instruction which they afforded to the pupils; and one day's search testified the truth of the fears which had been excited of her death. Her remains were discovered at the dissecting-room of Dr. Knox, a distinguished anatomist, bearing marks perfectly conclusive of their identity. The poor woman had received a wound upon her ancle, from the kick of a drunken man, the aspect of which was sufficiently well known to enable her former companions to speak with certainty as to the body. The cause of death was now the subject of investigation; and here the deficiency of caution in the purchase of subjects, the necessity of a change in the law with regard to the provision of bodies for dissection, and finally, the certainty of the murder of the deceased, were exemplified. The medical men, by whom the body was examined, gave their firm and decided opinion that suffocation had been the means by which the deceased had been deprived of life,--a means which it was exceedingly unlikely any natural circumstances would have produced. It was evident, therefore, that murder had been resorted to,--it was believed, with a view to secure the body of the wretched woman, in order that it might be sold for dissection.

The next inquiry which followed, was that as to the individual from whom the subject had been purchased. The law at that time contained no enactment with regard to the mode by which surgeons were to be provided with those subjects which the study of anatomy, so important to the human race, positively required that they should possess. The occasional execution of a criminal, whose remains were ordered by the terms of his sentence to be given over to the surgeons for dissection, afforded no sufficient supply to meet the constant demand which existed; and the stealing of dead bodies was a practice openly encouraged by the professors of anatomy, although it excited universal disgust and hatred amongst those whose immediate interests forbade their looking upon the custom with any feelings but those of horror.

So long as the war continued, the period of time required for the completion of the education of medical students, so as to fit them in some measure for the army or navy, was very short, and the study of anatomy was consequently so much neglected, that it frequently happened that a student filled the office of assistant-surgeon in those services who had never dissected an entire body. At that time the dissecting-rooms were supplied by men who in general exhumated the bodies; and, as the suspicion of the public was not excited, it was attended with no great difficulty. The highest price then ever obtained by these men was four guineas for each subject; but as the number of medical men increased, and many gentlemen, who had been engaged in the army and navy during the war, returned to complete their education, the demand became greater, and consequently the risk of procuring subjects by the usual means was proportionately augmented. The men were frequently detected in their attempts, and punished severely; they therefore demanded an advance in their remuneration; and in consequence of no legal provision being made for supplying the schools, it was found necessary to accede to the demands. The price then became eight guineas; and it subsequently varied from that to sixteen guineas, according to circumstances.

On account of the greatly increased amount obtained for subjects, numbers of persons now engaged in the traffic, and the consequence was more frequent detection. Every means which ingenuity could suggest was put in practice to obtain bodies which had not been buried; and for this purpose, the men, when they heard of the body of a person being found (drowned for instance), and which was lying to be owned, trumped up a story of an unfortunate brother or sister, humbugged a coroner's jury (who, by the by, were more than once so well imposed on as to make a subscription, to enable the supposed brother to bury his relative), and thus obtained possession of the body. In this sort of trickery the wives of the men were often employed, as their application was attended with less suspicion, and it was never difficult to impose on the parochial officers, who were always anxious to avoid the expense of burying the deceased. Subjects were thus occasionally procured, but they were much more frequently obtained by pretending relationship to persons dying without friends in hospitals and workhouses. As, of course, the bodies thus obtained were much fresher than those which had been buried, they produced generally (independent of the teeth,) as much as twelve guineas each.

But the poor and friendless were not the only sufferers from this system; persons moving in a higher sphere of society have often suffered the loss of their friends, when they were confident in security. What will the wealthy not feel, when they are told that the very men employed to solder down the leaden coffin of a child have abstracted the body, and carried it off, without exciting the slightest suspicion, in the baskets with their tools?

Yet, notwithstanding all these means of procuring subjects, the difficulties were occasionally so great, that students from the country have been obliged to wait for months without being able to study anatomy practically; at the same time having to live at an expense they could ill afford, in London. In Scotland, at one time, to the great honour of the labouring classes, no such persons as resurrection-men could be procured for any remuneration, and it was then necessary for the students to exhumate bodies for themselves. Indeed, for a long time, this, in many parts of that country, was the constant practice; but, from the great horror with which the Scotch in particular regard the violation of the tomb, these attempts were always attended with considerable danger; and very frequently the graves were guarded with so much diligence, that the carrying off a body was totally impracticable. Instances indeed occurred, where the parties engaged in such an enterprise were fired upon by persons employed to watch, whom they had not observed; and, in one case with which the writer is acquainted, the life of one of the parties was sacrificed.

The surgeons from their anxiety to obtain subjects, and from the acknowledged illegality of the proceedings, were frequently not overnice or minute in their inquiries as to the cause of death, or the means by which the body offered to them was obtained. The impossibility of obtaining any answer the truth of which could be relied on, and the independence of the "resurrection-men," who were always sure of a market, may be reckoned as almost sufficient excuses for this lax mode of proceeding; and it is just to believe, that no suspicion can ever have entered the imagination of the anatomists, that unfair means had been resorted to, to take away the life of the subjects offered to them, merely with a view to their bodies being submitted to their dissection. To such causes may be ascribed the non-discovery of the suspicious cause of death of the numerous miserable victims whom investigation proves to have been murdered.

In this case, happily, the frequency of the visits of the supposed resurrectionist or body-stealer to the same museum enabled the police to discover his haunts, together with the circumstances attending the disappearance of the deceased, which were sufficient to afford convincing proof of her murder at his hands. Paterson, the porter to Dr. Knox's museum, was well acquainted with the persons of Burke and a man named Hare, by whom this subject had been sold, and he related the circumstances attending its purchase to the police serjeant, by whom the investigation was carried on, in such a manner, as at once secured their apprehension. He said that on the 31st of October, Burke and Hare called at the dissecting-rooms, and said that they had got something for the doctor, at the house occupied by the former. Paterson had before visited this place on similar occasions, and was well acquainted with its position, and on the next morning he went to the house in Tanner's-close, where he was told the body lay. He found there Mrs. M'Dougal, who passed as the wife of Burke, and Mrs. Margaret Laird, who stood in the same relation with regard to Hare. Upon his entrance, Burke pointed to a heap of straw under the table, signifying that the body was there; and the witness gave them 5_l._ to be divided between the two men, 3_l._ more being agreed to be paid, if the subject should turn out to be such as was desired. The men divided the money, and promised to carry home the body on the same night to the museum. It arrived, packed in a tea-chest, and at the time of the visit of the police, which was on the following day, (the 2nd of November,) it had not yet been looked at. Upon the chest being opened, appearances presented themselves which induced Paterson to believe that the body had never been buried; the face was livid, and blood was running from the nostrils and mouth; and, as we have already said, subsequent examination proved that death had been caused by suffocation.

Coincident with the discovery of this evidence, the voluntary testimony of two other witnesses was obtained, which afforded conclusive proof of the violent means resorted to by Burke and Hare, to procure the death of the deceased. Mr. and Mrs. Gray, poor persons, who were travelling through Edinburgh, informed the police, on the same day, of occurrences which they had witnessed on the night of the 31st October, which induced the most dreadful suspicions in their minds. They stated that they had taken up their lodgings in the house occupied by Burke in the course of that day, and towards the evening they had seen Mrs. Campbell go in with that person. They, however, retired to rest without holding any communication with her, as she appeared to be intoxicated; but in the morning, they were surprised to find that she was gone. They inquired of Mrs. Burke what had become of her, and she said that they had turned her out because she was impudent; but an undefinable apprehension lurked in their minds of some wrong having been done, and seizing an opportunity they peered into Burke's room, and there, under the table, they saw marks of blood, and upon further investigation, the body of the murdered woman concealed beneath some straw. Terror-struck with the discovery, they immediately gathered up their bundles and proceeded to quit the house, but were dissuaded from their intention by Mrs. Burke, who had ascertained the fact of their having made so important a discovery, who urged them to stop, "as it might be 10_l._ a week to them." They, however, rushed from the place as soon as they could escape, and on the following day conveyed intelligence to the police of what they had seen.

Upon the arrival of the authorities at the Tanner's-close, they found it to be a scene well fitted for the performance of such tragedies as had been recently enacted within its limits. The close itself was narrow and dark, and contained only one house, which was situated at the bottom. Here, almost shut out from the light of heaven, lived this detestable murderer, letting out lodgings either by the night or otherwise, to such poor wretches as would put up with the accommodation which he could offer. The house consisted of two rooms only, one of which was occupied by Burke and his wife, while the other was devoted to his lodgers. The former contained nothing but a miserable bed, a table, and some straw, still reeking with the blood of the murdered woman, while the latter was totally devoid of furniture. Fortunately for their purpose, the whole party, four in number, was assembled; and they were all immediately secured and conveyed to prison. Burke, it appeared, had carried on a pretended trade of shoemaking, and in one corner of his room was found a pile of old boots and shoes, consisting of nearly forty pairs; but the discovery also of a great number of suits of clothes, of various sizes, and bearing distinct marks of blood, afforded sufficient proof, that the murder of Mrs. Campbell was not the only one which had been perpetrated within the apartment.

It would be a vain effort to attempt to convey even a faint idea of the universal horror excited by these dreadful discoveries, and the fearful execration heaped upon the heads of the diabolical assassins. Even the surgeons, who were looked upon as the supporters and the indirect instigators of the murders, shared with the prisoners the effects of the strong public sensation which existed; and in several places throughout the empire--for, the system being the same everywhere, the indignation of the people was not confined to Edinburgh--attempts were made to destroy the dissecting-schools. In this, however, and in the obloquy cast upon the gentlemen of this profession, it must be said that they suffered unjustly. They were the victims, as well as the public, under a defective system of legislation; and the insufficiency of the law was to be blamed, and not those whose absolute necessity compelled them to adopt measures, of themselves illegal, but excusable, considering the advantages to be derived from them to society, and the utter neglect of the efforts which they had made, to secure such provisions by the legislature as should enable them to proceed in a manner becoming the high and honourable station which they filled.

The examinations of the prisoners before the magistrates of Edinburgh served only to bring to light fresh atrocities and to excite fresh horror; and eventually the whole of the prisoners were committed for trial, the evidence being clear and conclusive as to the implication of the men, although that which affected the women left great doubts as to the possibility of their conviction being secured.

During the period which elapsed subsequently to their committal, and preparatory to their trial, Hare, with a degree of villany excelling that of his fellow in guilt, offered to make disclosures upon the subject of the system which had been carried on, upon condition of his own indemnification from punishment, and that of his wife. Mrs. Laird, it had been discovered, was the least guilty of the whole party, and so far as her discharge was concerned but little difficulty was experienced; but upon the question of the other terms desired by Hare to be imposed in reference to his own case, considerable doubt was entertained. Long and frequent consultations were held by the magistrates upon the subject, in which the probabilities of the conviction of these associates in villany were most anxiously weighed; and it was at length determined that, for the sake of that justice which imperatively demanded the most satisfactory and complete evidence of the guilt of one at least of the gang, the offer should be accepted. The prisoner then made a statement to the officers of the jail, which was reduced to writing, but which, from causes too obvious to need repetition here, was not published in full. That portion of it which immediately affected the case of Burke and Mrs. M'Dougal came out upon the trial; but many particulars with regard to the system which had been carried on were most properly concealed from the public knowledge.

On the 23rd December in the same year, the two prisoners, William Burke and Helen M'Dougal, were put upon their trial before the High Court of Justiciary at Edinburgh. The indictment charged against them several murders, founded upon the communications made by Hare; but after much discussion on the part of the counsel for the crown, and on behalf of the prisoners, it was determined that that part only of the indictment which alleged them to have murdered Mary Campbell should be proceeded with, inasmuch as that the disclosure of any of the particulars of one murder in the course of a trial for another would materially prejudice the minds of the jury against the persons charged. The murder of Mrs. Campbell was alleged to have been committed by suffocation.

The preliminary witnesses produced a plan of the house of the prisoners in Tanner's-close, and proved the identity of the remains found at the house of Dr. Knox.

William Noble, the shopman to Mr. Rayner, a grocer at Portsburgh, near Tanner's-close, was then examined, and he proved, that on the night of the 31st October Burke, who had been in the habit of dealing at his employer's house, called there in order to purchase some trifling articles of grocery. While he was standing at the counter, Mrs. Campbell entered the shop, and begged for charity. She said that she had come to Edinburgh to search for her son, a boy of eleven years old, but that she had been unable to find him, and that she was now quite destitute. Burke inquired her name, and on her mentioning the name of Campbell he at once claimed acquaintance and relationship with her, and finally took her away with him, saying that he would provide her with lodging for the night. The woman at this time was sober. The witness added that on the following day, Burke called again and purchased an old tea-chest, and Mrs. Hare, whom he knew, as well as her husband and Mrs. M'Dougal, carried it away about half-an-hour afterwards.

Mrs. Ann Black and Hugh Alison gave evidence tracing Mrs. Campbell to Burke's house, and as to the occurrences of the dreadful night of her death. The former said that she was a lodger of Burke's; and upon going home on the night of the 31st of October, she saw Mrs. Campbell sitting in Burke's room by the fire. She was ill-clad, and was eating porridge; and in answer to a question which the witness put, Mrs. M'Dougal said that she was a Highland woman, a friend of her husband's, and that she had been assisting them in washing. The witness then quitted the room; but subsequently, in passing through it after dark, she saw that Mrs. Campbell was much intoxicated. Hare and his wife were then there, and had brought in some spirits with them, and they were all merry, and laughing and singing together. The witness afterwards heard dancing, and on looking into the room, she saw that it was Mrs. M'Dougal, Hare, and Mrs. Campbell. Between ten and eleven o'clock she heard a disturbance, as if Burke and Hare were fighting, and a woman screaming, but she took no notice of it, as such occurrences were frequent with her landlord's friends. In the morning she inquired of Mrs. M'Dougal where Mrs. Campbell was, and she told her, that she and her husband (Burke) had got too friendly, and that she had kicked her out of the house. Alison, the witness, corroborated the evidence of Mrs. Black, as to the disturbance which occurred in the house of Burke at about the hour mentioned, and which he had heard in his residence at one of the upper flats of a house nearly adjoining, but he had distinguished screams of agony, and cries for help, succeeded by a noise as if some person had been strangling or suffocating. He afterwards heard the voices of two men in conversation in the close, whom he had taken to be Burke and Hare.

Mr. and Mrs. Gray, whose names we have already mentioned, were also examined upon the same point, and having proved the presence of Mrs. Campbell in Burke's house at the time of their arrival, they stated that Mrs. M'Dougal had told them in the morning, that she had turned out the deceased because she was impudent. They, however, watched their opportunity, and slipping into the room unseen, discovered her body concealed among the straw under the table.

Other confirmatory evidence was also given upon the same subject; and David Paterson, the porter at Dr. Knox's, having detailed his account of the transaction of the purchase of the body in the manner in which we have already described it, and of its arrival in a tea-chest; and other witnesses having proved that they saw the prisoner (Burke) and Hare carrying a tea-chest in the direction of Dr. Knox's, but in such a line of street as clearly showed their object to be to escape observation, William Hare, the approver, was called.

Lord Meadowbank, a learned and very distinguished judge, presided upon this occasion, and with the most humane feelings, he earnestly cautioned this witness to give his evidence with truth. The fellow, whose appearance in the witness-box excited great interest and indignation, sullenly answered, that he intended to do so, but that he only came there as a witness in the case of the "old woman," as he emphatically described the deceased Mrs. Campbell, as distinguished, doubtless, from other miserable victims; and his examination then proceeded. We shall give his evidence as nearly as we can in the terms in which it was delivered by him in the witness-box. Having been sworn in the common form, he said he was a native of Ireland, and had resided in Scotland ten years. He had been acquainted with Burke about twelve months. M'Dougal lived with Burke as his wife; witness lived in the West Port, not far from Burke; he was in a public-house in the West Port on the forenoon of the 31st of October, when Burke came in, and they had a gill; he asked witness to go down to his house, to see the shot he had got to take to the doctor's; he said he had taken an old woman off the street, and wished witness to go down and see her, and see what they were doing. He understood by the word "shot," that he was going to murder the woman. He went to Burke's house, and found there was a strange man and woman (their name was Gray), the old woman, and Helen M'Dougal; the old woman was washing her short-gown; it was white and red striped. [Identified the bedgown.] Witness remained in the house about five minutes, and then went home. Between eight and nine on the same night he was at the house of a man named Connaway with his wife; and Burke, Mrs. M'Dougal, the old woman Campbell, and a lad named Broggan, Mrs. M'Dougal's nephew, came in. Liquor was introduced, and after a while, Burke and Broggan went away. Witness remained some time longer, but then he also quitted the house, and went to Tanner's-close. There had been some dancing at Connaway's; and at this time he had no idea that any harm was to be done to the old woman on that night. Soon after he arrived at Tanner's-close, Burke, M'Dougal and Mrs. Campbell also came in, the latter being so much the worse for liquor as scarcely to be able to keep her feet. A quarrel arose between him and Burke (which was evidently got up for the purpose of murdering the old woman in the confusion which would be the result of it), upon the subject of his being in the house, Burke declaring that he had no business there, while he asserted that he had been invited by Mrs. M'Dougal. They began to fight, and Mrs. Campbell appeared alarmed, and called police and murder. She ran into the passage twice, but was brought back each time by Mrs. M'Dougal; and upon her re-entering the room the second time, witness intentionally pushed her over a stool upon the floor. She got up so as to rest upon her elbow, but was so drunk as not to be able to regain her feet; she called on Burke to quit fighting, and he did so; but then having stood for some minutes on the floor, Burke stood stride-legs over her, and laid himself down above her--his breast being on her head. She gave a cry, and then moaned a little; he put one hand on her nose and mouth, and the other under her chin, and stopped her breathing; this was continued for ten or fifteen minutes; he never spoke while this was going on; after he had risen from above her he put his arm upon her mouth for some minutes; she appeared quite dead; witness was sitting all the while on a chair. When he saw the woman was dead, he stripped the body of the clothes, put it into a corner, doubling it up, and covering it with straw; witness's wife and M'Dougal, when they heard the first screech of the old woman, ran into the passage, and did not come in again until the body was covered with straw; before this they were lying in the bed; and witness sat at the head of the bed; did not observe blood on the floor, or on the woman's face at the time; did not observe the woman in the passage cry--but nobody came to the door during the time. Burke had not been above the woman more than a minute or two, when the woman started out of bed and ran to the door; he saw none of them attempting to save or assist the old woman, and such could not have happened without his seeing it. When it was all over the woman came in again, and then Burke went out; the woman asked no questions, nor did they make any remark, but they went to bed again without a word being exchanged. When Burke returned, he brought with him the man from Dr. Knox's (Paterson), and he looked at the body; he said it would do well enough, and they were to get a box and put it in, in order to carry it to his master's house. At this time the women were in bed, but he could not tell whether they were awake or not, and he soon afterwards fell asleep himself. He was rather the worse of liquor, but he knew well enough what he was about. He awoke about seven o'clock in the morning; he found himself on a chair, with his head on the bed; the women were in the bed, and John Broggan was lying beyond his aunt; Burke was at the fireside. He and his wife got up and went home. In the course of the day, Burke called on him, and asked him to assist in procuring a box. They went first to Surgeons'-square, where Dr. Knox's school was situated, but failed in obtaining one there; and then Burke went and purchased a tea-chest at the grocer's. M'Culloch, a porter, took the box home, and witness arrived there with him before Burke came in. They were standing at the door when he came; and he asked whether they had put up the body. He answered that they had not; and Burke then remarked that they were worth little if they had not done that. They, however, directly went in; and witness and M'Culloch assisted in placing the body in the chest, the latter forcing it down in its place. M'Culloch also, on seeing some of the woman's hair hanging out, pushed it into the box, remarking that it would be "a fine thing to have that seen!" The chest was corded; and M'Culloch was instructed to carry it to Surgeons'-square, witness and Burke accompanying him. On their way they met Mrs. M'Dougal and his (witness') wife, in the High School Yard, and they all went together. Having delivered the chest to Paterson, it was placed in a cellar, and the latter then went with them to Dr. Knox at Newington, where he and Burke were paid 2_l._ 7_s._ 6_d._ each, 5_s._ being given to the porter.

The witness was cross-examined by Mr. Cockburn on behalf of the prisoners, when he admitted that he had followed many businesses, both in Ireland and in Scotland. He had been frequently concerned in supplying medical schools with subjects, but had never assisted in raising any bodies from church-yards. He had often seen bodies carried to the houses of medical lecturers, but declined to say how often; he also declined to say whether he had been concerned in the murder of any other person but the old woman, and whether he had been present at any other murder in the course of the same month of October.

Mrs. Laird, the wife of this witness, gave evidence very similar to that of her husband, corroborating his statements as to so many of the transactions which he had described as had fallen within her knowledge and observation.

This completed the case for the prosecution, and a most humane and able address having been delivered to the jury by Lord Meadowbank, at half-past eight o'clock in the evening, they retired to consider their verdict. During the period of their absence, which extended to fifty minutes, the most breathless anxiety was exhibited as to the result of the trial, and upon their re-entering the court, an eager silence prevailed amongst the persons assembled. The verdict consigned Burke to an ignominious fate by a declaration of his guilt; but the jury, contrary to all expectation, declared, that as to Mrs. M'Dougal, the offence alleged was "not proven," a finding which relieved her from all immediate consequences upon the indictment.

Lord Meadowbank immediately passed the sentence of death upon Burke, and ordered him to be hanged on the 28th January, 1830, and his body to be delivered over to the surgeons for dissection.

He and his fellow prisoner, M'Dougal, were then immediately conveyed to the lock-up house attached to the court, where they met Hare and his wife, who, although they had been examined as witnesses, were detained to answer any charge which might be preferred against them. Hare, on his way to this place from the court, had been seized with a sudden fit of fiendish and malignant exultation at his own supposed escape from punishment, and at the success of his schemes to bring the neck of his fellow-murderers into the noose, which had not ceased when Burke and M'Dougal were introduced. His spirits somewhat fell, however, when he learned that he was to be conveyed to Calton-hill jail, with his wife, to await the result of the deliberations of the legal authorities, as to his prosecution upon certain charges of murder, of which there was no doubt he had been guilty, and upon his entrance to that prison the most direful forebodings appeared to fill his mind with apprehension. His wife was a fitting comrade for such a husband. While giving her evidence she had in her arms a child, ill of hooping-cough, and altogether the picture of abject misery, wretchedness, and disease; but instead of treating it with that maternal tenderness which even the tigress shows for her whelps, she seemed to regard it with aversion and hatred, shaking and squeezing it, whenever the cough seized it, with the expression of a fury in her countenance.

On the succeeding Friday, Mrs. M'Dougal, who had been allowed to remain so long in custody from motives of humanity only, fears being entertained that if she were to go at large, her life would be sacrificed to the vengeance of the mob, was discharged, and forthwith proceeded to her old abode, the scene of so many horrible transactions. On the next day she ventured out to a neighbouring liquor-shop to purchase whiskey, but she was instantly recognised,--the spirit was refused her, and the mob gaining intelligence as to who she was, she was compelled to fly for her life. Fortunately for her, the police interfered, and conducted her again to the prison, thereby saving her from violence; but there can be little doubt that, but for this fortunate intervention in her behalf, she would have fallen a victim to the vengeance of the justly indignant populace.

In the mean time Burke had become scarcely less communicative than Hare had previously been. He made no denial of the truth of the statements which had been made by that wretch, and confirmed the horrid tale related by him, by declaring that he had sold as many as thirty or forty subjects to the surgeons, although he subsequently admitted, like his companion, that he had never once been concerned as a resurrectionist; a confession from which nothing could be inferred but that he had been a party to as many murders as he had sold dead bodies. Nor was this declaration, horrible as it was, without corroboration. The appearances of the den which he inhabited--its loneliness marking it as a fit stage for the enactment of such tragedies; the various articles found in it; the frequent disappearance of persons of the lower orders, and of women of an unfortunate class, for whom, abandoned as they were by the friends and relations whom they had dishonoured, and excluded from all notice and regard by the virtuous part of the community, no person cared to inquire; were circumstances, all of which tended to impress the public mind with a firm belief of the truth of the dreadful suspicions which were raised by the prisoner's unsatisfactory but most frightful admissions.

The conclusion to which these circumstances lead is as obvious as it is appalling; and to strengthen it we shall here introduce a statement which was published at the time, and which may be relied on. About six months previously to these transactions, the body of a female was offered for sale by some miscreants, probably of Burke's gang, to the assistant of a most respectable teacher of anatomy in Edinburgh. The ruffians offering it were not known to him, and were not resurrection-men; but as a subject was required, he said he would take it if it suited him when he examined it, and asked when they could bring the body. They replied that they had it now, and that they would bring it to the dissecting-room in the evening, between nine and ten o'clock. At the appointed hour, accordingly, they made their appearance, accompanied by a porter, with the body in a sack. It was taken in, of course, and turned out of the sack, when it proved to be the body of a female, as had been stated by the ruffians--a woman of the town in her clothes, and with her shoes and stockings on. The assistant was startled, and proceeded at once to examine the body, when he found an enormous fracture in the back part of the head, and a large portion of the skull driven in, as if by a blow from the blunt part of a hatchet, or some such weapon. On making this discovery, he instantly exclaimed, "You villains, where and how did you get this body?" To which one replied, with great apparent sang-froid, that it was the body of a woman who had been "popped in a row (murdered in a brawl) in Halkerston's Wynd," and that if he did not choose to take it another would. The assistant then suggested that they should wait till he sent for his principal, his intention being to have them detained; but not relishing this proposal, the ruffians (three in number, besides the porter) immediately withdrew with their horrid cargo, and, doubtless, soon found a less scrupulous purchaser. Statements of a similar character were subsequently made in many of the Scotch journals, and there appears to be too good reason to suppose that they were perfectly true.

When we consider this most singular and atrocious conspiracy, and the characters of the different actors in it, as we understand them to be, it should seem as if each of them had his allotted part in the bloody drama. Hare was a rude ruffian, with all the outward appearances of his nature--drunken, ferocious, and profligate; and far likelier to repel than to ensnare any one by a specious show, which he was quite incapable of putting on. He appears, however, to have been the more deeply designing of the two; and to have over-reached his associate, Burke, whom he succeeded in always thrusting forward, with a view, we have no doubt, of turning short upon him, as he did at the last, and consigning him to the gallows, when this should be necessary, in order to save himself. Burke was, indeed, the only one of the two qualified to manage the out-door business of the co-partnery; and he it was, accordingly, who always went out to prowl for victims, and to decoy them to their destruction. In his outward manners he was entirely the reverse of Hare. He was, as we learn from good authority, quiet in his demeanor: he was never riotous; was never heard cursing and swearing; and even when he was the worse of drink, he walked so quietly into his own house, that his foot was never heard along the passage. He was of a fawning address, and was so well liked by the children in the neighbourhood, that each was more ready than another to do his errands. The riots which often occurred in the house, and in which Hare always bore a conspicuous part, were, there is no doubt, got up on purpose, either when they were in the act of committing murder, or that the neighbours might not be alarmed at the noise which inevitably accompanied the mortal struggle between them and the unhappy inmates whom they had enticed into their dwelling.

We have already mentioned the full statements made by Hare, as to the horrid traffic in which he had been engaged, which were not published in the form in which they fell from the lips of this diabolical ruffian. Some portions of them, however, escaped and found their way into the public papers; and regretting our inability to lay before our readers the whole of his history of this terrible case, we shall present to them so much of his story as we have been able to learn:--

The first murder which he charged against Burke, although it is surmised that several had been committed before that time, was that of a girl named Paterson, who was about eighteen or twenty years of age. It appears, that this girl, with one of her associates, Janet Brown, had been lodged in the Canongate police-office, on Tuesday night, the 8th of April. They were kept till six o'clock the next morning, when they went to the house of one Swanstoun, to procure spirits. Here they were met by Burke, who asked them to drink. He afterwards prevailed on them to go with him to breakfast, and gave them two bottles of spirits to carry along with them. They accompanied him to his brother Constantine Burke's house, in the Canongate. This man was a scavenger, and went out at his usual hour to work. After they had been in the house for some time, Burke and his wife began to quarrel and to fight, which seems to have been the usual preliminary to mischief. In the midst of this uproar, Hare, who had been sent for, and who was a principal agent in this scene of villany, entered, and in the mean time Janet Brown, agitated seemingly, and alarmed by the appearance of violence, wished to leave the house, and to take her companion along with her. By this time it was about ten o'clock, and Paterson was asleep in one of the beds, totally unconscious of her approaching fate. The other girl went out, and was absent about twenty minutes. When she returned she asked for Paterson, and was told that she had left the house. She came back in the afternoon in search of her, and received the same answer. By this time she was murdered. Burke had availed himself of the short interval of twenty minutes, during which her companion, Janet Brown, was absent, to execute his horrid purpose when she was asleep, by stopping her breath; and that very afternoon, between five and six o'clock, her body was taken to the dissecting-room and disposed of for eight pounds. The appearance of this body, which was quite fresh--which had not even begun to grow stiff--of which the face was settled and pleasant, without any expression of pain--awakened suspicions: and Burke was closely questioned as to where he procured it. He easily framed some plausible excuse that he had purchased it from the house where she died; which silenced all further suspicion.

We have already alluded to the murder of an idiot. His name was James Wilson; but he was more commonly known by the appellation of "Daft Jamie." The circumstances attending his assassination were even, if possible, more revolting than those of the women Campbell or Paterson. The appearance of this creature showed at once the imbecility of his mind, and was such that he was universally regarded with a feeling of tenderness and sympathy. He was quite harmless and kind-hearted; and was on this account generally liked, and well treated; and there were certain houses where he was admitted as a familiar guest, and kindly entertained. It is probable that he had been for some time watched by this gang of murderers, and marked out as one that might be easily taken off without exciting suspicion. Accident unfortunately threw him in their way. He was met by Burke at nine o'clock one morning, in the beginning of October 1828, wandering about in his usual manner in the Grass-market. He instantly accosted him in his fawning manner, and inquired of him whether he was in search of any one; he told him he was seeking his mother, to whom, as he was a creature of kindly dispositions, he was warmly attached. The wretch at once saw that he now had him within his grasp, and instantly commenced his schemes for drawing him away to some convenient place where he might be murdered. He contrived to persuade him that he knew where his mother had gone, and would take him to the place; and by coaxing and flattery he at length decoyed him into Hare's house. Here those monsters of iniquity, exulting over their deluded victim, began to pretend the greatest affection for him, and having procured liquor, they pressed it upon him. He at first decidedly refused, but they so far wrought upon his good nature by their assumed kindness, that they induced him to join them in their cups, and they plied him so effectually, that he was soon overpowered, and lying down on the floor, fell asleep. Burke, who was anxiously watching his opportunity, then said to Hare, "Shall I do it now?" to which Hare replied, "He is too strong for you yet; you had better let him alone for a while." Both the ruffians seem to have been afraid of the physical strength which they knew the poor creature possessed, and of the use he would make of it, if prematurely roused. Burke accordingly waited a little, but impatient at the delay, and anxious to accomplish his object, he suddenly threw himself upon Jamie, and attempted to strangle him. Oppressed as he was with the influence of liquor, he was roused at once by this assault to a full sense of his danger; and, by a dreadful effort, he threw off Burke, and sprung to his feet, when the mortal struggle began. Jamie fought with all the fury of despair, and would have been an overmatch for either one of the ruffian assailants. Burke had actually the worst of the struggle, and was about to be overpowered, when he called out furiously to Hare to assist him. Hare rushing forward, turned the balance of the unequal conflict by tripping up Jamie's heels, and afterwards dragging him along the floor, with Burke lying above him. In the course of this contest, the unhappy object of this dreadful violence contrived to lay hold of Burke with his teeth, and to inflict on him a wound which occasioned a cancer, that would in all probability have shortened his days, even if he had escaped the vengeance of the law. None were present at this murder, which was completed before mid-day, except the two ruffians themselves; but the body was recognised in the dissecting-room by one of the students.

We have stated that the confessions of Hare were fully corroborated by the statements made by Burke subsequent to his conviction. The following conversation, which took place between him and one of the officers of the jail, sufficiently indicate the state of his mind at this time, and the respective degrees of guilt attributable to him and to Hare:--

Before a question was put to him concerning the crimes he had been engaged in, he was solemnly reminded of the duty incumbent upon him, situated as he was, to banish from his mind every feeling of animosity towards Hare, on account of the evidence which the latter gave at the trial; he was told, that, as a dying man, covered with guilt, and without hope, except in the infinite mercy of Almighty God, he, who stood so much in need of forgiveness, must prepare himself to seek it by forgiving from his heart all who had done him wrong; and he was most emphatically adjured to speak the truth, and nothing but the truth, without any attempt either to palliate his own iniquities, or to implicate Hare more deeply than the facts warranted. Thus admonished, and thus warned, he answered the several interrogatories in the terms below stated; declaring at the same time, upon the word of a dying man, that everything he should say would be true, and that he would in no respect exaggerate or extenuate anything, either from a desire to inculpate Hare, or to spare any one else.

After some conversation of a religious nature--in the course of which he stated, that while in Ireland his mind was under the influence of religious impressions, and that he was accustomed to read his Catechism and his Prayer-book, and to attend to his duties--he was asked, "How comes it, then, that you, who, by your own account, were once under the influence of religious impressions, ever formed the idea of such dreadful atrocities, of such cold-blooded, systematic murders, as you admit you have been engaged in--how came such a conception to enter your mind?" To this Burke replied, that he did not exactly know; but that, becoming addicted to drink, living in open adultery, and associating continually with the most abandoned characters, he gradually became hardened and desperate, gave up attending Chapel or any place of religious worship, shunned the face of a priest, and being constantly familiar with every species of wickedness, he at length grew indifferent as to what he did, and was ready to commit any crime.

He was then asked how long he had been engaged in this murderous traffic? To which he answered, "From Christmas 1827, till the murder of the woman Campbell, in October last." "How many persons have you murdered, or been concerned in murdering, during that time? Were they thirty in all?"--"Not so many; not so many; I assure you," "How many?" He answered the question; but the answer was, for a reason perfectly satisfactory, reserved.

"Had you any accomplices?"--"None but Hare. We always took care, when we were going to commit murder, that no one else should be present--that no one could swear he saw the deed done. The women might suspect what we were about, but we always put them out of the way when we were going to do it. They never saw us commit any of the murders. One of the murders was done in Broggan's house, while he was out; but before he returned, the thing was finished, and the body put into a box. Broggan evidently suspected something, for he appeared much agitated, and entreated us 'to take away that box,' which we accordingly did; but he was not in any way concerned in it."

"You have already told me that you were engaged in these atrocities from Christmas 1827 till the end of October 1828: were you associated with Hare during all that time?"--"Yes: we began with selling to Dr. ---- the body of a woman who had died a natural death in Hare's house. We got 10_l._ for it. After this we began the murders, and all the rest of the bodies we sold to him were murdered."

"In what place were these murders generally committed?"--"They were mostly committed in Hare's house, which was very convenient for the purpose, as it consisted of a room and a kitchen; Daft Jamie was murdered there; the story told of this murder is incorrect. Hare began the struggle with him, and they fell and rolled together on the floor; then I went to Hare's assistance, and we at length finished him, though with much difficulty. I committed one murder in the country by myself; it was in last harvest; all the rest were done in conjunction with Hare."

"By what means were these fearful atrocities perpetrated?"--"By suffocation. We made the persons drunk, and then suffocated them by holding the nostrils and mouth, and getting on the body; sometimes I held the mouth and nose, while Hare knelt upon the body; and sometimes Hare held the mouth and nose, while I placed myself upon the body. Hare has perjured himself by what he said at the trial about the murder of Campbell; he did not sit by while I did it, as he says; he was on the body assisting me with all his might, while I held the nostrils and mouth with one hand, and choked her under the throat with the other; we sometimes used a pillow, but did not in this case."

"Now, Burke, answer me this question: were you tutored or instructed, or did you receive hints from any one, as to the mode of committing murder?"--"No, except from Hare. We often spoke about it, and we agreed that suffocation was the best way. Hare said so, and I agreed with him. We generally did it by suffocation."

"Did you receive any encouragement to commit or persevere in committing these atrocities?"--"Yes; we were frequently told by Paterson that he would take as many bodies as we could get for him. When we got one, he always told us to get more. There was commonly another person with him of the name of Falconer. They generally pressed us to get more bodies."

"To whom were the bodies so murdered sold?"--"To Dr. ----. We took the bodies to his rooms in ----, and then went to his house to receive the money for them. Sometimes he paid us himself; sometimes we were paid by his assistants. No questions were ever asked as to the mode in which we had come by the bodies. We had nothing to do but to leave a body at the rooms, and to go and get the money."

"Did you ever, upon any occasion, sell a body or bodies to any other lecturer in this place?" "Never. We knew no other."

"You have been a resurrectionist (as it is called), I understand?" "No, neither Hare nor myself ever got a body from a churchyard. All we sold were murdered, save the first one, which was that of the woman who died a natural death in Hare's house. We began with that: our crimes then commenced. The victims we selected were generally elderly persons. They could be more easily disposed of than persons in the vigour of youth."

Such were the horrible disclosures made by this man--disclosures of the truth of which there cannot be the smallest doubt. The general impression raised by Burke's declaration was, that he had been originally the dupe of Hare, and that the latter having been before engaged in a similar traffic had driven him on, after having once enlisted him in the service, to commit atrocities of which he would not otherwise have been guilty.

With such a belief almost universally pervading society, it may well be imagined that a notification which was given that no prosecution would take place against Hare was received with no small degree of surprise. A cry that he, like Burke, should be subjected to the punishment due to his crimes, was raised, but was met by a positive refusal on the part of the public prosecutor to permit any proceedings to be taken against him of a criminal nature. Great excitement was created by this determination being made known, but its propriety must be now, as indeed it was then upon mature consideration, admitted. No one, we believe, will deny that immense advantages would have been derived by society from the visitation of condign punishment upon every one of the wretches, male and female, who had disgraced the human form, by aiding and abetting the perpetration of these unheard of atrocities; but it was felt that care must be taken that in the anxiety which existed to visit the guilty with the reward of their criminal acts, the great landmarks of conservative law were not overthrown. Whatever the terms were upon which the evidence of Hare was obtained, it behoved the public authorities of the country to act upon them to their fullest extent; and although probably, according to the strict rule, he would have been liable to be brought to trial upon any one of those murders in which he had been engaged, except that of Mrs. Campbell, the expediency of such a proceeding may well be doubted. His arraignment for any offence, without the certainty of his conviction, might have been to place the authorities in a position, in which they would have been triumphed over by this ruffian. Who, we ask, could have been produced as a witness to fix any crime upon him? His own confession was taken for another purpose, and was a privileged communication which could not be produced in evidence against him;--that of Burke would be equally useless, for before any trial could take place, he would be a "hanged man," and his statement being ex parte, could not legally be laid before the jury. Mrs. M'Dougal, burning with vengeance for the loss of her paramour, would be so prejudiced as to render her testimony impossible to be believed, and Mrs. Hare could not be examined as a witness against her own husband. The other witnesses on the trial had deposed to facts and circumstances which were in themselves vague and uncertain when stripped of the admissions, positive and negative, of Hare and Burke, which alone served to flash upon them the light of truth in a horrid and appalling glare, but which, as we have already said, could not be used in any new inquiry. If a new investigation had commenced in which Hare was the person charged, the peace of the community might have been disturbed. Great excitement would undoubtedly have been created, and it was deemed impolitic for the sake of the character of the nation, when a conviction was uncertain, to expose a wretch like this prisoner to popular outrage. Edinburgh had already had her share of those commotions, in which the people had snatched victims from the protection of the law, and wanted no other sacrifice; and however all men would have rejoiced, if in due course of law the whole of this band of wretches could have been punished by the gibbet, all right-minded persons must have shrunk, even for such a purpose, from straining the law to sharp interpretations. Hare, therefore, it was felt, must be protected from the penal consequences of his crimes, and permitted to live a little longer. Such a wretch, however, could not have escaped with impunity. To a mind capable of reflection death would have been comfort, compared with such a state of existence as that to which he was doomed. With whom, now that Burke was gone, could he associate? Where could he hide his head? The brand of "murderer" was on his brow,--the finger of the Almighty was upon him, as one for whom the chance of mercy was small and uncertain.

Notwithstanding these considerations, however, frequent reports were circulated that the friends of Daft Jamie were determined to commence a prosecution against his murderer; and a petition was actually presented to the High Court of Justiciary in the name of his mother and sister, for a warrant to detain the prisoner in jail to answer the charge; but the court declined to interfere, as such a step would be unnecessary, the right of prosecution lying in the hands of the Lord Advocate, who was bound to take such steps as were proper and requisite.

In the meantime Mrs. M'Dougal having been again suffered to quit the jail, succeeded in making her escape from Edinburgh unperceived. Upon the night on which she was taken to the prison for security by the police, she affected to be sensible of her condition, but assured the officers that she was herself nearly falling a victim to the horrible system in which Burke had been engaged. She then related a plausible tale of her having overheard Burke and Hare come to a determination to murder her in case of their wanting a subject. She stated, that one night Burke and Hare were carousing in one of the apartments of Hare's human shambles on the profit, of a recent murder. In the midst of their unhallowed orgies, Hare raised his hand, and in a fit of fiendish exultation, stated that they could never want money; for when they were at a loss for a "shot"--a body for dissection--they would murder and sell, first one and then the other of their own wives. Being in the adjoining apartment, the females overheard, and were petrified by this horrible resolution, as they had every reason to believe that the monsters would certainly carry it into effect. A discussion of some length ensued, and Hare finally succeeded in persuading Burke to consent, that when the dreadful emergency did arrive, M'Dougal should be the first victim. Upon her leaving the prison she was seen to go in a direction as if she intended to quit the city of Edinburgh, and unsought, and unasked for, she was never again seen within the limits of the place which she had polluted by her presence.

On Wednesday the 28th of January, pursuant to his sentence, Burke underwent the last penalty of the law. During the latter portion of his confinement, he declared that his confession had tended materially to relieve his mind; and he professed great contrition for his crimes. On the day of his execution he was removed from the jail to the lock-up, at the Court-house, where the scaffold had been erected, under a strong escort of police. The crowd which had assembled to witness his final exit from the scene of life was tremendous; and seats commanding a view of the gallows were let at a large price. Upon his coming forth upon the platform, he was assailed by the hideous yells of public execration, with a species of ferocious exultation. The concluding moments of his existence must have caused him the most acute suffering, for, stung to madness by the horrible shrieks with which he was greeted, he appeared anxious to hurry the executioner in the performance of his duty, as if desirous to escape from that life which he had spent so ill. Very soon after eight o'clock, he was tied up to the gallows in the usual way; and he immediately gave the signal for the falling of the drop, by throwing down his handkerchief. A short, but apparently a severe struggle succeeded; and in less than two minutes he ceased to move. His body hung suspended for half an hour, when it was cut down, and placed in a shell, which had been brought to the scaffold for its reception. A struggle took place among the officials present for scraps of the rope with which he had been hanged, shavings of his coffin, and other relics of a similar character; but by nine o'clock, the crowd had dispersed, and in a few hours afterwards, all appearance of his execution had vanished.

The case of Hare was argued before the Scotch judges on the 5th of February; and by a majority of four to two, they determined that the public faith had been pledged to him, when his evidence was received against Burke, that he should be borne harmless, and he was ordered to be discharged. It was found, however, that by an ancient form of law he might be detained for the costs of the suit, and his final deliberation was therefore delayed; but on Thursday, the 12th of the same month, he and his wife were set at liberty. They appear upon their discharge to have parted company; for Mrs. Hare was nearly sacrificed to the fury of the mob at Glasgow, to which place she wended her way, while her husband proceeded by mail to Dumfries, where he was near meeting a similar fate. The mail, it appears, landed him at about seven o'clock in the morning; and although there was no intimation of his arrival, he was recognised by the mob, who immediately assailed him with the bitterest execrations, and with stones and other missiles. He succeeded in effecting his escape from them into the King's Arms Inn, where he obtained a refuge; but a crowd of persons surrounded the house, and demanded that he should be given up to their fury. For a considerable time consequences of a dangerous nature were apprehended; but night having arrived, the people dispersed; and when all was quiet, Hare quitted the house, and made a precipitate retreat from the town--whither, it was not known. The subsequent history of this atrocious ruffian, and of his wife and Mrs. M'Dougal, must, we believe, for ever remain a mystery. Their crimes and their notoriety would be sufficient, to prevent their acknowledging their names, or the fact of their being the participators in these horrible transactions; and it is to be hoped, that when they quitted the scene of their dreadful offences, they did so with sincere thankfulness to the Almighty for the escape which they had had from a sudden and ignominious death, and with a firm determination to make use of that period which was granted them to live, to atone, by their repentance, for their sins.

We cannot quit this subject without remarking upon the effects which were produced by these revolting murders. It was on the 28th of January, that Burke expiated his crimes upon the scaffold, and Parliament met on the 5th of the ensuing month of February. On the 12th of the same month, Mr. Warburton gave notice of his intention of bringing the whole subject before the House of Commons. Rumours by this time had become general throughout the metropolis that the same system which had been carried on in Edinburgh had been discovered to exist in London; and the public, whose fears were easily alarmed by such a statement, immediately concluded that every report of a missing person confirmed that which now became a pretty general belief. The daily papers were filled with accounts of persons who had suddenly disappeared, and who were supposed to have been "burked," the term now universally employed in the description of the murders committed by the atrocious gang, whose villanies had just been brought to light; and the universal alarm which prevailed was rendered greater by the absurd practice of idle or drunken fellows who stopped persons whom they met in lonely situations, pretending to clap a plaister over their noses and mouths, with an intention to suffocate them. Complaints were made to the police of the system of creating alarm which was carried on, and their utmost vigilance was called for to protect the public from absolute danger, as well as from the terror which was everywhere excited. Accounts were sometimes received of dead bodies having been discovered packed in brine tubs, on their way to Edinburgh from London, and every case of this description was tortured into proof of the existence of a scheme of murder in the latter place, even more dreadful than that which had been discovered in Scotland.

Owing to the long and most important discussions, which at this period were carried on in both houses of parliament, upon the subject of the claims of the catholics for relief, it was not until Thursday, the 12th of March, that this subject could be brought under the attention of the legislature. Mr. Warburton then moved in the House of Commons for leave to bring in a bill to legalise and regulate the supply of dead bodies for dissection. The honourable gentleman in stating to the house the general grounds upon which he made his motion, said that his first object would be, to confer a species of legality on the practice of anatomy; and with this view he should propose--first, an enactment to render anatomy lawful, both in its practice and as a mode of instruction in all cities or towns corporate wherein there were schools which conferred degrees in anatomy, or wherein there were hospitals which were capable of receiving fifty patients at a time. The next difficulty to surmount would be the obtaining a sufficient number of subjects for the purposes of science and instruction. His project had for its basis the practice of the French government in the city of Paris. He, therefore, should propose that the overseers of the poor, in certain cases, and the governors of hospitals, should be empowered by the bill to give up to surgical examination the bodies of such persons as fell victims to disease whilst in the hospital, and were not claimed within a certain time after their decease. Here he begged that he should not be understood to treat the feelings of the lower orders with the slightest degree of disrespect by the present enactment. He begged them to take this into their consideration, and also to reflect, that in the case of the late disclosures of the horrid atrocities committed in order to obtain a supply of subjects for dissection in Edinburgh, the lower classes had in all cases been the victims. The motion of the hon. member was fully approved of by the House, and a bill was on the same night introduced, embodying the general principles which he had detailed. The bill passed the House of Commons in the course of the same session, but upon its reaching the House of Lords, so many noble individuals were found who objected to its principle, by which, it was said, the poor were subjected to what might be considered an evil, in which the rich did not participate, that it was withdrawn.

It was not until the recurrence of events in the metropolis of London, similar in character to those which we have just described,--the murders committed by Bishop and Williams,--that the subject again received the attention of parliament. In the session of 1831, Mr. Warburton once more moved for leave to introduce a bill, the provisions of which, although they were mainly the same as those of his former measure, differed from it in some important respects. By the new bill, the consent of the party whose body was to be submitted to dissection was required to be obtained before his death, as a condition precedent to its being handed over to the surgeons, and the whole system was to be placed under the superintending direction of inspectors and commissioners appointed for that purpose. This bill was introduced on Thursday, Dec. 15, and after undergoing considerable discussion, it at length passed into a law in the same session.

The act having been in operation during a period of upwards of eight years, has been found to have been attended with the most advantageous results, and the exertions of Dr. Southwood Smith, who holds a responsible situation under its provisions, have tended in no small degree to secure this admirable effect. The offence of body-snatching is now no longer heard of; for the object of the crime having been removed, the crime itself has ceased to be committed.

Happy would it have been for the interests of the community, if, before these dreadful scenes were witnessed and brought to light, some similar plan had met the approbation of the legislature.

EDWARD BARNETT.

EXECUTED FOR MURDER.

The dreadful murder for which this young man was executed, was scarcely less frightful in its nature than that of the unfortunate Maria Marten.

It was on the morning of Sunday, September 28th, 1828, that this deed of blood was discovered, when the murdered remains of a woman named Esther Stevens were found in a house which she occupied in the town of Monmouth. The wretched woman, it appeared, was born on the Kymin, a high mountain near Monmouth, and from her being in the habit of frequenting certain districts of the hill of her birth, she passed by the familiar epithet of "Hall of the Kymin." At an early age she was married to a man named Stevens, a bargeman, to whom in later years, however, she appears to have exhibited considerable dislike. Stevens' employment necessarily called him from home for considerable periods, and during these absences, his unhappy wife formed acquaintances with other men, of a criminal nature,--a step to which eventually she owed her murder. Amongst these guilty companions of her adultery was a man named William Davis, living at a village called Christchurch, near Carleon, on the Newport road, to whom she represented herself as a single woman, and to whom also she had promised marriage. A later connexion, however, was formed by her with Barnett, who resided in Monmouth--the miserable subject of this sketch.

Barnett, it appears, was strongly attached to Mrs. Stevens, and looked with the most uncontrollable feelings of jealousy upon her connexion with Davis. Immediately before the murder she had been living with Davis under an assumed name at Carleon, during her husband's absence, and Barnett discovering her position, quitted his mother's house, where he resided, in order to endeavour to induce her to return to Monmouth. In this effort he succeeded, and on Friday, 26th September, they quitted Carleon together. Mrs. Stevens, however, passed that night in the great wood on the Kymin, and Barnett was observed to leave her at the skirts of the wood in the morning. He proceeded home again, and on his arrival produced a loaded pistol from his pocket, and these circumstances, coupled with the contents of a letter, sent by the unfortunate woman to Davis, in which she stated that something dreadful was going to happen, led to a supposition that a threat of murder was made by Barnett on that night, in the event of her again joining her paramour at Christchurch. On Saturday afternoon Barnett received a letter from Mrs. Stevens, desiring an interview, and he quitted his home in order to obey the request which she made. At this time he had in his possession a shot-bag containing 30_l._ in notes, gold, and silver, and was attired in a shooting jacket and laced boots. He did not again return home, and on the following morning the wretched woman was found lying in her house, brutally murdered.

Her husband was at first supposed to have been the author of this revolting act, in revenge upon his discovering her perfidy to him; but upon an attentive examination of the appearances which presented themselves, and a due inquiry into the circumstances which had preceded the murder, his innocence and the guilt of Barnett became evident. At the time of the discovery of the murder, the door of the house was found open, and some persons, led on by curiosity, upon going up stairs, were horror-struck at perceiving the mangled remains of Mrs. Stevens lying on the floor of the bedroom. Upon the constables of the place being informed of the circumstance, they immediately proceeded to investigate the affair. Upon inquiry of a man named Pearce, residing next door, they found that in the course of the night Mrs. Stevens had been heard to go up stairs, as if slip-shod, and directly afterwards they heard screams; but as such events were common, as arising out of frequent quarrels between the deceased and her husband, they took no notice of the occurrence. From further inquiries, however, it was ascertained that Stevens had not slept at home on that night, and from the discovery of Barnett's shot-bag and money, his shooting coat and boots in the room, it became obvious that he had been a partner in the unhappy woman's bed, and having murdered her, had fled to avoid his apprehension. From the statement of Pearce, and certain appearances which presented themselves in the house, it was supposed that Mrs. Stevens had risen in the night in order to prepare the lower room for the morning meal, as the kettle was found full on the fire, and the usual utensils were laid ready for use, and it was concluded that Barnett waking just as the wretched woman was returning to the sleeping apartment, was excited by some jealous apprehension of her having quitted his bed to meet some other paramour, and had rushed upon her and murdered her.

The manner in which the fearful deed had been committed, was exhibited by the discovery of a case-knife covered with blood, on the floor, near the body of the deceased; and one tremendous gash across the throat was evidently the cause of death. The deed must have been completed with great rapidity, and the murderer, alarmed by his crime, appeared to have run off only partially dressed, and without even wiping the gore from his hands, as bloody finger-marks were distinctly visible on the stairs. The deceased too was attired only in a portion of her clothes; her cap was found lying under her head, saturated with blood, and her ear-rings, which had fallen from her ears, were picked up close to her in the room. The case-knife, with which the dreadful wound had been inflicted, appeared to have been taken from a drawer of a table which was open, close by the body.

Upon further search being made, it was found that Barnett could nowhere be seen,--a circumstance which tended materially to confirm the suspicions already excited against him. Evidence was also obtained of his having been observed crossing the Wye, without his coat, hat, or boots, and messengers were immediately despatched in every direction in search of him.

The scene in the Jury-room where the inquest was held on the Tuesday night was of the most affecting description. On the table lay the bloody garments of the murdered woman, the instrument of death, and the clothes, money, &c. of the murderer. Thirty-three witnesses were in attendance to enter into sureties to attend and give evidence at the Assizes. Amidst this group might be noticed the husband of the deceased, who deeply felt the peculiarity of his situation. The mother of the supposed murderer attracted universal attention--fast declining in years, called on by the justice of her country to sign her deposition, and to enter into recognizances against her son, her hand appeared to refuse its office, and with the utmost difficulty could she make her mark. And amidst the spectators might also be observed the father of the deceased, whose care-worn face and anxiety of countenance bespoke the inward workings of his mind for a guilty murdered child.

A verdict of wilful murder against Edward Barnett was returned by the coroner's jury, and on Monday, the 6th of October, he was brought in custody to Monmouth, by Fuller, an officer, by whom he had been apprehended in Liverpool, and to whom he did not scruple to make a general confession of his guilt.

Upon his being conveyed before the magistrates, he appeared to be about twenty-three years of age, stout and well-made, with sandy hair. He had on the trousers and waistcoat which he was supposed to have had with him at the time of committing the murder, a pair of shoes which he was found to have begged at the turnpike at Irenchester, and an old hat not worth a penny. He was still without a coat; his shirt-sleeves, particularly at the wristbands, very dirty; no neckerchief; his waistcoat of the yellow plush kind, spotted, but no marks of blood were discernible on any part of his dress. He appeared unmoved at the awfulness of his situation, and his eyes were downcast; a slight hectic tinged his cheeks when the inquisition was read over. The coroner informed him of the verdict against him, and his intention of having all the depositions read over in his hearing; and if he had any remark to make, or had a wish to ask any witness a question, they should be sent for, the town clerk cautioning him at the same time most earnestly not to say anything which might tend to criminate himself. He gave a deep sigh on the constable's producing his clothes, but did not evince the least emotion on the production of the bloody knife. During the reading of the depositions, he stood up in a firm and erect manner, fixing his eyes intensely on the town-clerk, and did not betray any internal feeling; with this exception, that when the husband's evidence was being read over, there was a slight convulsion of the lower lip, accompanied by a deep-drawn sigh. The evidence being gone through, he was asked by the coroner if he had any remark to make. To this he gave no answer; and on its being repeated by the town-clerk, he faintly answered, "No." He then sat down with apparent exhaustion, which might have been produced by the heat of a crowded room. His manner throughout was not that of a guilty man, with the exception of his downcast eyes. His cast of features was rather prepossessing, and a low smile was occasionally discovered. His firmness and self-possession were the universal theme of remark.

The warrant for his commitment being made out, a post-chaise was ordered, in which he was conveyed to the jail to await his trial at the assizes.

It was not until the spring assizes of the following year that his trial came on; and then the evidence of his guilt was so conclusive as to leave the jury no alternative as to the verdict which they should return.

Sentence of death was immediately passed upon him, and on Thursday 9th of April, 1829, he underwent the extreme penalty of the law.

During the whole period of his confinement and on his trial he exhibited the utmost firmness and self-possession, and his demeanour was in no way altered upon the morning of his execution. He ascended the gallows with an unhesitating step, and was turned off without exhibiting any sign of remorse, or sense of the dreadful position in which he was placed.

ESTHER HIBNER, THE ELDER; ESTHER HIBNER, THE YOUNGER; AND ANN ROBINSON.

TRIED FOR THE MURDER OF A PARISH APPRENTICE.

In the case of these offenders we have to present our readers with a murder, equal in atrocity to that committed by the notorious Brownrigg, whose fate we have already related.

These unnatural women were indicted at the Old Bailey, on the 10th of April, 1829, for the wilful murder of Frances Colpitt, aged ten years, the parish apprentice of the elder Hibner.

Mr. Bolland (with whom was Mr. Alley) stated the case. He observed, that the facts he had to lay before the jury must excite the greatest horror in the minds of those who heard the dreadful narration; but he thanked God that such a case as the present was of unfrequent occurrence in this country. The deceased, who was only ten years of age, was a pauper, and was apprenticed to the prisoner, Esther Hibner, the elder, who resided at Platt Terrace, Pancras Road, by the overseers of St. Martin's parish, to learn the business of fabricating tambour-work. She was apprenticed on the 7th of April, 1828, and in the month of October following, a system of the most cruel and unnatural treatment was commenced by the prisoners towards the unfortunate deceased and the other children who were placed under their care by St. Martin's and other parishes. They were not allowed sufficient sustenance, were compelled to rise to begin work at three and four in the morning, and were kept at work till eleven at night, sometimes two in the morning, and sometimes all night. They had scarcely any bed to lie on; and frequently during the most inclement season their resting-place was the flooring, and their only covering was an old rug. The prisoners and their family had good bedding and clothes, and every comfort that they desired. The children were not permitted to go out to obtain necessary air and exercise; and thus the cruel treatment they had experienced had terminated fatally with three of them. The child which was the subject of the present indictment had been reduced to such a deplorable condition that her feet mortified; and this, combined with the bursting of an abscess on the lungs, brought on by the ill-treatment the child had experienced, occasioned her death. The breakfast which was allowed the children, was a slice of bread and a cup of milk; and if they were indulged with this luxury, they had no more food all the day. Sometimes the elder Hibner said the deceased and the other children had not earned their breakfast, and then a few potatoes were given them in the middle of the day, and nothing more afterwards till the following morning. Nine pounds of potatoes were divided amongst the whole family, which consisted of twelve persons; they were allowed meat only once a fortnight; and on Sundays they were locked in the kitchen, the windows of which were closed. It would be proved that the younger prisoner, Hibner, had taken the deceased from the frame, and knocked her down on the floor; she had then taken the deceased up, and knocked her down again. When the elder prisoner was informed that the deceased was lying in the room ill, instead of affording her that protection which she was bound to do, she replied, "Let her lie there." The deceased, when in that state that she could scarcely crawl about the house, was told by the younger Hibner to clean the stairs; she attempted to do it, but fell exhausted, and was unable to accomplish the task; the younger Hibner then took the deceased up stairs, and flogged her with a cane and a rod, and afterwards sent her down to finish the stairs; when she came down, she was unable, from weakness, to go to the proper place to obey the calls of nature, and wetted the stairs: when Hibner the younger discovered it, she rubbed the child's nose and face in it, and afterwards plunged her head into a pail of water; the prisoner Robinson, who was standing by, encouraged Hibner to commit this violence, and said, "Curse her! do it again, and that will finish her." The children often cried for food, and, to satisfy the cravings of nature, had eaten the meat that was brought in for the dog, and also some pieces of meat which they picked out of the wash that was obtained for feeding the pig. It would be proved also, that all the prisoners had beaten the deceased; sometimes with a cane, sometimes with a rod, and sometimes with a shoe. The medical gentlemen who attended the deceased before death, and examined her body afterwards, would prove that they found large sores on the feet of the deceased, and her toes were mortifying and falling off. After death they examined the body, and found it in the most dreadful state, produced by the ill-treatment she had experienced from the prisoners, and from the want of proper food and nourishment. The case demanded the most serious attention of the Jury; and he felt satisfied that they would give the circumstances the most serious consideration before they arrived at their decision.

Evidence of the apprenticeship by the parish-officers, and of the dreadful state in which the deceased was found, was then given, and followed up by the testimony of three of the apprentices, who fully confirmed the narrative given by Mr. Bolland.

Charles James Wright, a surgeon, said, he went to visit the deceased at Mrs. Hibner's house; she had sores on her feet, and her toes were mortifying and dropping off, she died on the 15th of March. After death, he examined the body; he found that the lungs were nearly destroyed with abscess--the viscera were inflamed, and the body was otherwise diseased; there were also several bruises on the outside of the body; the proximate cause of death was the abscess on the lungs, and mortification on the feet. These were produced by the want of food and exercise, and the improper treatment which the child had received. The immersion of the child's head in cold water would, he considered, greatly accelerate the complaint on the lungs.

Two other medical gentleman, named Gozna and Bellin, gave similar evidence, and concurred in opinion that the treatment the deceased had received had accelerated the complaint on the lungs, and caused death.

This closed the case for the prosecution, and the prisoners were called upon for their defence.

The elder prisoner, Hibner, said she would leave her defence in the hands of her daughter.

The daughter said that the children had sworn falsely. They had been treated with the greatest kindness by her and her mother, since they had been in their house, and there was not the slightest ground for the accusation which had been preferred against them.

Robinson declared that what had been alleged against her was false. She was engaged by the Hibners only to assist them in their business, and went home every night at eight o'clock.

Mr. Baron Garrow then proceeded to sum up the case, and delivered a most feeling and impressive address, in the course of which he entreated the jury, however their feelings might have been excited by the horrible narrative they had heard, to come to a calm and temperate decision on the case. The elder prisoner was the person to whose protecting care this unfortunate child was consigned. She had promised that it should receive from her care and attention, and she was, therefore, bound to protect it from violence. His lordship then read over the evidence to the jury, and observed, that in deciding the case, the jury had to consider, first, whether the general ill-treatment which the child had received from the elder prisoner had caused its death: if that were their opinion, the other two prisoners must be acquitted. If, on the other hand, they believed that the immersion of the child's head in cold water by the younger Hibner, in the presence of Robinson, had promoted the consumption, and had been the principal cause of the child's premature death, then they were bound to convict those two women and acquit the elder prisoner.

The jury after some deliberation found the elder Hibner guilty, but acquitted the other women.

The sentence of death was at once passed upon Mrs. Hibner, and she was ordered for execution on the following Monday; while the other women were directed to be detained, to be tried for the assault upon the deceased.

During the trial Mrs. Hibner did not exhibit the slightest feeling of remorse for her crimes, or of fear for the consequences of them; and upon her being arraigned upon a second indictment, which charged her with the diabolical murder of another of her apprentices, she pleaded not guilty with all the firmness of conscious innocence, although as the poor child's death had been the result of the same dreadful course of treatment adopted towards Colpitt, there could be no doubt of her legal and moral responsibility for the crime, which had hurried the wretched being from the world. As a capital conviction had already been obtained against the prisoner, it was thought unnecessary to obtain the verdict of the jury upon this second indictment; and the horrid wretch was conducted from the court to the condemned cell in the jail. Here her conduct became violent in the extreme. She swore to Mr. Wontner, the governor of the jail, that she would not be hanged, and became perfectly outrageous because she was not allowed to have a mutton-chop for her dinner. On Sunday, she had a last interview with her daughter; but it produced no effect upon her hardened mind, and she parted from her without a tear. She subsequently went into the yard; and it appearing to the turnkey that there was something suspicious in her behaviour, he sent some person after her who found her bleeding from a wound she had inflicted in the front part of her neck with a knife, which, by some means, she had obtained unknown to the attendants. From this time her behaviour was so violent, that it was found absolutely necessary to apply the strait waistcoat to prevent her from tearing the bandages off the wound. She confessed, soon after her attempt at suicide, to Mr. Wontner, that it was not her intention to kill herself, but merely to wound herself severely; thinking, thereby, that she would be allowed to live a few days longer.

When this was ascertained, Mr. Cotton offered his spiritual advice and assistance to the wretched woman; but she refused them and said, "that she knew enough of the Bible herself, and wanted no interpreter." Mr. Cotton still persevered until a late hour, but all his efforts proved useless. She listened to him with the most imperturbable patience, and never gave expression to either assent or dissent.

A little before eight o'clock on Monday morning, the 13th of April, the wretched malefactor was led from the condemned cell to the press-room. She exhibited a dreadful appearance; her dress, a black gown, over which was a white bed-gown, and the white cap on her head, contributed, together with the sallowness of her complexion, to give her a most unearthly aspect. The sad procession then set forward, the miserable woman being carried by two men, as she absolutely refused to walk. On her arrival at the scaffold, she was assailed with a loud volley of yells from the people, particularly from the females, of which the crowd was in a great measure composed.

Up to the last the culprit refused to receive any spiritual consolation, and no clergyman attended her on the scaffold. The executioner proceeded to perform the necessary duties, and a few minutes after eight the unfortunate woman was carried to

"That bourne from whence no traveller returns."

She did not make a single struggle, and appeared to die almost instantaneously.

Her body was cut down, after hanging the usual time, and was delivered to the surgeons for dissection.

Upon the same day on which this wretched being expiated her crimes upon the scaffold, her daughter and her assistant Robinson were tried for the minor offence of assaulting the miserable children entrusted to their care as apprentices; and having been found guilty, were sentenced respectively to twelve, and to four months' imprisonment in the House of Correction.

JONATHAN MARTIN.

TRIED FOR ARSON.

The name of this wretched maniac will long be remembered from the circumstance of the object of his offence being that of burning down that venerable monument of antiquity--York Minster; an effort in which, happily, he only partially succeeded.

The fire was discovered in a most remarkable manner. On the evening of Sunday the 1st of February, 1829, one of the choristers, a lad named Swainbank, was passing through the Minster-yard, when, setting his foot on a piece of ice, he was thrown on his back, on the ground. Before he had time to rise, he perceived smoke proceeding from the building before him. He at once gave the alarm, and assistance was immediately procured; but it was not until the choir, with its magnificent organ and its beautiful roof, had been totally destroyed, that the flames could be conquered. At first this national catastrophe was supposed to have been the result of accident; but the discovery of one of the bell-pulls, knotted so as to form a species of ladder, suspended from one of the windows of the building, and of evidence of a light having been seen moving about in the belfry after all the officers of the Minster had retired, on the night of the fire, led to a conclusion that it was the work of an incendiary. This belief was on the following week strengthened by the apprehension of a person named Jonathan Martin, at Leeds, with some portion of the velvet from the reading-desk in his possession. He was examined before the magistrates, and at once confessed that he had set fire to the building in obedience to the will of the Lord communicated to him in two remarkable dreams. He was committed to York Castle for trial, and it turned out that he had been already twice in confinement as a madman, and that he had prophesied the destruction of the Minster.

On Monday, the 30th of March, he took his trial at the York assizes and was found by the jury to have been of unsound mind at the time of his committing the offence charged against him.

The following extracts from his defence at once showed that he was a religious enthusiast:--

When called upon for his defence, he proceeded to say, in a Northern dialect and with great energy--"Well, sir, the first impression that I had about it was from a dream. And after I had written five letters to these clergy, the last of which I believe was a very severe one, and all of which I dated from my lodgings at No. 90, Aldwick, I was very anxious to speak to them by word of mouth; but none of them would come near me. So I prayed to the Lord, and asked him what was to be done. And I dreamed that I saw a cloud come over the cathedral--and it rolled towards me at my lodgings; it awoke me out of my sleep, and I asked the Lord what it meant; and he told me it was to warn these clergymen of England, who were going to plays, and cards, and such like: and the Lord told me he had chosen me to warn them, and reminded me of the prophecies--that there should in the latter days be signs in the heavens. I felt so impressed with it, that I found the Lord had destined me to show those people the way to flee from the wrath to come. Then I bethought me that I could not do that job without being out all night, and I considered whether I should let my wife know. I got everything ready, and I took the ring from my wife's finger, and talked to her about what I have mentioned--and I told her what I meant to do: she grieved very much, and I had work to get off. I still staid a few days, but I could get no rest whatever until I had accomplished the work. It was a severe contest between flesh and blood--and then I bethought me what would come of her and my son Richard, who I had at Lincoln. Then the Lord said unto me, 'What thou does, do with all thy might.' I tore from her and said, 'Well, well, Lord--Not my will but thine be done.' I then left Leeds, taking twenty of my books with me; but I had no money, and went into Tadcaster; there I got a gill of ale. [He then proceeded to state the manner in which he travelled and supported himself to York.] On Sunday (February 1st) I went to the cathedral service, and it vexed me to hear them singing their prayers and amens. I knew it did not come from the heart, it was deceiving the people. Then there was the organ, buz! buz! and said I to mysen, I'll hae thee down to-night, thou shot buz no more! well, they were all going out, and I lay me down by't side of the Bishop's round by the pillar. [The prisoner concealed himself behind a tomb, between which and the wall there was a space that more than one person might lie down in.] I thought I heard the people coming down from the bells; they all went out, and then it was so dark that I could not see my hand. Well, I left this Bishop, and came out and fell upon my knees, and asked the Lord what I was to do first; and he said, Get thy way up the bell-loft; I had never been there, and I went round and round; I had a sort of guess of the place from hearing the men as I thought come down; I then struck a light with a flint and a razor that I had got, and some tinder that I had brought from my landlord's. I saw there were plenty of ropes--then I cut one, and then another; but I had no idea they were so long, and I kept draw, draw, and the rope came up. I dare say I had hundred feet. Well, thought I to myself, this will make a man-rope, a sort of skaling rope, and I tied knots in it. Ay, that's it, I know it well enough (pointing to the rope which lay upon the table). So I went down to the body of the cathedral, and bethought me how I should get inside. I thought if I did so, by throwing the rope over the organ, I might set it ganging, and that would spoil the job. So I made an end of the rope fast, and went hand over-hand over the gates, and got down on the other side, and fell on my knees and prayed to the Lord--and he told me, that do what I would, they would take me. Then I asked the Lord what I was to do with velvet, and he told me, and I thought it would do for my hairy jacket, that I have at Lincoln. I have a very good seal-skin one there. I wish I had it with me, that I might show it you. Then I got all ready. Glory to God, I never felt so happy; but I had a hard night's work of it, particularly with a hungered belly. Well, I got a bit of wax-candle, and I set fire to one heap, and with the matches I set fire to the other. I then tied up the things that the Lord had given me for my hire, in this very handkerchief that I have in my hand. [The prisoner then went on to describe his escape by means of the rope, nearly in the same terms as have been stated, and of his proceeding to Hexham; that on the road the coaches passed him, but he laid himself down, and was never seen.] While I was at Hexham (I think I had been there two days) I had been to pray with a poor woman, and the Hexham man came and tipped me on the shoulder." He concluded by saying, "I's tired, or I'd tell you more."

The unfortunate man was ordered to be detained during his Majesty's pleasure, and was afterwards conveyed to a lunatic asylum.

It appeared that this maniac was the brother of the painter, who, for his magnificent productions, has attained so much celebrity. Up to the time of this transaction, he had gained a precarious livelihood by hawking books; having been, however, as we have before stated, once or twice confined in a mad-house.

It is very remarkable that York Minster has repeatedly suffered from fire. Its origin may be dated from A.D. 626. In 741 it was dreadfully damaged by fire, and remained in that state till 767, when it was taken down, rebuilt, and completed, and was consecrated in 780. Thus it stood until 1069, when the Northumbrians, aided by the Danes, having besieged the city of York, the garrison set fire to several houses in the suburbs, which fire unfortunately extended further than they intended, and, amongst other buildings, burnt the Minster to the ground. In 1137, the same fire which burnt St. Mary's Abbey, St. Leonard's Hospital, thirty-nine churches in the city, and one in the suburbs, again destroyed the Minster; since which there had not been any damage done to it by fire, excepting two trifling occurrences, which have taken place through the neglect of the workmen, within the last sixty years, up to the time of Martin's mad attempt. In the present year (1840), it has again suffered severely from an accidental conflagration, which has destroyed nearly the whole of that portion of the ancient building which the former catastrophe had left standing.

JOHN STACEY, THE YOUNGER,

EXECUTED FOR MURDER; AND

JOHN STACEY, THE ELDER,

TRANSPORTED AS AN ACCESSORY AFTER THE FACT.

The murder of which the former of these diabolical criminals was guilty very closely resembles that mention of which will be found in a preceding part of our calendar, of Mr. Bird and his housekeeper, which took place at Greenwich.

Mr. Langtrey, it appears, was a person nearly eighty years of age, and of great bodily infirmity, residing in a small house in Prospect-row, Portsmouth, to which he had retired, after he had amassed a considerable fortune in his business as a brickmaker. His only servant, and the only other inmate of the house, was a woman upwards of sixty years old, named Christian Joliffe, who acted as housekeeper, but who was assisted in procuring such comforts as the old man required, by a Mrs. Dyott, a neighbour, living at an adjoining cottage. Mr. Langtrey was so feeble as to be unable to quit his bed-room, which was situated on the first floor of his house, and he was attended there by Mrs. Joliffe. He was known to have saved a considerable sum of money, and he was reputed in the neighbourhood to keep a very large amount (in notes and gold) in the house. Amongst those who were observed to be particularly inquisitive into his affairs, was a young man named Stacey, about twenty-one years of age, an apprentice to a barber, living close by, who usually shaved Mr. Langtrey,--an office which his infirmity prevented his performing for himself.

On the morning of Monday the 2nd of March, 1829, the vicinity of the dwelling of the unfortunate old man, was thrown into a state of the utmost confusion and alarm, by the propagation of a report that he and his housekeeper had, in the course of the previous evening, been murdered in a most barbarous and cold-blooded manner. Inquiries were instantly set on foot by the authorities of the town, and it proved that the statement was true; the murders having been discovered by Mrs. Dyott, the assistant of Mrs. Joliffe in her attendance upon her master. Mrs. Dyott, it appeared, had repaired to Mr. Langtrey's house, in accordance with her usual custom, on the previous evening, at a little after six o'clock, to assist Mrs. Joliffe in preparing the old man's bed; but was unable to procure admittance, although she made a considerable noise at the door. Imagining, however, that the old people were asleep, she took little notice of the circumstance; but upon returning on the following morning, and finding the same silence prevail, and the same inattention to her application for admission, she became alarmed, and called in the aid of a neighbour. It was determined by the latter instantly to force open the back door, and upon his entering the house, he at once perceived the fearful crimes which had been committed. Upon the floor of the lower room lay the body of the aged housekeeper, frightfully mangled, and with the head nearly severed from the trunk; while around her lay the instruments by which some of the injuries had evidently been caused. A slater's hammer (smeared with blood and brains), which was known to have belonged to Mr. Langtrey, was lying at her feet; and near her were portions of a broken broom-handle, which had been evidently employed in the desperate conflict which must have taken place between the old woman and her assailant. The scull of the deceased was found to have been completely smashed in, in several places; and around her were pools of blood, extending over a space of several feet. In the upper apartment a scene no less frightful presented itself. The old man, whose age nor infirmities could protect him from the assassin's blow, was found to have been murdered with equal barbarity. His body lay upon the floor, dressed in his usual attire, with his walking-stick by his side; but his scull had been frightfully fractured by repeated blows from the same deadly weapon with which his housekeeper had been assailed, and his blood and brains were scattered over the apartment to a considerable distance.

A further alarm was immediately raised upon this dreadful discovery being made, and the utmost consternation prevailed. Upon a minute examination of the house, it became evident that plunder had been the object of the assassin. The boxes and drawers had been rifled of their contents, which lay strewed about the rooms; and money, deeds, papers, and wearing apparel were scattered in indiscriminate confusion. The murderer had been apparently disturbed in his work of robbery, probably by Mrs. Dyott's knocking on the previous evening, and had left his work unfinished, but a bag containing 600_l._ was found to have been stolen.

The aid of the London police was immediately obtained with a view to the more speedy apprehension of the murderer, for it appeared as if one only had been engaged in the diabolical acts; but several days passed before any suspicion of a tangible nature could be said to attach to any one. Stacey, the barber's apprentice, during the week had pursued his ordinary avocations with his accustomed coolness; and, although the murder had been made the subject of conversation in his presence, had exhibited no agitation or feeling which could indicate that he viewed the circumstance in any but the most ordinary light. On the Friday, however, he complained of a sore hand, and claimed exemption from work; and on the Monday following, he became very free with his money. His wages as an apprentice amounted only to two shillings and sixpence per week; but on this day he was observed to quit Portsmouth in a hired chaise, with two women of the town, on a "lark" as he expressed himself. Some suspicion in consequence attached to him, which was strengthened by the discovery of a knife which corresponded in every particular with one which was known to have belonged to him, at a short distance from the scene of the murder, and in a direct line between that place and his father's residence, smeared with blood and hair. The instrument with which the throat of the unfortunate Mrs. Joliffe had been cut could nowhere be found in the house; and it was at once concluded that the weapon which had been discovered was that which had been used for that horrid purpose. Upon inquiry, it turned out that young Stacey had been absent from his master's house on the afternoon of the murder, with a fellow-apprentice named Connamore, the brother-in-law of his master, and had been at his father's house, in Charlotte-row, during a considerable portion of that evening. It was, in consequence, thought advisable that he should be at once apprehended; and the result proved the propriety of the adoption of such a course. He was discovered by the constables at a house at Porchester, in company with the females who had quitted Portsmouth with him; and immediately on his perceiving that he was pursued, he became agitated, and exclaiming, "I am done!" endeavoured to conceal himself in a barn. He was soon discovered, however, and carried back to Portsmouth, where he was examined before the magistrates. The testimony of young Connamore proved to be most important. From his statement, it appeared that Stacey had told him that old Langtrey had desired him to purchase for him a tract called "The Book of Martyrs;" that Stacey having no money, had requested him to advance the necessary means for this purpose; and that he himself purchased the tract, and handed it over to his companion. On the Sunday, the 1st of March, Stacey and he went from their master's house to visit the father of the former, taking the tract with them, which Stacey expressed his intention to carry to the old man. They remained together during the greater part of the day, but at about twenty minutes before six in the evening, young Stacey went away, carrying the tract with him. It was nearly eight o'clock before he returned, and then on his knocking at the door, the witness let him in. He passed rapidly by him, and rushed up stairs, at the same time calling to his father that he wanted him. The latter directly followed him, and they remained in close conversation for a considerable time. Shortly afterwards, Mrs. Stacey, who was young Stacey's step-mother, joined them, and then Connamore heard something as if some clothes were thrown into a tub of water and washed. Immediately after this, old Stacey sent him off to a distant shop to purchase some bread and cheese, and on his return, he found his fellow-apprentice sitting by the fire, without his shirt, which his step-mother was drying by the fire, after it had been apparently washed, and which was subsequently ironed before he put it on. At about half-past nine o'clock, he returned home with young Stacey, and on their way the latter said that he had been fighting, and had got some blood about his clothes. The witness examined his coat, and found that a portion of it was so completely covered with blood as to require a knife to scrape it off. It further appeared that a copy of the tract, called "The Book of Martyrs," was found close by the bloody knife which had been discovered, and the additional testimony of a witness having been obtained of the prisoner having been seen getting over the railings of old Langtrey's house on the night of the murder, he was committed for trial. His father also, of whose knowledge of and acquiescence in the murder there could be no doubt, was also secured, and committed to take his trial on the minor charge of harbouring his son, at the same assizes.

In the interim the additional evidence of the identity of a glove which had been found in the house of Mr. Langtrey, and which had been left there by the murderer, was procured, from which it appeared that it was one of a pair which had been given to young Stacey by a gentleman, and both of which he wore on the day on which the murder was committed.

During his confinement, young Stacey exhibited little contrition; but after having been visited by his three sisters, he appeared to become sensible of the awful nature of his position, and confessed to a fellow-prisoner that he was guilty of the crimes imputed to him, and communicated the manner in which he had murdered the poor old people. He said, that he had presented himself at the door with the tract in his hand, and that having gained admission to the house, he seized Mrs. Joliffe by the throat with an intention to strangle her, but that finding she resisted, he took the candlestick which she held in her hand from her, and beat her over the head with it until it was bent in all directions. She at length fell down, and then he seized the handle of a broom, with which he beat her, until she ceased to move, and he thought she was dead, the broom, however, being broken in the struggle. He then went up stairs to the old man, and seizing him by the collar, demanded his money. He made some resistance, and struck him with his stick; upon which he knocked him out of his chair; and taking up a tiling hammer, which he saw in the room, he killed him. Returning down stairs, he thought Mrs. Joliffe moved, and he struck her also repeated blows with the hammer, and at last took out his knife and cut her throat. Whilst engaged in this act, some one knocked at the door, and he became terribly alarmed; but he heard the person go away, and then he commenced his work of robbery. He was too hurried, however, to secure more than the bag containing 600_l._; but before he took this, he cut the old man's throat, in order to be certain that he was not watching him.

On the same day on which this most fearful detail of his crimes was made by young Stacey, his father also made a confession, pointing out the place in which he had concealed the bag of money. The turf had been cut out, and the bag placed beneath it, in such a manner as to have rendered it exceedingly doubtful that it would ever have been discovered, but for its being pointed out. The whole of the money was recovered, with the exception of about 30_l._, which had been spent by the younger prisoner in the purchase of a watch and seals, and some articles of clothing.

The trial of the prisoners came on before Mr. Justice Burrough, at Winchester, on Thursday the 30th of August, in the same year, when a verdict of guilty was returned upon the facts which we have detailed being proved in evidence.

The learned judge at once passed the sentence of death upon the younger prisoner, who was ordered to be executed on the following Monday, and his father was sentenced to be transported for life.

The day fixed for the execution being that upon which Magdalen Hill Fair was held, the concourse of people assembled was immense. The wretched criminal met his fate with sulky resolution, and declined the services of the chaplain, whom he had dismissed on the previous day. His parting from his father is related to have taken place without the smallest exhibition of regret or feeling on either side; and the miserable parent had so far overcome the ordinary sensations of paternal affection, as to request to be permitted to witness his son's execution,--a request which was granted; and of the accordance to which he took advantage. The miserable youth appeared to suffer but little after he was turned off. Upon the scaffold he declared that he was assisted in the murder by an associate of his, whom he named; but who, subsequently, distinctly proved his innocence.

The execution took place on Monday, the 2nd of September 1829, at Winchester, opposite the jail.

RICHARD GIFFORD.

EXECUTED FOR FORGERY.

In the termination of the career of this unhappy young man, the direful effects of dissipation are clearly evidenced. Having received an education in Christ's Hospital, and backed by interest calculated to procure for him advantages of a first-rate character, his weakness of mind led him step by step from a position of respectability through the various grades of dissipation, until it involved him in a system of crime, for which his life was taken away by the laws of his country.

Gifford's father was originally a butler in the family of Mr. Abbott, afterwards Speaker of the House of Commons, and finally Lord Colchester. His mother was also a servant in the same family. On Mr. Gifford's marriage, Mr. Abbott obtained for him a situation about the House of Commons; and when they had a family, care was evinced for the welfare and advancement of the children. Richard Gifford was the eldest son and child, and when he arrived at an age fit to be sent to school, admission into the admirable institution of Christ's Hospital was obtained for him. After quitting the Blue Coat School, he had some occasional and temporary occupation as a writer in the Parliament offices. Eventually, through Lord Colchester's influence, a situation was procured for him in the "National Debt Office;" and the death, advancement, or removal of those above him were most favourable to him, and he rose rapidly. For some time he gave satisfaction in his office; but, at last, the fatal peculiarities which ruined him--the love of drink, and low and abandoned company--broke out with undisguised violence, and he neglected both office and home. His inattention to business led to three or four several suspensions from his office; and it was only by the most powerful and influential intercession that his friends could have him restored: but, at length, his conduct was so outrageously bad, and his absences so long and continued, that he was finally dismissed. It was long before his friends could find him, and apprehensions began to be entertained whether he was still in existence; however, at last his mother (who was most tenderly attached to him) discovered his retreat. Having found him, she succeeded in getting him out of his infamous den, and in taking him home with her. On his part, contrition or concern about the past was not visible, and though the kindest efforts were made to keep him in the house, in the hope of estranging him from bad company and diverting him from infamous ways, to succeed his parents were obliged to keep him without hat or money, and almost without clothes. Eventually, it was supposed, or hoped, that he was somewhat changed, and that his disposition was a little mollified, which induced his mother, in particular, to take him out occasionally. He, however, finally absconded from his parents' roof, revengefully announcing, that "he would make them remember their conduct to him--he would do for them yet," and other such language. What became of him they knew not; at last, he was heard of as living in a respectable style, appearing well-dressed, at a house near the Waterloo-road. To account for the change, he gave it out that he was married, and that his wife had money. Almost the next thing heard of him was, his being before the Lord Mayor, undergoing examination on charges of forgery on the Bank.

He was placed upon his trial at the Old Bailey sessions, in the month of October 1829, when he pleaded guilty to an indictment charging him with having personated William Green, of Crucifix-lane, brazier, and thereby having obtained 125_l._, being the value of stock standing in his name in the Bank-books. On the 6th of March the prisoner applied to Mr. Linton, a stock-broker, in Shorter's-court, requesting him to sell out the stock standing in the name of William Green. The broker declined selling the stock, on the ground that he did not know the prisoner; upon which he replied, "Your father knows me well, and has frequently seen me at the National Debt Office." The broker's father was sent for, and on seeing the prisoner, said that he recollected him somewhere, but could not tell where. The broker was satisfied with this partial recognition, and made out the necessary documents for the transfer. The receipt for the transfer was signed by the prisoner in the name of Green, and on comparing it with one which had been previously given on the receipt of the dividend upon the same stock, the hand-writing was found to correspond.

He also pleaded guilty to an indictment charging him with having personated Richard Mann, and thereby obtained 27_l._, being the dividend due on 300_l._ Consolidated Bank Annuities, of which Mann was the proprietor. A few days after the fraud on Mr. Green, the prisoner went to the Rotunda, in the Bank, and introducing himself to a broker as Mr. Mann, requested him to witness his receipt of the dividend. The broker asked for a reference, and the prisoner named Mr. Linton, who happening to be close by, was instantly appealed to, and at once recognised the prisoner as being the person who had imposed upon him in the name of Green. The prisoner refused to withdraw his plea of guilty, although advised by the judge to do so.

Upon this sentence of death was at once passed; and upon the recorder's report being made to his Majesty, the unhappy prisoner was ordered for execution.

Monday the 19th of October, was the day upon which the sentence was directed to be executed, and the convict upon being led out from his cell was totally unnerved, and glanced about him with a fearful and hurried look. He appeared deeply and bitterly to repent his crimes; and the wretched course of life he had adopted, in spite of the anxious solicitude of his parents.

He was executed with two other men, who had been convicted of house-breaking, in the twenty-sixth year of his age, on the 19th of October, 1829.

JAMES BELL.

TRANSPORTED FOR BURGLARY.

The great singularity of the offence, as well as of the apprehension of this fellow, induces us to lay their short particulars before our readers. The prisoner was of that class called "Resurrection men," and the crime of which he was convicted was committed by him and three of his associates in this horrible traffic.

Bell on the 17th December, 1829, was placed at the bar at the Maidstone Assizes before Mr. Baron Garrow, under a charge of burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Daniel Redday, at Deptford, and stealing therein a shirt, a worsted comforter, and the body of a black man whose name was unknown.--It appeared that Daniel Redday was a lodging-house keeper at Deptford; an unfortunate black man had come to lodge in his house shortly before the 20th of November, and on the 19th died suddenly. His body was laid out in a back room with the shirt on, and the comforter round his head, until a coroner's jury could sit on him. In the course of the night of the 20th the prosecutor was alarmed by a noise in the room of the dead man. Not choosing to examine into the cause from within, he went out of the house, and soon perceived a ladder placed up against the window of the room in which the corpse was deposited, and four men, of whom the prisoner was one, on the ladder. In his hurry to apprehend them he ran against the ladder, and the whole four, with the corpse, the comforter, and the shirt, came to the ground. Three of the four men made a successful retreat, but the prisoner was taken into custody.--The jury found him Guilty, and Mr. Baron Garrow, after having commented upon the heinous nature of his crime, aimed as it was at the best interests of society, sentenced him to be transported for life.

WILLIAM BANKS.

EXECUTED FOR BURGLARY.

We do not recollect that we have ever met with an instance of a burglary having been committed attended with greater violence or atrocity, than that for which this man underwent the punishment of death.

The Reverend William Warrington, it appears, was a gentleman of large property, residing at Grove Cottage, West Moulsey, in the vicinity of that well-known spot, Moulsey Hurst, Surrey; and on the night of Wednesday, 19th of November, 1828, his house was entered by four burglars, and a great quantity of valuable property carried off. Mr. Warrington's house adjoined that of Mr. Jeffs, a magistrate of the county, and a ladder, which had been accidentally left in the garden of the latter gentleman, was employed by the thieves in effecting an entrance to the house, which they had determined to rob. The circumstances attending the burglary are as follows:--

Between one and two o'clock on Wednesday morning, Mrs. Warrington was in her bed-chamber engaged in writing, and Mr. Warrington was in the same room in bed, asleep, when the former was terrified by hearing some persons at the back part of the house attempting to force a window on the first floor, which opened to a staircase and to a passage leading to the bed-room. Before she had time to alarm her husband, the fastenings of the window were wrenched off, without breaking the glass, and as she opened her bed-room door, she beheld four men, who had entered at the window by means of the ladder before-mentioned, in the act of ascending the stairs and approaching her chamber. Her fears were so excessive, that she was struck speechless for a few seconds. When she recovered, she shrieked, and exclaimed, "Good God, we shall be murdered; there are thieves in the house." Her husband was awoke instantly by her cries, and he had just time to leap from his bed and proceed in his shirt to the mantelpiece, on which he constantly kept a loaded pistol, before the four villains entered the chamber. He seized the pistol, levelled it at one of the thieves, and fired, but without effect. The first man who entered the room, a dark, ferocious-looking fellow, however, in turn drew from under his coat a pistol, and presented it at Mr. Warrington. The villain pulled the trigger, but the powder did not ignite. He recocked it, and pulled it a second time, and it flashed in the pan. Mrs. Warrington fell upon her knees, and in the most earnest and affecting manner implored the villains not to murder her husband, but to take all the property without interruption. The thieves then produced some cords (which they had stolen from Mr. Jeffs' garden), and tied Mr. and Mrs. Warrington's hands and feet. Their hands they tied fast behind their backs, and cautioned them to be silent as they valued their lives. They left Mr. and Mrs. Warrington in their bed-room for a few minutes, and proceeded up stairs to the servants' sleeping apartments, and there they bound two female servants (the only persons in the house beside Mr. and Mrs. W.) with cords, in the same manner in which they had previously bound the others. After they had bound them, the four robbers carried them down stairs to a vault which was under the house, and fastened them in that cold place, with scarcely any covering. The villains then returned to Mr. Warrington's bed-room, searched his clothes, and broke open his desks and drawers, and, in truth, ransacked the house completely. They took cash to the amount of about 30_l._, and jewels and plate of considerable value, with which they decamped. The servants had been confined for several hours in the vault, when one of them, after much exertion, released one of her hands from the cord, and forced her way through the door of the vault. After ascending the steps, she found another door fastened, and she had to break through that before she could assist her master and mistress, who were in the most deplorable state of agitation. She unloosed the cords which secured them, and having released her fellow-servant also, they alarmed Mr. Jeffs' family and the other neighbours. Mr. Warrington found that not only all his portable property of value was carried off, but that the villains had actually stolen a horse, value 80 guineas, from the stable, and had taken his phaeton from his chaise-house, and by these means had carried off their booty. Mr. Warrington sent information of the robbery to Mr. Cooke, constable of Kingston, who set off in pursuit of the robbers. He was able to trace the phaeton and horse and two of the robbers from the house of Mr. Warrington, by a very circuitous route, to Walton-bridge, and from thence through several by-roads to Knightsbridge.

On the same day Mr. Warrington also gave information of the robbery at Bow-street, and Ellis, Ruthven, and Bishop, were directed to institute an investigation with a view to the apprehension of the thieves.

Upon the arrival of the officers at the house of Mr. Warrington various minute circumstances transpired, which induced a strong belief in their minds that the robbery had not been committed by experienced thieves; and that it had been "put up," or sanctioned by some person in the house. The clumsy manner in which the boxes and drawers had been opened seemed to point to the first impression, and the undoubted circumstance of six buck-shot having been withdrawn from Mr. Warrington's pistol which had been lying on the mantelpiece during several days, led to the latter conclusion. Suspicion seemed to attach to one of the female servants, who had been familiarly accosted by her name, "Fanny," by one of the robbers, and who had been the first to secure her escape from the cords by which she had been confined, and she was taken into custody. After a few days' imprisonment, however, the officers declared themselves unable to produce any positive evidence against her, and she was discharged.

From this time the most anxious exertions were made by the police-officers to secure the robbers. Every means in their power was tried; but although they succeeded in tracing them by witnesses to London, where Mr. Warrington's carriage and horse were found, they were unable to discover who were the persons by whom the burglary had been perpetrated.

In the month of July 1829, however, the long-pending mystery was solved. A man named Barnett, a Jew, had been convicted of a burglary in the house of Mr. Colebatch, in Thames-street, for which he had been sentenced to transportation for life; but anxious to save himself from the infliction of this punishment, he tendered information as to the parties who had composed "The Moulsey Gang," as they were now called, upon condition of his liberty being restored to him. The proposition was at once accepted, and he immediately impeached Banks, and four other men named John Smith, William Johnson, James Taylor, and William Potts, alias Emery. The officers instantly set about endeavouring to procure the apprehension of these persons, and Cragg, a resolute officer of Bow-street, was directed to proceed in search of Banks. This fellow was a notorious thief, and was suspected to have been concerned in many robberies which had recently been committed; but Cragg had heard that he had frequently declared his resolution not to be taken alive. The officer, however, was determined in his object, and attiring himself in the garb of a butcher, he proceeded in search of him. Many days elapsed before he could find him, but at length meeting with him, he rushed at him, and presenting a pistol at his head, called upon him to surrender himself a prisoner. Banks appeared astounded at this salutation and made no resistance, but exclaimed, "I am a dead man." On his person being searched, a loaded pistol was found in his pocket, and on his back was a coat, which was a part of the produce of a robbery in which he had been recently before concerned, in the house of Mr. Campion, at Waltham Cross.

The other prisoners were apprehended nearly at the same time; and Potts was proved to have pawned a pair of shoes which had also been stolen from Mr. Campion's. Upon their examination before the magistrates at Bow-street, Banks' participation in both burglaries was clearly proved, and he was committed for trial. Both Mr. and Mrs. Warrington identified him as one of the persons who had entered their house, but pointed him out as having acted with some degree of humanity, strongly protesting against the exercise of any cruelty by his companions.

Banks alone was committed for trial upon the charge of burglary at Mr. Warrington's, the evidence against the other prisoners not being sufficiently conclusive to warrant their being indicted, and was found guilty, and sentenced to death at the succeeding Surrey assizes.

After his conviction, he professed himself to be perfectly willing to meet his fate, as he knew nothing of a state hereafter, declaring that all he cared about being hanged was for the pain it would cause him. He refused to receive any consolation from the chaplain, and was perfectly unmoved up to the time of his being pinioned.

He was hanged at Horsemonger-lane jail on the 11th of January, 1830.

ROBERT EMOND.

EXECUTED FOR MURDER.

The crime which subjected this criminal to condign punishment was that of the murder of an aged widow and her daughter, to whom he was related by the ties of marriage.

Mr. Franks, at the time of the murders lately deceased, was gamekeeper to the late Lord Elcho; and when age, and consequently frailty, rendered him incompetent to the prompt discharge of his duties, his lordship made such arrangements as enabled his old and respected servant to subsist in an humble but comfortable independence. On the 26th of July, 1829, Mr. Franks was consigned to the grave, and he left the hapless subjects of this notice--a widow, nearly fifty, and a daughter of fifteen years of age--to lament his death.

On Sunday, the 25th of October, according to custom, they attended the Rev. Mr. Hogg's chapel, and, no doubt, they had very little suspicion that it was for the last time. The house in which they resided near Haddington was about one hundred yards from the village of Abbey, in East Lothian, and with the garden was enclosed by a wall above six feet in height. The village youth never once thought of stealing fruit from people so warmly beloved, and consequently the garden-door stood always open. On that night they were brutally murdered. His plans carefully matured, the murderer deliberately fastened the garden-door, so that the escape of the intended victims, and any attempts at resistance, were rendered exceedingly difficult. He then scaled the wall, and proceeded to the awful work of homicide. His first attempt to gain admittance was at a window in front of the house. He broke two panes of glass; but the inside shutters were too securely fastened to yield to his efforts. Baffled and disappointed, he had recourse to another window in the same room; and after breaking two panes of glass, and using great exertion, the keeper gave way, and the monster obtained admission. He passed deliberately through the room, through a sinuous passage, through the kitchen, and then burst into the bedroom of Mrs. Franks and her daughter. The unfortunate ladies had been alarmed by the noise the villain made in breaking into their sanctuary. The mother had time to throw her gown over a petticoat; but the daughter, a stranger to the crimes of the world, and naturally possessing a more tranquil mind, and being more soundly asleep, had barely time to clothe herself with the gown she had on at church, ere she was in the grasp of her ruthless murderer. Dread, desperation, and the potent instinct of self-preservation naturally incited a resolute resistance; but the well-prepared and determined murderer prevailed. In the vain and delusive hope of escape the wretched mother fled from the appalling scene of death, and ran to the garden-door, expecting to reach the village; but there she was stopped by the cool and fiendish deliberation of her destroyer. Having despatched the daughter, he followed the mother, seized her at the garden-door, and with one of her own table-knives, ended her life, by nearly severing the head from her body. He then threw the bleeding corpse into a hogsty, which was only ten yards distant; and the marks of the ruffian's gory hands were observable on the entry-door. The bloody tragedy being finished, the scarcely less important consideration next came--that of plunder. He coolly locked the kitchen-door inside, turned out the contents of the drawers, and ransacked all the repositories; indeed, so minute and persevering was the search, that a considerable breadth of plaster was torn from the roof of a room in the attic story, where there had previously been a small aperture, in expectation, no doubt, that money was concealed in that unusual place. The rings were torn from the ears of Mrs. Franks; three gold rings, it is said, were taken from her finger, which were carried off, along with a silver watch. Having completed his unhallowed undertaking, and secured all the plunder that suited his purpose, the ruffian retired, as he had entered, by the window.

Neither on the Monday nor Tuesday following was Mrs. Franks or her daughter observed; but this excited no surprise, as it was concluded by those by whom they were missed, that they were absent on a friendly visit to the sister of the former at North Berwick. On Wednesday morning, a woman requested a young man to make his way over the garden-wall, and ascertain if a pig that belonged to Mrs. Franks had any provision. He promptly obeyed; and on looking into the hogsty, was horrified by the sight of the widow's mangled remains. He gave an involuntary but vehement scream, and his employer, Mr. Dudgeon, a miller, and a number more, promptly repaired to the spot. The body was taken out, and, to their inexpressible horror, they discovered that the throat was cut from ear to ear. Alarming suspicions flashed across their minds; they instantly ran to the house, and having obtained an entrance, they discovered the daughter--pale, dead, lying amidst a quantity of blood, and the brain protruding from her skull.

Suspicions of the guilt of Emond from circumstances which became known to the authorities were at once excited; and efforts were made to secure his apprehension. He had resided for some time at North Berwick, and was married to that very sister of Mrs. Franks, whom it was supposed she had gone to visit; and repeated expressions of dislike on his part towards his sister-in-law, and of threatened revenge for her interference in his family quarrels, were deemed sufficient to justify the course which was taken. In the course of a few days he was apprehended; but it was not until the 8th of February 1830 that he was brought to trial. The investigation took place before the High Court of Justiciary at Edinburgh, and the wretched criminal was pronounced guilty amidst a tumultuous burst of execration, and was ordered for execution on the 17th of March.

Immediately after his trial the convict confessed that he had committed the dreadful crimes imputed to him, under the circumstances which we have narrated. He appeared, however, to view his murder of Mrs. Franks as an act which her previous conduct towards him justified; but when he alluded to the death of her daughter, he appeared struck with remorse and despair, exclaiming wildly, "Innocent blood calls for vengeance."

On the appointed day the prisoner underwent the punishment due to his crimes, at the end of Libberton's Wynd. On the Friday before his death he was visited by his wife, for the first time during his imprisonment. On being informed she was come, he exclaimed, "Oh, God, how can I meet her--how can I see her!" She refused to proceed farther than the cell door, and on seeing her husband, said, "Oh, Robert, Robert, you see what you have brought yourself to!" He used some soothing expressions, and going as far as his chains would permit, said, "Mary, will you not shake hands with me?" but she shrunk back, saying, "Oh, no, no; how can I touch you?" However, by the persuasion of the clergyman, she did shake hands with him. He then wished to impress on her, that he always loved her affectionately; but she replied, "Oh, Robert, ye ken your conduct didna look like that." They were beginning to recriminate, when it was thought best to finish the interview. She was again asked to shake hands at parting, but at first refused, exclaiming, "Oh, no, no--I cannot touch him;" but being advised to extend her hand, which he held firmly, she shuddered and shrieked out, "Oh that hand, that hand!" On being told that a Mrs. Cron was with his wife, he said, "I would to God that infernal woman had been in place of the girl (meaning Magdalene Franks). Were I as free as ever, I would be hanged this night, this instant, if I had her here, and had my revenge." The criminal accused this woman of fomenting differences between him and his wife.

At six o'clock in the morning of the day fixed for the execution, the Rev. Mr. Porteous, who had been unwearied in his attentions to the unhappy man, arrived and performed the religious exercises. About seven o'clock, he was pinioned in the usual form.

The morning was cloudy and drizzling; but at an early hour the crowd began to collect from all quarters, and a perfect stream of people passed up the High-street for nearly two hours. The street, windows, terraces, and chimney-tops, were densely peopled. Some hundreds of persons from Haddington, North Berwick, and the adjacent villages attended.

A few minutes past eight the culprit ascended the scaffold. His appearance elicited a huzza from the boys among the crowd, but no grown-up person joined in the unseemly and appalling shout. He was attended by his brother, who joined him with the reverend gentleman, in psalm-singing and prayer. The unhappy man remained firm and composed throughout, but changed colour frequently when the executioner proceeded to do his duty. He then shook hands with his brother, and the official attendants said he was now ready, and bade them all farewell. After a few moments in private prayer, the signal was dropped, and the platform instantly fell. His struggles were unusually long and violent, and it was apparently four or five minutes before the vital spark had fled. Emond was a man of short stature, with ill-proportioned features, and had, on the whole, a very unprepossessing look. After hanging the usual time, the body was lowered down into the shell, and conveyed to the Lock-up House, whence it was afterwards taken to the College for public dissection.

CAPTAIN WILLIAM MOIR.

EXECUTED FOR MURDER.

This unhappy gentleman was a native of Forfarshire, in Scotland, where he was born of a family of the highest respectability, in the year 1794. At the age of nineteen he entered the British army; and during a period of seventeen years served with great credit in the fourteenth, thirty-seventh, and fortieth regiments of foot, in France, Spain, and America. In the course of his sojourn in the latter country, (in the year 1816,) he was united to a young lady of exceedingly amiable disposition, who at that time had only reached her fourteenth year; and upon his return to England, he resided with his wife in the vicinity of London. Here he became acquainted with many families of high standing in society; but tired of an idle life, he determined to devote his time to the occupation of farming, and at Michaelmas 1829 he entered on the possession of Shell-haven Farm, consisting of about four hundred acres of land, and situated near Stanford-le-Hope, in the vicinity of Barking, in Essex. At this time he had three children, respectively of the ages of twelve, ten, and seven years, and there appeared every prospect of a continuance of that happiness which he had so long enjoyed with his family, when by an act, attributable rather to passion or insanity than to preconceived deliberation, he subjected himself to the infliction of the severest penalty of the law.

It would appear that Captain Moir was in the habit of pursuing a strict line of discipline with regard to trespassers upon his farm, and was considerably annoyed by the constant appearance of fishermen upon his lands, who resorted thither for the purpose of dragging a portion of the river which passed through them, and which was supposed to contain an abundance of fish of a superior quality and size.

On Wednesday, the 24th of March, 1830, a poor man named Malcolm, residing at Hammersmith, quitted home, in a boat, accompanied by his apprentice, and a brother fisherman, named Duke, for the purpose of fishing. They proceeded to Shell-haven Creek, where Malcolm threw out his nets. In a short time Captain Moir made his appearance, armed with a knife, and accompanied by a servant named Raven, and ordered the nets to be removed. Malcolm offered some observations of abuse towards him, and reluctantly retired; but he was proceeding across Captain Moir's meadows, intending to go to the house of a man named Baker, when he was called back, and ordered to go round by the sea-wall. He directed some further abuse towards the captain, and took off his jacket, as if to fight him, but at length he went away. Captain Moir then returned to his house, and Malcolm and his assistants went to Baker's cottage; but they had not been there more than an hour and a half, when they went back to the Creek, where Malcolm's boat was lying. At this time Malcolm had a boat-hook over his shoulder, to which was suspended a basket of potatoes, which he had obtained from Davis, and the party was again crossing Captain Moir's premises, Malcolm being about seven yards in advance, when the captain and his servant were seen riding furiously towards them. The former exclaimed that he thought he had ordered them not to trespass upon his lands; and Malcolm answered that he would go, or that he might go and be d--d, the precise observation not having been distinctly heard; and then Captain Moir suddenly presenting a pistol, discharged it at him. Malcolm exclaimed, that his arm was broken, and dropped his boat-hook; and the captain threatened his companions, to serve them in the same manner, if they did not instantly retire.

Malcolm was soon afterwards carried back to Davis' cottage, where he was attended by Mr. Dodd, a surgeon, at the direction of Captain Moir, and was found to be in a position of so great danger as to render his immediate removal necessary. The poor man was subsequently attacked with lock-jaw, and died after the lapse of two or three days. A conversation took place between Captain Moir and Mr. Dodd upon the subject, upon the day of the occurrence, when the former justified his conduct, declared that his land was his castle, and that he would do the same again on the next day, under similar circumstances.

A coroner's inquest having been held upon the body of the deceased fisherman, a verdict of Wilful Murder was returned, and Captain Moir was committed to Chelmsford jail, to take his trial at the ensuing assizes.

The case came on for investigation at Chelmsford before Lord Tenterden, on Friday the 30th July, when every exertion was used on behalf of the accused, but to no purpose, and a verdict of Guilty was returned upon the capital charge. The prisoner urged the absence of all malice on his part towards the deceased, and alleged that he had been compelled to retain loaded pistols constantly in his house, in consequence of the desperate characters by which his neighbourhood was surrounded. All, however, was of no avail, and sentence of death was passed in the usual terms.

After his conviction, a strong and urgent appeal was made on his behalf to the government, founded upon the suggestion that there was little doubt that the act on the part of the unhappy man had been dictated by insanity. It was declared, however, that it was too late to hope for mercy upon any such grounds, which ought to have been made the subject of inquiry at the trial, where, had they proved well founded, they would have relieved the prisoner from all criminal responsibility. To this answer the obstinacy of the unfortunate gentleman, who refused to offer any extenuating circumstances in his own favour to the jury, which should subject him to perpetual imprisonment, was replied, but all was of no avail, and the sentence of the law was directed to take its course.

In the mean time, the wretched prisoner, unconscious of the measures which were taken by his friends with a view to secure his safety, diligently applied himself to the only duty remaining for him to perform on earth,--that of making his peace with the Almighty. He attended divine service in the chapel of the jail on Sunday, and was afterwards visited by his wife, then only twenty-eight years of age, his mother, his sister, and some friends, of whom he took a most affectionate farewell. At about seven o'clock on Monday morning he received the sacrament, and expressed himself perfectly resigned to his fate, declaring at the same moment, that he had not the smallest degree of animosity against the ill-fated man whose death he had caused, and whom he had had no intention to kill. Throughout the dreadful concluding scene of his life, he conducted himself in the calmest manner. He ascended the scaffold, declaring that he was at peace with all mankind, and repeatedly denied that he had had any feeling of unkindness towards Malcolm. At nine o'clock, the fatal bolt was drawn, and the ill-fated gentleman died instantaneously. His body was subsequently delivered over to the surgeons for dissection; but after such an anatomical process as was sufficient to fulfil the terms of the sentence, it was humanely sent to his disconsolate widow for interment.

Captain Moir at the time of his execution, which it will be seen took place on the 2nd of August, 1830, was only thirty-six years of age. He was a remarkably fine man, and stood upwards of six feet in height. He was brother-in-law to Sir James G. Baird (a near relative to the gallant Sir David Baird), and was first-cousin to Sir William Rae, at the time of his execution the Lord Advocate for Scotland. He was descended on his grandmother's side from the heroic Bruce, and was also connected with the distinguished families of Blair of Blair, the Stewarts, and the Butes.

The unfortunate man who was the victim of his crime was of the same age with himself, and left a wife and six children. He had long been known upon the Essex coast as a fisherman, and had frequented the spot for several years where he unfortunately met his death.

JOHN SMITH, alias WILLIAM SAPWELL.

EXECUTED FOR THE MURDER OF A POLICEMAN.

The cold-blooded and atrocious murder of which this man was convicted, showed him to merit most fully the awful punishment which befel him.

The object of the dreadful crime of which he was guilty, was a constable of the G division of the Metropolitan Police Force, then only recently established in London and its vicinity; and in laying before our readers the circumstances of this case, it will not perhaps be considered out of place if we shortly recite the manner in which that most admirable body was first called into existence and operation.

The necessity of some improvement in the police of the metropolis had long been felt; and the utter inadequacy of the few Bow-street patrol hitherto employed to guard the streets of London by day, and of the watchmen, upon whom the same duty devolved by night, had for a considerable time attracted the attention of the public and of parliament. Committees of the House of Commons sat for the purpose of receiving evidence upon the subject, and a vast number of suggestions were thrown out upon the subject of the proper measures which should be taken with a view to obviate the existing difficulty. Statements were published in many of the newspapers, in which the faults of the system were pointed out, and partial remedies suggested; but it was universally felt that no amendment of the plan then in operation could be sufficient to secure the object in view, and that a general and complete alteration and re-organisation of the whole police of the metropolis was requisite. A plan of this description was long and ably advocated in a weekly journal of large sale (Bell's Life in London), the Editor of which had turned a great portion of his attention to a subject so nearly connected with the most minute interests of the community. A series of articles appeared in that newspaper, upon which there can be no doubt that the new police system, now so deservedly popular for its competency and for its admirable effects in securing our common safety, was founded. Mr. Peel, at that time Secretary of State for the Home Department, in the session of parliament of the year 1829, introduced a bill to the House of Commons, founded upon principles directly in consonance with those supported in the journal in question--principles which were eventually adopted with the almost unanimous consent of the legislature. The general scheme which was put forth as being most desirable to be carried into effect, was that of making a police throughout England, the centre and focus of which was to be fixed in London, while the great towns throughout the kingdom would act as corresponding agents for the diffusion of that intelligence, the rapid and regular transmission of which was properly looked upon as so important to the success of any system of this description. In London, again, a smaller focus was to be formed under a board of commissioners, who would have daily communication with every division of the metropolis in which the police should be established, as well as with those country districts to which we have already alluded.

The minor details of the measure were to be carried out by the marking out of divisions, to be governed by superintendants, inspectors, serjeants, and privates in their various grades, constant communication being kept up throughout the metropolis, by day as well as by night, between each division. The advantages to be derived from a scheme so comprehensive in its details, and so complete in its organisation, must be at once obvious to the mind of every person; and it is needless to point out to our readers the vast variety of instances in which its effects would be attended with the very best results. It was felt, however, by Mr. Peel, that so large and general a measure could not be carried into operation with immediate success, and that much delay must take place before a universal scheme of rural police could effectually be established. He was yet convinced of the great utility which would be produced, even from its partial adoption; and he lost no time in proposing a bill in parliament, which should have for its object the immediate appointment of a body of men capable of performing all the police duties of the metropolis. The proposition was at once assented to by both houses of the legislature; and on Tuesday the 29th September, 1829, the "new policemen" first entered upon their duties. Their dress, their supposed military character, and the extreme jealousy with which all classes of Englishmen view anything which may be supposed to derogate from their rights and privileges, long conspired to make this most useful force in the highest degree unpopular. Epithets of the most odious character were heaped upon them, attacks both abusive and violent were levelled at them from all quarters, and a few instances of irregularity amongst their numbers were eagerly seized hold of, as arguments to be employed against the general body; but at length the increased safety obtained for the community, the quiet and orderly manner of the men themselves, as well as the improvement in the general conduct of the lower classes, obtained for them a reputation of the very highest description, which those who were originally the most strongly opposed to their introduction now seek, by their most strenuous exertions, to raise. The system which, first, was confined to the limits of the metropolis, has been joyfully extended to all large towns, and to manufacturing neighbourhoods; and so anxious have even the most remote rural districts become for this new safeguard for their property and their lives, that almost every month sees the adoption of the plan in some new quarter. The improvement of the morals of the lower orders is no less than that which has taken place in their manners; and many of the crimes by which society was formerly so frequently disgraced, have, through their activity, now happily disappeared from the dreadful catalogue which the life of degraded man presents.

The offence of which we are about to enter into a description, there can be no doubt was in some degree attributable to that feeling of hatred for the police which was so peculiarly exemplified among the lower orders of the people. Long, the unfortunate object of the attack of this determined murderer, was a police-constable, No. 43, of the G division, and occupied a beat in Gray's-inn lane. On the night of Monday the 16th of August, 1830, he was engaged in the performance of his duty when, at about half-past twelve o'clock, he observed three men of suspicious appearance lurking about the vicinity. Entertaining an apprehension of their intention to commit a burglary, he communicated his opinions to a brother constable on the adjoining beat; and it was determined that the men should be watched. They remained within Long's district of duty; and he followed them as far as the burial-ground of St. Andrew's parish, which is situated at the back of Mecklenburgh-square. Here they stopped and remained in conversation for some time, and Long, believing this to be a favourable opportunity for convincing them of his intention to prevent the success of any marauding schemes which they might have in view, warned them to retire. The words had scarcely escaped the lips of the unfortunate man, ere he was violently seized by the arm by two of the party, while the third stabbed him to the heart. So desperate was the wound, that the murderer was unable to withdraw the weapon with which it was inflicted; but in his effort to do so, he pulled away the handle, and then all three ran off. This diabolical act was witnessed by more than one person, and several individuals instantly rushed to the spot. Long had fallen to the ground, with an exclamation that he was "a dead man;" and upon his head being raised upon the knee of one of the witnesses, he immediately expired. Newton, the constable to whom the unfortunate man had communicated his suspicions, in the mean time had followed the assassins, and Smith was secured by him, having run a considerable distance, and being in a state of the greatest agitation and alarm. Two other persons were also taken into custody; but it turned out that they were unconnected with the dreadful occurrence, and were again set at liberty. The truth of the suspicions of the constable was amply exhibited by the discovery of a number of housebreaking implements near the spot, which it was evident the thieves had intended to employ, but had thrown away in their flight. The handle of the knife was also discovered lying in the road at about one hundred yards from the spot where the murder was committed.

Several examinations of the prisoner subsequently took place before the magistrates at Hatton-garden, and witnesses were called, who swore positively that his was the hand by which the wound was given which had caused the death of the deceased. During his imprisonment, he continued firm in his denial of his participation in the murder, and maintained a sullen silence as to his occupation in life, as well as his connexions. He appeared to associate with none of his fellow-prisoners, except Sheen, the murderer of his child, to whose case we have already alluded, and who was again in confinement on a charge of felony; with whom he was observed to hold frequent and earnest conversations, the result of which did not transpire.

His trial took place at the Old Bailey sessions, on Friday the 17th of September, when it turned out that his name was Sapwell, and that he was a baker by trade. He still protested his innocence; but the evidence of the witnesses being of the most conclusive description, a verdict of guilty was returned, and he was sentenced to be executed on the following Monday.

On the day after his conviction he was visited by his wife and his six children, to whom, as well as to the officers of the jail, he continued loud in his declarations of his having been wrongfully convicted. He asserted that he had been to the Bedford Tea-gardens, at Camden Town, on the night of the murder, and that on his way home he heard a cry of "Stop thief," and had joined in the pursuit of four men whom he saw running away, when he was himself taken into custody. He was exhorted by the Rev. Mr. Cotton, the ordinary of the prison, to whose humane advice he paid some attention; but he declined to receive the sacrament. In the course of the following day (Sunday) he also received a visit from the Sheriff (Ward), to whom he made no secret of his having intended to commit suicide, if an opportunity had occurred, and with whom he argued against the sinfulness of such a mode of terminating his life. He instanced the cases of Sir Samuel Romilly, Mr. Whitbread, and other distinguished individuals, who he said were perfectly justified in depriving themselves of existence when it became irksome to them.

On the morning of his execution (the 20th of September, 1830,) he entered freely into conversation with Sheriff Ward, and with new asseverations that he was not guilty of the crime for which he was about to suffer, declared, in an imaginary dialogue with the Almighty, that on his arrival at the gates of heaven, he should be unable to account for his standing there, and that the Almighty would give him admission; protesting, however, that he ought not to have been sent there so soon. He appeared sensible of his situation, and requested that the proceedings on the scaffold might occupy as little time as possible. He was turned off at the usual hour, and his remains were given to the directors of St. George's Hospital for dissection.

The wretched man occupied the greater part of Saturday and Sunday, previous to his death, in drawing up statements of the manner in which he was by mistake drawn into the situation in which he stood, which amounted simply to a repetition of the story he had related to his family. He appears to have been very illiterate, his letters being both ill-spelt and ill-written, and he expressed none of those fears usually exhibited by persons in his situation.

Long, the constable, appears to have been a man of excellent character, having for a considerable time occupied a situation as watchman before he entered the police. He left a wife and several children, for whom a liberal public subscription was afterwards raised.

AGRICULTURAL RIOTS.

The agricultural riots which occurred at the close of the year 1830 will long be remembered in the southern districts of England, to which they were confined. The revolutionary disturbances which, during the year, had marked the progress of events on the Continent, were not without their effect upon the agricultural, as well as the manufacturing population of Great Britain; and interested demagogues were easily to be found, willing and ready to fan the feeling of dissatisfaction which prevailed among the labouring classes, and to produce discontent where none already existed, with a view to the excitement of dislike for the higher ranks of society, and of insurrection against the government of the day. The poverty of the lower orders had done much to produce that hatred to property which induced these riots, and the inattention to their wants was urged by them as a sufficient justification for the mistaken and guilty course which they adopted.

The outrages, which commenced in the county of Kent, where undoubtedly the agricultural labourers were in a state of the very greatest misery, soon extended themselves through the whole of the southern counties of England, and the progressive march of incendiarism was as much feared as that of an invading army. Bodies of men proceeded through the whole line of country which we have pointed out, making converts to their atrocious principles, and their track was testified by the devastating effects which were produced. Stacks of grain and farm buildings were everywhere burned and consumed; and so determined were the monsters in the work of destruction, that none dared to oppose them, or to raise their hands to stop the dreadful deeds which every hour brought to light. Day after day bodies of men were seen passing from farm to farm, breaking all the machinery on the premises, the employment of which they looked upon as the cause of all their distress; and night after night, the secret incendiary plied his dreadful occupation, with a success which promised to produce the most dreadful desolation.

The limited exhibition of the ordinary constabulary force had no effect in checking the progress of these riots, and it was not until the yeomanry and finally the military were called out, that the fearful proceedings of the enraged mob were stopped. Meanwhile through Kent, Sussex, Surrey, Middlesex, Suffolk, Berkshire, Buckinghamshire, Wiltshire, Hampshire, Somersetshire, Dorsetshire, Devonshire, and Cornwall, had the work of destruction proceeded; and where the general body had not shown itself, local discontent had been sufficient to change the character of the simple labourer to that of the midnight incendiary. Notice was usually given of the intention to fire in threatening letters, signed "Swing," and the determination expressed seldom failed of being carried out.

In the course of several months, during which these outrages continued, many rioters were apprehended and lodged in jail, and the eventual firm proceedings of the magistrates did much to check the mischievous progress of wilful devastation. In many instances, small villages gave up their peaceful character, and assumed the appearance of military encampments, so long as the fear of danger remained in their vicinity, and not unfrequently the alehouse or the justice's mansion was converted into a temporary lodging for the prisoners. The first convictions which took place for these atrocious acts of violence were at the quarter sessions for the county of Kent, held at Canterbury on the 24th November, when many prisoners were tried and convicted upon charges of machine-breaking and riot. For the former offence a man named Reid, who had previously suffered imprisonment for lead-stealing, was sentenced to transportation for life; while John Stannard, William Siddars, William Stone, Thomas Strood, Henry Andrews, and Henry Halke were sentenced to seven years' banishment from the scene of their offences. Other prisoners, who were convicted only of assault and riot, were ordered to be imprisoned for terms varying from six months to two years; and the discovery by the labourers thus of the responsibility to which they subjected themselves did much towards quelling the disturbances, which even yet had not ceased.

Proclamations were subsequently issued offering rewards for the apprehension of all offenders, and before the conclusion of the year a vast number of prisoners had been taken into custody.

At the succeeding assizes these persons were brought to trial, and in Wiltshire, Hampshire, Buckinghamshire, and other counties, where the disturbances had assumed the most serious character, the prisoners were tried under a special commission.

Our space prevents our going into the particulars of one tithe of the cases which were tried, or even of those where the malefactors were ordered for execution. Of the latter the number was small as compared with the whole amount in custody, but many of their cases were attended with circumstances of great atrocity. At the assizes at Maidstone, Lewes, and other places on the circuits within the jurisdiction of which these occurrences had taken place, a great number of prisoners were convicted and sentenced to death. Many of the wretched men ascribed their guilt to their having paid attention to the lectures or the writings of Mr. Cobbett; and it is a remarkable fact that few of these rioters stated that they had been driven to the commission of crime by their poverty.

At the Hampshire special commission, held at Winchester, the offences which were brought under the consideration of the learned judges who presided, were those of machine-breaking, arson, extorting money by threats with intent to procure an increase of wages,--and near 300 prisoners were found guilty. On Thursday, the 30th December, 1830, Mr. Baron Vaughan, as the senior judge, proceeded to pass sentence on those who had been convicted. In the dock there were twenty prisoners, in rows of five each; and the other prisoners were so disposed in the jury-box and elsewhere as to hear all that passed.

The judges having put on their black caps, James Thomas Cooper, Henry Elridge, and John Gilmour, were called to the bar. The first two were found guilty of destroying the machinery employed in the manufactory of hemp and flax, the property of Messrs. Thompson, at Earl Mill, in the parish of Fordingbridge; and the latter for destroying the machinery employed in the foundry of Messrs. Robert and William Tasker, in the parish of Upper Clatford; to which the law affixed the punishment of death. Cooper had been particularly active as the captain or leader of the rioters, and was mounted on a horse giving the word of command. He was called Captain Hunt.

Mr. Baron Vaughan addressed these men with great eloquence, and in the most feeling manner, on the enormity of their offences and the necessity in their persons of making a severe example with the view of deterring others from the commission of similar offences hereafter. Having pointed out the aggravated character of the conduct of the prisoners, he forewarned them that their fate was fixed, and there remained for them no hope of mercy on this side the grave. His lordship then passed the awful sentence of death.

Cooper and Elridge were deeply affected--the latter nearly fainted; but Gilmour behaved with the most stoical apathy.

Robert Holdaway, James Annalls, and Henry Cooke were then placed at the bar. They had been convicted--Holdaway of demolishing, with others, the poor-house belonging to the parishes of Headly, Bramshot, and Kingley.--James Annalls, of robbery from the person of William Courtnay, of Barton Stacey; and Henry Cooke, of robbery from the person of Thomas Dowden. These were all cases of peculiar aggravation, and as in the case of the three previous convicts, the prisoners were told to prepare for death, from which no hope of reprieve was to be entertained. In alluding to the crimes of these men, Mr. Baron Vaughan made the following important remarks:--"I believe that there are a little short of a hundred persons whose lives are now forfeited to the state for their participation in the guilt of these transactions. It is my firm and decided conviction, that many persons engaged in them under a delusion, and instigated by the practices of artful and evil-designing men. I state publicly, that in the course of these trials we have found few instances--and I am not certain that I could lay my finger upon one--in which the pinching spur of necessity has compelled the offenders to the commission of their offence. They are, in general, persons of a different character and description. We find among them carpenters, blacksmiths, sawyers, and others, whose wages are admitted to be adequate to their wants, and who yet take an active part in perpetrating these outrages. Not only persons in the handicraft trades which I have just mentioned, but occupiers of land, gardeners, and others who labour under no necessity and suffer no want, have been found strenuously engaged in stimulating those who were in more want than themselves to the commission of those crimes. I am happy, however, to observe, that there are but few, if there are any, instances in which downright want has proved the cause of the commission of offence."

Many other prisoners were also sentenced to death with an understanding that the extreme punishment would not be inflicted, but that they would be transported for life; and the remainder were ordered to undergo various terms of transportation and imprisonment.

The trials of the persons charged with committing outrages in the county of Berks commenced on Tuesday, 28th December, at Reading. The prisoners who were first placed at the bar were W. Oakley, W. Smith, alias Winterburne, D. Bates, and Edmund Steele. They were charged with robbing J. Willis, Esq. of five sovereigns. It appeared that on the 22nd of November, two large mobs assembled in the neighbourhood of Hungerford and Kintbury, and after demolishing the windows of several houses, proceeded to the Town-hall of Hungerford. A deputation from each mob, of which the prisoners were the leading characters, was then admitted into the magistrates' room. They demanded twelve shillings per week wages, the destruction of machines, and a reduction of house-rent. Oakley, in a violent manner, demanded 5_l._; and Bates, who had a sledge-hammer in his hand, flourished it, and struck it on the ground, saying, with an oath, "We will have the 5_l._ or blood." Others cried out, "We will have blood for blood." The mob, which was about 400 in number, also became exceedingly clamorous, and the magistrates then gave them 5_l._--The jury found all the prisoners Guilty.

D. Hawkins, W. Chitter, J. Pullen, W. Haynes, D. Yarlick, G. Rosier, J. Field, J. Cope, C. Smith, J. Dobson, W. Oakley, W. Winterborne, J. Watts, T. May, J. Tuck, E. Steel, and D. Bates, were then tried for rioting and destroying machinery belonging to Richard Gibbons, at Hungerford. On the 22nd November, a mob, consisting of about 400 persons, went to Mr. Gibbons' manufactory; they had sledge-hammers, bludgeons, hand-hammers, sticks, &c. They rushed into the factory and broke the machinery, which was worth about 260_l._--The jury found all the prisoners Guilty, except Haynes and Smith.

The trials were continued up to the succeeding Tuesday, and a great number of men were convicted of offences of a similar character, marked by different degrees of aggravation; the greater part of whom were sentenced to transportation for seven years.

On the latter day, however, the commission was brought to a close, and Oakley, Winterburne, and a man named Darling, were left for execution; but the sentence was carried out only in the case of Winterburne.

At Salisbury, the commission was opened on Friday, 31st December; and its proceedings did not terminate until Monday, 10th January. On that day such of the prisoners as had not received sentence at the time of the conclusion of their trials were brought up. Peter Withers and James Lush were severally sentenced to death, amidst a most distressing and heart-rending scene in the court. Lush appeared to be dreadfully sensible of his situation, and during the whole period occupied by the address of the learned judge, lay on the bar in a state of dreadful anguish, crying with the most piteous groans for mercy.

It would be useless to follow the course of these dreadful proceedings through the country, or to attempt adequately to describe the scenes of misery and wretchedness produced to the families of the misguided men, who were in custody by their dreadful acts. At Dorchester, Exeter, and the other assize-towns in the west of England, scenes such as we have alluded to occurred, and in almost every place some miserable wretches were left to expiate their offences upon the scaffold, while others were doomed to suffer transportation from the scene of their former happiness and of their crimes.

Notwithstanding these events, however, it was long before the country assumed that position of peace and quietude for which its agricultural districts had always been remarkable.

On the 17th August, 1836, it was announced in the House of Commons by Lord John Russell, that of 246 persons sentenced to be transported for their participation in the offences of this period, all but ten, who were suffering punishment for crimes committed in the colonies, had been pardoned.

JOHN ST. JOHN LONG.

CONVICTED OF MANSLAUGHTER.

The extraordinary investigation touching the offence of which Mr. Long was guilty attracted to him more than ordinary public attention. The manslaughter of which he was convicted was the effect of a system of treatment which he adopted towards a young lady named Cashin, who had been placed under his medical care by her mother. But without offering any comments, either upon the death of the young lady or its cause, we shall proceed at once to detail the circumstances which were proved at the various inquiries which took place upon the subject.

It appears that about the month of August 1830, a lady named Cashin, of great respectability and considerable fortune, with her two daughters, came to London from Dublin, where they resided, for the purpose of procuring medical assistance for one of the young ladies, who was labouring under consumption. The ladies took up their abode in the house of a Mrs. Roddis, in Mornington Place, Hampstead-road; and Mrs. Cashin having heard much of the wonderful cures effected by Mr. St. John Long, determined to seek his advice and aid for her daughter. Mr. Long, it seems, had not been regularly educated as a surgeon, but he had acquired considerable celebrity for a line of practice which he had adopted, and occupied a house in Harley-street, Cavendish-square. Thither Mrs. Cashin repaired; and a short attendance upon the young lady, who was only sixteen years of age, was sufficient to confirm the melancholy fears of her mother, that all human exertions in her behalf would be of no avail. The insidious nature of the disease by which she was affected was known and acknowledged by Mrs. Cashin, and a desponding apprehension seized upon her mind, that her eldest daughter might also be attacked with this dreadful disorder. A new application on her behalf was therefore decided upon to Mr. St. John Long, who was requested to devise some means by which the impending mischief might be prevented. Mr. Long participated in the fears of the young lady's mother, and acknowledged the prudence of the course which she had adopted; and, bidding them at once give up their fears, he assured them of his perfect ability to attain the object which they so anxiously had in view. Miss Cashin at this time was twenty-four years of age, and in the full enjoyment of health; but, notwithstanding the absence of any necessity to take any active steps in her case, Mr. Long determined upon employing his line of treatment towards her. The general nature of this treatment may be simply stated to be this:--in cases of internal disease, it was proposed, by creating an external wound and a discharge, to carry off the malady. In a few days the external wound was produced in the case of Miss Cashin, by what means did not appear, as the general mode of treatment was kept secret by the quack; and the effect was of the most dreadful description. The wound daily increased, and appearances soon presented themselves which so alarmed Mrs. Roddis, the landlady, that she felt herself called upon to adopt measures on behalf of the young lady.

She wrote to Mr. Long, and in a day or two he called. Mrs. Roddis humanely urged that danger might arise from symptoms which appeared so violent; but the doctor laughed at her apprehensions, declared that the wound was going on remarkably well, and that he would give a hundred guineas if he could produce similar favourable signs in some other of his patients. It was represented to him, that the wound had wrought a disease upon the young lady of another description,--she was unable to retain anything upon her stomach. For this, he said, he had a remedy with him if he chose to apply it. He was an enemy, however, to physic,--the sickness was a favourable symptom, and the young lady would find relief from its disagreeable effects by taking mulled port wine. This, however, like everything else, was ejected from the stomach. Mr. Long called again; in vain were certain angry appearances about the wound pointed out to him; he remained positive in his declared opinion, and refused to take any new measures for the young lady's immediate relief.

Every day brought new symptoms, which were looked upon by Mrs. Cashin as unfavourable and dangerous; and at length Mr. Brodie, of Saville Row, was called in. This eminent surgeon took every step possible for Miss Cashin; but all his efforts were useless, and the very morning after his assistance had been obtained, the young lady expired. Mr. Long was acquainted with the circumstance of new aid having been procured, but he assured Mrs. Cashin that this was quite unnecessary, and he never afterwards called.

Circumstances of so remarkable a character were not likely to pass unnoticed or unquestioned, and on Saturday the 21st of August, 1830, a Coroner's jury was summoned to inquire into the cause of the death of the deceased young lady. The investigation created much interest, and professional gentlemen attended on behalf of Mr. Long, as well as of Mrs. Cashin, to watch the proceedings.

Mrs. Roddis was the first witness examined, and she deposed to the circumstances which are above detailed. Upon her cross-examination by Mr. Long's solicitor, it was attempted to be elicited from her, that the deceased had eaten a great quantity of plums; but this was distinctly denied; and Mrs. Roddis asserted, that ten days before her death, the young lady was in perfect health. The younger Miss Cashin, she added, had died on that very morning.

Mr. Brodie's evidence was conclusive as to the cause of the death of the deceased. He said that he had been called in to attend the deceased young lady, and found a wound on her back, with considerable sloughing. He saw but slight hopes of her recovery, but applied such remedies as he deemed fit. On the next morning he found that she was dead. Mr. Brodie added that he had no knowledge of the manner in which the wound had been produced; but there was no doubt that it was that which had caused the sickness complained of, and which had also been the cause of death. He was at a loss to imagine how the production of such a wound could be supposed to have any effect in curing a patient of consumption, or in preventing such a disease.

At this point of the inquiry it was determined that the body of the deceased lady should undergo a post-mortem examination, and the further investigation of the case was, therefore, postponed until the following Monday.

On that day the inquest was resumed, new advocates appearing for the respective parties.

Sir Francis Burdett then came forward to speak to the mode of treatment adopted by Mr. Long with some of his patients, which he did not think dangerous; by his recommendation two persons had put themselves under Mr. Long's care. He did not know the nature of the application used by Mr. Long; he had used it on his hand for the gout, but it did neither good nor harm. He had waited on him, understanding he could cure the tic douloureux, and he wished to have some information on the subject, with the view of apprising his friend, the Marquess of Anglesea, who was affected occasionally with that disease.

Dr. Alexander Thompson, who had examined the body of the deceased, was called, but he could form no positive opinion of the cause of death, as he was not permitted by the family to inspect the spine and head.--In this state of things, it was resolved that Dr. Thompson should pursue the examination of the body, and for that purpose was requested to have it exhumed from the burial-ground in Moorfields, where it had been interred.

On Wednesday the Coroner and Jury again assembled, when Dr. Alexander Thompson, Mr. Thomas King, surgeon, Mr. Wildgoose, surgeon, Dr. John Hogg, Dr. Thomas Goodeve, Dr. James Johnson, Mr. John Maclean, and Mr. Thomas Evans, who had all been present at the last opening of the body, and examination of the spine and head, were examined. They all concurred that it was a perfectly healthful subject--beautiful in form, and free from all disease, save that occasioned by the wound in the back. Few people could recover after such a local injury, which appeared to them perfectly unjustifiable. A notion was entertained by some that it was advisable to produce an external illness, for the purpose of drawing off an internal disease. Here was no internal disease, and the concurrent opinion of all was, that death had been occasioned by the wound in the back. The wound possessed much of the character of a burn, not produced by fire, but by some application that would cause the same result. The mode of inflicting the wound was kept secret.

Mr. Patrick Sweetman was then called: The deceased left Dublin about two months before, in perfect health. He saw her two days before she died, and had an interview with Mr. Long, who described her situation as most favourable, and said, that there was no danger whatever. The deceased was twenty-four years of age; her younger sister was sixteen. The latter was in a consumption, and left Dublin to be put under Mr. Long's care; he believed she had also a wound in her back. From the first Mr. Long said he could not undertake her cure. Mr. Long stated to him the causes of the deceased putting herself under his care. He told him that a young lady, one of his patients, had asked him what he thought of the health of Miss Catherine Cashin, who was in the habit of going to his house with her sister Ellen; and Mr. Long told the young lady that Miss Cashin would be seized with consumption in less than two months, unless she allowed herself to be rubbed by him with his mixture. She informed the mother of what Mr. Long had said, and she consented to her undergoing this treatment, lest she might have to accuse herself of any neglect in the care of her children. Mr. Long said, he required every one to sign a book. He required those who signed it not to divulge anything regarding the mixture, and the inhaling which he prescribed. The inhaling was going on in the house while I was there. I signed the book, as a mere matter of form, at his request. He charged a guinea each visit for each young lady. I did not inhale; I should be very sorry to do so. He demanded no fee from me. Miss Ellen Cashin was pronounced by the most eminent medical men in Dublin to be consumptive. Mrs. Cashin heard of Mr. Long in consequence of a book which he had published. The faculty in Dublin endeavoured to dissuade her from bringing her daughter here, but she would. At the conclusion of this witness's evidence, the inquiry was adjourned until Friday.

On Friday the jury once more assembled, and the evidence, touching the death of Miss Cashin, having been closed, Mr. Adolphus addressed the jury on the part of Mr. Long. He said that even supposing for a moment that the death of Miss Cashin had been caused by Mr. Long's application, there was no evidence of malice prepense to constitute murder; and as to "manslaughter," it had been recently decided, by two learned judges, that if a man, whether ignorant or skilful, acted honestly, and with intention to do good, he was not accountable for the result. Different practitioners adopted different modes of treatment, and it often happened that that which was deemed advisable by one was considered quite the contrary by others, and yet the practice objected to was the more successful.

Miss Matilda Christian, of North Bank, Regent's Park, said she had been a patient of Mr. Long's for some time; her complaint was a consumption. Mr. Long treated her as he did his other patients; he made wounds on the chest, on the left side, on the back, and on the temples; she recovered entirely under his care; the wounds left some marks, which might be seen when she was cold; her former medical attendant expressed great astonishment at her cure. In cross-examination by the jury, she said the sores did not affect her inside, nor did they confine her to her bed; Mr. Long had employed rubbing, as he did to the deceased, but what the ingredients were she did not know; for the rubbing he used a sponge; there was considerable discharge from the sores; she expectorated some stuff, which was put in water and sunk to the bottom; he cured a Miss Rough of a complication of disorders in the same way; she had lost her father, brother, and sister, by consumption of the same kind she had when she went to Mr. Long.

Mr. N. J. Bluett, formerly a solicitor, and residing at Brighton, attended Mr. Long for a complaint originating in accident; he had a general debility and swelling of the glands; he was completely cured by an application of Mr. Long's, which at first created great pain; he attended him for six months; the same application was made every day; he inhaled something; he saw several other patients, and the same liquid was applied to all; he was told by other medical men that his case was one of the most desperate of the kind; he never pretended his complaint was consumption; after inhaling, his appetite, which had been lost, was greatly improved, as well as his general health.

Mrs. Sharpe, wife of General Sharpe, York Terrace, Regent's Park, whose case had been pronounced deep consumption, by Sir Antony Carlisle, was also a patient of Mr. Long's; she had been attending Mr. Long about three months; she inhaled something, and an external application was made to her chest and back, in the same manner as to the other patients; there was considerable inflammation and discharge; she got much better, and was still under Mr. Long's care.

General Matthew Sharpe, husband of the last witness, said that the case was pronounced hopeless, and he applied to Mr. Long, of whom he never heard before; the consequences were highly beneficial: his wife was much better, and ceased to cough altogether; he certainly gave Mrs. Sharpe great relief, whatever might be the ultimate consequences.

Other witnesses who had been patients to Mr. Long, for different diseases, and to whom the same mode of treatment had been applied, spoke in the same terms of the advantageous effects which had accrued.

This evidence, however, was declared by the jury to have nothing to do with Miss Cashin's case; for Mr. Long might have committed many harmless acts, which, nevertheless, would not relieve him from the consequences of one which was not harmless; and the inquest was again adjourned until the following Monday.

On that day the inquiry terminated.

Among the witnesses examined were the Countess of Buckinghamshire, Mr. Prendergast, M.P., and Mr. Higgs, the brewer, all of whom spoke in high terms of Mr. Long's treatment, and of the virtues of his lotion for curing various complaints. The countess said she had greatly recovered since she had attended Mr. Long. Mr. Prendergast said he had suffered severely from a determination of blood to the head. His chest and forehead were rubbed, and the lotion applied to his back by Mr. Long; he was completely relieved, and the pain had not returned to his head from that day. Mr. Higgs said that for many years he had been afflicted with the gout, and had employed common doctors, who had done nothing for it. In February he applied to Mr. Long, and used his medicine for four months, and he was completely cured, perfectly at ease, and free from pain. All the witnesses said, that in consequence of the benefit they derived from Mr. Long's treatment, they had recommended many persons to him, and would employ him again themselves in case of necessity. The coroner, in summing up the case, observed, that if Mr. Long appeared to have possessed the necessary skill and knowledge for carrying on medical practice, and had used due diligence and care in the case of Miss Cashin, they must arrive at the conclusion that in this matter he was nowise to blame. It would be a lamentable thing if every medical man who committed an error of judgment was to be held responsible as if he committed a criminal act. At five o'clock the jury retired to consider their decision upon the case; and at eight o'clock returned into the room, and announced their verdict of Manslaughter against Mr. St. John Long. A buzz of approbation was heard in the room when the verdict was pronounced; and one or two persons cried out "Bravo!" Others exclaimed, "Shame, shame!" The coroner then asked if Mr. Long were present, and having been informed he was not, issued a warrant for his apprehension, and bound the witnesses over to attend at the sessions and prosecute the offender. The jury-room was crowded to the last moment.

Mr. Long subsequently surrendered to the warrant, and was admitted to bail to answer the charge; but on the case being called on for trial at the ensuing Old Bailey sessions on the 18th of September, it was postponed, owing to the absence of some material witnesses for the prosecution.

On the 30th of October Mr. Long was placed upon his trial, when the same facts which we have detailed were stated in evidence. After an ample investigation, a verdict of manslaughter was again returned. Mr. Long was then committed to Newgate to await his sentence; but on the following Monday, he was again placed at the bar. The Court then passed upon him a sentence, condemning him to pay a fine of 250_l._ to the king. The money was immediately paid, and the defendant was discharged out of custody.

The case had already created a great degree of interest in society from the vast number of persons whom Mr. Long had attended; and many honourable and right honourable persons were present at his trial; but the public excitement was still further aroused upon a subsequent charge of a similar nature being brought against him. The result of this charge was different from that of the indictment preferred in the case of Miss Cashin, but the affair was regarded with no less astonishment by the larger proportion of the community, who wondered at the folly of any person submitting to the absurd mal-treatment of this person for the cure of any real or supposed disease.

We give the proceedings of the coroner's inquest as they were published at the time, detailing more particularly, as they do, the course of treatment adopted by Mr. Long.

On Wednesday morning, November 10th 1830, at eleven o'clock, J. H. Gell, Esq. and a highly respectable jury assembled at the Wilton Arms, Kinnerton-street, Knightsbridge, to inquire into the death of Mrs. Colin Campbell Lloyd, aged 48, the wife of Captain Edward Lloyd, of the royal navy, whose death was alleged to have been occasioned by the treatment she had experienced under the hands of Mr. St. John Long.

The inquiry excited the most intense interest, and the jury-room was crowded to excess, principally by gentlemen of the medical profession, anxious to hear the result of the proceedings.

Mr. Wheatley, a barrister, attended on behalf of the family of Mrs. Lloyd; and Mr. Wooller appeared to watch the proceedings for Mr. St. John Long.

After the jury were impanelled, they proceeded to view the body of the unfortunate lady, at her lodgings, No. 33, Wilton-place, and on their return the following evidence was adduced:--

Mr. George Vance, of No. 27, Sackville-street, Piccadilly, surgeon: I visited Mrs. Lloyd on the 21st of October last, which, as I was informed by her medical attendant, Mr. Campbell, was about ten days from the commencement of her illness. Mrs. Lloyd informed me that she had inhaled from a tube a few times at Mr. St. John Long's, in Harley-street, and had been rubbed on the chest with a liniment twice; she did not say who rubbed her; the first rubbing, she said, produced no inconvenience, but the second a sense of burning heat; she stated that she was quite well at the time, and had not suffered any important indisposition for three years, which was the time I had attended her; from the inhalation, it appeared to me that her tongue, mouth, and fauces had eroded; on examining her chest I found a sloughing sore of great extent (where she had, by her own account, been rubbed with a liniment), which extended from the arm-pits across the chest in one direction, and from the collar bones above, under the nipples, in the other direction; in the middle of this sore, the soft parts covering the breast-bone were black and dead, but towards the circumference there was a little appearance of health, and the mortified parts were separating from the living; the stomach was much disturbed, and she was in a state of great exhaustion and despondency, frequently expressing a desire to die; in a day or two after my attendance some of the constitutional distress (by which I mean fever and irritation, as well as the sickness of the stomach) subsided in a degree, and her spirits revived; the dead parts began to separate more freely, and in a correspondence with her friends I gave encouraging hopes of her amendment; no granulations, however, appearing in the clean parts of the sore, and the surface having become dry and flabby, exhibiting the appearance of the dissected parts of a dead body, I imparted to her friends the certainty of her death. Mr. Campbell, a surgeon, and myself, together and separately, removed masses of putrid flesh. The breast-bone was found bare, and I believe that if the slough had been freely thrown off, the cartilages of the ribs would have been exposed also. The deceased gradually grew weaker, and died on Monday morning the 8th of November. In my opinion the application of some corrosive matter, applied to the parts which I found in a state of mortification, was the cause of her death.--Mr. Vance added, that about three years before, he had attended Mrs. Lloyd for an affection in the throat, which he considered to be Globus Hystericus. It was a nervous complaint, but soon disappeared. This was the only disease which he observed in Mrs. Lloyd; she was, in all other respects, a stout woman, very richly covered with fat. He had never known any disease of that nature terminate fatally. Mrs. Lloyd said, that she had been persuaded to apply to Mr. Long.

Mr. Brodie, of No. 16, Saville-row, surgeon; and Mr. Campbell, surgeon, of No. 23, Wilton-place, confirmed the testimony.

Captain Lloyd was then examined: He said he came to London with his wife and family on the 15th July; Mrs. Lloyd was in good health but subject to a nervous affection of the throat when she took cold; she continued in good health, until she became ill from the rubbing of Mr. Long. On the 5th I accompanied her to Mr. Long's house; she merely had a conversation; she went on the following day, when she inhaled. On the 7th she inhaled again, also on the 8th, when she paid him 1_l._; she went to him on the 9th, when she was rubbed, for the first time, across the bosom, as she described to me; on the 10th October she told me that she had inhaled as before, and afterwards was rubbed--as they termed it, "rubbed out;" she told me that there was but a small portion of liquid in the saucer, but more was added when that was expended. She became so unwell while the rubbing was going on, that the rubber became alarmed and went for Mr. Long, who did not come for some time, but when he did he said it was nothing, and would soon go off, which it did after some time; but an odd sensation remained, which continued during the evening; she came home in her sister's carriage, and continued uneasy the rest of the day; she complained of a cold and chillings all the evening; a cold shivering fit came on when she retired to bed, and she took some hot wine and water; she had a restless night, and on the 11th October was unwell all day; there was a vivid redness across the breast where the rubbing had taken place, and a dark place in the centre of the breast, from which a discharge was taking place from under some cabbage-leaves, which had been applied by the direction, as she said, of Mr. Long; the large dark spot on her breast still got deeper in colour. The edges were white, and all much puffed up. The pores of the skin on the black spot were expanded, but did not break. She expressed great surprise that Mr. Long did not call, and was inclined to be sick during the day, and could not take any nourishment, and complained of a dreadful burning heat in the breast. She passed a restless night, and on the morning of the 12th of October, on looking at her breast, it appeared to me that from lying on her back wherever the matter discharged from the wound rested it caused fresh blisters, some of which I cut to relieve her pain, as she complained all over. A wicker cradle was forced to be made to place over her to prevent the bed-clothes touching her. On this day I called upon Mr. Long, who expressed his surprise at not having seen Mrs. Lloyd to go on with her inhaling. On explaining her inability, and great sufferings, he said that he would come in the evening, which he did, and found that she had applied some common blister dressing to alleviate the heat and burning feeling. Mr. Long said that was wrong, and contrary to his practice, but he would rub it out, which Mrs. Lloyd exclaimed against, saying that she had suffered so much that she could not endure these parts being rubbed at all; the very idea of touching them, even by herself, was excruciating. Mr. Long said that the only thing necessary to be applied to the wound was old dry linen, to absorb. He then asked for a towel, and began rubbing it dry on the large black spot, as I suppose to absorb the discharge. Mrs. Lloyd said she had always healed any little blister by a simple blister-dressing; and Mr. Long said he saw no objection to her using it, and then departed. During the time Captain Lloyd was giving his evidence he appeared deeply affected, and frequently burst into tears.

The inquiry was then adjourned until the next day.

The jury resumed the inquiry on Thursday morning, when a post-mortem examination of the body took place.

Further evidence was given in corroboration of that heard on the preceding day, when the gentlemen who had examined the body of the deceased read a report, from which it appeared that the body was perfectly healthy. The lungs were sound and free from all disease. The heart was healthy, and the windpipe equally so; in fact, the medical gentlemen added, that in their professional researches they had seldom seen a body that had lived forty years with internal structures so generally healthy, and so fine in their proportions.

Several of Dr. Long's dupes were called to swear to the general excellence of his treatment.

The coroner addressed the jury, stating that the question for their determination was, whether the deceased came by her death from gross ignorance or inattention from her medical attendant, or whether she died a natural death.

The jury retired for about half an hour, and then returned the following verdict:--

"The jury, having attentively and deliberately considered their verdict can come to no other than Manslaughter, against John St. John Long."

The coroner inquired on what grounds they found their verdict?

Foreman: On the ground of gross ignorance, and on other considerations.

Upon this second charge Mr. Long was tried at the Old Bailey on the 19th of February, 1831.

Mr. Long appeared somewhat confused on his entering the dock, but he soon recovered his self-possession, and bowed to many persons who entered the court. The case was tried before Mr. Baron Bayley.

The evidence of Captain Lloyd, and of the other witnesses examined before the coroner, was now again gone into, and the additional testimony of Mr. Campbell, who had first seen Mrs. Lloyd after she had quitted Mr. Long, was also given. His statement was as follows:--

I am a surgeon; I visited Mrs. Lloyd some time before her death; she appeared to me a healthy person; she told me a few days before her death that she was suffering great pain in her breast, which, from its appearance she must have done; there were very extensive wounds, no doubt produced by strong corrosive liquid; the skin was destroyed, and hung in folds on the chest; there was a considerable discharge from the wound generally; the wound extended from nearly one arm-pit to the other, and from the throat to the bottom of the chest; the skin was off both breasts; it was of a very dark colour; when I attended her first, there was no cabbage leaf on; I applied a simple dressing; I saw the deceased afterwards, every day until her death; I considered the wound dangerous to life from the first moment that I saw it; when Mr. Vance was called in, he applied the same dressing, and I described to him the treatment I had pursued; I gave the deceased some internal medicines; it was not until mortification had commenced that bark and mineral acids were administered; according to the best of my judgment, I should say that the deceased died of the wound in her chest; it certainly was not necessary to produce such a wound to cure a difficulty in swallowing; I know of no disease where it would be necessary to produce such a wound.

Cross-examined by Mr. C. Phillips: I have practised as a surgeon for seven years; some hope (after Mr. Vance was called in) remained that Mrs. Lloyd would recover; from the time that I was called in Mr. Long had no opportunity of prescribing for her; generally speaking, the remedy applied by the surgeon must be regulated by the description the patient gives him of his disease; I was not present when the deceased first described her symptoms to Mr. Long; I do not recollect whether I proposed to Mrs. Lloyd to call in some eminent surgeon; I did not consider that I was authorised in calling in another surgeon without the party wished it; the general practice in dangerous cases certainly is to mention it to the friends, and leave them to act as they please.

Mr. Phillips: Seeing, as you express it, that it was a wound dangerous to life, did you not wish for further assistance? Witness: I had no objection to take the chance; mortification came on about seven or eight days after Mrs. Lloyd was under my care; I was from the beginning apprehensive of gangrene, but I cannot say how soon afterwards it commenced; I applied nothing but simple dressing until Mr. Vance was called in; I stated at first to the friends of the deceased the danger that I anticipated from the wound; I attended her nearly a month before she died, during which time Mr. Long had no opportunity of seeing or prescribing for her.

Re-examined: I fully believed that I understood how to treat the wound; I saw the body examined after death, but from nothing I then saw do I think there is any reason to suppose that I mistook the cause of death; I never saw a wound like the one on Mrs. Lloyd's breast produced by a blister, and in such cases, where fatal results have followed, there have generally been appearances to account for them.

By the Court: I think simple dressing best calculated to have reduced the inflammation.

When the whole of the evidence had been given, Mr. Alley and Mr. Adolphus addressed the court, and urged that there was nothing in the proofs, which had been adduced, which fairly brought the prisoner within the jurisdiction of the court.

Mr. Baron Bayley, however, held that any man presuming to meddle with what he did not understand--unacquainted with the principles of medicine, venturing to prescribe for the sick, and thereby causing their death, incurred a heavy responsibility, and indisputably, in some cases, was guilty of manslaughter. It would be for the jury to decide whether the present case assumed such a complexion.

The prisoner was then called on for his defence.

He addressed the court and jury at some length, urging that the death of the deceased was occasioned, not by any improper treatment of his--for that, if he had been permitted to attend her for a few days longer, he would have restored her to perfect health--but to the inexperience of Mr. Campbell, into whose hands she was thrown, to his utter exclusion. He complained of the prejudices which had been excited towards him by practitioners, who were jealous of his success; for while he was earning ten or twelve thousands a year, they were not obtaining more than one-third of that sum. It was true that he was not a member of either the College of Surgeons or Physicians; but he had spent a fortune in the attainment of his professional knowledge, and in the pursuit of his practice had given the most universal satisfaction--so much so, that were he acquitted that day, he was persuaded he should be again honoured with the confidence of those distinguished and respectable individuals who had already from experience placed implicit confidence in his skill and judgment. Of those, he was proud to say, he had many in attendance, to whose testimony in his behalf he should refer. He complained that he had not himself been examined as a witness, before the Coroner's inquest, and repeated, that if guilt attached anywhere, it did so to Mr. Campbell more than to himself; for that there was nothing in his treatment which could have occasioned the melancholy result, which no man deplored more than himself. The prisoner spoke in rather a low tone of voice; and, having a slight impediment in his speech, his address did not seem to make a very forcible impression.

The counsel of the prisoner then proceeded to call evidence in his behalf.

Mr. Abingdon was examined: He said he had several times been under the care of the prisoner; he had an asthma, and subsequently a determination of blood to the head.

The Attorney-General here interfered, and submitted that the course of the present examination ought to be confined to the general character of the prisoner, in which the court, after hearing arguments from Mr. Alley and Mr. Phillips, acquiesced.

Mr. Phillips endeavoured to shake this decision, contending that as the indictment raised the question whether Mr. Long was grossly ignorant, or had been grossly careless, it was impossible to establish his innocence otherwise than by showing, as he verily believed they could, that he was both learned and skilful, and most attentive and humane in his practice of the healing art.

Mr. Baron Bayley: We cannot go into specific cases; we must confine ourselves to general evidence.

Mr. Phillips resumed the argument at length, but

The Attorney-General, in reply, said that if his learned friends found themselves at liberty to go into all the successful cases of the prisoner, he should go into the several failures in his practice.

The court having repeated its former decision, the examination of Mr. Abingdon was resumed, and he stated that the prisoner had attended him for several disorders, and he had the fullest reason to be satisfied with his skill, care, and attention.

Mrs. Ashworth, the wife of General Ashworth, Miss Rook, her sister, Mrs. Prendergast, Mrs. M'Donnell, Mrs. M'Dougall, and a vast number of other ladies and gentlemen were then examined, and every one of them bore testimony, in the strongest manner, to the skill, assiduity, and humanity of the prisoner, and to the extraordinary success which had uniformly attended his practice.

Mr. Baron Bayley then proceeded to sum up, observing, that the question for the jury to decide was, whether the prisoner had been guilty of gross rashness, or had manifested culpable ignorance. The point at issue was, not whether, after the medicine had been administered, the prisoner had been inattentive, for his services were prevented; but whether, before it had been administered, he was ignorant of its nature and probable effect upon the constitution of the unhappy person to whom it was applied. His lordship then proceeded to read over the evidence, and to comment upon it as he proceeded. If the jury were of opinion that the death took place from the wound given on the morning of the 10th, they would give their verdict against the prisoner; but they must be fully satisfied that the death arose from that alone. If they entertained any doubt, the prisoner would be entitled to the benefit of that doubt; but they must be satisfied that the crime imputed to him had been committed feloniously.

The jury retired at half-past eight o'clock, and returned in an hour with a verdict of "Not Guilty."

Several ladies, elegantly dressed, remained with the prisoner in the dock throughout the day, to whom this verdict appeared to give great satisfaction.

Mr. Long, upon his discharge, resumed his "rubbing in" practice, as before, and, we believe, still with much success. Many reports were circulated as to his habits and history, and many calumnious statements were made, both as to his mode of life and the system which he had adopted to carry on his business. For one of these libellous publications he brought an action in the Court of Common Pleas, which was tried on Tuesday, 14th June 1831, and he obtained a verdict with 100_l_. damages.

Mr. Long, we believe, was a native of Mallow, in Ireland, where his father carried on the useful but humble trade of basket-making, in which he was assisted by his son. At an early period of the life of our hero, his father removed to Doneraile, and there he became acquainted with some members of the family of a gentleman named Hill. The young Hills were at the time engaged in perfecting themselves in a knowledge of drawing, and young Long being observed by them to possess some taste and considerable aptitude as a draughtsman, he was permitted to copy the sketches which they made. A slate and pencil were his original utensils; but his patrons, finding that he soon excelled them in proficiency, generously provided him with better materials, and better means of obtaining a knowledge of the art for which he had taken such a fancy. A short time served to render him a tolerable proficient; and leaving the basket-making trade to be prosecuted by his father and brothers, he repaired to London, where for a considerable time he supported himself by the productions of his pencil. We have no means of learning the manner in which he discovered his system of medical treatment, or in which he was first introduced to the public as a successful operator in the case of certain diseases, but it is true that he numbered amongst his patients persons of the highest eminence in this country, and that he obtained an extent of practice which enabled him to live in excellent style.

He died in the year 1834, and his body was consigned to the tomb in the Harrow Road cemetery, where a monument has been erected to his memory at the cost of his former patients, who, in an inscription, pay a handsome tribute to his talents.

WILLIAM SWALLOW, alias WALDON; GEORGE JAMES DAVIS, alias GEORGE HUNTLEY; WILLIAM WATTS, alias CHARLES WILLIAMS; ALEXANDER STEPHENSON, alias TELFORD; AND JOHN BEVERIDGE, alias ANDERSON.

TRIED FOR MUTINY AND PIRACY.

The whole of these persons at the time of their trial for piracy were already convicts; but having been concerned in a mutinous seizure of a vessel, in which they were confined as prisoners, they subjected themselves to a punishment more severe than that to which they had been already sentenced, and were therefore liable to a second trial.

They were indicted at the admiralty sessions of the Old Bailey on Thursday, November 4, 1830, for having, on the 5th September in the previous year, piratically seized the brig Cyprus. And they were also indicted for that they, being convicts, had been found at large in England before the period of the sentence of transportation passed upon them had expired.

The facts proved in evidence were shortly these:--The prisoners were convicts in Hobart Town, but having been there guilty of second crimes, by which they rendered themselves liable to new punishment, they were tried before the supreme court of judicature there, and sentenced to transportation. The places to which prisoners twice convicted were at this period assigned, were Macquarie Harbour, a place on the northern coast of Van Diemen's Land, and Norfolk Island, which is situated at a distance of about a week's sail from Sydney, in an easterly direction. The prisoners were ordered to be conveyed to Macquarie Harbour, where they well knew they would be subjected to drudgery of the very worst description, in punishment for their offences. The Cyprus, a colonial brig, was chartered to convey them to the place of their destination; and, in the month of August 1829, she sailed, having on board thirty-two convicts, a crew of eight men, a military guard of twelve men, under the command of Lieutenant Carew, whose wife and children were passengers, and a medical gentleman named Williams, under whose superintending care the convicts were placed.

On the 5th of September, Dr. Williams, Lieutenant Carew, the chief mate, a soldier, and a convict named Popjoy, went ashore in Research Bay on a fishing excursion; but when they had left the ship about half-an-hour, they heard a firing on board, which induced a fear that the convicts were striving to overpower the guard and crew. They immediately returned, and on their going alongside found that their anticipations were realised, and that the convicts having risen en masse, had mastered the guard, and were now in possession of the ship. They refused to suffer any one to board except Popjoy; and, having secured him, they thrust him down below. Immediately afterwards the convicts sent the crew and the soldiers and passengers ashore, but without provisions or the means of existence. Popjoy swam ashore the next morning, and was of material assistance afterwards in procuring fish, &c. for his fellow sufferers.

On that evening the Cyprus made off, and Lieutenant Carew and the rest remained in a most forlorn and miserable condition for many days, until they were at length happily delivered from the dangers which surrounded them by the Zebra, a small vessel which was accidentally sailing by, and saw some signals of distress which they made. The Cyprus was never afterwards heard of; but the prisoners were apprehended separately in various parts of Sussex and Essex, whither they had returned to their old haunts.

The evidence of Popjoy, who for his good conduct on this occasion had received a free pardon, and who was now a seaman in the East India Company's service, was procured at the trial, and tended to fix guilt upon all the prisoners; Stevenson and Beveridge, however, he admitted were not so active as many others; and the conduct of Swallow, he said, was quite consistent with the defence which he set up, that he had been forced to act by the other mutineers.

Other witnesses corroborated his testimony, and Swallow was acquitted, while a verdict was returned against the other prisoners, Stevenson and Beveridge being recommended to mercy.

Sentence of death was immediately passed upon the convicts.

On the 1st of December following, the cases of the prisoners were reported to His Majesty, by Sir Christopher Robinson, the judge of the Admiralty Court; and His Majesty was pleased to grant a respite to all but Watts, alias Williams, and Davis, alias Huntley.

On Thursday, 9th of December 1830, the sentence of death was carried into execution on these culprits. In the early part of the morning they partook of a slight repast, and at about half-past seven received the sacrament. They then admitted that they were about to die justly, and declared that they were at peace with the world. Davis was neatly and respectably attired in a new suit of blue clothes; and his fellow-sufferer also wore a blue jacket, with a white waistcoat and trousers. They behaved with much decorum, but were both extremely dejected.

Beveridge and Stevenson, who had also been convicted, were transported for life to Norfolk Island; and Swallow having been identified upon the indictment, by which he was charged to be a returned transport, was sentenced to be once more sent back to Macquarie Harbour, to undergo the remainder of the punishment to which he had been already sentenced.

LUKE DILLON.

TRANSPORTED FOR RAPE.

No person possessing the ordinary feelings of human nature can read the dreadful detail of this villain's detestable crime, without shuddering at the baseness of heart which prompted him to its commission. Few instances are to be found where the remorseless debauchee has resorted to means so horrid as those adopted by this youthful destroyer of female virtue; and setting aside his age, and the respectability of his family, one is at a loss to discover a reason why the full sentence which the law awarded to his crime should not be carried out, and why a mitigated punishment of transportation only should have been inflicted upon him.

He was tried at the Commission Court at Dublin on Thursday the 13th of April 1831, on a charge of feloniously violating the person of Miss Anna Frizell, a young lady of most respectable connexions and amiable disposition, and but twenty years of age.

Upon his being placed at the bar, Dillon appeared to be only about twenty-one years of age. He advanced to the front of the dock with an air of the most unblushing effrontery. He was fashionably and gaily attired, and his appearance was highly prepossessing.

Miss Frizell was the material witness against him; and her evidence detailed the whole of the connexion which had existed between her and the prisoner. She was frequently interrupted during her examination by her emotions; and her answers were allowed to be repeated by Mr. West, king's counsel, who sat near her. From her statement it appeared, that she had been principally educated abroad, and that, after having passed eight years in a convent in France, she returned to her father's house at Slapolin, near Howth, in the year 1828. She was occasionally in the habit of visiting her relations, Dr. and Mrs. O'Reardon, who resided in Molesworth-street, Dublin; and there she met the prisoner about two years before the trial. An acquaintance soon ripened into an intimacy; and on her meeting him at a party at Mr. MacDonnel's, in Stephen's Green, whither she had accompanied Mrs. O'Reardon in October 1830, he professed himself to be her warm admirer. At her invitation he was to call upon her on the following day, for the purpose of receiving some letters which he had undertaken to convey to England for her; but upon his knocking at the door, Dr. O'Reardon presented himself, and denied her to him. On the 4th of November they again met, and the prisoner then accompanied her, and Mrs. O'Reardon, to a dinner party. They entered into conversation in the course of the evening; and Dillon requested her to meet him on the following day, as he had something particular to say to her. She exhibited some hesitation in complying with this request; but eventually she consented to an appointment in Kildare-street. She accordingly repaired to the spot; but it proved wet, and for shelter they entered a cottage which presented itself to them in a walk which they took. They remained there during two or three hours; and in the course of that time the prisoner disclosed to her his object in requesting her to meet him, which was to ask her hand in marriage. Her answer to him was that she should be very happy, provided he could obtain her father's consent; but added, that if money was his object, he would be disappointed, as her father had a large family, and could not give her any considerable portion. He declared that he had no such sordid motive in view in making the offer which he presented to her, and that if he succeeded in gaining her affections with her hand, he should consider himself supremely happy, for he had money enough to support them both, and had besides very considerable expectations from his uncle. Before they quitted the cottage, he kissed her twice; and as they drove away in a carriage, which he had sent for in consequence of the rain, he pressed her to marry him privately, as he was sure that her father would never consent to their union. The carriage drove on as Miss Frizell believed in the direction of Molesworth-street, but presently it stopped at a house in Capel-street; and at the earnest solicitation of the prisoner, the young lady alighted to take some refreshment, receiving an assurance that she should immediately afterwards be conveyed home. She entered a house with the prisoner, and they were shewn into a back apartment by a young man, who was directed to bring some fish. They sat together for a time, and then Dillon left the room. He was away for ten minutes or a quarter of an hour; but on his return he said, that the evening was fine, and she could walk home. As she had taken no punch, however, he insisted that she should have a little warm wine and water; and some was almost immediately brought by the waiter. Dillon then placed the glass to her lips, and held her head until she had swallowed full half the contents of the glass. She directly felt stupified and faint, and became quite unconscious of what subsequently passed, until she found herself at night, undressed, and lying on a bed by the side of the prisoner, in a room above that in which they had been sitting. Frantic with terror, she sprang from the bed, and in her hurry rushed against the wall instead of going through the door. The prisoner ran after her, and seized her round the waist, saying it was all over then, and she might as well be quiet; but she screamed aloud. He dragged her away from the door with great violence, cursing and swearing at her all the time, and again threw her on the bed, where he completed an outrage, which, there was no doubt was a repetition only of an act of violence of which he had before been guilty. He put his hand upon her mouth to prevent her screaming, and swore to God that he would marry her the next morning. He, however, again repeated his violence, and detained her in bed until daylight, when he allowed her to rise; and she ultimately left the house with him, under a promise that he would take her to Mr. Kenrick, the priest, and marry her. This promise, however, he did not fulfil, and she returned alone to Mrs. O'Reardon's house. She told Mrs. O'Reardon that she was married; but acquainted her also with the violence which had been used, and that lady fainted, and subsequently she also communicated what had passed to other persons. The prisoner never kept his promise to marry her, and she had never seen him until that day in court since the transaction, the circumstances of which she had just related.

The witness was cross-examined at great length by Mr. Serjeant O'Loughlen, in the course of which she admitted having written a letter, of which the following is a copy, the day after the atrocities described in her evidence in chief:--

"My dearest Dillon--Our car came in to-day. Fortunately papa did not come with it. I was wishing to see you, so I went to Home's, but you were out. I cannot tell you what torture I have been in since I parted with you. You may imagine I am nothing better; you may guess the rest. If you value my life--my honour; everything depends upon you. I have thought of something that will, I think, do. I will see you to-morrow. When I see you I will----. I was obliged to tell Maria (Mrs. O'Reardon) we were married. She is exceedingly ill. The Doctor thinks I was at a lady's in Gardiner-street, a Mrs. Dwyer's. He went to Mrs. Callaghan's himself, so I could not say I was there. For God's sake, meet me to-morrow, about twelve o'clock, at the end of the street, in Dawson-street, and I will, at least, be a little happier, for I am miserable now. Buy me a ring, and, for Heaven's sake, arrange everything. Recollect who you had (these words were scratched out) I am not to be trifled with. I am sure papa would blow my brains out were he to know it. I, therefore, rely on your solemn promise last night; and, once more, be punctual to the hour to-morrow. Really, I am almost dead with grief. Indeed, my dearest Dillon, on you depends my future happiness for life.

Yours, "ANNA."

"Saturday night.

"Luke Dillon, Esq., Home's Hotel, Usher's-island."

In her further cross-examination, she affirmed she wrote to him in these affectionate terms because Mrs. O'Reardon told her, that if she called him a villain or a wretch, he would never come back to her; and that she wrote the letter for the purpose of bringing him back. After she had been under examination and cross-examination upwards of five hours, her mother, Mrs. Frizell, and Mrs. O'Reardon, were examined, and they corroborated her testimony as far as they had any knowledge of the facts.

For the defence, several persons from the hotel or house where the affair took place stated that the lady was a consenting party, and that no outrage had been committed.--In their cross-examination, however, they prevaricated a good deal, and acknowledged visiting the prisoner in Newgate.

Judge Torrens charged the jury in a luminous speech, who, after one hour and three quarters' deliberation, returned a verdict of Guilty, but strongly recommended the prisoner to mercy on account of his youth.

On the next day he was brought up for judgment, when, in answer why sentence of death should not be passed on him, he replied, in a low, but rather firm voice, that standing in the awful situation in which he did, it was not for him to arraign the verdict of twelve men on their oaths, and he should, therefore, bow with submission to the sentence of the court.--Judge Torrens then, in an impressive manner, observed, that after a most anxious consideration of his case, the recommendation of the jury could not be attended to. His lordship, in a tremulous accent, pronounced the awful sentence of the law, fixing Saturday, the 7th of May, for his execution.

The most strenuous exertions were made to save the life of this unhappy but most guilty culprit; and petitions signed by many persons of the highest respectability were forwarded to the crown in his favour. The recommendation of the jury was also most strongly represented, and as it was said that even the friends of the young lady herself were unwilling that he should expiate the foul crime of which he had been convicted on the scaffold, a reprieve was granted, and his punishment was eventually commuted to transportation for life.

The wretched young man was eventually transmitted to Sydney with other convicts; but here his fortune and the respectability of his connexions enabled him to obtain privileges not usually granted to persons in his situation. He was of an excellent family in the county of Roscommon, and by the death of some of his relations came into a handsome fortune. Money, in the colony in which he was compelled to reside, would obtain for him every luxury which he could desire; and from recent accounts received from that place, it appears that he was among the gayest of the gay of that extraordinary society.

We have but one other fact to add to our recital of this most distressing case. The unhappy object of Dillon's machinations and brutal crime died in the month of June 1831, a victim to her own sensitive feelings. She had gone to Bangor, in Wales, in hope that a change of scene might relieve her of the melancholy which appeared to have settled upon her mind, but she died there of a broken heart.

JOHN TAYLOR, AND THOMAS MARTIN.

IMPRISONED FOR BODY STEALING.

The peculiarity of the defence of these men, and the extraordinary nature of the proceedings in the court upon their trial, induce us to give their case a place in our Calendar.

They were indicted at the London sessions on Thursday, the 21st of April, 1831, for having stolen the body of an old man named Gardiner from St. Bartholomew's Hospital. Taylor was recognised as a notorious "body-snatcher," or resurrectionist, and Martin was an undertaker.

Taylor had taken the old man, who had a spinal disease, to the hospital. In a very short time the patient sunk under the complaint, and Taylor contrived to get possession of the body by a manoeuvre, and assured the daughter of the deceased that her father had been ordered to be buried quickly, on account of the mortification which had taken place. Martin accompanied Taylor on making application for the body at the hospital, and gave a wrong name and address. It was soon discovered by the daughter that the body of her father had been removed, and the two prisoners were taken into custody.

Taylor defended himself in the (literally) following manner:--"You see, please you, my lord, I sees the poor old gentleman walking in Fleet-lane, wery bad; and so, says he, 'Jack, I feels queerish, and I don't suppose as how I'll get over this here caper.' So, you see, I takes him into a public-house and gives him half a pint of beer quite warm, and a pipe of backy, and so he stays there till six or seven o'clock; and then, says he, 'Jack, you must get me a place for to lay upon;' but they wouldn't have him in no house whatsomdever; for, please you, my lord, he warn't without warmint. (Laughter.) Well, then, my lord, you see he gets worse, and he axed me to take him to the hospital; and didn't I take him?"

Alderman Winchester: "Yes, and you took him away from it too." (Laughter.)

Taylor: "Well, my lord, you see, when I sees him snug and comfortable in the bed, I goes off to his daughter, and I told she, and she warn't by no means bevaricated at it; but she said she was obligated to me for my civility and my humanity, you see, for taking care of the poor old creatur wot was so wery bad. And so the old gentleman wanted a shirt wery bad, and I goes to his daughter, and I gets one with a frill to it, and I puts it on him; and so his daughter suddenly turns against me, and she gives me in charge, though I was so kind, for stealing the shirt; and I'm blest if they didn't try me for it at the Old Bailey." (A laugh.)

Serjeant Arabin: "I know they did, for I tried you for the robbery." (Loud laughter.)

Taylor: "Please you, my lord, I think you was my judge. Well, you see, my lord, they couldn't do nothing with me."

Serjeant Arabin: "Come, to the point."

Taylor: "Well, my lord, I'll come soon enough. (Loud laughter.) So you see, she says to me, 'Jack,' says she, 'I'll go to see the old gentleman the next day morning to the hospital, for I believe he's poorly;' and please you, my lord, when she goes there she couldn't find nobody at all, for the body warn't there, because as how some body tuck it away." (Roars of laughter.)

Serjeant Arabin: "No doubt of it; you took it away, and can you prove where 'tis buried?"

Taylor: "Why you see, my lord, I suppose it's in the ground, for what else would you do with it? Ven the breath goes avay from us, there's no use in going further, for then there's an end of the caper. (Excessive laughter, in which the court joined.) Vell, my lord, I never seed the body arterwards; and then they comes up to me, and they charges me with robbing it. But please you, my lord, what could I do with it if I had it? It an't like the body of a cow, or a sheep; and you don't think I'm sich a feller as would do what the black beggars does with the people wot they kills." (Loud laughter.)

The jury told Serjeant Arabin that it was unnecessary to sum up, and found the prisoners Guilty.

Taylor was sentenced to imprisonment for nine months, and Martin to imprisonment for three months.

IKEY alias ISAAC SOLOMON.

TRANSPORTED FOR RECEIVING STOLEN GOODS.

There are few offenders whose name and whose character are more universally known than Ikey Solomon; but there are few also with regard to whom more certain information cannot be obtained. The following brief particulars, we believe, are correct; but the difficulty of procuring positive knowledge upon the subject must prove an excuse for the shortness of our memoir.

Solomon was born in the neighbourhood of Petticoat-lane in the year 1785, of poor parents, who, as their name imports, were of the Jewish persuasion. At an early age young Ikey was compelled to exert himself to procure his own living; for it is a custom which exists among the poorer classes of the Jews, that every child shall be early instructed in habits of industry. At the age of eight years, therefore, he was despatched into the streets with a supply of oranges and lemons, which constituted his first stock in trade. The profits of his business as a fruiterer were not deemed by the young Jew a sufficient remuneration for his labours, and the profession of a sham ringer, as it was technically termed, or of a passer of base coin, was added by him to that which he openly carried on, and his youth served him materially in enabling him to escape detection.

At the age of fourteen years, he had acquired considerable knowledge of the general habits of thieves, and he is reported to have practised picking pockets, when opportunity offered, with great success. As he grew older, however, his person and his proceedings became known, and, apprehending that some unpleasant consequences might arise from his carrying on so dangerous a profession, he determined to quit it, and to join a gang engaged in one no less enterprising, but attended with less cause of fear--that of duffing. By this means he obtained a wide connexion, while the sums which he realised amply repaid him for the change which he had made in his mode of life. The business of a fence, or receiver of stolen goods, in which afterwards he became so notorious, appears, even at this early period of his life, to have struck his fancy; and although the extent of his trade was limited, by reason of his want of the necessary capital to carry it on, his purchases being confined to the produce of the robberies of area sneaks and young pickpockets, he acquired much celebrity amongst his fellows in the same business.

After some time, from some unexplained cause, he quitted this mode of life, and joined a gang of thieves associated at the west end of the town. Always avaricious, he was guilty of unfair play even among his "pals," and the old adage of "honour among thieves" was set at nought by him in his division of the spoil which he obtained in the course of his daily exertions. For this breach of good faith he was expelled the community, and he determined upon making an effort in his own behalf--single-handed. His good fortune now forsook him, and, after a very short practice, he was taken into custody for stealing a "dumby," or pocket-book. This was the first occasion on which he had any reason to fear the consequences of his numerous thefts. In the city, according to his own account, he had been frequently in custody, but had escaped by feeing the officers! but his apprehension having now taken place in "the county," as it is usually denominated, or beyond the city bounds, he knew that he stood little chance of escaping by such means.

For this offence he was tried at the Old Bailey in the year 1807, being then twenty-two years of age; and a conviction having followed, he was sentenced to transportation for life. He was removed to the hulks at Chatham, preparatory to his being sent to one of our penal colonies, but, by good luck, was permitted to remain in England, in the hope that he might reform. His uncle, it appears, was a slop-seller at this port, where he carried on a considerable, and, it was believed, a respectable trade. Through his instrumentality his nephew was retained in his native country; and, after six years, the fortunate Ikey obtained a pardon. A circumstance occurred, however, in reference to this event, which is worthy of notice. Ikey was not the only person of the same name who had been guilty of an offence against the laws of meum et tuum, confined on board the same hulk. His equally unfortunate namesake, in the year 1813, by the exercise of influence, succeeded in obtaining a remission of his sentence, and a pardon and order for his discharge were sent down to Chatham. By an error, either of accident or design, but which it was we have no means of deciding, our hero was discharged instead of the person really intended. His surprise and gratitude at this unexpected favour induced him, on his return to London, to proceed to the Home Office to express his thanks for his liberation; but here, to his dismay, he was informed that there was some mistake--that he was not the person intended to be pardoned, and that he must return to his ship. He had prudence enough to do that at once, which he knew he would be compelled to do eventually; but the circumstance operated so much in his favour, that in three months afterwards a genuine pardon in his name was received, which once again sent him to perform his part upon the stage of life.

His first employment was to all appearance an honest one. He was engaged by his uncle at Chatham as a barker, or salesman; and, in the course of a couple of years, he realised a sum of 150_l._, with which he determined to start in business for himself. He therefore proceeded to London, and in a short time we find him possessed of a house and shop in Bell-alley, Winfield-street. He lost no time in renewing his acquaintance with some of his former associates, and he found that many of them, who had escaped the fangs of the police so long, had now become expert thieves, or experienced housebreakers. His old trade of a "fence" appeared to him the most profitable, and, at the same time, the best in every other respect, in which he could embark, and his desire to deal in stolen goods was soon circulated among his connexions. For this business his general knowledge admirably adapted him, and he speedily obtained as much business as his small capital would enable him to get through. As every transaction, however, increased his means, so his sphere of action became more extended, and ere long he was engaged fully in every species of business which came within the usual course of persons engaged in the same profession. Forged notes, or "queer screens," as they were called, afforded him means of speculation, which produced the most profitable results; but the danger of carrying on this branch of his trade, arising from the vigilance of the officers employed by the Bank of England for its suppression, at length determined him to give it up, and to confine his operations to that which he looked upon as a safer game, the purchase and disposal of the produce of the robberies of his friends.

In this line he was probably one of the most successful in London. Every year afforded him new opportunities of extending his connexion, and the profits which he obtained were enormous. His house was looked upon as the universal resort of almost all the thieves of the metropolis; but so cautiously and so cunningly did he manage his transactions, as to render every effort of the police to procure evidence of his guilt unavailing. His purchases were, for the most part, confined to small articles, such as jewellery, plate, &c., and in his house, under his bed, he had a receptacle for them, closed by a trap-door, so nicely fitted, that it escaped every examination which was made. In the space between the flooring and the ceiling of the lower room, there were abundant means to conceal an extent of valuable property which was quite astonishing.

Solomon's trade was now at its height, and he found that one house would be insufficient to contain all his property. He had been married some years before to a person of the same persuasion with himself; but it appears that constancy was not one of the virtues of which he was able to boast. It suggested itself to him, therefore, that while a second house would enable him to secrete a considerable quantity of additional property, he might also hide there from his wife a new object, to whom his affections had united him. With these double views, he took a house in Lower Queen-street, Islington (unknown to his own family), in which he followed out the plan which he had laid down for his guidance. The lady and the valuables were placed in it.

At about this period, however, a very extensive robbery of watches and jewellery took place in Cheapside, in which there is no doubt Solomon participated, in the character of receiver. The excitement produced by the occurrence raised considerable alarm in his mind lest he should be discovered and apprehended, and he determined on a trip to Birmingham, in order that the affair might blow over. During his absence, his wife, whose jealous animosity had been excited by his frequent absence from home, discovered his Islington retreat, and her anger, as may be supposed, was not expressed to him in the gentlest or most becoming way upon his return.

This discovery, and the still pending investigation of the circumstances of the robbery in Cheapside, created so much alarm in his mind, that he determined to emigrate to New South Wales, taking with him all his property. His arrangements were commenced, but his wife, whose fears pictured to her the sailing of her husband with her rival, and her own abandonment in England, most strongly opposed the plan. Ikey, however, persisted in carrying out his expressed intention, when his apprehension at his Islington abode effectually prevented the fulfilment of his plans. The charges preferred against him were those of receiving stolen goods, and Ikey was committed to Newgate for trial. Property, it was said, to a very large amount had been seized, amongst which many articles which had been stolen were identified. Whilst awaiting his trial, a plan of escape was concocted, which was completely successful, and which was conducted in the following manner:--

It is a part of the law of the land, that every prisoner who is in custody, no matter what his offence, is entitled to apply to a judge of one of the superior courts, to be admitted to bail. The application is made for a writ of habeas corpus, upon which the prisoner is taken from the prison, where he is confined, before the judge, in whose presence the matter is to be argued. Solomon's friends determined to adopt this course, and the application being made, the writ was granted, and a certain day was fixed for the argument. The prisoner, in obedience to the writ, was sent in the custody of two officers to Westminster, and as the trio passed Bridge-street, Blackfriars, it was proposed that they should have a coach. The proposition appeared to be anticipated by a man, whose vehicle was near the head of the rank, and his carriage was immediately engaged. The three men entered it, and were driven to Westminster, but when they arrived there, the judge was found to be engaged. An adjournment took place to a neighbouring public-house, and while there, Mrs. Solomon joined the party with one or two friends, and brandy and water was speedily introduced in abundance. The turnkeys were not sparing in their libations, but were interrupted in their orgies by the announcement that the judge was ready. The argument took place, the bail was refused, as it was known it would be, and a second adjournment to the public-house took place. One more glass was swallowed, and Ikey, his wife, and the two turnkeys, once more entered the vehicle. A short ride threw Smart, the head turnkey, into a species of stupor; and in Fleet-street, Mrs. Solomon was so affected by her husband's danger, as to fall into fits. Solomon entreated the under turnkey, who still remained awake, not to take him to prison, until he had set his wife down at a friend's house, and this request, being probably backed by a fee, was granted. The coach, which it is almost needless to say was driven by one of Ikey's relations, proceeded to Petticoat-lane, and there pulling up at a house, the door was suddenly opened. Ikey popped out, ran into a house, the door of which stood open, but was closed immediately after him, through the passage, into a house at the back, and again through an interminable variety of windings, until at length he was lodged in a place of security. The turnkey was almost as stupified as his fellow at this surprising disappearance of his prisoner, and Mrs. Solomon having speedily recovered from her fits, the two jailors were left to find their way back to Newgate, and to tell their tale at their own leisure. The turnkeys, it is almost needless to say, had been drugged.

This escape was so admirably conducted, that all traces of Solomon were lost, and notwithstanding the most strenuous exertions of the police, no tidings of him could be obtained. For two months, it appears, he lay concealed at Highgate, and at the expiration of that time he found means to quit the country in a Danish vessel for Copenhagen, from whence in about three months he proceeded to New York.

Ever active in "turning a penny," he was soon engaged in his old trade in forged notes, which was here carried on to a great extent. He became convinced, however, that he could make money by other means also, and he wrote to his wife, desiring her to send him a quantity of cheap watches, which he had good reason to believe would turn to good account. In this letter, according to his own statement, he charged his wife to send him none but "righteous" (honestly obtained) watches, and not to touch one which had been got "on the cross;" but it appears she did not act up to his advice, for she was found guilty of receiving a watch knowing it to have been stolen, which turned out to be one of those which she was about to ship off to the new world to her husband, to be employed by him in his new speculation. For this offence she was sentenced to be transported for fourteen years; and, in obedience to her sentence, she was conveyed to Van Diemen's Land. Ikey, in his account of this affair, does not scruple to assert, that his wife had in truth been guilty of no offence whatever; and he seeks to confirm his assertion by relating the circumstances under which the watch was obtained. He declares that there were some persons in England who had been so enraged at his escape, as to be determined to revenge themselves upon him by every means in their power. With this view they sought to tamper with one of his relations, then in custody, in order to procure the entrapment of his wife in some supposed illegal transaction. Mrs. Solomon at this time was engaged in the purchase of the watches for her husband, and she consulted some of her friends upon the best means of procuring them. The imprisoned relation about this time was set at liberty, to carry out his scheme, and he being applied to, produced and sold to her the very watch for the possession of which eventually she was convicted. How far this is true, as regards the individual referred to, we cannot say; but we believe it to be impossible that villany so gross as that which he imputes, could be connived at by any person holding a responsible public situation in the police.

Ikey, it seems, upon hearing of his wife's misfortune, found himself the object of suspicion where he was, and he determined that he would follow Mrs. Solomon; and, having assembled the family at Hobart Town, endeavour to alleviate her sufferings. In this place he proposed to strike out some new pursuit for their support; but he never imagined that the laws of England would pursue him in the very place to which he was about to proceed as a refuge from them.

Upon his arrival at Hobart Town he lived for some time in comparative decency, having opened a general shop, which he conducted with much profit, and having also purchased a public-house, which he let to another person. But he soon found that his dreams of future security were not to be realised. An order arrived from England for his apprehension, and he was hurried off by the next vessel sailing for London, to take his trial for the numerous offences with which he was charged. He had just time to transfer his property to his son before he sailed, and at length, on the 27th of June 1830, he was once more lodged in Newgate, where he was confined in the transport yard, which was considered the most secure place in the prison.

At the following Old Bailey sessions he was indicted upon eight different charges, and his trial came on on Friday, the 9th of July 1830. His conduct throughout was remarkable for great firmness, which was increased by his being acquitted on the first and second days upon five of the indictments preferred against him. On the following Monday he was again placed at the bar, and then, on the sixth and eighth charges, verdicts of Guilty were returned. The verdict on the seventh indictment was one of Not guilty, owing to the absence of a material witness in India.

A point of law was raised as to the propriety of these convictions, and the prisoner was remanded, in order that the matter might be discussed before the superior judges. Solomon was kept in suspense during a period of ten months; but at length, on the 13th of May 1831, he received an intimation that the opinion of the judges was against him, and sentence of seven years' transportation was passed on each indictment.

Upon this sentence he was conveyed to the hulks, and, on the 31st of May 1831, he once more sailed from Portsmouth. In obedience to an order made upon a petition which he had caused to be presented at the Home Office, he was conveyed to Hobart Town, where his family was, instead of to Sydney; and, upon his arrival at that place, he found his son still carrying on the business which he had commenced. By good conduct, Solomon eventually obtained for himself the rank of overseer of convicts, and we believe that he still retains that situation.

Some anecdotes of the mode in which he conducted his business in London will not be uninteresting, exhibiting as they do the general habits of receivers of stolen goods.

It may be admitted, as an established fact, that no man who does not possess very considerable connexions can attempt to carry on the business of a "fence" with success. An acquaintance and co-partnery with persons residing at the out-ports, and with the itinerant dealers in jewellery, travelling inland, are necessary to enable them to put off the proceeds of their dishonest dealings; for while by the former, bank notes, and other property, the identity of which cannot be destroyed, can be despatched abroad, by the latter, watches and other articles of trifling value can be distributed among towns and villages in remote districts, from which it is unlikely they will ever find their way to the great mart of London, where they can be recognised. Diamonds, and other valuable stones, may be taken out and re-set according to another fashion, while the settings are destroyed; but in most instances receivers admit no articles into their houses until they are satisfied that they cannot be recognised. In the first of these respects Solomon was amply provided with associates, and he was too good a judge in most cases to permit any possibility of detection to arise. When a large robbery was contemplated, he was always apprised of it, and the place and time were fixed at which he should go and look over its produce. The first thing he said when he met the parties was, "Now I am to offer you a price for these things; first assist in removing all the marks, and then I will talk to you." When the goods consisted of linen or cloth, every means of identification was removed; the head and fag ends being cut off, and occasionally the list and selvage, if they were peculiar. The marks on the soles of boots and shoes were obliterated by hot irons, and those on the linings were as speedily removed by their being cut out, and others placed in their stead. After this, he found no difficulty in vending every species of property which could be converted into apparel, to the numerous ready-made, and slop-shops, in which trade so many Jews are engaged. Watches of great value, which could find purchasers only in large towns, were either metamorphosed by skilful hands, or sent to the continent. If a watch were valuable for its works more than its case, the interior was soon entombed in another. A boot and shoe-maker, some years since, in Princes-street, Soho, was, in one night, robbed of his stock, value 300_l._; the whole was carried away in sacks in coaches, and the next morning found its way, before twelve o'clock, to the premises of our hero. By threats and offers to one of the coachmen, who happened to be recognised by a servant in the neighbourhood, as having been at the door the night before, he was induced to give information of the place to which the goods had been conveyed. The shoemaker sent a man to watch the premises, while he went to seek for two officers; the man was in time to see the goods removed to the house of Solomon. When the shoemaker and the officers arrived they entered the premises, but Ikey defied them to touch an article, so carefully had the marks been removed. The shoemaker was compelled to admit that he could not swear to them, and at once saw that he stood no chance of procuring the restoration of his goods. Solomon then said that he had purchased them fairly, but, out of mere compassion for his loss, whether the goods had been his or not, he would sell them for the price which he had paid for them. The robbed man was glad to accept of these terms, and it cost him upwards of one hundred pounds to re-stock his shop with his own goods.

Solomon was allowed to be a most ready and superior judge of the intrinsic value of all kinds of property, from a glass bottle to a five hundred guinea chronometer; how it could be disposed of, and what was the value thieves generally estimated it at. He established among the rogues a regular rule of dealing, which is continued to this day, namely, to give a fixed price for all articles of the same denomination. For instance, a piece of linen was in his view a piece of linen, whether fine or coarse; the same with a piece of print, a silver watch, or a gold one: taking the good, as he used to tell the young and inexperienced thief, with the bad vons. By this plan he sometimes obtained very valuable watches at a moderate rate. He, however, outbid all his opponents in the purchase of stolen bank-notes; this he was for a long time enabled to do, in consequence of his connection with Jews in Holland. All stolen bank-notes which come into the hands of those who buy them, are sent to the Continent, to pass in the way of purchases through some regular mercantile house, when they find their way, by remittances to London houses, into the Bank, where they must be paid. The price given by Solomon for large notes, was 15_s._ in the pound; and he calculated that on an average he could send them their circuit of safety for 1_s._ in the pound: thus securing for himself 4_s._ profit on each 20_s._, that is twenty per cent., and this is now the regular price for stolen notes with the London fences.

At the time of Solomon's apprehension his chief store was in Rosemary-lane, and he was reported to have had goods of the value of 20,000_l._ then collected there. A very great proportion of this property was seized, and Solomon bitterly complained of the manner in which he was deprived of his goods. A great portion of the articles were restored to their owners; but as late as the year 1832, a considerable amount was sold, which was avowed to have belonged to this notorious offender.

WILLIAM GILCHRIST, GEORGE GILCHRIST, and JAMES BROWN.

TRIED FOR A COACH ROBBERY.

The ingenuity of thieves has been frequently referred to in the course of this work, and many instances have been afforded by a perusal of its pages of the extreme perseverance with which the practitioners in this dishonest calling carry on their proceedings. In the case of Huffey White a striking instance is afforded of the laborious determination of men, whose object was to rob the Glasgow bank; in the instance with which we are now about to present our readers no less ingenuity and determination are exhibited than by that case; and the daring effrontery with which the robbery, the circumstances of which we are about to detail, was committed, must strike them with astonishment.

It was on Thursday, the 24th of March, 1831, that this most impudent robbery was committed; and the circumstance of its occurrence was first notified to the public in a Glasgow newspaper in a paragraph, of which the following is a copy, which being compared with the real facts of the case as they were proved at the trial, will sufficiently inform our readers of the remarkable measures adopted by thieves at this time, first to commit robberies, and then so to conceal the real circumstances attending their commission, as to mislead the public and the police as to the persons, or even the description of the persons concerned in the depredation:--"Another of those dexterous tricks in abstracting a bank parcel from one of the public coaches was on Thursday week successfully practised in a somewhat novel manner. The following is an account of the transaction:--The parcel in question, which contained notes and gold to the amount of 5,700_l._, had been entrusted by the Commercial Bank's branch in Glasgow, to be forwarded to the head office in Edinburgh, by the Prince Regent coach, which left Glasgow at noon on the Thursday. The parcel had been put into a tin box, which was, as usual, placed in the boot of the coach, but was missed by the coachman who drives the last stage. It was then found that the stuffing inside had been cut, and a hole made in the body of the coach by piercing it first by a brace-bit, and then cutting out the piece with a saw, by which means the thieves got at the box, which they forced open and rifled of its contents. The paper in which the parcel was packed, with part of one of the notes, were left. After committing the robbery, in order to elude observation, the lining of the coach, which had been cut, was pinned neatly together. We understand that the whole of the inside seats had been taken in Glasgow, four in the name of Mrs. Gordon, and two in the name of Mr. Johnston, but no inside passengers came forward when the coach started. When about three miles from Glasgow, however, two passengers, a man and a woman, were taken up, who continued to travel with the coach until within three miles from Airdrie, and no suspicion was raised against them when they left the conveyance. The notes were principally of the Commercial Bank, and consisted of 20_l._, 5_l._, and 1_l._ notes. A number of them had blue borders of a peculiar description, not generally in circulation, and which will easily be detected. It is said there were about 300_l._ in gold. Immediately on the intelligence of this daring robbery reaching Glasgow, an officer, accompanied by one of the gentlemen of the Branch Bank at that place, set off in the direction of Airdrie in search of the robbers, but hitherto without success. The driver of the coach is quite unable to give any account of the appearance or dress of the man and woman who were in the coach; but we believe the passenger who assisted them out, has been able partially to furnish one." The latter part of this paragraph is peculiarly worthy of notice, for it turns out that Brown was the outside passenger, and he, no doubt, affecting ignorance of the persons within, endeavoured to gull the police by giving an erroneous description of the thieves.

A long and searching inquiry into all the circumstances of the affair took place, and at length, through the arduous and persevering exertions of the Glasgow police-officer named Nish, the three prisoners whose names head this article, together with a man named Simpson, were committed for trial.

During the period which intervened before the inquiry took place before the High Court of Justiciary at Edinburgh, the investigation which had been commenced was carried on by Mr. Nish; but the main evidence at the trial was that of Simpson, who was admitted a witness against his accomplices.

The trial came on at Edinburgh on Wednesday, July the 14th, 1831. It was then proved that the prisoner George Gilchrist was a coach-proprietor residing on the road between Glasgow and Edinburgh; and that being aware of the frequent transmission of money by the coach from one place to the other, he formed the design of abstracting the parcel containing it from the boot, and carrying it off. He communicated his object to his brother, and to Brown and Simpson, as well as to two other persons who were to assist them. The parcel of the 24th of March was fixed upon to be attempted; and in order to render their operations secure from observation, the whole of the inside of the coach was taken for the use of the party.

On the 24th of March, William Gilchrist and Brown started from Glasgow on the outside of the coach, and about two or three miles from that place they met with George Gilchrist and Simpson, whom Gilchrist had hired to assist him. George Gilchrist was dressed in female apparel, and Simpson carried a small basket, which contained centre-bits and other instruments of that description. Simpson, on his examination said, "When they got into the coach they put up the windows, when Gilchrist took off the straw bonnet and shawl, and took out the tools; he then ripped up the cloth of the coach, and bored five holes horizontally with the brace and bit; the place between the holes was cut with a chisel; they then attempted to cut the tin box with the chisel, but finding they could not do so, they pressed the lid up with a chisel, and in doing this raised up the lock. They took out two parcels of notes and a packet, which, from its weight, he supposed was gold. They left some parcels in the box, which he believed were bills, and put some of them under the cushion. Having effected the robbery, they pressed the lid of the box down, and it then had the same appearance as if locked. He put part of the notes and gold about his person, and Gilchrist put the rest about him, and again put on the bonnet and shawl. All this occupied about an hour. When at Airdrie, he heard some one say, 'John, get on, remember the opposition.' William Gilchrist said it was Brown that said so, and that he would drive on if he saw any danger. Gilchrist said to witness that no one should get into the coach, and he would keep one side, and directed witness to keep the other; that they would get out in about a mile and a half; and that witness should look out of the window, and Brown would see him: this, he believed, was a signal that all was right; and he thought Brown observed him look out. He was desired by Gilchrist to call out to stop at the first entry on the left hand. The coach stopped at the place, and Brown came down and opened the door, and said to the coachman, 'John, I've got half-a-crown for you.' When they came out, witness carried the basket, and the coach immediately drove off. He and Gilchrist proceeded down the avenue about half a mile, and went into a planting. He saw a man coming down the avenue, when he told Gilchrist, who said he was a friend. The woman's clothes were put into the basket, and Gilchrist put on his own clothes. All the money was put into a silk handkerchief."

The trial continued until twelve o'clock on Thursday forenoon, when the jury unanimously found George Gilchrist Guilty of the charges; by a plurality of voices the libel Not Proven against James Brown; and unanimously finding the libel Not Proven against William Gilchrist. The lord justice clerk then passed the awful sentence of death on the prisoner, George Gilchrist, and ordered him for execution on the 3rd of August.

The prisoner, however, subsequently made communications to the officers of justice, in consequence of which a great portion of the stolen property was recovered, and his punishment was commuted to transportation for life.

JOSEPH PLANT STEVENS.

TRANSPORTED FOR ROBBERY.

This fellow was one of the class called "magsmen." The robbery of which he was convicted sufficiently explains the name, and affords a good specimen of the arts of London sharpers. The trick to which he resorted has now become very stale, and is sufficiently notorious; but flats are still to be found who foolishly submit to be robbed with their eyes open in the same manner.

At the Surrey sessions, on the 25th of May 1831, Joseph Plant Stevens was indicted for stealing 30_l._ from the person of Thomas Young, a farmer and hop-grower of Sevenoaks, Kent.

The prosecutor, who was an elderly man, stated, that being in town in the previous month of April, as he was proceeding along Bishopgate-street, he was accosted by a well-dressed young man of diminutive stature, who asked him if he was not a hop-grower out of Kent. The reply being in the affirmative, the stranger and he then entered into conversation, which turned to politics; and after discussing the then all-absorbing Reform question, they proposed to call at the Three Tuns, in the Borough, near which tavern they had now arrived, to have some gin-and-water. During the time they were drinking it, the young man spoke of the respectability of his own family, saying that he was a native of Brighton, and that he had come up to London to make some inquiries respecting a rich relative, from whom he had expectations. While sitting in the room conversing on the subjects alluded to, the prisoner walked in, and, seating himself at the same table with them, called for a glass of brandy-and-water. He affected to be a stranger; and after sipping a little of his liquor, he began to talk on the question of Reform. Having passed a high eulogium on the king and his ministers, he began to talk about himself, and commenced by saying that he was a very lucky fellow, a chancery suit having been just decided in his favour; adding, that he had 800_l._ then in his possession, and that he had fallen into 800_l._ per annum by the decision of the court. The farmer perceiving him take a roll of what appeared to be bank-notes out of his pocket, advised him strongly to put up the money again, telling him at the same time that London was infested with sharpers, and that if he did not take great care, he would assuredly be "choused" out of it by some of the knowing ones, who lurked about in all quarters in search of their prey. The prisoner spoke in a broad country dialect; and after the farmer had given him the advice just mentioned, the short young man, who no doubt was in league with the prisoner, said to the latter, "This is a nice steady old gentleman, and I think the least you can do is to present him with a gown-piece for his wife, as some acknowledgment for his good advice." The prisoner at once assented to the proposition, and, taking a sovereign out of his fob, said, that he thought it better to give the farmer a guinea for his wife, and that she could then please herself as to the pattern. The prisoner desired the farmer to give him his purse, in order that he might place the guinea with the rest of the money. The farmer very foolishly did as he was required, and the result was, that the prisoner, by a dexterous movement, slipped some tissue-paper into the purse, in lieu of six 5_l._ notes which had been previously there; and so skilfully was the trick managed, that the farmer never dreamt that he had been robbed, until some time afterwards, on visiting Mr. Stevens, a hop-factor, in Union-street, when recounting to that gentleman the kind treatment he had experienced at the Three Tuns, the discovery of the tissue-paper being substituted for his Bank of England notes took place.

The jury found the prisoner Guilty; and after the verdict was delivered, it was stated to the court, that a poor man from Oxfordshire was then in court, who had been robbed by him in the November before under similar circumstances.

The chairman said there was no doubt the prisoner was one of a gang of thieves who had recently committed many robberies of this description; and as it was necessary to make an example in this instance, the sentence of the court was, that he should be transported for life.

We are sorry to be unable to afford any account of the previous career of this fellow; but whatever may have been his conduct antecedent to the period of his conviction, there can be no doubt that in this instance he received no more than the just punishment for his crime.

WILLIAM KING.

IMPRISONED FOR ROBBERY.

The offence of which this man was convicted, was attended by a fraudulent misrepresentation of his character, which we should have imagined would have made him a fit object of severe punishment.

At the time of his conviction he was fifty-two years of age, and appeared to be a person of some respectability. He, however, declined giving any account of himself.

He was indicted at the Bridgewater assizes, on the 7th of August 1831, for assaulting Elias Cashin upon the king's highway, putting him in fear, and taking from his person and against his will a box containing twenty-four gold seals, forty-five brooches, and a variety of other articles of jewellery.

The robbery was alleged to have been committed at Huntspill, on the 10th of March, and Cashin, who was a member of the Jewish persuasion, stated, that on that day he was offering his wares for sale at Huntspill, when the prisoner came up to him, and representing himself to be an inspector of pedlars' licences, demanded to see his licence. He admitted that he had none, upon which the prisoner seized his box containing his jewellery, and took him by the collar, saying, that he must accompany him to a magistrate's. They went together to the house of a Mr. Rockett, where the prisoner behaved with much violence, in consequence of which Cashin rung the bell. Young Mr. Rockett appeared, who said that his father was not at home, and the prisoner then desired the Jew to meet him on the next day, at the house of a Mr. Phippen, another magistrate, residing at a short distance off. Cashin begged for his box, but the supposed inspector refused to give it up, and the poor Jew was at length compelled to go away, leaving his property in the hands of the prisoner.

On the next day he was faithful to his appointment, but neither the prisoner nor his box was to be seen; and Cashin added, that he could never meet him afterwards, until a short time before the trial, when he accidentally ran against him in Bristol. He now, in turn, became the assailant, and seizing the prisoner by the collar, demanded his box. He at first denied all knowledge of him, but then finding that the Jew was determined to take decisive steps against him, said that he had been robbed of it himself. Cashin, however, called in the aid of the police, and upon the prisoner being searched, a pair of spectacles was found upon him, which had been in the box, when he had carried it off.

The jury at once declared the prisoner guilty, but of the mitigated offence of larceny only, negativing the capital charge; and he was sentenced to twelve months' imprisonment.

MARY ANNE HIGGINS, AND EDWARD CLARKE.

TRIED FOR MURDER.

The trial of these prisoners, which took place at the Warwick assizes, on the 9th of August, 1831, excited the most intense interest in the county in which it occurred, owing to the peculiar circumstances under which the crime, with which they stood charged, was committed, and the relative position of the persons accused, and the deceased. The female prisoner, Mary Anne Higgins, was rather a good-looking girl, with a fresh complexion, and pleasing, though un-intellectual expression of countenance, and her appearance produced almost universal sympathy. Clarke, however, was the object of very different feelings; and although previously to the trial his guilt was involved in much doubt, the indifference which he exhibited on being introduced to the dock, procured for him a very unfavourable consideration amongst the crowd of persons assembled.

The indictment charged that the prisoners had been guilty of the wilful murder of William Higgins, at Coventry, on the previous 22nd of March, by administering to him three drachms of arsenic. In a second count Clarke was charged as an accessory to the murder, by aiding and abetting Higgins in its commission. Clarke was twenty-one years of age, and his fellow-prisoner only nineteen years.

Upwards of forty witnesses were called, and the investigation lasted from nine o'clock in the morning until an advanced hour in the evening; the material facts of the case, however, as elicited from the evidence, may be stated in a comparatively small compass:--

William Higgins, the deceased, was a man in an humble station of life, who had saved a little money, upwards of 100_l._ of which he had placed out at interest. Upon the death of his only brother, who left four or five children behind him, the deceased, being unmarried, took one of the children (the female prisoner) to live with him, and reared her as he would his own child, intending also to leave her the little money he possessed at his death.

About the beginning of the year 1831, a courtship commenced between the girl and the prisoner Clarke, who was an apprentice at the watch factory of Messrs. Yale and Co. at Coventry, in the course of which he evidently acquired considerable influence over her mind. He was observed, in the months of February and March, in the possession of more money than usual, including one or two golden guineas, a denomination of coin of which the deceased's savings were supposed principally to have consisted; and he boasted, on more than one occasion, that he had only to go to the old man's house whenever he wanted money.

On Tuesday, the 22nd of March, the female prisoner went into a druggist's shop, and asked for two-pennyworth of arsenic to destroy rats. The young man in the shop told her that she could not have it except in the presence of a witness; upon which she went away, and did not return. She afterwards went to another shop of the same description, and made a similar application, to which she received the like answer. Upon which she observed, that she did not know what she was to do, as she came from the country. She added, however, that she had a sister residing at Coventry, and she would go and fetch her. She then left the shop, and, when passing through Spoil-street, she met a girl named Elizabeth Russell, who told her that she was going to the factory (Vale and Co.'s); upon which the prisoner said, "Just come with me as far as Messrs. Wyly's, the druggists, and I will then accompany you to the factory." Elizabeth Russell asked her what she wanted at the druggists'? To which she replied, that she wanted some arsenic to destroy rats. The girl then accompanied her to the druggists', where she received the arsenic in her presence, with a label upon the paper having the words, "arsenic, poison," printed on it. She inquired of the shopman how she was to use it, in order to destroy the rats; and he told her she might mix it up with some bread, or some substance of that kind. She then left the shop, and on going into the street she tore off the label, saying at the same time to the other girl, "What has he stuck this on for?"

They walked as far as the factory, which they reached just as the men were coming out of it to go to dinner, it being then about one o'clock in the day; they here parted, and the prisoner Higgins was joined by the prisoner Clarke, who walked with her towards her uncle's house; a waggoner who was passing along the street shortly afterwards, observed Clarke entering the uncle's house, and the niece the next moment closing the door, which Clarke had left open, after him.

At two o'clock Clarke returned to his work at the factory, and remained there until eight in the evening; about nine he was observed standing at the entry which led from the deceased's house to a yard where there was a certain convenience, from which the old man was seen apparently returning. The niece was also observed standing at the entry. Whilst the old man was in the yard, a particular kind of noise was heard, and the place afterwards exhibited the appearance of a person having been vomiting there.

At about one o'clock at midnight the female prisoner knocked up an old woman named Green, who lived a few doors off, and implored her, for God's sake, to come to her uncle, who was taken very ill. Mrs. Green accordingly got out of bed, put on her gown, and followed her to her uncle's. On her way, Mrs. Green was met by a man, who, when passing by Higgins's door the moment before, heard two voices, as he thought, in the house; but could not tell whether they were male or female voices, or the voices of a male and female. Upon Mrs. Green going in, she found the deceased lying upon his niece's bed, with his head resting on his left hand, in the attitude of a man who had been vomiting. Upon going up to him, she thought at first she heard him breathe, but found, when she stirred him, that he was stiff. She called to him, but received no answer. Observing some water on the floor near the bed, and knowing that the old man had been subject to a complaint which she called the water-swamp, she proposed going down stairs and making some tea for him. She and the niece went down accordingly, and, while below, the latter said, "Oh! I hear my uncle groan."

They immediately returned to the room, but on Mrs. Green again going to the bed, she found that the old man was dead; and also concluded, from a more particular examination of his body, that he must have been dead for at least half an hour. The niece wept bitterly, exclaiming, "Oh my dear uncle! my dear uncle! now he's gone, all my friends are gone!" She told Mrs. Green that she and Edward Clarke were to have been married on Easter Monday, and that had it not been for her poor uncle's death, they were all to have had a jovial day of it. She said that they must still be married, however, on that day, as she was in the family way; that she would put on mourning for her uncle, but put it off on the day of her marriage, and then resume it again, it being unlucky to be married in black. The statement of her being in the family way was untrue.

In answer to previous inquiries from Mrs. Green, she said that her uncle had had some pea-soup for supper; that he had been taken very ill, and gone to bed; that after she had retired to her own bed, her uncle came into her room, and becoming very sick, she got up, and placed him on her bed. Mrs. Green observed the bed in the deceased's room very much tumbled, as if by a person who had been tossing from side to side in great pain. There was also a quantity of water on the floor, with two little lumps of bread in it, which appeared to have been discharged from the stomach. Some other of the neighbours being called in to assist in laying out the deceased, Mrs. Green went away.

In the course of the morning, between six and seven o'clock, another neighbour, a Mrs. Moore, called, and, on seeing the niece, asked if it was true that her uncle was dead? She said it was, and that she was then going out to purchase mourning. She went out accordingly, and when she was gone, Mrs. Moore, seeing the place in a state of confusion, set about putting the things to rights. On going into the pantry, she perceived a basin on the shelf about three quarters filled with pea-soup. She took it to the window, and stirred it up with a spoon that lay in it; upon which she perceived that it was of a whitish colour and thick substance, different from the usual appearance of pea-soup. She replaced it on the shelf, and then examined another basin containing a similar quantity of pea-soup, which, however, was of the usual yellow colour, and of the ordinary substance. This basin she also replaced on the shelf, and said nothing until the niece returned, when she asked her the cause of the different appearances of the two soups; to which the latter replied, that she had thickened one with flour, and the other with oatmeal.

Mrs. Moore's suspicions having been excited, she gave the soup into the charge of a carpenter who had come to measure for the coffin, who locked it up in the room in which the corpse lay. A surgeon was then sent for, who opened the body, and found the coat of the stomach extremely vascular and red. He also found within the stomach a pint and a half of fluid, which he put into a bottle, and which he sent, together with the basins of soup, in a basket, to his surgery, for the purpose of having them analysed. The fluid taken from the stomach was afterwards submitted to several chemical tests, in the presence of four or five professional gentlemen, all of which led to the same result--namely, that it was impregnated with arsenic. The pea-soup was not analysed, but was given to a dog, which immediately threw it off its stomach, and consequently survived it.

When the female prisoner was taken into custody by an officer named Gardiner, she was questioned on the subject by him, in a manner which was severely reprehended by the learned judge, and excited a feeling of strong indignation in the minds of every person in court, including the learned counsel on both sides. She told him, in reply to his questions, first that she had not purchased any arsenic; and on his saying that Elizabeth Russel could prove that she had, she admitted it, but said that she had only used it to destroy rats, and that one lay dead under a particular chair. A dead mouse was found under that chair; but on its being opened, there was no appearance of inflammation in the stomach, which there must have been had it died from having swallowed arsenic. She also denied having any money in her possession; but on being searched, a box was found in one of her pockets, containing five guineas; another box contained three; and in a purse were one guinea, a half-guinea, and a seven-shilling piece. Gardiner, afterwards, when conveying her to prison through the street, no other person being present, said to her, "How could you be over-persuaded to do such a thing?" to which the unfortunate girl replied, that she had not been persuaded by any person, she had done it herself. She said she had put two tea-spoonfuls of arsenic into a basin, and poured the soup over it, and then gave it to her uncle.

There were no circumstances in the case, as against Clarke, to lead to a positive conclusion that he had been aware of the poison having been put into the soup, or of its having been purchased at all.

When called on for his defence, he put in a written address, in which he principally dwelt upon the vagueness of the evidence adduced against him, and asserted his innocence of the crime with which he stood charged. The female prisoner merely said she was innocent, and left the rest to her counsel. Several witnesses gave Clarke a good character; but none appeared for Higgins.

The learned judge summed up the case to the jury with the most anxious care and minuteness.

The jury, after deliberating for about five or six minutes, returned a verdict acquitting Edward Clarke, but finding Mary Anne Higgins Guilty.

The learned judge then, in the usual form, sentenced the wretched girl to be executed at Coventry, on Thursday, and her body to be dissected.

Throughout the whole of the trial the unhappy girl appeared to be sensibly affected by the position in which she was placed; and during the period occupied by the learned judge in passing sentence, she wept bitterly. Upon being removed from the bar, her lamentations were of the most piteous description, and she appeared deeply to deplore the death of her uncle, and the crime of which she had been guilty.

The wretched convict, during the short period intervening between her trial and execution, conducted herself in a becoming manner, and made no efforts to excuse her unnatural conduct. She declined, however, to make any statement accounting for the dreadful deed; but there can be little doubt that her object was to prevent her uncle's discovery of the robberies, of which it was perfectly evident she had been guilty, upon him. At the place of execution she appeared to be sincerely repentant, and prayed with great devotion.

She was executed at Coventry, on the 11th of August, 1831.

* * * * *

It has been frequently observed with great truth, that secret poisoning is one of the worst of crimes; because it is an offence against which even the most wary can provide no safeguard. In the case the particulars of which we have now laid before our readers, one is at a loss to account for the crime of which the wretched convict was guilty; and no less must we be surprised at the means taken by the unhappy girl to secure her object, than at the circumstance of a person in her position, with regard to her victim, engaging in so fearful a transaction. Poisoning is universally looked upon as a crime of peculiar atrocity; but the following anecdote will exhibit the diminution of the frequency of its occurrence in recent years.

In the year 1670, the Marchioness of Brinvilliers, a lady of noble family, resided in Paris. An officer named St. Croix, of good family but ruined reputation, having formed an intrigue with her, her friends procured his confinement in the Bastille, where he acquired from some Italians the art of compounding poison. On his liberation he hastened to the marchioness, and imparted to her his acquisition, as a means of revenging themselves, and of bettering their ruined fortunes. She eagerly entered into his views, and carried on the horrid trade with a diabolical activity. Her husband, father, brothers, and sister quickly perished. She is said to have disguised herself as a nun, and distributed poisoned biscuits to the poor, in order to try the efficacy of her poisons. Her career was cut short by an accident. A glass mask which St. Croix wore while preparing his poisons fell off, and he was found suffocated in his laboratory. A casket was also found there, which was directed to Madame Brinvilliers, but opened by the police. It contained poisons sufficient to destroy a community, labelled differently, according to their effects, as ascertained by experiments on animals. St. Croix's servant was seized, tortured, and confessed the crimes of his employers, in which he had aided. The marchioness escaped, but at last was captured; and having undergone the torture with inflexible courage, was beheaded. On her person was found a full confession and detail of her horrible crimes. This punishment did not put a stop to the crime of poisoning in France, which was very common between the years 1670 and 1680.

EDWARD HOGSDEN.

EXECUTED FOR RAPE.

Human nature itself must be startled at the horrible crime for the commission of which this wretch was executed. The depravity of mankind appears in him to have met with one of its fittest and most atrocious representatives.

He was indicted at the Croydon Assizes, on Wednesday the 10th of August, 1831, for a rape upon Harriet Hogsden, his own daughter, a girl only seventeen years of age.

The evidence of the prosecutrix even placed the transaction in a blacker light than that in which it had previously stood. The prisoner and his family, consisting of his wife, the witness, and a younger sister, resided on Ashtead Common, in the county of Surrey; and so many of them as were able to work had employment on the farm of Mr. Haggett, in the neighbourhood. On the 27th of July, the prisoner's wife and youngest daughter went at four o'clock in the morning to work, the prisoner having been out all night. At six o'clock the prisoner came home and found the prosecutrix alone in the house. He then committed the fearful crime which was alleged against him, under circumstances of an appalling nature, which it would be impossible to repeat. The girl implored him to desist, and used every exertion in her power to repel his vile attack, but in vain. The presence of an infant--the offspring, as the girl swore, of a former forced connexion with her unnatural parent--had no effect in inducing him to desist, but only brought down oaths of vengeance if she dared to say one word of what occurred. The girl immediately sent for her mother and informed her of the dreadful scene which had been enacted; and the prisoner was, in consequence, taken into custody.

The prisoner, in his defence, strove to elicit from the girl that she had had an acquaintance with a packman, who was the father of her child, and that he had found him in bed with her on the morning in question, but without effect; the girl swore that she had never been intimate with any man except her father!

The wretched man then adopted a new line of defence, declaring that the girl was not his daughter; but this too failed, and at length the villain, driven from his second standing-place, asserted boldly that his daughter had been a consenting party to all that had occurred.

In a written defence which he put in, he endeavoured to persuade the jury that the charge had been trumped up by his wife and the prosecutrix, because they wanted to get rid of him; and urged that it was unlikely that he should be guilty of such a crime at such a period, when he had been up all night watching his mother's grave, where her remains had only been interred the day before; a fact which on inquiry turned out to be true.

The jury unhesitatingly returned a verdict of Guilty, and the prisoner was immediately sentenced to be executed; a sentence which was carried out on Monday, the 21st of August, 1831; when the miserable convict admitted the justice of his punishment.

We shall abstain from adding any further account of the life of this diabolical ruffian, exhibiting as its circumstances do a degree of sinfulness and crime not exceeded by any of those bloodthirsty murderers whose offences it is our duty to describe.

At his execution, as during his trial, he exhibited the most callous indifference.

JOHN AMY BIRD BELL.

EXECUTED FOR MURDER.

Our readers will be astonished when they learn that this wretched malefactor, at the time of his execution, had attained the age of fourteen years only; but the circumstances of the bloody tragedy in which he was the chief actor show him to have been fully deserving the fate which befel him.

He was indicted at the Maidstone assizes on Friday, the 29th of July, 1831, for the wilful murder of Richard F. Taylor, a boy aged only thirteen years, in a wood in the parish of Chatham.

Few cases had ever produced a greater degree of interest in the county of Kent than that of this wretched culprit, and his still more unfortunate victim.

From the evidence it appeared that Taylor was the son of a poor man of the same name, a tallow-chandler, living at Stroud. On Friday, March the 4th, the little fellow, who was described as having possessed peculiar intelligence and an amiable disposition, was despatched to Aylesford to receive a sum of 9_s_., the amount of a weekly parish allowance to his father. He was dressed at the time in a "south-wester," with a belcher handkerchief round his neck, blue jacket and waistcoat, brown trousers, and shoes and stockings; and his father, at his request, lent him a knife, with which he expressed his intention to cut a bow and arrow on his way home. The boy arrived safely at Aylesford, when Mr. Cutbath, the relieving officer of the parish, gave him the usual amount of 9_s_. The boy had before been instructed by his father as to the mode of carrying the money, and the little fellow had shown him how completely and how securely he could conceal it, by putting it into a little bag, which he could carry in the palm of his hand inside a mitten which he wore; and on this occasion he was observed to place the silver in the customary manner in his hand. He usually reached home at about three o'clock, but on this afternoon he did not return. As night advanced his father became alarmed at his absence; and on the next morning he determined to go himself to Aylesford, for the purpose of making inquiries for him. The fact of his having received the money was ascertained; but all search for him proved unavailing, and his parents were left in a most painful state of doubt as to the cause of his sudden disappearance.

Several weeks passed without any circumstance being disclosed at all calculated to calm their apprehensions; and it was not until the 11th of May that the real fact of the murder of the unhappy boy was discovered. On that day a man named Izzard was passing through a bye-path in a wood situated at a distance of about two miles from Rochester, and about thirty rods from the high road,--a spot which lay in the road from Stroud to Aylesford,--when he found the body of the boy lying in a ditch. The mitten was cut from his left hand, and his clothes were disarranged as if in a scuffle; and although the body was so much decomposed as to prevent his being able to discover by what means his death had been produced, the remains of blood upon his shirt, coat, and neckerchief left no doubt of the dreadful death which he had suffered.

Information of the discovery was at once conveyed to the parents of the boy, who lost no time in proceeding to the spot; and a surgical examination of the body took place on the ensuing day. Mr. Seaton, a surgeon, conducted this inquiry; and the result was an expression of his undoubted opinion that the deceased had died of a wound which had been inflicted in his throat with a sharp-pointed instrument, the mark of which was still visible, notwithstanding the extreme decomposition of the surrounding flesh, which could not have been inflicted by the deceased himself, unless by the exercise of extraordinary determination and nerve.

A diligent search was immediately instituted for the purpose of endeavouring to find the instrument with which this terrible murder had been committed, and in a short time a common white horn-handled knife was found, corroded with rust, which had every appearance of being the weapon which had been used by the murderer. The discovery of this weapon afforded some clue to the parties implicated in the transaction; and a man named Bell, and his two sons, John Amy Bird Bell, and James Bell, respectively of the ages of fourteen and eleven years, were taken into custody. These persons lived in the poor-house, nearly adjoining the spot where the murder was committed; and the information obtained by the constable, by which the knife which had been found was discovered to have belonged to the boy John Bell, afforded conclusive testimony of one at least of them having been concerned in the foul deed.

An investigation into the circumstances of the murder took place before the magistrates at Rochester, the result of which was, that convincing proof was obtained of the implication of the two boys. During this inquiry it became necessary that the body of the deceased should be exhumed, for it had been buried immediately after it had been discovered and the coroner's jury had sat, in order that the person of the boy might be searched--an operation which had been previously most unaccountably omitted. At the time of this examination being made, the two younger prisoners were taken to the grave-yard, for the purpose of observing the effect of the proceeding upon them. The elder boy, John, maintained throughout a sullen silence; but his brother James, on being desired to enter the grave and search the pockets of the clothes of the deceased, which had been buried on his person, cheerfully complied, and brought forth the knife which the father of the unhappy lad had lent him on his setting out for Aylesford. This was the only article found upon him, and robbery, therefore, it was at once seen, had been the object of his murderer.

The prisoners after this underwent another examination before the magistrates; and upon their being again remanded, the younger boy confessed that he and his brother had committed the murder--that his brother had waylaid the deceased in the wood, while he had remained at its outskirts to keep watch. Upon this the evidence of the younger boy was accepted; and the father having been discharged from custody, although strong suspicion had been excited of his having been an accessory after the commission of the crime, the prisoner, John Amy Bird Bell, was committed for trial. The statement of the younger boy exhibited a remarkable degree of depravity in the conduct of his brother and himself. He said that they had long contemplated the murder of their wretched victim, having learned from him the errand upon which he so frequently travelled from Stroud to Aylesford and back; but various circumstances had prevented the completion of their design until the 4th of March, when it was carried out by John, who afterwards gave him 1_s_. 6_d_. as his share of the proceeds of the transaction.

On the way to Maidstone, the prisoner acknowledged the truth of his brother's statement, and pointed out a pond where he had washed his hands of the blood of his victim on his way home after the murder. He also pointed to the opening leading to the spot where the murder was committed, and saying to the officer, "That's where I killed the poor boy," added, "He is better off than I am now; do not you think he is, sir?" an observation to which the constable assented. He afterwards proceeded to describe more minutely the circumstances attending the murder. He said that he had met the deceased on his way home, and had entered into conversation with him. He induced him to enter the wood; and having taken him through a great many windings, at last sat down and declared that he had lost himself. The poor boy also sat down and began to cry, declaring that he did not know his way out; upon which he threw himself upon him and stabbed him in the throat. He had some difficulty in finding the money, but at last discovered it in his left hand, from whence he took it. He said that it consisted of three half-crowns, a shilling, and a sixpence, and that he had given the two latter coins to his brother. He added, that he wished that his brother should see him executed, for he knew he should be hanged, as it might prove a warning to him.

At the trial the prisoner exhibited the utmost indifference to his fate, and appeared to entertain no fear for the consequences of his guilt. He maintained his firmness throughout a most feeling address of the learned judge, in which he was sentenced to death, but exhibited some emotion upon his being informed that a part of the sentence was, that his body should be given over to the surgeons to be dissected.

The hardihood which he had displayed hitherto, however, deserted him when he entered his cell, and then he wept bitterly. When his mother visited him on Sunday afternoon, he accused her of being the cause of bringing him to his "present scrape." On Sunday evening, after the condemned sermon had been preached by the reverend chaplain, he made a full confession of his guilt. His statement did not materially differ from that which was given on the trial; but he added some particulars of the conduct of his victim before he murdered him, which make the blood run cold. He said that when he sprang upon Taylor with the knife in his hand, the poor boy, aware of his murderous intention, fell upon his knees before him, offered him all the money he had, his knife, his cap, and whatever else he liked--said he would love him during the whole of his life, and never tell what had happened to any human being, if he would spare him. This pathetic appeal was lost on the murderer, and, without making any answer to it, he struck the knife into his throat.

At half-past eleven o'clock on Monday morning, the solemn peals of the prison-bell announced the preparations for the execution. After the operation of pinioning had been completed, the culprit, attended by the chaplain, walked steadily to the platform. When he appeared there, he gazed steadily around him; but his eye did not quail, nor was his cheek blanched. After the rope was adjusted round his neck, he exclaimed in a firm and loud tone of voice, "Lord have mercy upon us. Pray, good Lord, have mercy upon us. Lord, have mercy upon us. All the people before me, take warning by me!" Having been asked if he had anything further to say, he repeated the same words, and added, "Lord have mercy upon my poor soul." At the appointed signal, the bolt was withdrawn, and in a minute or two the wretched malefactor ceased to exist. The remainder of his sentence was also carried out, his body being given to the surgeons of Rochester for dissection.

There were not fewer than eight thousand persons present at his execution.

RIOTS AT MERTHYR TYDVIL.

These riots, as alarming in their nature as they were distressing and mischievous in their consequences, occurred at Merthyr Tydvil, in South Wales, on the 3rd of June, 1831. The district surrounding Merthyr Tydvil was, at that time, as it is now, densely populated by persons engaged in the iron manufactories, with which that district abounds; and the alleged insufficiency of the wages was the immediate cause of the desperate riot which took place.

The preliminary to this distressing occurrence, it appears, was a turn-out, or strike, among the workmen; and the alarming manner in which these men assembled, and the threats which they held out, produced a well-grounded apprehension that violence might be done both to the persons and the property of the iron-masters. In order to meet any attack which might be made, the magistrates assembled at the Castle Inn, Merthyr Tydvil, for the purpose of devising means to meet and repel the rioters, and the result was that an application for military assistance was determined on.

A detachment of the ninety-third regiment, under the command of Major Folkes, in consequence proceeded into the town, and on the 3rd of June took up their quarters at the Castle Inn, the chief inn in the town, where the magistrates still remained assembled in consultation.

By this time, the mob had already exhibited its riotous and unlawful determination by an attack upon the Court of Requests. This court, it would appear, had become hateful to them, from its being also the place where usually offences affecting the relations of master and servant were adjudicated upon, and they demanded that the books should be given up to them. This was, of course, refused, as indeed they had been already removed to a secure place; upon which the mob commenced a most violent and determined assault upon the building. The residence of Mr. Coffin, the officer of the court, was also an object of their angry demonstrations; and the two places having been stripped of their books and furniture, a fire was immediately made of them in the street, and they were burned. The lawless and ungovernable character of the assemblage may be inferred from the fact, that many of them perished in the flames which they had themselves kindled.

This done, the rioters proceeded at once to the Castle Inn, there to give fresh proofs of their power and determination. At this time they exceeded a thousand in number, and they were loud in their demands that justice should be done them. A deputation was called in to explain their wants, who respectfully but firmly demanded an increase of wages; but the magistrates, having earnestly desired them to return to their work, pointing out to them that it was impossible that they could suffer themselves to be dictated to by a lawless mob, desired them to retire. Upon their return to their partisans they communicated what had taken place, and symptoms were soon observable in the countenances of all which denoted their determination to proceed to measures even more violent than any they had hitherto adopted.

They were addressed by several of the iron-masters present at the inn, both in English and Welsh, but without effect, for they persisted in their demands for further wages, and declared their intention to persevere until their desires were acceded to.

At this time there was a guard of soldiers stationed at the door of the inn, the smallness of whose numbers was remarkably contrasted with the vast assemblage of the workmen. The weakness of the position of the military, in case of an attack, was at once seen, and steps were immediately taken to secure the safety of the post at which they had fixed themselves. For this purpose three men were ordered to each window, in front of the building, to be ready with their muskets, in case of necessity. Renewed efforts to procure the dispersion of the crowd were then made by Mr. Crawshay and Mr. Guest, and a long parley took place. No amicable decision was, however, arrived at, and at length, when it was least expected, a spontaneous rush was made by the people upon the soldiery, who occupied the door-way and its vicinity, whose arms appeared to be the object of the attack. The force in the street was absolutely as nothing against the numbers by whom they were assailed, and orders were given to the soldiers above to fire.

At this period a scene of dreadful conflict was witnessed. The men in the windows advanced one by one to the front to fire, and each man, before he discharged his piece, took deliberate aim at one of the most violent of the mob, whom he seldom failed to bring down. As each man fired, he fell back and re-loaded, so that there was a constant succession of discharges upon the heads of the misguided people in the street. The personal conflict below, in the mean time, was no less dreadful. The first person whom the mob had attempted to seize, was a soldier, whose back was turned to them, and his assailant was a brawny fellow of upwards of six feet in height. The musket was seized from behind, but the soldier, no less active than his antagonist, immediately turned round, still maintaining his hold of his piece, and by a dexterous twist pushed his opponent from him, and received him, on his return, on the point of his bayonet, and he fell dead at his feet. The soldier was at once felled to the ground by a blow from a bludgeon, and his gun was secured by another of the rioters. At the same moment a scene almost precisely similar occurred within two yards of the same spot. A fellow seized hold of a drummer's sword, but immediately had a bayonet run through his body, and was shot at the same moment. The muskets, meanwhile, were cracking from every window, and the street was raked from one end to the other. Many of the rioters penetrated to the interior of the house, where they committed acts of violence upon the officers of the regiment, and upon the magistrates, many of whom, in their efforts to secure these assailants, received severe contusions. The rioters exhibited a degree of determination which was truly surprising; and the position of those who were in the inn was at one time highly critical. The superior discipline of the soldiery, however, prevailed against their numbers, and at length the neighbourhood was cleared.

Upon a search being now made, it was found that thirteen of the rioters lay dead upon the ground; and the mob were seen carrying off many others, who were believed to be dead or severely wounded. The soldiers themselves did not escape injury; nearly twenty of them were wounded, exclusive of Major Folkes, who had received a serious contusion on the back of the head from a bludgeon. One of the men had had his bayonet taken from him, and was stabbed in his side, while others were bleeding profusely from places where they had received blows or wounds from the people. The bodies which had been found in the street were conveyed to the stables of the inn--many of them only now parting with the last quivering remains of existence--there to wait a coroner's inquest; while those persons who had been secured, and who were wounded, received immediate surgical assistance.

The danger to the town, however, had not yet altogether ceased. The rioters having succeeded in escaping from its precincts, ascended the neighbouring heights, from whence they continued to fire upon the immediate vicinity of the Castle Inn with much precision. Many of them had procured fowling-pieces; while others employed the muskets which they had taken from the soldiery.

It may readily be supposed that an occurrence like this produced a very great degree of alarm in the vicinity of Merthyr Tydvil; and the assertion that men were hourly swelling the ranks of the insurgents, tended to increase the apprehensions which already existed. The magistrates, with great promptitude, summoned additional military force to their aid; and by night a body of cavalry, infantry, and militia, amounting in number to near five hundred men, was at their disposal. During the whole of the day exaggerated and alarming accounts of the proceedings of the rioters were brought into the town; and the number of rioters assembled in the evening was stated to be nearly eight thousand men, all of whom appeared to be endeavouring to station themselves at Coedycymer. A large body of troops, both cavalry and infantry, was in consequence despatched to Penydarren-house to keep them in awe, and prevent any further acts of mischief in that quarter.

This state of things continued during the whole of that night, but on the ensuing day a circumstance occurred which is worthy of notice, as exhibiting the ferocious intentions of these misguided men. Their head-quarters at this time were at Hirwain; and there two red flags were hoisted, as typical of their bloody determinations. This, however, was not significant enough in their opinion; and they actually procured a basin of calf's blood, in which the flags were soaked, and with which the standard-bearer's hands and arms were smeared on his appearing at their head. They were approaching Merthyr Tydvil with this emblem, when, however, they perceived the increased strength of the military, and prudently retired until they should procure fresh numbers.

On Sunday the rioters remained perfectly inactive; but on Monday it had been determined that a general meeting of the working classes should be held on the Wain Hill, near Dowlais, which was to include all the men engaged, not only in the local districts, but in the counties of Brecon and Monmouth, and nearly twenty thousand persons were expected to assemble.

At an early hour men were seen drawing towards that spot in every direction; and at ten o'clock it was announced that there were thousands in the road coming down to Penydarren, armed with bludgeons. The troops, now consisting of one hundred and ten Highlanders, fifty of the Glamorganshire Militia, and three hundred Yeomanry Cavalry, under the command of Colonel Morgan, accompanied by the magistrates, proceeded to meet them; and at Dowlais the road was found filled with the dense masses. Mr. Guest ably addressed them, but to no purpose, and the Riot Act was read; still no disposition to disperse was manifested, but a determined resistance was shown and maintained. The Highlanders were at length ordered to level their muskets; but the coolness and forbearance of all parties allowed the words of command to be given so slowly, that the consideration of the consequences intervened between them, and the last word, "Fire!" became unnecessary, to the great satisfaction of all the gentlemen present. The rioters now gave way, and many returned home. Some parted on one side, others on another; but the greater part crossed the hill to the ravine in the Brecon road, where, by regular concert, all the arms were collected under the most determined and hardened of the villains; and they were observed from the tower of Cyfarthfa Castle exercising in line with the sabres and pistols taken from the cavalry, and with the muskets of the Highlanders and their own fowling-pieces. This exercising was observed to continue during the whole morning, and repeated shots were heard fired; and about twelve o'clock a scout who had been sent out brought intelligence, that two black flags were flying in the Brecon road--a symbol of the determination of the men who fought under the banner to conquer or die. Soon after this, a movement was observed among the rioters, as if they would assume an offensive position, and every preparation was made to give them such a reception as would effectually disperse them. Their march was observed, however, to be hesitating and wavering; numbers flung away their arms and returned home; and at length the main body became so disheartened that they fairly took to their heels and disappeared.

During the whole of the remainder of that evening and the next morning, the magistrates and military were exceedingly active in apprehending such men as were suspected or were known to have taken part in these disgraceful proceedings, and fourteen of the worst among them were taken in their beds. On Wednesday night Richard Lewis, who had led the attack upon the Castle Inn, was secured. He was found skulking in a wood by two men, who secured him in a low public-house until they had obtained the aid of the military, and the prisoner was escorted into the town by a body of cavalry. His appearance and demeanour were ferocious in the extreme--in which he differed materially from the other prisoners, of whom there were now near forty, all of whom admitted their fault, and ascribed the lamentable bloodshed which had taken place to their own unjustifiable attack on the military. This expression of feeling on their part was also sufficiently accorded to by the conduct of their fellows at liberty, who, without saying one word against the course which had been taken, buried their dead companions as quickly and as quietly as possible,--a sure proof that their own consciences convicted them of lawless violence. Those who had been wounded, exhibited an equal consciousness of guilt, by abstaining from seeking medical aid, until pain or inflammation rendered such a step absolutely necessary to save their lives.

In the course of the week, the greater proportion of these misguided men who were still at liberty returned to their work; while the cases of those who were in custody were disposed of by the magistrates. Several were committed for trial, who appeared to have acted as ringleaders in this dreadful affair; but the larger number were dealt with summarily, by the infliction of the penalties of fine or imprisonment, or by their being held to bail, to be of good behaviour. Many of the muskets and sabres which had been carried off were restored; but all exhibited the greatest terror at the guilt in which they had involved themselves, and apprehensive lest they should be placed in the same position of difficulty in which their less fortunate companions were thrown.

At inquests held on the bodies of the rioters who had been killed by the soldiery, the juries returned the invariable verdict of "Justifiable Homicide;" a sufficient assurance to the country that the steps taken by the magistracy had been neither uncalled for, nor too violent.

The trials of the prisoners who had been committed for various offences of which they were alleged to have been guilty during these disturbances came on at the Cardiff summer assizes, held in the month of July.

The following sentences were passed upon those who were convicted:--

Lewis Lewis and Richard Lewis--Death, without a gleam of hope of mercy.

David Hughes, Thomas Vaughan and David Thomas--Death recorded; the judge intimating that the sentence would be commuted to transportation for life.

Eight were sentenced to imprisonment for different periods and hard labour.

Several other persons, committed to Cardiff jail for having participated in the riots, were acquitted.

The charge upon which Richard Lewis was convicted, was that of having, during the scuffle with the military before the Castle Inn, wounded Donald Black, a private in the ninety-third regiment of Highlanders, with a bayonet, in the thigh: the wound in this case was never considered dangerous.

The soldier gave his evidence upon the trial in a very manly and creditable manner, but could not identify the prisoner as the party who had used the bayonet. The only evidence of identity was that of a person who, till the riots, was unacquainted with the prisoner.

The prisoner persisted in a denial of his guilt, and declared that he would do so with his dying breath,

Lewis Lewis (called Lewis the Huntsman, from his having been a huntsman to a gentleman of the name of Llewellen, about eleven years before) was indicted jointly with Hughes, Vaughan, and Thomas, together with three other persons, and charged with having, on the 2nd of June (the day preceding the affray near the Castle Inn), stood upon a chest in the street, opposite the house of a man named Thomas Lewis, and addressed the mob to the following effect:--"I understand that the mob has taken a chest of drawers from a widow woman, who had purchased it for two guineas from the Bailiffs of the Court of Requests, and restored it to another poor widow, from whom it had been taken in execution. Now I don't think that is fair, unless she has her two guineas back; and if you are of my mind, we will go to Thomas Lewis and get it back. All you that are of my mind, raise up your hands." Upon this, the mob all raised their hands, and several of them went into Thomas Lewis's house, and compelled him to deliver up the two guineas which he had received (being the plaintiff in the execution), to one David Williams, the widow's son. They also compelled Thomas Lewis to give up several other articles. During the whole of this time Lewis Lewis remained in the street. Upon this evidence the Jury found Lewis Lewis, Hughes, Vaughan, and Thomas Guilty, and acquitted the other prisoners.

It appears that the two guineas thus extorted were restored to the prosecutor, Thomas Lewis, about a month before the assizes.

Looking at this offence with all its bearings, there seems a much less degree of moral turpitude in the crime, than that of an ordinary robbery, committed for the sake of plunder. Here the offender sought no plunder, but, from a mistaken sense of right and wrong, did that which he thought justice, by restoring to the widow the money she had paid for the chest of drawers.

At the conclusion of the trials, John Thomas, of Merthyr Tydvil, who was employed during the riots as a peace-officer, and who apprehended the prisoner, when he was committed to jail, was called by the prisoner's counsel, and was ready to prove, upon oath, that whilst the mob were assembled before the house of Mr. Coffin, at Merthyr Tydvil, some of them attacked him (J. Thomas), and violently beat him, and but for the timely aid of the prisoner, who actually fought in his defence, and in which he was himself severely beaten, he would, in all probability, have been killed.

This evidence, however, was declared inadmissible at the trial, although it was subsequently made the ground of an application for mercy on behalf of the prisoner.

The circumstances attending the conviction of these unhappy men procured for them almost universal commiseration, and petitions, signed by many thousands of persons unconnected with them in any way, were presented to the crown, with a view to obtain for them a mitigation of punishment.

In the cases of Hughes, Vaughan, and Thomas, in obedience to the suggestion of the learned judge, an immediate reprieve was granted, together with a commutation of punishment; and in that of Lewis Lewis, the huntsman, a respite for a week was at the same time allowed. The same favour was almost immediately afterwards accorded to Richard Lewis; but the most painful doubts were entertained as to his ultimate fate.

On Friday, the 5th of August, Lewis Lewis received a reprieve, together with a notification that his punishment was commuted to transportation for fourteen years, (an arrangement which was also at the same time made in the cases of Hughes, Vaughan, and Thomas,) and on the same day a respite for Richard Lewis for a fortnight was transmitted to the sheriff.

This postponement of the fatal day was looked upon by most persons as preparatory only to a commutation of punishment; but this favourable anticipation was contradicted by its being eventually determined that the case of the prisoner did not entitle him to any further consideration.

On the night before the execution, the unhappy convict was urged to make a confession of his guilt, but he positively denied that he had been in any way connected with the transaction in which he was alleged to have been an actor. He continued firm in this declaration up to the time of his death; and Lewis Lewis, who so narrowly escaped the same fate, and who was his brother, subsequently confirmed the assertion which he had made, and stated that he could have given satisfactory evidence of his brother having been altogether absent from the affray.

The execution took place at Cardiff, on Saturday the 20th of August, 1831.

JOHN HOLLOWAY.

EXECUTED FOR THE MURDER OF HIS WIFE.

This horrible murder, almost unparalleled in atrocity, was discovered on Saturday the 13th of August, 1831.

It would appear that on Friday the 12th of the month, two men named Maskell and Gillam, who were farm-labourers, were passing through a place called Rottingdean, near Preston, in the neighbourhood of Brighton, when, on their arriving at a particular nook, much frequented on account of its rustic beauty, called the Hole-in-the-Wall, they fancied that they perceived that the earth had been disturbed. They pushed away some of the mould with a stick, and observed a piece of red printed cotton protruding, but at the time they took no particular notice of the occurrence. On their return home, however, to their respective families, they mentioned what they had seen, and Gillam's wife remarked that it was possible that a child might be buried there,--the offspring of some illicit connexion. The idea was adopted by Gillam, and on the following morning, at six o'clock, accompanied by his wife and some other persons, he again proceeded to the same spot, for the purpose of making a further search and investigation. He enlarged the opening he had made in the ground, and taking hold of the protruding cotton, he drew nearly a yard of it out of the earth, and his wife remarked that she was sure that it was the gown of a grown-up person.

Upon this, it was determined to convey intelligence of the transaction to a constable, and Elphick, the officer of the village of Preston, was summoned to their assistance. On his arrival, he recommended that the search should be further prosecuted, and Gillam procured a spade, for the purpose of digging round the spot. As every spadeful of earth was removed, the suspicions of the persons assembled were more strongly confirmed, and at length, at a distance of about eighteen inches only from the surface, a human thigh was found,--immediately afterwards another thigh was dug up; and then a large bundle, wrapped in a dress made of the same description of cotton as that first seen, was produced. The horror-stricken crowd which by this time had assembled was scarcely surprised, on this bundle being opened, to find that it contained the trunk of a human body; but they were still further alarmed at perceiving that the head and arms were wanting. The body was still clothed in the stays, chemise, and petticoats; and the gown, which had first attracted attention, appeared to have been loosely wrapped over it, and an effort had been made to tie it round with a cord, which presented the appearance of a petticoat-string.

The fact of this dreadful discovery spread like wildfire through the neighbouring village, and soon found its way to Brighton; and crowds of persons thronged to the spot, induced as well by feelings of curiosity, as a desire to ascertain whether they were able to identify the remains as those of any person who might be known to them. Amongst others who were thus impelled to the spot, was a Mrs. Bishop, the wife of a labourer at Brighton, who speedily declared her belief that the body was that of her sister; and the comparison of the gown with a piece of cotton sewn into her patch-work quilt, which had been given to her by her sister, and with which it corresponded in pattern in every particular, convinced her that she was not mistaken in her belief.

An investigation was now immediately set on foot with a view to the discovery of the means by which the body had been placed in the position in which it had been found, which resulted in a conviction that the husband of the deceased, John Holloway, a labourer employed on the Chain Pier at Brighton, had murdered her, and had thus disposed of her remains, in order to conceal the circumstance of her death. From the inquiries which were made, it was elicited that the unhappy deceased was a native of Ardingley in Sussex, and at an early period of her life had quitted her native village for the purpose of procuring service. At the age of twenty-five she filled a situation as household servant in a public-house at Brighton, and there unfortunately she formed an acquaintance with Holloway, then only nineteen years of age, which terminated in an illicit connexion and her pregnancy. While in this condition, the unfortunate young woman was compelled to quit her situation, and, being driven to a state of destitution and want, she applied to the parish-officers for relief. The result of her application was, that Holloway was taken into custody upon a bastardy warrant, and, at the instigation of the parish-officers, was compelled to marry Celia Bashford, the unfortunate object of his seduction. Holloway, it appears, was the son of a driver in the Royal Engineers, and had exhibited considerable waywardness of disposition in his youth. He had successively filled the occupations of a butcher's boy, a baker's boy, and a bricklayer's labourer; and now, upon his marriage, he enlisted in the Blockade Service. A union founded upon such a connexion was not likely to produce much happiness to either of the contracting parties; and the difference of age and habits tended still further to produce an estrangement between Holloway and his wife. During the six years which intervened between the marriage and the death of the unfortunate woman, they scarcely lived together for two consecutive months; and at length Holloway, having quitted the Preventive Service in the year 1829, obtained employment on the Chain Pier, which was then in the course of construction, and took a woman named Ann Kennard to live with him as his wife, Celia Holloway then residing with her friends. Shortly after this, Holloway was again taken into custody by the parish-officers, in consequence of his leaving his wife chargeable upon the poor-rates; and at this time an order was made by the magistrates, that he should make a weekly allowance to her of 2_s._ Kennard, it appears, was usually employed to convey this pittance to Mrs. Holloway, and frequent quarrels took place between them; but Holloway also occasionally visited his wife, and she once or twice staid with him for a few days, during Kennard's absence. This state of things continued until about five weeks before the discovery of the murder, at which time Mrs. Holloway was living with a Mrs. Symonds, at No. 4, Cavendish-place North, Brighton, expecting in about a month to be put to bed of her third child by her husband, those which had before been born being both dead. The unhappy woman had made the usual preparations on such occasions, and Mrs. Symonds and her daughter had assisted her in making and washing such baby-linen as she would require.

Holloway at this time commenced his diabolical scheme for her murder. Calling upon her, he expressed a wish that their former animosities should be forgotten, and that they should again live together as they had done when they were first married. The foolish woman, who had throughout expressed and exhibited the fondest affection for him, listened to his proposals, and it was arranged that he should fetch her on a certain day, to conduct her to lodgings which he had taken for her, the locality of which, however, he did not describe. On Thursday the 14th of July, Holloway called for his wife at Mrs. Symonds'; but he first took away her boxes, in which she had previously packed her own clothes and her baby-linen. Mrs. Holloway expressed some apprehension that he would not go back; but he kept his promise, and returned for her in about an hour, and took her away, attired in a gown similar in pattern to that in which her body was subsequently found wrapped. From this time she was never again seen alive. We have already stated, that it was on the 13th of August that the body of Mrs. Holloway, and the circumstance of the murder, were discovered. We shall now proceed to detail the occurrences which subsequently took place.

No sooner were the mutilated remains of the unfortunate deceased dug from the ground, than an instant search was set on foot by those present, with a view to the discovery of the remaining members of her body. This, however, proved unavailing; but in a ditch close by, and in an adjoining field, some portions of a box were found, bearing the marks of bloody fingers, and also of coagulated blood, which appeared to have oozed upon its inner surface. These portions of the box, like the gown, were soon recognised as having belonged to Mrs. Holloway, and steps were in consequence at once taken to secure her husband and his paramour, Mrs. Kennard. The latter was first found, residing at a house No. 23, High-street, Brighton, and was immediately taken into custody; and Holloway, on the same evening, learning that inquiries had been made for him, surrendered himself into custody.

In the mean time, the remains of the deceased woman had been conveyed to the barn of a farm at Preston, there to await a coroner's inquest, and surgical assistance had been called in, in order that a minute examination of the body might be made. Mr. Hargreave and Mr. Richardson, surgeons of Brighton, were selected to perform this duty, and their evidence was taken at the inquest which was held on the following day (Sunday) at the Crown and Anchor, Preston. They stated, that the body was in a state of considerable decomposition, and that they were unable to ascertain, from any appearances which it presented, what had been the cause of death. The legs, arms, and head appeared to have been removed from the body with considerable nicety and skill; and, from the aspect of the points at which the severance had been made, they were inclined to believe that a butcher or a surgeon had performed the operation. They were not cut off as if a saw had been employed to divide the bone, but they had been cut from the sockets of the various bones with great precision. They had subsequently made an internal examination of the body of the deceased, and, from the appearances which they observed, they believed that the deceased had arrived at a period of her pregnancy within a short time of its completion. They were inclined to believe that parturition had actually commenced, brought on no doubt by alarm or over exertion, when the death of the mother terminated the life of the child. The head of the deceased woman, it was added, was taken off at the sixth cervical vertebra.

This evidence, together with proof of the circumstance of the deceased having quitted her lodgings in the manner which we have described, wearing the gown in which her body was found wrapped, and carrying the box, the fragments of which had been discovered, and of Holloway's frequent expressions of ill-will towards her, constituted the whole of the testimony produced before the coroner's jury; and upon that a verdict of "Wilful Murder against John Holloway" was returned, and he was committed to Horsham jail to await his trial at the Assizes.

The woman Mrs. Kennard, however, as we have already stated, had been taken into custody; and it became the duty of the magistrates to proceed further with the investigation of the circumstances of this atrocious case affecting her. She was brought up before the Brighton bench of magistrates on the Monday, for the purpose of being examined; but before any evidence was adduced, she begged to be allowed to make a statement. She then said that she had been married to the prisoner Holloway under the name of Goldsmith, (his mother's maiden name,) on the 16th of March, 1830, at Rye; and she assured the magistrates of her perfect innocence of all participation in the crime charged against her. The evidence which had been taken before the coroner was then again produced; and other witnesses were called, whose testimony more particularly affected the prisoner. These persons deposed, that for about three months before the period at which the murder was supposed to have been committed, Mr. and Mrs. Goldsmith (as the prisoner and Holloway were called) lodged at the house, No. 7, Margaret-street, Brighton. About the time of the murder, from Thursday the 14th to Sunday the 17th of July, they were observed to be rather irregular, and Holloway, on the Saturday night, was out until a very late hour. On the Friday the prisoner called at the house of Mrs. Leaver, a neighbour, and requested that she would lend her a wheelbarrow, but this request was not granted until the following day, in consequence of the absence of the husband of the woman from home. On the Saturday, however, Holloway went for the barrow himself; and on the same night, after Mrs. Leaver had retired to bed, and at a late hour, she heard it return to the yard at the back of her house. Subsequently to the apprehension of the prisoner, an examination of the apartment which she and Holloway had occupied in High-street was made, and many articles, recognized by Mrs. Symonds as having belonged to the deceased, were found concealed behind the drawers; while the landlady of the house, Mrs. Thomas, stated that she had purchased various articles of baby-linen from the prisoner, which were also identified as those which had been prepared by the murdered woman.

This was the whole of the evidence which was produced upon this examination; but on the next day a discovery was made of a most important character to the case. The high constable of Brighton had displayed the most unremitting anxiety in his exertions to discover the head and arms of the deceased woman. Every inch of the ground in the neighbourhood of Rottingdean had been minutely examined, under the apprehension that they might be concealed there, but without effect; and on Tuesday night, Mr. Folkard, as a last resource, directed that the privies of the houses in Margaret-street should be searched. The men had proceeded in their investigation for several hours; but when almost all hope was destroyed, they declared that they found their progress impeded by a solid substance, which turned out to be a human leg with the stocking on. This discovery was immediately succeeded by the production of the other leg similarly clothed; of the two arms, covered with the remains of the gown found at Rottingdean on the body, and lastly of a bed-tick containing the head of the unfortunate woman, from which almost all the hair had been removed.

This new and important feature in the case was immediately communicated to the magistrates, by whose directions Messrs. Hargreave and Richardson proceeded to examine the newly-discovered remains; and the result of their inquiry was an expression of the certainty of their being portions of the same frame with the body which had been found near Preston.

The police during the week used every possible exertion to procure fresh evidence, and many new and important disclosures were made; but, on the following Saturday, all doubts which might have been entertained of the guilt of Holloway were set at rest, by his confession of his having committed the murder. It had been already discovered that, a few days before the murder, he had taken a house, No. 11, North Steyne-row, or, as it was more familiarly called, Donkey-row, in which it was supposed the murder had been committed; and the statement which he now made of his guilt confirmed the suspicions which had been entertained. He informed the magistrates, in whose presence he detailed the circumstances of his crime, that he had long contemplated depriving his wife of life; but for three months had been unable to induce her to accompany him out at night. At last he persuaded her that he had taken lodgings, at which they were again to live together; and having first removed her box and bedding, conducted her to a little house in Donkey-row. Having arrived at the intended scene of slaughter, he shut the door, and knocked her down; she resisted with all her strength, but he threw himself upon her, and succeeded in strangling her. She screamed out, but he stifled her cries; and finding her cease to struggle, he took out his pocket-knife, and cut her throat in two places, so as to make his bloody scheme more secure. He then considered how he should dispose of the body, and determined upon removing it piecemeal. With this view he separated her head from her body, and afterwards divided her, limb from limb, at the joints. The head, arms, and legs he disposed of in the privy, where they were found; and the trunk and thighs he resolved to inter in Lover's-walk, a retired place which he had before marked. For this purpose he emptied her clothes from her box, and in their room deposited the dreadful and, as it turned out, the first evidence of his enormous guilt. This box he conveyed in a barrow to the place already described, where he dug a hole, and, as he thought, effectually disguised every sign of his atrocious cruelty. Fortunately, he omitted completely to cover the whole of the gown in which the trunk was tied up; and thus his guilt was discovered. The box he broke to pieces, and scattered about. In conclusion, he expressed an anxious wish that Kennard should suffer no punishment for her supposed implication in a crime of which, he declared, she was wholly innocent.

A gentleman who was present at the confession, describes the scene in the following terms:--"I may truly say, that of all the awful and distressing scenes I ever witnessed (and it has been my lot to witness many), the confession of this wretched man far exceeded them. That he began his statement with an air of calmness it is true, but it was what no one who looked on him could mistake for that of indifference. Such, indeed, as it was, it continued only through the relation of his first acquaintance with the murdered woman, his subsequent marriage to her, and his quarrels with her friends. When his remarks approached the scene of the murder, his firmness altogether deserted him; long, long was it before he could pronounce the dreadful words which recorded his guilt; and, in the meantime, his cries, yea, almost his shrieks, for the mercy of God upon his soul, were most horrible, most appalling. One of the magistrates was so overcome as to be obliged to leave the room; and if the prisoner had not been supplied with a glass of water, he would, apparently, have fainted. We have read of the agonies of the rack, but who shall describe the agonies of remorse? I witnessed them then, and never, never shall I forget them--those agonies which, I may literally say, amidst weeping and wailing, and gnashing of teeth, drove the wretched culprit to sign his own death-warrant, by unburdening a conscience which would not let him rest day or night."

On Monday, 22nd of August, Mrs. Kennard was again examined before the magistrates. The discovery of the head, &c. was then proved in evidence, and some witnesses were called with a view of showing the prisoner's implication in the transaction of their concealment. These persons stated that, at about the time of the murder, they saw Holloway going to his house in Margaret-street, carrying a large bundle in a sack, and followed by the prisoner, who appeared to be anxiously watching the load; and that, at about the same time, but on another occasion, they had also seen them together, Holloway carrying a small tick bag, similar to that which had been found in the privy. Other persons proved that Holloway had rented the house in Donkey-row at 2_s._ 6_d._ per week, and that Mrs. Kennard had been seen there with him; while a witness, named Mary Marchant, who lived in the house next to that occupied by Holloway in that Row, gave very remarkable testimony. She proved that, on the night in which Holloway first went to the house, she heard some one, after she had been in bed for some time, cough and groan in an extraordinary manner. She remarked the circumstance to her husband, who also heard the noise, and observed, "That poor woman must be very ill." They, however, heard no more. On the next day the shutters of the house were not taken down; but on Saturday she observed Holloway and the prisoner go away from the house with a wheel-barrow, containing a box made of wood, similar to the pieces which had been found near Rottingdean.

The prisoner betrayed much anxiety while this witness was being examined; and, notwithstanding the repeated advice of the magistrate to be silent, she persisted in making a statement which surprised every one who heard it. She declared, in the most solemn manner, that she was not with the prisoner on the Thursday night (the night when the deceased was inveigled from her lodgings) or on the Saturday night (the time when it was supposed Holloway and the prisoner removed the body to Preston from Donkey-row, in a box upon a wheel-barrow), for she was quite positive she never stirred from her lodgings at Mr. Leaver's, in Margaret-street, on those nights. She remembered (she said) that Holloway went out with the barrow which he had borrowed, and he came home to her, before ten o'clock, and said he was going a smuggling. He asked her to let him have her gown, shawl, and bonnet, to disguise himself; and after endeavouring to prevail upon him not to do that which was so dangerous, she let him have the things. She then went to bed, as she had no others to wear. He was out till twelve o'clock that night, and at six o'clock the next morning she found the gown, shawl, and bonnet, in the room below.

Other witnesses were examined, whose testimony was not very material, except as corroboratory of that which had been already received; but a pawnbroker produced a shawl, which had been pledged with him for 1_s._ 6_d._ on the 15th of July, by the prisoner, who gave her own name and address, and which was identified as having been worn by the deceased on the day of her quitting Mrs. Symonds's house.

This was all the evidence produced on this day; but on the following Thursday a new discovery was made, which also excited considerable observation. On the day in question a workman named Allen, who was employed in an unfinished house in Trafalgar-street, on proceeding to his work, found that a chemise, deeply stained with blood, had been thrown into the building since he had left work on the preceding night. The shift, on being examined, was found to bear clear and distinct marks of blood having flowed down its centre from the top nearly to the bottom, but there it appeared to have met with some obstruction, and, diverging to the right and left, it had stained a spot on each side nearly six inches wide, and had then again met below, but had then ceased to flow any further. The garment was exhibited to Mrs. Symonds, who had no hesitation in declaring her positive conviction that it had belonged to the deceased; and the impossibility of either of the prisoners having thrown it in the place where it was found, tended to a conclusion that other persons had been engaged with them in the murder.

In consequence of the suspicions raised by this circumstance, two men, named White, (alias Jenkins), and Thomas Carver, were taken into custody. They were proved to have occupied the house in Donkey-row after Holloway had left it, but no other circumstance could be elicited against them. They, however, with Mrs. Kennard, were remanded for farther examination.

At the next inquiry before the magistrates, only one new fact was produced in evidence against the female prisoner, which was highly important, as it traced her to the vicinity of Lover's-walk on the night on which the body was buried, and she was committed for trial; but the other prisoners, White and Carver, were discharged.

In the course of the time which intervened between her committal and the trial, Holloway made a new confession, going more into detail upon the subject of the circumstances of the murder. As some of the facts stated by him affected his fellow-prisoner, it was deemed advisable that she should be present while he made his statement. The following comprises the main details contained in this declaration:--

When, at four o'clock in the afternoon of Thursday, the 14th of July, Holloway took his wife from her lodgings, they went straight to the house, No. 11, Donkey-row, which he had hired expressly for the commission of the murder; and to which he had, just before, taken her things. On Holloway opening the street-door, his wife first entered, and was going up stairs (which were immediately opposite to, and very near the door), when he called out to her to stop a moment, on which she sat down upon one of the stairs a little way up. She was in this situation when, without fastening the door, he approached her, as though he was going to kiss her, and, suddenly tying a cord about her neck, threw himself upon her body, and exerted all his force to strangle her. The poor creature, in resisting, fell to the bottom of the stairs, where she continued struggling; Holloway, with an end of the cord in each hand, stretching it, with fiend-like energy, to extinguish life. Feeling unequal to, or wishing to make a quicker work of the murderous task, he demanded aid. It was then that the resistance of the victim was speedily overcome, and her destruction, together with that of the infant in her womb, was effectually accomplished!

The only blood which came from the deceased before her death, was from her nose; it fell upon the stairs, and Holloway scraped part of it away with a knife.

After having committed the murder, the next question was, what was to be done with the body? Holloway's first idea was, to cut it up at once, and then remove it piecemeal. This design was, however, postponed, to allow the blood to congeal! He then dragged the body by the cord, with which he had effected the strangulation, to a closet beneath the stairs, where he hung it on a nail for the night. [The high constable subsequently examined the closet, and discovered the nail and several stains of blood.] And the clothes of the deceased--which had been sorted before her arrival, the articles fit for the pawnbroker's shop being separated from those which were not--were carried home, the same evening, to his lodgings.

The next day Holloway went to the house, and, having taken down the body and laid it on the floor, cut off the head (the blood appearing like a jelly), then the legs, and afterwards (for the convenience of packing the trunk in the box) the arms and thighs. He then emptied the chaff out of the ticking, and put the head, arms, and legs, into it, so that it formed a bag. It was then arranged that he should go first with his bag to the privy in Margaret-street, Kennard following, to see if any blood oozed out. The first attempt, he said, failed. They returned to Donkey-row, and put the head and limbs into a small box, and then into the ticking, and he carried them away, Kennard following him.

Holloway said, that when he took away the box containing the trunk and thighs on the Saturday night, Kennard followed the barrow with a pick-axe and shovel, done up as a parcel, under her arm. On reaching the Hare and Hounds, they turned to the left, leading to New England Farm, and went across the field to the copse, on arriving at which it was so dark that he could not see to dig the grave; so that they hid the box, and the pick-axe and shovel, in the bushes, and returned home with the empty barrow. By daylight on the following morning (the Sabbath day!) they were again at the spot. He had great difficulty in penetrating the earth, by reason of the roots of trees, which spread beneath the surface in all directions. Time rapidly advanced, and he had made but little progress. After an hour's labour, he had not dug a hole half large enough to admit the box. He threw down the implements in despair, uncorded the box, took out the body and the thighs, and deposited them in the ground the best way he could. He broke the box into pieces, concealing them in different places near the spot; and, with Kennard, got back to his lodgings before anybody was stirring.

Holloway, while making his confession, was frequently interrupted by Kennard. Whenever he introduced her name at critical periods of the dreadful tale, she threw herself into paroxyms of rage, and loaded him with execrations. "The Devil's at your elbow;" "The Devil's in your eyes;" were expressions which she frequently used. Her violence did not incense Holloway, who looked upon her only with an eye of pity. There was a seriousness of manner and of tone in the man, which, united with the fearful import of his language, inspired those present (Kennard alone excepted) with feelings bordering on awe. It was a scene in real life, compared with which, the most finished dramatic exhibition would sink into insipidity.

During the subsequent period of his confinement, previously to his trial, Holloway conducted himself in jail with a degree of hardihood and even ferocity, which was surprising, after the confessions which he had made. He endeavoured to excite some of his fellow-prisoners to murder the governor of the jail, in order that they might effect their escape, and otherwise behaved in a most outrageous manner.

At his trial, which took place at Lewes, on Wednesday, the 14th of December, 1831, he was even more remarkable for the brutality of his demeanour, than he had been during his imprisonment. Upon his being arraigned, his manner was such as to be fully in accordance with the atrocious nature of his crime. The court was excessively crowded, and upon the names of the prisoners being called by the Clerk of the Arraigns, a thrill of horror ran through the assembled crowd, which was audibly expressed, in a murmur which gave much solemnity to the scene. Kennard, upon her name being called, burst into tears and fainted; but Holloway stood boldly forward, and seemed to beard the court with a look of defiance.

Upon the indictment being read, Holloway appeared confounded by the verbose and technical forms of expression. He at length exclaimed, "Read all that again, I don't understand a word of it."

The indictment was again read. At another point he exclaimed, with evident surprise, "What! does that mean me?"

On the prisoner being asked whether he was "Guilty?" he fiercely exclaimed, "I am not guilty of all that that paper charges me with."

By the Court: Do you plead "Guilty," or "Not guilty?"

Holloway (with the utmost ferocity): "By the laws of my country I am not guilty till you can prove me so."

By the Court: Well, you plead "Not guilty." Remove the prisoners from the bar.

The female Kennard was almost lifted from the bar. She seemed unable to stand. Holloway again looked ferociously round the court, and retired with a firm bold step.

Upon the prisoners being again brought up, their demeanour was scarcely altered. Mr. Justice Patteson presided on the bench.

Mr. Long and Mr. Dowling conducted the case for the prosecution, and the trial then proceeded. The whole of the evidence having been gone through, the learned judge expressed an opinion, that the female prisoner was not sufficiently affected to be liable as a principal, and she was directed to be acquitted, and the confession of Holloway was then put in and read, in the following terms. Such portions of it as affected Kennard could not, of course, be received as evidence against her:--

"Anne Kennard knew nothing of this circumstance going to happen until I had got the whole of Celia's clothes in that house. I went home and had her down to the house, and then I acquainted her with what I was going to do; she said I had better not do it for fear of being discovered; I told her I would trust to that if she would assist me; she said 'Yes, she would,' and then, as I had got the clothes, we knew not at first hardly how to dispose of them. I said we would pledge some and burn what would not pledge, and we immediately lotted out what would pledge, and Kennard took them, and I believe pledged them, and I then went and fetched Celia. Celia came with me to the south end of North Steyne-row; I left Celia there, and told her to wait till I came for her, or called her. I went into this house in North Steyne-row. I told Anne she was just by there, and it was agreed that she should conceal herself in the cupboard. She did conceal herself in the cupboard; I then went and called Celia; when she was in the house I shut the door; I told her I wanted to wait a little while, because my partner lived up stairs, and he was in bed, and I must wait until he got up; and with that pretence I kept her in conversation for some time, and at last I asked her to sit down on the stairs, and then, on a pretence of kissing her, I passed a line round her neck and strangled her. As soon as I passed the line round her neck, I found it was rather more than I could manage myself, and I called Anne, and God knows she assisted me, by taking hold of each end of the rope with me, and she held the rope with me until the poor girl dropped, and then I held the cord for a time myself; and Anne made use of this expression--'Do not let your heart fail you.' When I thought she was dead, or nearly dead, I dragged her into a cupboard or coal-hole under the stairs, and under the stairs there is some nails. I did not remove the cord, but took an over-handed knot, and I made the ends fast to the nails, so that she was then hanging by the neck; I proposed then cutting her. Anne Kennard told me to wait until the blood was settled; then, I believe, the next thing we did was to burn the things, the bonnets particularly; the people who went into the house after we left must have seen the wire in the grate, which I took notice of being there, either that or the next night, I cannot call to mind which, that we proceeded to cut the body. I emptied the chaff out of the bed, to have the tick to carry part of the body away in, and then I cut off the head first, and I think the arms I carried with the head. Anne Kennard was present; I never went to the house to do anything with the body, but what I took Anne Kennard with me, and the day that I brought the head and the other part away, she was to walk behind me to see if any blood came through; the first attempt we made would not answer, because the blood came through the tick. Anne told me of it, and we went back and put it into a little box, and then into the tick; that night after dark Anne came down with me, and we brought a small tub with us; I went and got a light, and then some water in the tub, and after we had placed the body in the box, Anne washed the kitchen to clear it of the blood, and the next day I borrowed a wheel-barrow, and took it down to the house, and then I borrowed a pick and shovel, and that night Anne and me went down to the house, and we took the box the body was in (I did) on the wheel-barrow. I wheeled the barrow, and Anne Kennard was to follow me with a pick and shovel. She did not know where I was going to. She kept at a small distance from me until we got near the Hare and Hounds. We turned up the hill and then down the footpath, that leads to where the body was found. I made an attempt to dig a hole that night, but I found it too dark; we just put the box under some bushes near the spot, and also the pick-axe and shovel; Anne Kennard was with me all the time. We then took the wheelbarrow home. We went down again in the morning as soon as it was light, and I dug a hole with an intent to bury the box and all; but I found that would take up too much of my time, because of the roots of the trees. I took the body out, and threw it into the hole. I healed the body up, and then broke the box up, and hid away the pick and shovel, and Anne Kennard and me went and fetched them away the next night; I had been round once since the body had been buried, to see if everything was right, and I sent Anne Kennard twice, and she told me she went; I think the people where we lodged must well remember she went away with me when I went away with the wheel-barrow. She did not go the same road as I did; she went one road, and I went another; and I think the people must remember Anne went out early the next morning; we both went out early, but returned early, before the people, Leavers, were up. A man of the name of Watts, in North Steyne-row, must remember Anne Kennard being there several times with me, and one time in particular, when we were going away, and Anne had then got a bundle of some kind to take away from the house; and a woman that was talking to either Master Watts or his wife abused me very much, told me that was not my wife that I was with, and said that she had got a bundle then to pawn (meaning the bundle she had got with her). I forget the person's name that I spoke of, but her husband is a bricklayer. I declare I do not disclose this out of any envy or malice, and I have done the best I could ever since I have been confined to conceal it, but I find it impossible; I simply do it to convince the world at large who are the guilty and who are the innocent. I likewise declare before God and you, gentlemen, that I feel, if it was my own father, it is out of my own power to conceal it.

(Signed)

"JOHN WILLIAM HOLLOWAY.

"Saturday, Sept. 3, 1831."

The reading of this confession produced a terrific impression in the court; and the prisoner, notwithstanding his efforts to appear undisturbed, was evidently labouring under extreme mental excitement. Upon his being called upon for his defence, he declared that he had no wish to screen himself from the punishment of death, which he knew awaited him; but he urged that cases had occurred where, although the evidence had been more conclusive than in this, the persons charged had escaped.

The jury immediately returned a verdict of "Guilty," and the learned judge sentenced the prisoner to be executed on the following Friday, and directed his body to be given up to be anatomised. During the passing of the sentence the wretched man endeavoured again to assume a firm demeanour, but his manner was embarrassed; the blood forsook his cheeks; and although at the conclusion of the address of the learned judge he pronounced the word "Amen" pretty firmly, he was evidently sensibly affected.

On his return to his cell, he threw himself on his bed in an agony of pain; and his cries for pardon from the Almighty, and his petitions that he might be saved from everlasting damnation, were distinctly audible through the prison-yard. On the following day he was visited by a gentleman named Nate, who had formerly been his employer, and to whom he re-asserted the truth of the confession which he had made. He also stated that he had seduced several women, whom he had forsaken; and that he had attempted to violate two others. His account of one of these attempts was as follows:--He had induced her to promise to accompany him in an excursion out to sea. "She was true to her appointment," he said. "The morning was foggy, but I took the boat right out, and I kept pulling as hard as I could long after we had lost sight of the shore. She became alarmed at last; and on my attempting to take advantage of her, I found out my mistake, for she told me boldly that before she would comply with my wishes she would leap overboard. Her determined spirit so confounded me, that I could not look her in the face, and I rowed her back and took leave of her."

On Friday morning he continued his devotions till nine o'clock, when he adverted, for the last time, to his forced marriage, and railed against the overseers of the parish of Ardingly. He had written, he said, an account of the whole affair, which he hoped would be a warning to overseers not to destroy the happiness of young persons as they had done his.

At twelve o'clock he mounted the scaffold with a firm step. There was a strong expression of disgust among the spectators. He fell on his knees and prayed for a short time, after which the rope was placed round his neck, and the cap drawn over his eyes. He then advanced to the front of the scaffold, and in a firm voice spoke as follows:--

"Now, my dear friends, I need not tell you that sin has brought me to this untimely end. As sin has brought me to this untimely end, I would entreat you to be aware that there is not one among you who, if he follows a life of sin and folly, may not be brought to the same condition: for when you trifle with sin, you know not where it will end. I know I suffer justly: I have spilt innocent blood; but, however deep my guilt, I hope in the mercy of that God who has said to the penitent, all your sins and blasphemies shall be forgiven you. Therefore turn from your sins, and the Lord will forgive you. After such a warning as this you now witness, you will have none to blame but yourselves if any of you should be overtaken in sin, and follow courses which lead to certain destruction. Consider seriously what I say, for in a short time the eye that now sees you will see you no more, and in a few years you will be in eternity. May the Lord bless you and keep you from sin, by which I am brought to this dreadful end; and may God Almighty, through the Lord Jesus Christ, receive my spirit!"

After he had finished his speech, he retired back on the platform, and the drop fell. The struggles of the culprit continued for some minutes.

At one o'clock the body was cut down, and having been placed in an oblong box, was delivered to a young surgeon connected with Brighton Infirmary, to which place it was instantly conveyed; where a public exhibition of the body of the murderer afterwards took place.

Holloway at the time of his execution was only 26 years of age, and was a remarkably small man, scarcely reaching five feet in height. Among his confessions in jail, was one also that he had robbed a man of his watch in a barn some years before; and that he had been tried for the robbery, but acquitted.

His execution took place on Friday, the 16th of December 1831.

The woman Kennard was at the following assizes tried as an accessory to the murder of Mrs. Holloway, the previous determination of her case having been prevented by her being confined with a child, the offspring of her guilty paramour; but after a long and patient inquiry, a verdict of Not Guilty was returned.

JOHN BISHOP, AND THOMAS WILLIAMS.

EXECUTED FOR THE MURDER OF AN ITALIAN BOY.

The universal horror which had been produced by the dreadful disclosures which were the result of the case of Burke and Hare, had not yet subsided when the atrocious crimes of these monsters were discovered and brought to light. Frequent mysterious disappearances of persons in a humble sphere of life are alleged to have taken place previously to this melancholy proof of the continuance of the system shown to have been carried on by Burke and his associates; and the police were on the watch, anxiously waiting for any clue which might lead to the discovery of the causes of these events, or which might tend to exhibit the existence of the practices in London which were so much apprehended. The opportunity which they sought was at length given to them in the case of these miscreants; which, while it afforded positive evidence of the horrible crimes which had been committed, delivered into their hands the men who had been their perpetrators.

We have already alluded to the evils of the absence of legislative provisions for the supply of subjects for dissection to the medical schools of the large cities through this empire, and it will not be necessary to enter now at large upon that question. It is, however, worthy of remark, that although the crimes committed in the Scottish metropolis were insufficient to awaken the attention of Parliament to the importance of some enactment in reference to this most distressing subject, the excitement produced throughout every grade of society by the discovery of this new blow to the general safety and welfare of mankind had that effect. A measure which had been before recommended to Parliament to render the anatomisation of dead bodies legal, and to regulate the supply of subjects to the medical schools, now received universal attention; and some objectionable provisions having been struck out, and replaced by others of a less questionable character, it received the assent of the legislature.

It was on Saturday, the 5th of November, 1831, that these persons were apprehended for the crime of which they were subsequently found guilty, and for which they were executed. They were immediately conveyed to the station-house of the F division of police, in Covent-garden, and on the same night were taken in custody before Mr. Minshull, the sitting magistrate at Bow-street Police-office. Bishop and Williams, however, were not the only persons then charged; but James May and James Shields were also in custody, an allegation of suspicion of murder being made against them all generally. At this period little more than a mere declaration that they were suspected to have been concerned in the murder of a boy about fourteen years of age whose body they had offered for sale at King's College was made, and the prisoners were remanded to await the result of the inquest which was directed to be held upon the body of the deceased.

On Tuesday the 8th of November, a coroner's jury sat upon the remains of the unfortunate boy; the prisoners being in attendance to hear the evidence adduced, and to give their account of the transaction.

The first witness called was William Hill, the porter at the dissecting-room of King's College. He stated that at about a quarter before twelve on the previous Saturday, the 5th of November, the bell of the dissecting-room having been rung, he went to the door, and found the prisoners Bishop and May there. He had known them both before, from their having supplied the college with subjects for dissection. May asked him whether "he wanted anything;" which, in the language of such persons, was intended to convey an inquiry as to whether he wanted to buy a subject. He answered that he did not want anything particularly, but inquired what he had got? The reply was, "A male subject." He asked of what size he was; and the prisoner said that he was a boy, about fourteen years old, and he wanted twelve guineas. He told them that he was sure that that price would not be given, for the school did not want a subject; but he added, that if they would wait, he would acquaint Mr. Partridge, the anatomical demonstrator, with their business. He accordingly informed Mr. Partridge that the prisoners were there, and that gentleman said that he would see them; and he, in consequence, directed them to proceed to a particular part of the building, which was appropriated to the use of such persons. He met them there, and they were soon joined by Mr. Partridge, who refused to give them the price they had demanded. May then said that he should have the body for ten guineas; but this was still declared to be too much, and Mr. Partridge went away. The prisoners again pressed the witness to purchase the subject; and he, at their request, went after Mr. Partridge to ascertain the greatest amount he would pay. Nine guineas was the sum fixed, and he returned and acquainted the prisoners with the determination which had been expressed to give no more than that amount. May said that he would be d----d if it should come in at less than ten guineas; but on his going out at the door, Bishop took witness aside, and said, "Never mind May, he is drunk: it shall come in at nine guineas, in the course of half-an-hour." They then went away; but at about a quarter past two in the afternoon they returned with Williams and Shields, the latter carrying a hamper. May and Bishop carried the hamper into an inner room; and on opening it, a sack appeared inside, which contained the body. May, who was even more tipsy than he had been before, now took out the sack, and turning it up, threw the body carelessly on the ground. He remarked that it was "a good one;" to which witness assented: but he observed that the body was particularly fresh and in consequence of some other appearances which presented themselves, he went to Mr. Partridge. Before he went, he asked the prisoners what the boy had died of; but May answered that that was no business of theirs, or his either. He directed them to wait in the adjoining room until his return. He acquainted Mr. Partridge with his suspicions, and that gentleman, in consequence, accompanied him to the room to look at the body. He thought that the body was more rigid than usual, and it appeared to him as if it had not been buried. The left hand was turned towards the head, and the fingers were firmly clenched; and there was besides a cut on the forehead, from which blood appeared to have issued upon the chest. Mr. Partridge concurred with him in thinking that there were some suspicious appearances about the body, and went away. Other gentlemen, students at the college, soon after came, and were of the same opinion. Witness inquired of the prisoners how the cut came in the forehead of the deceased; and Bishop answered that May had done it, in throwing the body on the ground. On Mr. Partridge's return, he showed the prisoners a 50_l._ note, which he said he must send to get changed before he could pay them. Bishop suggested that he should give them what money he had, and they would call again on the following Monday for the remainder of the price; but this was objected to, and Mr. Partridge again went away. In about a quarter of an hour, Mr. Mayo, the professor of anatomy at the college, came into the room, with Mr. Rogers, the inspector of police, and some constables, and the prisoners were immediately given into custody. The body was then delivered to the police, together with the hamper and sack; and they, with the prisoners, were taken to the station-house.

Mr. Richard Partridge was called, and he stated that he was demonstrator of anatomy at King's College. He was at the college on Saturday the 5th of November. A body was brought there that day, and a communication was made to him respecting it by the witness Hill, about two o'clock in the afternoon. He, in consequence, went and looked at it. None of the prisoners were present at the time. The body externally exhibited some suspicious appearances, and it was those appearances which induced him to go for the police. The suspicious appearances were, a swollen state of the face, bloodshot eyes, freshness of the body, and the rigidity of the limbs. There was likewise a cut over the left temple. The lips were swollen. On returning to the college after going for the police, he showed the 50_l._ note to May and Bishop, when he found them at the bottom of the stairs leading to the anatomical department. He proposed to them that change should be got for the 50_l._ note, with a view to detain them until the police had arrived. On the following day he made a more particular examination of the body at the police-station in Covent-garden, where it lay. There were several medical men present at the examination. Externally the body presented the following appearances:--The muscles were still rigid, but not so much so as they had been on the preceding day. There was a superficial wound on the temple, which did not injure the bone. There was not any other appearance of external injury: beneath the scalp, on the top of the skull, there was some blood effused. On opening the body, the whole of the contents of the chest and of the abdomen were found to be in a perfectly healthy condition. The stomach was full; but he could not say what the contents of it were. The brain, and its continuation, the spinal cord or marrow, were likewise examined, and were found to be perfectly healthy. In cutting down through the skin and muscles at the back of the neck, in order to come at the bony canal in which the spinal cord is contained, a quantity of coagulated blood was found in the interstices of the muscles; and on removing the back part of the bony canal, some blood was found upon the membrane which envelops the spinal cord. There was coagulated blood opposite to the muscles, where a blow might have been struck on the back of the neck. There was uncoagulated blood found within the rest of the bony canal which contains the spinal cord. The spinal marrow itself appeared to be perfectly healthy, and there was no other remarkable appearance about it. It was his opinion that the marks of internal violence which he had stated were sufficient to produce death. He believed that the appearances of internal violence to the spinal marrow had been caused by a blow, or some other species of violence inflicted on the back of the neck. The blow of a stick on the back of the neck might have caused such appearances. He would not say positively that such an injury would produce an instantaneous death, but he believed it would cause a very speedy one. On the external examination of the body, he could not discover any appearance of injury which would have been sufficient to cause death.

Mr. George Beaman, the surgeon to the parish of St. Paul, Covent-garden, had also examined the body, and his opinion corresponded with that expressed by Mr. Partridge. His belief was that the deceased had died within thirty-six hours of the time when he first saw it on the Saturday; and he was also of opinion that the deceased had not died a natural death. The face and tongue were swollen, the latter protruding through the lips; the eyes were prominent and blood-shot. The teeth had been removed, apparently immediately after death. The witness added, that he was enabled to detect a slight smell of rum in the contents of the stomach, but could not distinguish the nature of the food last eaten. The process of digestion was going on at the time of death.

Mr. George Douchez gave similar evidence.

Mr. Joseph Sadler Thomas, superintendant of the F division of police, deposed, that in consequence of information conveyed to him by Mr. Partridge, he despatched Inspector Rogers and some other officers to the King's College, and in a short time the four prisoners were brought to the station-house in custody. Rogers also brought the body, sack, and hamper. The body was placed in the back room in the station-house, with the hamper. The prisoners were all together, in the outer room. He asked May what he had to say, for he was charged with having come into the possession of the subject in an improper manner. He replied, "I have nothing at all to do with it; the subject is that gentleman's" (pointing to Bishop). "I merely accompanied him to get the money for it." He then asked Bishop whose it was, and he said that it was his, and that he was merely removing it from Guy's Hospital to King's College. He asked Williams what he knew about it? He replied that he knew nothing about it, and that he had gone with them to the King's College to see the building. He asked Bishop in the first instance what he was; and his answer was, "I am a b--y body-snatcher." All the prisoners, Bishop and May especially, were labouring under the effects of liquor. May had resisted violently on his being apprehended, and he was carried into the station on all-fours, with his smock-frock turned over his head.

The only other witness examined was a person named Joseph Perrigalli, an Italian, who was called to speak to the identity of the body. He declared his firm belief that it was that of a boy named Carlo Ferrari, who had been brought from Italy, and who gained a living by exhibiting natural curiosities through the streets.

This concluded the proceedings of the first day's inquisition, which was then adjourned until Thursday, in order that the police might inspect the house stated by the prisoners Bishop and Williams to be occupied by them.

On that day, Higgins, a constable of the F division, was examined, and he deposed, that he had ascertained that the prisoners lived at the house No. 3, Nova Scotia Gardens, Bethnal Green. On proceeding thither he had searched the house, and found all the tools usually employed by body-snatchers. He believed that Bishop, Williams, and May, were of that fraternity, and that Shields had been employed by them occasionally as a porter.

Upon this evidence the jury were unable to come to any conclusive decision upon the case, and they returned a verdict of "Wilful murder against some person or persons unknown;" but expressed their strong belief, that the prisoners, Bishop, Williams, and May, had been concerned in the transaction.

It was impossible that an inquiry which had hitherto terminated so unsatisfactorily should cease here, and Mr. Minshull, with that alacrity and determination by which his conduct as a magistrate was always characterised, immediately took upon himself the arduous and most important task of conducting the investigation to its close. In this duty he was most ably and, as it was on all hands admitted, most humanely assisted by Mr. Corder, the vestry-clerk of the parish of St. Paul, Covent-garden, whose exertions were most valuable and praiseworthy, and by Mr. Thomas, the superintendant of police; and through their agency a train of evidence was collected, which laid bare the dreadful transaction in all its hideousness of guilt.

The inquiry which had concluded before the coroner on Thursday was continued by Mr. Minshull on the ensuing day, when the same evidence which we have detailed was repeated by the witnesses. The prisoners were then remanded; but on Friday, the 18th of the month, they were again brought up.

Witnesses were then examined, whose testimony traced the prisoners Bishop, Williams, and May to a noted house-of-call for body-snatchers--the Fortune of War public-house, in Smithfield--on the 4th November, where they appeared to be in earnest conversation. They went in and out repeatedly during the day; and at night May was seen with a number of human teeth in a handkerchief, to which some portion of the flesh of the gum was still adhering, upon which he poured water, in order to clean them. On the next morning Shields joined them, and Bishop was heard endeavouring to induce him to go to St. Bartholomew's Hospital for a hamper, which he refused to do, in consequence of which Bishop went and fetched it himself. They then went away, and were not again seen.

Mr. Thomas, in addition to his former evidence, stated, that in consequence of information which he had obtained, he had discovered the teeth of the unfortunate boy at the house of Mr. Thomas Mills, a dentist in Newington Causeway, who had handed them over to him, and was now ready to state the circumstances under which they had come into his possession.

Mr. Mills, of No. 39, Bridge-house-place, Newington Causeway, then stated, that on Saturday, the 5th of November, May brought him a set of teeth, for which he asked a guinea. Witness observed that one of the front teeth was chipped, and said that it did not belong to the set; upon which May said, "Upon my soul to God, they all belonged to one head, and that not long since," and added, that the body never had been buried: he ultimately agreed to take 12_s._ for the teeth. Portions of the gum were adhering to them, and part of the jaw-bone; there could be no doubt that the teeth had been forcibly removed immediately after death. He remarked to May, that the teeth, from appearance, belonged to a female: his reply was, "The fact is, they belonged to a lad about fourteen or fifteen years of age."

While this witness was giving his evidence, the prisoner May appeared for the first time to change countenance, and to lose that hardness of nerve which had distinguished him throughout the whole previous proceedings. He stared at the witness at first rather wildly, and compressed his lips while listening attentively to the evidence; and as soon as it was concluded, he endeavoured to resume his composure, and forced a laugh; but, almost in a moment after, his countenance underwent another change, and he muttered to himself as he looked over to the witness, "The b--y rascal!" He then asked the witness if he was quite sure of the exact words he had used, when he brought him the teeth, with regard to the body not having been buried?

Witness.--You said that the body had never been buried.

The only other new witness examined on this day was a girl, eleven years of age, named Martha King, who deposed to her having seen a boy corresponding in appearance with the deceased, exhibiting white mice near the prisoner Bishop's cottage, in Nova Scotia Gardens, about the time of the supposed murder; but Higgins and Kirkman, policemen, produced new evidence, tending to confirm the belief in the horrid guilt of the persons charged. Higgins, in a new search at Bishop's house, had found a pair of breeches stained with blood, and a brad-awl similarly marked, which had apparently been used to extract the teeth of the deceased; and Kirkman deposed to a conversation which he had heard pass between Bishop and Williams on the former examination. Posting-bills had been widely distributed through the metropolis, offering a reward for the production of certain evidence against the prisoners, one of which was fixed against the wall in the police-office. Bishop, intent upon reading the bill, a passage in which referred to the marks of blood on the body of the deceased, observed, "It was the blood that sold us," and then, continuing reading, in allusion to a reference to certain marks of violence observable on the person of the deceased, he said "The marks of violence were only the breakings-out on the skin."

Upon the delivery of this evidence the examination concluded, and the prisoners were again remanded.

Upon the following day, in obedience to a determination which had been arrived at, that a new and more searching investigation of the prisoners' house and premises should take place, Mr. Thomas and Mr. Corder, accompanied by Higgins and other constables, proceeded once more to Nova Scotia Gardens, and there, after a minute investigation, they made discoveries which filled them with horror, and confirmed, by the most positive evidence, the suspicions which had been excited of the murderous traffic which had been carried on. The particulars of these discoveries were communicated to the magistrate on the same evening, but they were not allowed to transpire until the next examination of the prisoners, which, however, owing to the painful excitement which had been created, and the anxious desire universally exhibited to learn the nature of any new intelligence obtained, was ordered to take place on the following Monday instead of Friday, to which day the prisoners had been remanded.

On that day the new evidence was adduced. The first branch to which the inquiry was directed, was that which traced the poor Italian boy to the neighbourhood of Nova Scotia Gardens; and several witnesses were called, whose testimony distinctly proved that he was observed there on the evening of the Thursday before the 5th of November, wearing a brown hairy cap, and carrying white mice for exhibition.

Higgins was then re-examined, and his testimony excited universal horror, while it at once removed every doubt which might otherwise have existed as to the guilt of two at least of the prisoners--Bishop and Williams. He said, "I was instructed by Mr. Thomas to go with Wadey to Bishop's house and have the garden carefully dug up; I tried the ground first with an iron rod on the west side of the garden close to the palings, and about five yards from Bishop's back door I found the rod struck against something soft, and on digging, we found a blue jacket, black trousers, and little shirt. I then tried the ground about a yard further, and there we found a blue short coat, a pair of grey trousers with braces on and a piece of a comb in the pocket, a striped waistcoat the back of the collar of which was bloody, and a shirt torn down the centre: the waistcoat must have been made for a larger person than the last who wore it, as it has been roughly taken in at the back."

In addition to this, Mr. Thomas deposed to the discovery of a brown hairy cap in Bishop's house; and witnesses were also called, who swore that the second suit of clothes discovered, and the hairy cap, were similar in every respect to the attire worn by the Italian boy when he was last seen. The prisoners were then again remanded.

It is impossible to describe the impression which these new proofs produced in the public mind, tending as they did to establish the fact, not only of the murder of the Italian boy, but that other persons had also fallen victims to the horrible machinations of the miscreants who occupied the house in Nova Scotia Gardens. On the day after its publication, mobs of persons assembled in the neighbourhood of the house, and threatened, by their violent demeanour, to wreak their vengeance by destroying the building. The police were compelled to interfere to quell the anticipated riot, and to prevent the entrance of the public to the building; but many thousands were permitted, upon paying a small fee, to pass through the premises.

At an early hour on Wednesday morning, Higgins and some other constables proceeded again to Nova Scotia Gardens, and commenced a new search. They had not long been engaged in their work before their object was discovered, and crowds of persons flocked to the spot. Their manner denoted the anxiety with which they viewed what was going on, and a strong body of police was necessary to prevent their interference with the proceedings of the officers. The garden attached to Bishop's house was again dug up to the depth of four feet, and every portion of the ground carefully sifted, but nothing worthy of notice was found; the cesspool and privy in the garden were next examined with equal care, and with the same result. But it was deemed prudent that an equally strict search should be made in the ground attached to the adjoining house, No. 2, which had been formerly inhabited by Williams and his wife. For this work several nightmen were employed to assist the police; and not only was the garden dug up, but the cesspool and privy were thoroughly emptied and examined. In the inspection of the privy, the men had been but a short time at work when one of them brought up a thick roll of something, which at first was thought to contain the body of a child, but which, on inspection, proved to be an entire suit of female apparel. The bundle was cleansed; and upon its contents being exposed, they proved to consist of the following articles:--a black stuff or camlet cloak; black worsted stockings, very coarse; a flannel petticoat, very old and ragged, upon the top of which, near the waistband, were to be seen two distinct marks of blood; a pair of stays very nearly worn out, and patched, which were still laced in the usual way behind; an old shift, and a dark plaid gown. The whole of these articles were cut or torn down the front; and the presumption raised was, that the wearer having been murdered, her clothes had been cut from her body.

New interest was produced by this discovery, and numerous were the persons who called at the station-house for the purpose of inspecting the clothes which had been found. It was not, however, until after the final examination of the prisoners that they were identified; and we shall abstain from giving the particulars of the occurrences which followed their recognition, until we have detailed the concluding evidence produced against the prisoners, and the final decision of the magistrate upon their cases.

The last inquiry at Bow-street took place on Friday, the 25th of November; and the attention of the magistrate was then principally occupied by the production of formal evidence with regard to the occupancy of the house, No. 3, Nova Scotia-gardens, by the prisoners Bishop and Williams, and their families. Other testimony was also laid before the bench, however, with regard to the removal of the body of the deceased from Nova Scotia-gardens on Friday, the 4th of November, its subsequent conveyance to Guy's Hospital, where it was offered for sale, and its tender, also, to a Mr. Appleton, the curator of Mr. Grainger's medical school in the Borough.

James Seagrave, driver of a cabriolet, stated:--"On the evening of Friday, the 4th of November, I was with my cabriolet on the stand in the Old Bailey. It was about six o'clock in the evening; and having put the nose-bag on my horse, I went into the watering-house to take my tea. I was called out, and saw May and Bishop. May asked me if I wanted a job, and said he had 'a long job.' He took me on one side, and said he wanted me to fetch 'a stiff 'un;' which I understood to mean a dead body. I told him I did not know, but asked what he would stand; he told me he would stand a guinea. I said that I had not finished my tea, and that my horse had not done his corn. He said that we would take tea together. I went into the public-house, followed by May and Bishop. They took their seats, and called for tea for two. Some person in the room jogged me by the elbow, and hinted that the men were "snatchers;" and I determined not to go with them. I had previously made up my mind not to go with them. After tea I went out, and drove my cabriolet to the bottom of the rank. I afterwards saw May and Bishop going up the rank among the coaches, and I drove off, leaving them apparently making a bargain with the coachmen."

It appeared that their efforts to obtain a coach there were unsuccessful, and they had recourse to the stand in Bridge-street, Blackfriars, but with no better effect; but they eventually procured a yellow chariot from the rank in Farringdon-street.

George Gissing, a boy, was then examined. He said, "I am twelve years old. My father keeps the Bird-cage public-house, Crab-tree-road, near Nova Scotia-gardens. On the evening of the 4th of November, about half-past six o'clock, I saw a yellow hackney-chariot draw up opposite my father's house. It is very near Nova Scotia-gardens. I know Bishop's cottage in Nova Scotia-gardens. It is but a short distance from my father's house. I did not see who got out of the chariot. I afterwards saw the prisoner, Williams, standing on the fore-wheel of the chariot, talking to the driver. The chariot waited ten or fifteen minutes. The door was open all the time. Williams went down to Nova Scotia-gardens; and, in ten or fifteen minutes, he returned and got into the chariot. Then I saw a strange man carrying a sack in his arms, and Bishop holding up one end of it. They put it in the chariot. Williams put out his hand to help it in. The sack appeared as if something heavy was in it. Bishop and the other man got into the chariot along with Williams, and they drove up Crab-tree-road and towards Shoreditch church, on the road to the city." The boy added, that Bishop was looked upon as the father-in-law of Williams; and the wedding supper of the last-named prisoner had been held at his (witness's) father's house, about two months before.

Thomas Davis, porter to the dissecting-room at Guy's Hospital, stated:--On Friday evening, the 4th of November, about seven o'clock, May and Bishop came to the hospital, May carrying a sack; I knew them before; they asked me if I wanted to purchase a subject; I declined to purchase it, and they asked me if I would allow them to leave it in the hospital until the following morning; I acceded to their request, and locked the body up in a room during the night. Next morning, between the hours of eleven and twelve, I saw May and Bishop in the hospital. Having been out, I returned to the hospital, and ascertained that the body had been taken away. I had only seen a foot out of the sack, and I believed it was either that of a boy or a female; it was not large enough for that of a man.

Mr. Appleton then deposed, that May and Bishop had offered the body to him on the same evening, but he had declined purchasing it; and this closed the case.

The prisoners were called on to make any declarations they chose in reference to the case, before their final committal, and they addressed the bench in the following terms:--

Bishop.--"I dug the body out of the grave. The reason why I decline to say the grave I took it out of is, that there were two watchmen in the ground, and they entrusted me; and, being men of family, I don't wish to deceive them. I don't think I can say anything more. I took it for sale to Guy's Hospital, and, as they did not want it, I left it there all night and part of the next day, and then I removed it to the King's College. That is all I can say about it. I mean to say that this is the truth. I shall certainly keep it a secret where I got the body. I know nothing as to how it died."

May said, "he wished to say what he knew, and would speak the truth." He then said "his name was James May, and that he lived in Dorset-street, Newington. He went into the country on Sunday, the 29th of October, and returned on the evening of Wednesday, and went to Mr. Grainger's, in Webb-street, with a couple of subjects. On the following morning (Thursday), he removed them to Mr. Davis's, at Guy's; and, after receiving the money, he went away to the Fortune-of-War, in Smithfield, and stayed there about two or three hours. Between four and five o'clock, to the best of his recollection, he went to Nag's-head-court, Golden-lane, and there he stopped with a female until between eleven and twelve o'clock the next day (Friday). From Golden-lane he went to the Fortune-of-War again, and stopped drinking there until six o'clock or half-past. Williams and Bishop both came in there, and asked him if he would 'stand anything' to drink; which he did. Bishop then called him out, and asked him where he could get the best price for 'things.' He told him where he had sold two, meaning Guy's; and he (Bishop) then told him that he had got a good subject, and had been offered eight guineas for it. He (May) replied, that he could get more for it; and then Bishop said, that all he could get over nine guineas he might have for himself. He agreed to it; and they went from thence to the Old Bailey, and had some tea at the watering-house there, leaving Williams at the Fortune-of-War. After tea they called a chariot off the stand, and drove to Bishop's house. When there, Bishop showed him the lad in a box, or trunk. He (May) put it into a sack, and brought it to the chariot, and conveyed it to Mr. Davis's, at Guy's. Mr. Davis said, "You know, John, I cannot take it; because I took two of you yesterday, and I have not got names enough down for one, or I would take it.' He (May) then asked him if he could leave the body there that night, and he said he might. Bishop then desired Mr. Davis not to let any person have it, as it was his subject, but to deliver it to his ownself. He (May) also told Mr. Davis not to let the body go without him, or he should be money out of pocket. May then went on to say, that he went to his own house and slept there that night, and the next morning he went to Guy's, and Bishop and Shields came in with a hamper, which was taken to King's College, where he was taken into custody."

John Williams stated, "That in the first place he met Bishop on Saturday morning, the 5th of November, in Long-lane, Smithfield, and asked him where he was going. He said he was going to the King's College. They went into the Fortune-of-War public-house; and, after that, Bishop went to Guy's Hospital, and then to the King's College. May and the porter met them against the gate. Bishop went in, and he (Williams) asked him to let him go in with him. That was all he had got to say, except that a porter took a basket from the Fortune-of-War to Guy's Hospital, and he (Williams) helped him part of the way with it."

The case being thus concluded at the police-office, the prisoners Bishop, Williams, and May, were committed to Newgate to take their trial. Shields, however, who, it was admitted on all hands, was only the porter employed by the other prisoners to carry the body, and of whose knowledge of the murder there was not the smallest evidence, was discharged out of custody.

We shall now lay before our readers the statement of the circumstances attending the identification of the clothes found at the house which had been occupied by the prisoner Williams, at Nova Scotia Gardens, and which eventually proved to have belonged to a woman named Frances Pigburn, another victim to the designs of these atrocious conspirators. Three persons--named Mrs. Lowe, wife of James Lowe, of Great Charles-street East, City-road; Mrs. Mayo, her daughter; and a Mrs. Hitchwell--came forward at Bow-street on Saturday, the 26th of November, to speak as to their belief of the identity of the clothes, and to give an account of the disappearance of the unfortunate woman to whom they belonged.

Mrs. Lowe stated, that Mrs. Pigburn was her sister, and was forty years of age. On the night of the 15th of October, she left her house to go to a Mr. Campion's, in Church-street, about half-a-mile from Bishop's cottage, where she intended to sleep, and where witness promised to call upon her on the ensuing morning. On the following morning witness did call at Campion's, but, to her surprise, discovered that her sister was not there, as she had left on the preceding evening, at nine o'clock, to seek another lodging, from their inability to accommodate her. From that morning they had heard no tidings of her, till their suspicions were aroused by the perusal of a bill, put forth by Mr. Thomas, describing the female attire already alluded to. These she determined to examine, and for that purpose went to the station-house, where she at once recognised them to be those of her sister; she could speak positively to the camlet cloak, plaid gown, &c.; she could not speak to the petticoat and shift, the former of which had marks of blood upon it.

Mr. Thomas stated that a further search had been made at the house of Bishop, and in the garden a well had been discovered, from the bottom of which a shawl, which he produced, had been brought up. Mrs. Lowe was able to identify this also as having belonged to her sister; and he gave it as his opinion that in all probability the poor woman had been inveigled into the premises, and thrust head-foremost into the well, where her shawl had fallen in the struggle.

Mrs. Hitchwell, who knew the deceased intimately, also recognised the pocket, and produced the fellow to it; both pockets had been made by a Mrs. Bell, who gave Mrs. Pigburn one, and her the other; both pockets were made of blue cloth, and singularly formed; to the other articles she also spoke with confidence, having seen Mrs. Pigburn wear them on the 15th of October, which was also the last day she had seen her.

Mrs. Mayo, niece to Frances Pigburn, also identified the clothes, and spoke more particularly to the shawl, which she had seen Mrs. Pigburn wear.

Mr. Minshull said no doubt could exist that the clothes were the same which had been worn by Frances Pigburn, and he feared there was as little doubt that the poor woman had been murdered. It was inferred that the body had been sold for the purposes of dissection, and the clothes thrown down the privy to avoid detection. In all probability the poor creature was in search of lodgings, and being met by some of the infernal gang, was lured into their den and there destroyed. To what extent these horrors had been committed it was impossible to imagine.

A further warrant for the detention of Bishop, May, and Williams, upon this fresh charge, was then made out, and Mr. Thomas was requested to make every possible inquiry among the hospitals and dissecting-rooms in the metropolis, to ascertain, if possible, whether any body, answering the description of Mrs. Pigburn, had been offered for sale by any of the prisoners within the last six weeks. Mr. Thomas said he would not relax his efforts to throw every light on these horrible transactions, and thus the inquiry terminated.

On Friday, December the 2nd, 1831, the prisoners Bishop, May, and Williams, were placed at the bar of the Old Bailey to take their trial, upon the charge of murder preferred against them.

The court was crowded to excess at eight o'clock in the morning, the greatest anxiety being manifested to witness the proceedings.

The indictment charged the prisoners with the wilful murder of Carlo Ferrari, and the second count with the wilful murder of a male person, whose name was unknown. At ten o'clock Chief Justice Tindal, Mr. Justice Littledale, and Mr Baron Vaughan took their seats upon the bench, the remaining portion of which was instantly occupied by members of the nobility and persons of distinction, amongst whom was observed His Royal Highness the Duke of Sussex.

The prisoners, on being placed at the bar, seemed but little moved by the awful situation in which they were at that moment placed; and they encountered the inquisitive glances of the assembled crowd with a careless air. Their appearance rather indicated low cunning than hardened ferocity.

Mr. Bodkin having opened the case,

Mr. Adolphus proceeded to state the leading facts of it to the jury. In doing so, he said that he did not feel it necessary to solicit their most serious attention to it, for he knew that it would receive such attention from them, being a case in which the three prisoners at the bar stood charged with the foul crime of murder; and one of which, as persons living in society, they must have heard a great deal for many days past. Aware as he was that they knew this to be a case of great and important interest, he felt certain that they required no suggestions from him to induce them to pay the strictest attention to all its details; and having alluded to the interest which it excited out of doors, he was sure that he need scarcely remind them, that they should not allow themselves to be at all swayed by any thing that they might have heard with regard to this case previous to their entering that box, but that their duty there was merely to judge the case by the evidence which should be laid before them. When he spoke of their deciding on this case according to the evidence which should be laid before them, he begged to say that there was one point to which he was anxious to call their particular attention. In cases of murder, it often happened that the direct evidence of eye-witnesses could not be produced as to the blow which had been struck, or the injury which had been inflicted, and the infliction of which constituted the crime; but it was settled by the constitution of this country, that in all cases of the kind a jury might select, from the circumstances of the evidence laid before them, such facts as might produce a conviction in their minds as to the guilt of the prisoners charged with the offence. The application of the facts and circumstances of a case for such a purpose was, by the law of the land, vested in a jury constituted as they now were;--and it was for them to decide according to the evidence which should be laid before them, as it appeared to their minds; it was for them, after they had heard the great body of evidence which would be submitted to them in this case, to say whether the prisoners were or were not guilty of the heinous crime laid to their charge. If the facts which would be laid before them should produce on their minds a conviction of the guilt of the prisoners, he was sure that they would without hesitation pronounce a verdict which would consign some, if not all of them, to a certain, speedy, and ignominious death; and he was equally sure that if an opposite conviction was the result of the evidence, the jury would at once acquit the prisoners at the bar. Without further introduction, he would proceed to state to them the facts which had given rise to this painful and extraordinary inquiry, as he felt justified in calling it; for the murder to which it had reference did not appear to have been committed through any of those motives that had ordinarily occasioned the commission of such a crime in this country. It was not to gratify revenge for wrong done, that the unfortunate victim, in this instance, had been deprived of existence. The minds of his murderers were stimulated by no passion of that description to the commission of the dreadful deed. Neither wealth, nor the other common allurements which influenced the actions of wicked men under such circumstances, had impelled them to perpetrate this crime. Nothing but the sordid and base desire to possess themselves of a dead body, in order to sell it for dissection, had induced the prisoners at the bar to commit the crime for which they were now about to answer before a jury of their countrymen.

The learned gentleman then proceeded to detail the facts of the case, as they were afterwards stated in the evidence subsequently produced. He dwelt in terms of well-deserved eulogy on the meritorious exertions of Mr. Thomas, the superintendant of police, and of Mr. Corder, the vestry-clerk of St. Paul's, Covent-garden, in prosecuting the inquiry which had led to the trial. He acknowledged that the case depended on circumstantial evidence; but he contended that a large and well-connected body of such testimony was, in many cases, superior to the positive declarations of eye-witnesses. The judgment of an eye-witness might be deceived; but it was impossible that the jury, after putting all the circumstances of the case together, and weighing them seriously and deliberately, could be mistaken in their decision; it was for them to say, after doing so, whether the prisoners at the bar were, or were not guilty of the crime with which they stood charged. He was convinced that they would give this important case the deep and serious attention which it deserved; and he relied confidently on the integrity and good sense of a British jury, which a long life of practice had left him no room to doubt.

The evidence, the particulars of which we have recited, was then adduced, Mr. Curwood and Mr. Barry, on behalf of the prisoners, cross-examining the witnesses examined, with little effect in impugning their evidence.

The prisoners being called on for their defence, they put in written statements. Bishop's was first read to the Court. He said that he was thirty-three years of age, and had followed the occupation of a carrier till the last five years, during which he had occasionally obtained a livelihood by supplying surgeons with subjects. He most solemnly declared that he had never disposed of any body that had not died a natural death. He had been in the habit of obtaining bodies from workhouses, with their clothes on, so that he could have no difficulty in procuring them after a natural death. The statement then went on to describe the localities of the prisoner's residence, in order to show that they admitted of great facilities of ingress and egress to all persons in the neighbourhood. His garden and premises were open to them, and theirs to him. With respect to the clothes found in his garden, he knew nothing. As to the cap, he should be able to prove that it was bought by his wife from a woman named Dodswell, who resided in Hoxton Old Town. The prisoner called upon the jury to divest their minds of all undue prejudices, and judge his case by the evidence alone. By so doing, they would be discharging their duty, and would acquit him of the crime then alleged against him. In conclusion, the prisoner declared that neither Williams nor May knew how he had procured the body.

Williams' defence briefly stated that he had never been engaged in the business of a resurrectionist; and that he had only, by accident, accompanied Bishop on the sale of this body.

May admitted his employment, for the last six years, in the disgusting trade of selling dead bodies, but he denied that he had ever had anything to do with the sale of subjects which had not died a natural death. He then repeated the explanation of his conduct on this occasion, which he had before given; and stated that, on the night of the supposed murder, he was sleeping with a girl named Carpenter.

Rosina Carpenter was then examined, and deposed that the prisoner May came to her on the afternoon of Thursday, the 3rd of November, at her lodgings in Macbeth-court, Golden-lane, and that he stayed with her until twelve o'clock the next day. She had known him for fourteen or fifteen months, and had been frequently in his company.

Mrs. Mary Dodswell, of 26, Hoxton Old Town, was called to prove the sale of the brown cap to Bishop's wife; but her evidence totally failed in this particular.

The Chief Justice then proceeded to recapitulate the evidence to the jury, first warning them of the necessity of founding their decision on the evidence then adduced, without being at all influenced by statements made elsewhere. The indictment contained two counts--one charging the prisoners at the bar with the murder of Carlo Ferrari, an Italian boy; the other with the murder of a boy, name unknown. The jury would learn from this circumstance, that it was by no means necessary that the name of the murdered party should be known, and that all that they had to decide was, the fact itself. They accordingly would first direct their attention to the determining the fact whether the body which the prisoners had proffered for sale had come by a natural death or not; and next, whether, if they were of opinion that it had not, the prisoners were the murderers, and to what degree they were implicated. With respect to the first point, he thought they would experience but little trouble after the explicit evidence of the medical gentleman who had been that day examined, and whose conduct, it was but justice to say, was an honourable rebuke to any calumnious imputation on the medical profession to which the present case might have given birth. The learned judge then went through the evidence with the most pains-taking minuteness, commenting on those points which, in his mind, would enable the jury to determine the guilt of the prisoners, and their share in the crime. The evidence, to show that May was present, or participated in the actual offence, he remarked, was by no means decisive; so that the jury would have to determine how far he was, or was not, a principal or accessory. It might be that they would arrive at the conclusion that Bishop alone, or Bishop and Williams, were the criminals,--and in such case they would find a verdict of acquittal for May; or it might be, that they would find that all three were equally guilty; or that they were guilty, but not in an equal degree. Their verdict would be according to their decision on this point, rendering it incumbent on them cautiously to weigh those parts of the evidence which bore particularly on Bishop and Williams, and on the other prisoner. He left it to their unbiassed judgment, to find according to the evidence which had been submitted to them.

At eight o'clock the jury retired to consider their verdict, and the prisoners were removed from the bar, and taken out of court. The interval between that and the return of the jury, was a period of intense anxiety to every one in court; and, as is usual on such occasions, there were various conjectures hazarded as to what would be the verdict. That a verdict of "Guilty" would be returned against two of the prisoners, namely, Bishop and Williams, none who had heard the evidence, and the summing up of the learned judge, could doubt; but the same confident opinion by no means existed with respect to the fate of the prisoner May.

These conjectures and speculations were put an end to by the return of the jury at half-past eight o'clock.

The most death-like silence now prevailed throughout the court, interrupted only by a slight buz on the re-introduction of the prisoners.

Every eye was fixed upon them; but though their appearance and manner had undergone a considerable change since their being first placed at the bar, they did not seem conscious of the additional interest which their presence at this moment excited.

Bishop advanced to the bar with a heavy step, and with a slight bend of the body; his arms hung closely down, and it seemed a kind of relief to him, when he took his place, to rest his hand on the board before him. His appearance, when he got in front, was that of a man who had been for some time labouring under the most intense mental agony, which had brought on a kind of lethargic stupor. His eye was sunk and glassy; his nose drawn and pinched; the jaw fallen, and the mouth open; but occasionally the mouth closed, the lips became compressed, and the shoulders and chest raised, as if he were struggling to repress some violent emotion. After a few efforts of this kind, he became apparently calm, and frequently glanced his eyes towards the bench and the jury-box; but this was done without once raising his head. His face had that pallid appearance which so often accompanies and betokens great mental suffering.

Williams came forward with a short quick step; and his whole manner was the reverse of that of his companion in guilt. His face had undergone very little change; but in his eye and in his manner there was a feverish anxiety, which was not to be observed during the trial. When he came in front, and laid his hand on the bar, the rapid movement of his fingers on the board--the frequent shifting of the hand, sometimes letting it hang down for an instant by his side, then replacing it on the board, and then resting his side against the front of the dock, showed the perturbed state of his feelings. Once or twice he gave a glance round the bench and the bar, but after that he seldom took his eye from the jury-box.

May came forward with a more firm gait than either of his fellow-prisoners; but his look was that of a man who thought that all chance of life was lost. He seemed desponding; but there appeared that in his despondency which gave an air of--we could not call it daring, or even confidence--we should rather say, a physical power of endurance, which imparted to his whole manner a more firm bearing than that of the other prisoners. He was very pale, but his eye had not relaxed from that firmness which was observable in his glance throughout the whole of the trial.

Ordinary physiognomists, who (without having seen the prisoners) had read the accounts of their examinations at the police-office--of their habits and mode of living, and the horrible atrocities with which there is now no doubt they were familiar--would have been greatly disappointed in the appearance of all of them as they stood at the bar. There was nothing in the aspect or manner of any of them which betokened a predisposition to anything like the outrage on humanity of which they stood convicted. There was something of heaviness in the aspect of Bishop, but altogether his countenance was mild. Williams had that kind of expression with which men associate the idea of sharpness and cunning, and something of mischief, but nothing of the villain. May, who was the best-looking of the three, had a countenance which most persons would consider open and manly. There was an air of firmness and determination about him; but neither in him nor his companions was there the slightest physiognomical trait of a murderer, according to the common notions on the subject.

When the three prisoners were placed at the bar, the names of the jury were called over, and on being asked whether they had agreed to their verdict, they answered that they had.

The question was then put to them as to each of the prisoners, and they returned as their verdict, that John Bishop, Thomas Williams, and James May were severally "Guilty of murder."

The verdict was received in court with becoming silence; but in a moment it was conveyed to the immense multitude assembled outside, who evinced their satisfaction at the result, by loud and long-continued cheering and clapping of hands. To such an extent was this expression of the popular feeling carried, that the windows of the court were obliged to be closed, in order that the voice of the Recorder might be heard in passing sentence.

The prisoners were severally called upon to say why sentence of death and execution should not be pronounced upon them; but none of them availed themselves of this opportunity of addressing the Court.

The Recorder then proceeded to pass the awful sentence of death upon them, but was for some moments again interrupted by the renewed shouts of the populace from without. Silence having been restored, the learned judge proceeded:--

"Prisoners at the bar, you have been tried by a most attentive and extremely humane jury; and I may say of them, as I have been frequently called upon to say before of juries in that box, that nothing but the most painful feelings of duty, imposed on them under a solemn obligation to their Maker and the public, could have induced them to pronounce a verdict against fellow-creatures, which sentenced them to die. That they have formed a just conclusion--[Here Williams exclaimed, "It is false evidence!"]--every man of common understanding must allow. I shall not detain you long by the few observations which I have to make, considering that your hours are numbered, and that there will be but a very short time between the present moment and that when you will have to appear in the presence of your Creator, to answer for the crime which has this day been proved against you. You have each of you been committed to jail for nearly a month; and I hope that you have employed that time in looking back upon the course of your guilty lives--for most guilty they have been--violating the laws of your country, and harrowing up the feelings of every relation that may have lost one that was dear to him. I hope from the time you have been in the jail, conscience-stricken as you must have been, you have turned your thoughts to the only source that remained for you--that of diligently seeking that mercy which you may even yet hope for by sincere repentance, and ardent and constant prayers to the Almighty. But if you have lost those precious moments, let me at all events exhort you not to lose another instant of that short period which the laws of society still leave you. The inhumanity and cruelty with which you have committed this crime, have spread a degree of horror through the metropolis, and indeed, I may say, through the whole country. But deeply as you have injured society, and perilously violated the laws, those laws, which are always administered with charity, have provided that in your awful situation you shall have the most zealous assistance of a pious and excellent clergyman of the Church of England, or of any other church to which you may belong; and I hope you will not neglect the solemn warnings and kind admonitions which you will receive from that quarter. I will not trespass on you by making any further observations, but now confine myself to the last painful duty which the law requires of the Court, viz., to pass the awful and dreadful sentence of the law; and that is, that you, John Bishop, you Thomas Williams, and you James May, be taken from this bar to the place from whence you came, and from thence, on Monday morning next, you be taken to the place of execution, and there each of you be hanged by the neck till each of you be dead, after which your bodies are to be given to the surgeons for dissection; and may the Lord God Almighty, the father of all mercies, have mercy on your miserable souls."

The prisoners scarcely gave any intimation, by their outward appearance, of the awful situation in which they were placed. They were immediately removed from the bar; but before they quitted the court, May exclaimed, "I am a murdered man;" and Williams leaned over the front of the bar, and muttering and pointing at some of the witnesses, declared that they were all murdered men, and that the witnesses would suffer for the false evidence they had given.

During the period which intervened between the conviction of the prisoners and the execution of Bishop and Williams (who only underwent the extreme penalty of the law), the most earnest exhortations were employed to induce a full confession of their guilt. The Rev. Mr. Cotton, the ordinary, remained in constant attendance on the prisoners, and by his exertions evidently produced considerable impression on their minds. On the nights of Friday and Saturday, two men sat up with each of the convicts, and the little sleep which they were able to procure was frequently disturbed.

On Sunday the usual sermon was preached in the jail chapel, and after that the prisoners Bishop and Williams, being placed in the same cell, were visited by the ordinary and under sheriffs, to whom they made the following confessions.

We give these statements as they were delivered by the prisoners, but serious doubts, even amounting to positive belief, are entertained that they were not full declarations of the crimes of which the wretched malefactors had been guilty.

"Newgate, December 4, 1831.

"I, John Bishop, do hereby declare and confess that the boy supposed to be the Italian boy was a Lincolnshire boy. I and Williams took him to my house about half-past ten o'clock on Thursday night, the 3rd of November, from the Bell, in Smithfield. He walked home with us. Williams promised to give him some work. Williams went with him from the Bell to the Old Bailey watering-house, whilst I went to the Fortune-of-War. Williams came from the Old Bailey watering-house to the Fortune-of-War for me, leaving the boy standing at the corner of the court by the watering-house in the Old Bailey. I went directly with Williams to the boy, and we then walked all three to the Nova Scotia-gardens, taking a pint of stout at a public-house near Holywell-lane, Shoreditch, on our way, of which we gave the boy a part; we only staid just to drink it, and walked on to my house, where we arrived at about eleven o'clock. My wife and children and Mrs. Williams were not gone to bed, so we put him in the privy, and told him to wait there for us. Williams went in and told them to go to bed, and I remained in the garden. Williams came out directly and we both walked out of the garden a little way to give time for the family getting to bed; we returned in about ten minutes or a quarter of an hour, and listened outside the window to ascertain whether the family were gone to bed. All was quiet; and we then went to the boy in the privy, and took him into the house; we lighted a candle, and gave the boy some bread-and-cheese; and after he had eaten, we gave him a cup full of rum, with about half a small phial of laudanum in it. I had bought the rum the same evening in Smithfield, and the laudanum also in small quantities at different shops. There was no water or other liquid put into the cup with the rum and laudanum. The boy drank the contents of the cup directly in two draughts, and afterwards a little beer. In about ten minutes he fell asleep in the chair on which he sat, and I removed him from the chair to the floor and laid him on his side. We then went out and left him there. We had a quartern of gin and a pint of beer at the Feathers, near Shoreditch Church, and then went home again, having been away from the boy about twenty minutes. We found him asleep as we had left him. We took him directly, asleep and insensible, into the garden, and tied a cord to his feet, to enable us to pull him up by; and I then took him in my arms, and let him slide from them headlong into the well in the garden; whilst Williams held the cord to prevent the body going altogether too low in the well. He was nearly wholly in the water, his feet being just above the surface. Williams fastened the other end of the cord round the paling, to prevent the body getting beyond our reach. The boy struggled a little with his arms and legs in the water, and the water bubbled a minute. We waited till these symptoms were passed, and then went indoors, and afterwards I think we went out and walked down Shoreditch to occupy the time; and in three quarters of an hour we returned, and took him out of the well, by pulling him by the cord attached to his feet. We undressed him in the paved yard, rolled his clothes up, and buried them where they were found by the witness who produced them. We carried the boy into the wash-house, laid him on the floor, and covered him over with a bag. We left him there, and went and had some coffee in Old-street-road, and then (a little before two in the morning of Friday) went back to my house. We immediately doubled the body up, and put it into a box, which we corded so that nobody might open it to see what it was, and then went again and had some more coffee at the same place in the Old-Street-road, where we staid a little while, and then went home to bed--both in the same house, and to our own beds, as usual. We slept till about ten o'clock on Friday morning, when we got up, took breakfast together with the family, and went both of us to the Fortune-of-War in Smithfield. We had something to eat and drink there; and after we had been there about half-an-hour, May came in. I knew May, but had not seen him for a fortnight before. He had some rum with me at the bar, Williams remaining in the tap-room. May and I went to the door. I had a smock frock on, and May asked where I had bought it? I told him, in Field-lane. He said he wanted to buy one, and asked me to go with him; I went with him to Field-lane, where he bought a frock at the corner shop. We then went into a clothes' shop in West-street to buy a pair of breeches, but May could not agree about the price; he was rather in liquor, and sent out for some rum, which we and the woman in the shop drank together. May said he would treat her, because he had given her a good deal of trouble for nothing. We then returned to the Fortune-of-War, and joined Williams, and had something more to drink; we waited there a short time, and then Williams and I went to the West-end of the town, leaving May at the Fortune-of-War. Williams and I went to Mr. Tuson's, in Windmill-street, where I saw Mr. Tuson, and offered to sell him a subject, meaning the boy we had left at home. He said he had waited so long for a subject which I had before undertaken to procure him, that he had been obliged to buy one the day before. We went from thence to Mr. Carpue's in Dean-street, and offered it to him in the lecture-room with other gentlemen. They asked me if it was fresh; I told them, 'Yes,' and they told me to wait. I asked them ten guineas; and after waiting a little, a gentleman there said they would give eight guineas, which I agreed to take, and engaged to carry it there the next morning at ten o'clock. I and Williams then returned to the Fortune-of-War; we found May in the tap-room; this was about a quarter before four o'clock in the afternoon; we had something to drink again, and I called May out to the outside of the house, and asked what was the best price given for 'things?' He said he had sold two the day before for ten guineas each, I think. I told him I had a subject; he asked what sort of one; I said, a boy about fourteen years old, and that I had been offered eight guineas for it. He said, if it was his, he would not take it; he could take it where he sold his for more. I told him all he could get above nine guineas he might have for himself, and we agreed to go presently and get a coach. I and May then went to the bar and had something more to drink, and then, leaving Williams at the Fortune-of-War, we went and tried to hire a cab in the Old Bailey. The cabman was at tea at the watering-house, and we went in and spoke to him about a fare, and had tea also there ourselves. Whilst we were at tea, the cabman went away, and we found him gone from the stand when we came out. We then went to Bridge-street, Blackfriars, and asked a coachman whether he would take such a fare as we wanted; he refused, and we then went to Farringdon-street, where we engaged a yellow chariot. I and May got in, drove to the Fortune-of-War, and (Williams having joined us at the George, in the Old Bailey) we then drank something again; and then, at about six o'clock, we all three went in the chariot to Nova Scotia-gardens. We went into the wash-house, where I uncorded the box and showed the body to May. He asked, 'How are the teeth?' I said I had not looked at them. Williams went and fetched a brad-awl from the house, and May took it and forced the teeth out. It is a constant practice to take the teeth out first; because, if the body be lost, the teeth are saved. After the teeth were taken out, we put the body in a bag and took it to the chariot. May and I carried the body, and Williams got first into the coach, and then assisted in pulling the body in. We all then drove off to Guy's Hospital, where we saw Mr. Davis, and offered to sell the body to him. He refused, saying that he bought two the day before of May. I asked him to let us leave it there until the next morning; he consented, and we put it into a little room, the door of which Mr. Davis locked. Williams was during this left in the chariot. I told Mr. Davis not to let the subject go to anybody unless I was there, for it belonged to me; and May also told him not to let it go unless he was present, or else he should be money out of pocket. I understood this to mean the money paid by May for our tea at the Old Bailey (about 4_s._), and the coach-fair, which we had agreed with the coachman should be 10_s._ May had no other interest in, or right to the money to be obtained for the body, except for such payments, and for what he could get above nine guineas, as I had promised him. May paid the coachman 10_s._ on our leaving the hospital; but, before we discharged the coach, May and I ran to Mr. Appleton, at Mr. Grainger's school, leaving Williams with the coach. We offered the subject to Mr. Appleton, but he declined to buy it; and then May and I joined Williams, discharged the coach, and went to a public-house close by to have something to drink. After this we got into a coach in the Borough, and drove again to the Fortune-of-War, where we had something more to drink: this was about eight o'clock in the evening. We all three staid there about an hour, and then went out, got a coach in Smithfield, and went towards Old-street-road--stopped in Golden-lane with the coach, and drank something, and then on to Old-street. At the corner of Union-street--the Star corner--May got out of the coach and said he was going home, and I and Williams drove to the corner of Old-street and Kingsland-road, where we got out and paid the coach-fare out of the money lent us by May, he having advanced each of us 3_s._ We then walked home, and went to bed that night as usual. We had agreed with May, on his leaving us, to meet him at Guy's Hospital at nine o'clock the next morning (Saturday). I and Williams went at eight o'clock on Saturday morning to the Fortune-of-War, where we met Shields, the porter, and engaged with him to go with us over the water to carry a subject. I wished him to go to Bartholomew's Hospital for a hamper I had seen there; but he refused, and I fetched it myself. We had a pint of beer, and I, and Williams, and Shields, went to Guy's Hospital, Shields carrying the hamper. We met May there. Williams and Shields went to a public-house, whilst I and May went to Mr. Appleton and offered him the subject again. He again refused to buy it, saying he did not want it. May and I then joined Shields and Williams, and had some drink, and then left them again; crossed the water in a boat to the King's College, where we inquired of Mr. Hill, the porter, whether he wanted a subject? He said he was not particularly in want, but would speak to Mr. Partridge, the demonstrator. Mr. Partridge came, and asked what the subject was? May said, 'A male subject.' Mr. Partridge asked the price. May said twelve guineas. Mr. Partridge said he could not give so much, and went away. Mr. Hill asked us to stay a few minutes while he went after Mr. Partridge, to speak to him again. Hill returned, and said Mr. Partridge would give nine guineas. May said, 'he would be d--d if it should go in under ten guineas.' He was in liquor, and, on his moving a little way off, I took the opportunity of saying to Hill that it should come in at nine guineas. I told May directly after, that I had sold it for nine guineas, and that I would out of it pay him what I had of him, and give him something besides. We then got into a cabriolet, and went back to Williams and Shields at the public-house, where all four of us had some beefsteaks and beer; and afterwards we went to Guy's Hospital, packed the body in the hamper, and put it on Shields' head, telling him to take it to the King's College, where we went, Williams and Shields walking, and I and May riding part of the way in a cab. On reaching the King's College, we carried the body into the theatre, and then into a little room, where we took the body out. Mr. Hill looked at it, and asked what it died of? May answered he did not know, and it did not concern him. Mr. Hill asked us how a cut which was on the forehead came? I answered, that it was done by May throwing the body out of the sack on the stones, which was the truth. Hill told us to remain in the other room, and he would bring us the money. We went into the other room, and waited for some time, when Mr. Partridge came to us and showed me a 50_l._ note, and said he must go and get it changed, as he had not sufficient money without, and he pulled out his purse and counted three or four sovereigns. I said he might let us have that, and give us the remainder on Monday; but he said, 'No--he would rather pay it altogether,' and went away. We waited some time, when the police-officers came and took us into custody.

(Signed) "JOHN BISHOP.

"Witness, ROBERT ELLIS, Under-Sheriff."

"I declare that this statement is all true, and contains all the facts as far as I can recollect. May knew nothing of the murder; and I do not believe that he suspected I had got the body, except in the usual way, and after the death of it. I always told him that I got it from the ground, and he never knew the contrary until I confessed to Mr. Williams since the trial. I have known May as a body-snatcher four or five years, but I do not believe he ever obtained a body except in the common course of men in that calling--by stealing from the graves. I also confess that I and Williams were concerned in the murder of a female, whom I believe to have been since discovered to be Frances Pigburn, on or about the 9th of October last. I and Williams saw her sitting about eleven or twelve o'clock at night on the step of a door in Shoreditch, near the church. She had a child, four or five years old, with her on her lap. I asked why she was sitting there? She said she had no home to go to, for her landlord had turned her out into the street. I told her she might go home with us, and sit by the fire all night; she said she would go with us, and walked with us to my house, in Nova Scotia-gardens, carrying her child with her. When we got there, we found the family in bed, and we took the woman in, and lighted a fire, by which we all sat down together. I went out for beer, and we all partook of beer and rum--(I had brought the rum from Smithfield in my pocket). The woman and her child lay down on some dirty linen on the floor, and I and Williams went to bed; about six o'clock next morning I and Williams told her to go away, and to meet us at the London Apprentice, in Old-street-road, at one o'clock: this was before our families were up. She met us again at one o'clock at the London Apprentice, without her child; we gave her some halfpence and beer, and desired her to meet us again at ten o'clock at night at the same place. After this we bought rum and laudanum at different places, and at ten o'clock we met the woman again at the London Apprentice: she had no child with her; we drank three pints of beer between us, and staid there about an hour. We should have staid there longer, but an old man came in, whom the woman said she knew, and she said she did not like him to see her there with anybody; we therefore all went out; it rained hard, and we took shelter under a doorway in the Hackney-road for about half-an-hour. We then walked to Nova Scotia-gardens, and Williams and I led her into No. 2, an empty house, adjoining my house. We had no light. Williams stepped out into the garden with the rum and laudanum, which I had handed to him; he there mixed them together in a half-pint bottle, and came into the house to me and the woman, and we gave her the bottle to drink; she drank the whole in two or three draughts; there was a quartern of rum and about half-a-phial of laudanum; she sat down on the step between the two rooms in the house, and went off to sleep in about ten minutes; she was falling back; I caught her to save her fall, and laid her back on the floor. Then Williams and I went to a public-house, got something to drink, and in about half-an-hour came back to the woman; we took her cloak off, tied a cord to her feet, carried her to the well in the garden, and thrust her into it headlong; she struggled very little afterwards, and the water bubbled a little at the top; we fastened the cord to the palings to prevent her going down beyond our reach, and left her, and took a walk to Shoreditch and back in about half-an hour; we left the woman in the well this length of time, that the rum and laudanum might run out of the body at the mouth. On our return we took her out of the well, cut her clothes off, put them down the privy of the empty house, carried the body into the wash-house of my own house, where we doubled it up, and put it into a hair-box, which we corded, and left it there. We did not go to bed, but went to Shields' house in Eagle street, Red Lion-square, and called him up; this was between four and five o'clock in the morning. We then went with Shields to a public-house near the Sessions House, Clerkenwell, and had some gin and from thence to my house, where we went in and staid a little while to wait the change of the police. I told Shields he was to carry the trunk to the London Hospital. He asked if there was a woman in the house who could walk alongside of him, so that people might not take any notice. Williams called his wife up, and asked her to walk with Shields, and to carry a hat-box, which he gave her. There was nothing in it, but it was tied up as if there were. We then put the box with the body on Shields' head, and went to the hospital, Shields and Mrs. Williams walking on one side of the street, and I and Williams on the other. At St. Thomas's Hospital I saw Mr. South's footman, and sent him up stairs to Mr. South to ask if he wanted a subject. The servant brought me word that his master wanted one, but could not give an answer until the next day, as he had not time to look at it. During this interview, Shields, Williams, and his wife were waiting at a public-house. I then went to Mr. Appleton, at Mr. Grainger's, and agreed to sell it to him for eight guineas; and afterwards I fetched it from St. Thomas's Hospital and took it to Mr. Appleton, who paid me 5_l._ then, and the rest on the following Monday. After receiving the 5_l._ I went to Shields and Williams and his wife at the public-house, when I paid Shields 10_s._ for his trouble, and we all went to the Flower-pot in Bishopsgate, where we had something to drink, and then went home. I never saw the woman's child after the first time before-mentioned. She said she had left the child with the person she had taken some of her things to, before her landlord took her goods. The woman murdered did not tell us her name; she said her age was thirty-five, I think, and that her husband, before he died, was a cabinet-maker. She was thin, rather tall, and very much marked with the small-pox.--I also confess the murder of a boy, who told us his name was Cunningham. It was a fortnight after the murder of the woman. I and Williams found him sleeping, about eleven or twelve o'clock at night, on Friday, the 21st of October, as I think, under the pig-hoards in the pig-market at Smithfield. Williams woke him, and asked him to come along with him (Williams), and the boy walked with Williams and me to my house in Nova Scotia-gardens. We took him into my house and gave him some warm beer, sweetened with sugar, with rum and laudanum in it. He drank two or three cups full, and then fell asleep in a little chair belonging to one of my children. We laid him on the floor and then went out for a little while and got something to drink, and then returned, carried the boy to the well, and threw him into it in the same way as we served the other boy and the woman. He died instantly in the well, and we left him there a little while to give time for the mixture we had given him to run out of his body. We then took the body from the well, tore off the clothes in the garden, and buried them there. The body we carried into the wash-house, and put it into the same box, and left it there till the next evening, when we got a porter to carry it with us to St. Bartholomew's Hospital; where I sold it to Mr. Smith for eight guineas. This boy was about ten or eleven years old; said his mother lived in Kent-street, and that he had not been home for a twelvemonth and better. I solemnly declare that these are all the murders in which I have been engaged, or that I know anything of; that I and Williams were alone concerned in these, and that no other person whatever knew anything about either of them; and that I do not know whether there are others who practise the same mode of getting bodies for sale. I know nothing of any Italian boy, and was never concerned in, or knew of the murder of such a boy. There have been no white mice about my house for the last six months. My son, about eight months ago, bought two mice, and I made him a cage for them. It was flat, with wires at the top. They lived two months, and were killed, I think, by a cat in the garden, when they got out of the cage. They were frequently seen running in the garden, and used to hide in a hole under the privy. I and my wife and children saw one of them killed by a cat whilst we were at tea. Until the transactions before set forth, I never was concerned in obtaining a subject by the destruction of the living. I have followed the course of obtaining a livelihood as a body-snatcher for twelve years, and have obtained and sold, I think, from five hundred to a thousand bodies; but I declare, before God, that they were all obtained after death, and that, with the above exceptions, I am ignorant of any murder for that or any other purpose.

"JOHN BISHOP.

"Witness, ROBERT ELLIS. U.S."

"I, Thomas Head, alias Williams, now under sentence of death in Newgate, do solemnly confess and declare the foregoing statement and confession of John Bishop, which has been made in my presence, and since read over to me distinctly, is altogether true, so far as the same relates to me. I declare that I was never concerned in, nor privy to, any other transaction of the like nature; that I never knew anything of the murder of any other person whatever; that I was never a body-snatcher, nor concerned in the sale of any other body than the three murdered by Bishop and myself; that May is a stranger to me; and that I had never seen him more than once or twice before Friday, the 4th of November last; and that May is wholly innocent, and ignorant of any of those murders in which I was concerned, and for one of which I am about to suffer death.

"THOMAS HEAD.

"Witness, R. ELLIS."

"Newgate, 4th December, 1831.

"The above confessions, taken literally, from the prisoners, in our presence.

"T. WOOD. R. ELLIS. Under-Sheriffs."

It was not until subsequently to the delivery of these statements, that May was acquainted with the merciful consideration which his case had received.

Shortly after the arrival of the respite at Newgate, Dr. Cotton and Mr. Wontner went to the room in which the three prisoners were confined. The reverend gentleman opened the paper, and began to read it aloud: the most anxious attention was paid to its contents by all the prisoners; but the interest manifested by May, who must have known that the fate of his miserable companions was sealed, but had felt that there was still hope for him, was quite painful to witness--his agitation was dreadful; but no sooner had Dr. Cotton repeated the words, "that the execution of the sentence upon John May shall be respited during his Majesty's most gracious pleasure," than the poor wretch fell to the earth as if struck by lightning. His arms worked with the most frightful contortions, and four of the officers of the prison could with difficulty hold him; his countenance assumed a livid paleness, the blood forsook his lips, his eyes appeared set, and pulsation at the heart could not be distinguished. All persons present thought he could not possibly survive--it was believed, indeed, that the warrant of mercy had proved his death-blow. It was nearly a quarter of an hour before he was restored to the use of his faculties. At last, when recollection returned, he attempted to clasp his hands in the attitude of thanksgiving, but his limbs shook so violently that he found even that was impossible. His lips moved, but nothing but inarticulate sounds came from his tongue. The parties present soothed him with assurances that they knew what he meant to say, and with earnest entreaties that he would calm himself, and not attempt to speak. When restored to something like composure, May poured forth his gratitude to God, and his thanks to the humane gentlemen who had interested themselves in his behalf. He then explained, that when the reverend ordinary commenced reading the warrant, he thought that all hope was at an end--that the ceremony was to signify to him that he must die--the sudden revulsion of feeling when he heard the words we have quoted, caused him to swoon. He added, that on learning he was to be spared, he felt as if his heart had burst in his bosom. He declared most solemnly, now that he was out of jeopardy, as he had done before, that he had nothing to do with the murder for which he had been condemned to die. He had never been concerned--either directly or indirectly--in any murder; but he acknowledged he had committed many sins for which the Almighty might have justly left him to suffer on this occasion. He hoped now to lead a better life, and to evince his gratitude to God by sincere repentance.

It will hardly be credited that Bishop and Williams beheld this awful scene with an indifference approaching to apathy. The dreadful agitation of their less guilty associate seemed to have no effect upon them.

On Sunday night the criminals retired to rest at an early hour, but their efforts to obtain sleep appeared to be vain. They frequently awoke, and entered into conversation with the persons appointed to watch them. Occasionally they entered into religious observances, but generally were averse to them. Once, when the person who sat up with Williams proposed to read to him some extracts out of religious books left him by the ordinary, he roughly declined the proposal, saying, "I had religious talk enough during the day; I will have none of it to-night." He then entered into conversation with the officer upon the subject of the offence for which he was going to suffer. He solemnly assured him, that up to the time of his marriage, he had never had any connexion with resurrection-men; and even added, that it was not until his wedding-night that he had any idea that Bishop got his livelihood by that horrible trade. He told the officer, that on that night, shortly after he had got to bed, his wife conjured him not to have anything to do with the snatchers. This led to inquiries on his part, which terminated in a full disclosure by his wife of the practices by which his father-in-law (Bishop) supported his family. No communication took place between him and Bishop on the subject till some time afterwards, when he was suddenly thrown out of work. Bishop then gradually disclosed to him his mode of life, and asked him to become a partner in the trade. Williams assented. He then became a regular resurrection-man; but, being tired with the difficulties and dangers of the trade, he proposed to Bishop that, instead of disinterring, they should murder subjects. He was then asked what led him to make such a proposal, and his reply was, "the recollection of what Burke had done at Edinburgh." After some other facts, tallying with those in Bishop's account, he stated, that on the Sunday after the murder of the woman Pigburn, they attempted to "Burke" a man whom they accidentally lured into their power. The laudanum, however, which they had mixed with his liquor was not strong enough, as Bishop said, to stupify him beyond resistance, and he was, therefore, allowed to escape, partly from a fear of his struggles, and partly from Bishop's arm being palsied by a similar feeling to that which palsied Lady Macbeth's arm in a similar situation--namely, the feeling that the man whom he was about to dispatch, "resembled his father as he slept." Still bent on their murderous trade, they endeavoured, on the following Tuesday, to get another subject by the same means. Again was the laudanum inefficient; and in this case, as in the former, the intended victim left the house in which he met these ruffians without any idea of his having been exposed to such great and imminent danger.

During a subsequent intermission of sleep, he wrote the following letter, addressed to Mr. Russell, the chaplain of the Penitentiary, in which prison he had once been confined for three years:--

"Newgate, 4th December, 1831.

"MR. RUSSELL--If you will be kind enough to let my brother prisoners know the awful death which I shall have suffered when you receive this, it will, through your expostulations, prevent them from increasing their crimes when they may be liberated; and tell them, bad company, and drinking, and blasphemy, is the foundation of all evil. Give my brotherly love to them, and tell them never to deviate from the paths of religion, and have a firm belief in their blessed Saviour. Give my love to John Edwards, John Justin, and John Dingle, and receive the prayers of the unfortunate and guilty--

"THOMAS HEAD." (His real name.)

Both prisoners rose at six o'clock in the morning, and were soon after visited by the reverend gentleman who had before attended them. Williams, at times, appeared fervent in his devotions, and prayed earnestly; but at intervals he would pause, and seem as if his prayer was hopeless; again he would resume his prayer, and clasp his hands in great agony. Bishop also prayed, but he by no means showed the same fervour as his companion. There was a listlessness in his manner approaching to indifference, not merely to religion, but to everything passing around him. At one time, when urged on the subject of his hope of forgiveness, he said he did hope and trust for mercy through Jesus Christ. He added, that he fully deserved what he was about to suffer, but that his case would be desperate if some greater mercy were not extended to him in the world which he was about to enter.

At half-past seven o'clock, the sheriffs, accompanied by the under-sheriffs, and several gentlemen to whom they had given permission to be present, entered the prison. The sheriffs immediately proceeded to the condemned cells, where Mr. Wontner, the governor, delivered the prisoners up to them for execution. The sheriffs then proceeded to the press-room, to which the strangers who had obtained admission to the prison were also admitted. The prisoners were soon after introduced by the sheriffs' officers. Bishop entered first. That kind of stupor which had been noticed when the verdict of the jury was pronounced, was still more strongly upon him. He advanced in rather a drooping manner, his eye fixed on the ground. His step was slow, without being firm, and his whole bearing was rather that of a man unconscious of, than indifferent to, the dreadful scene through which he was about to pass. He had got more than half-way to the upper end of the room before he looked around; when he did, a kind of half-suppressed groan escaped him, as from one who was, for a moment, roused to a quick sense of an approaching violent death.

But it was only for a moment; for at once he seemed to relapse into his former stupor: his eye was again bent on the ground, and he moved mechanically up to the officer, who stood ready to tie his hands, and stretched forth his arms, the wrists being closely pressed together. When that part of the preparation was concluded, he turned round, and allowed his arms to be pinioned. This done, he took his seat at a side bench without uttering a word. One of the under-sheriffs took a seat by his side, and, in a low tone, asked him whether he had anything more to confess. His answer was, "No, sir, I have told all." The under-sheriff remained with him for a few moments, but the only answers which could be obtained from him were to the effect that he had nothing more to tell.

Williams was next introduced, and came up the room with the same short hasty step which was noticed at the time of his sentence. Since then, however, his whole appearance had undergone the most terrible alteration. That cunning and flippant air which was noticed in him on his trial had left him. His look, as he entered the press-room on Monday, was one of downright horror--every limb trembled as he approached the officer by whom he was to be pinioned, and his hands shook to that degree, that one person was obliged to hold them up while another bound them together. While submitting to this operation, he frequently ejaculated, "Oh, I have deserved all this and more!--oh, I have deserved all I am about to suffer!" One of the under-sheriffs now asked him whether he had anything more on his mind, or wished to make any further disclosure. He replied, "Oh no, sir, I have told all--I hope I am now at peace with God. What I have told is the truth."

After the operation of pinioning had been gone through, at a few minutes before eight, the sheriffs, accompanied by their officers and the prisoners, proceeded towards the scaffold, the ordinary reciting part of the funeral service. Bishop moved on in the same gloomy and desponding manner which we have noticed. His appearance underwent no change as he approached the foot of the scaffold. Williams became more and more agitated as he advanced. Just as he came to the room which led out to the drop, he expressed a wish to see the Rev. Mr. Russell once more. That gentleman came forward, and while Bishop was being led out, seated himself near him. Mr. Russell said to him, "Now, Williams, you have another moment intervening between this and death; and, as a dying man, I implore you, in God's name, to tell the truth; have you told me the whole truth?" Williams: "All I have told you, is true." Mr. Russell: 'But, Williams, have you told me all?" Williams, (still evasive): "All I have told you is quite true." This was the last remark he made, and in a few moments he ascended the scaffold.

The scene without the prison was no less exciting than that which was passing within the jail.

The execution of these wretched and atrocious criminals attracted, as might have been expected, an immense assemblage to the spot, and every possible preparation had been made by the civil authorities for the purpose of mitigating the pressure of the anticipated crowd. The crowd, as early as one o'clock in the morning, had amounted to several thousand persons, and continued rapidly increasing. By five o'clock nearly two-thirds of the Old Bailey were filled with a dense mass of people. The continued buz among the multitude at this time, the glare of light from the torches that were used for the purpose of enabling the workmen to proceed with their labours, and the terrific struggles among the crowd, altogether presented a scene which those who witnessed it will not soon forget. When the fatal drop was stationed in its usual place, it was observed that three chains were suspended from it. As soon as Mr. Wontner, the governor of Newgate, heard of it, he ordered an officer to remove one of them, in consequence of May having been respited. This was done; and, although it was then dark, it was instantly communicated throughout the vast assemblage, and a general cry of "May is respited!" was uttered.

At daybreak there were not less than from thirty thousand to forty thousand persons assembled. The tops of the houses, lamp-posts, and every station from which the most distant view of the execution could be obtained was occupied. In fact, from one end of the Old Bailey to the other was one dense mass; and the streets in the neighbourhood, although not a glance could be had of the platform or the proceedings, were, from an early hour, rendered impassable by the throng of persons hurrying towards the scene of execution. The assemblage was the largest that had ever been witnessed on an occasion of the kind since the execution of Holloway and Haggerty, upwards of twenty years before. Notwithstanding the precautions taken by the city authorities to prevent accidents, several occurred. At the end of Giltspur-street, immediately opposite the Compter, a very heavy barrier was erected across the road, for the purpose of counteracting the immense pressure of the mob, which in that direction extended to Smithfield. This barrier was fastened to two uprights, that were placed two feet in the ground, by iron hooping, which was by no means of sufficient strength for the immense weight of the timber to which it was attached. The consequence was, that at the moment the culprits were visible on the gallows, the barrier was forced down, and a number of persons of both sexes fell with it. The screams of the females, and the confusion that ensued, was truly alarming. Several persons were carried to the hospital, but no life was lost.

As the hour of eight approached, the anxiety of the multitude became most intense; and every eye appeared directed towards the door through which the wretched criminals were to be led to the scaffold.

At eight o'clock the procession began to move from the Press-room, and the appearance of the executioner and his assistant on the scaffold indicated that the last awful ceremony was just at hand. A general cry of "Hats off!" took place, and in an instant the immense multitude were all uncovered. Bishop was first conducted on the scaffold, and his appearance was the signal for the most tremendous groans, yells, and hootings from all parts of the crowd. The wretched man came forward apparently unmoved by the dreadful reception he experienced. The executioner proceeded at once to the performance of his duty; and having put the rope round his neck, and fixed it to the chain, placed him under the fatal beam. A terrific cheer from the crowd proclaimed their satisfaction at the completion of the preparation for his exit to the other world; but still, though placed on the brink of eternity, and about to be launched into it amidst the execrations of his fellow-creatures, the miserable criminal betrayed scarce a symptom of fear. The same listless and sullen manner that had marked his conduct throughout appeared to be preserved by him to the last moment. Not a muscle seemed to be moved, not a limb to shake, though he remained, during the awful interval of two minutes that elapsed before Williams was brought forward, exposed to the indignant hootings of the multitude.

Williams next ascended the scaffold, on reaching which he bowed to the crowd, who returned his salutation with the most dreadful yells and groans. He appeared to labour under extreme anguish, and his demeanour altogether formed a complete contrast to that of his guilty associate. While the cap was being put over his eyes, and the rope adjusted by the executioner, his whole frame seemed convulsed by a universal tremor. The Rev. Mr. Cotton, having engaged the wretched men in prayer--in which Williams appeared to join fervently, wringing his hands and ejaculating aloud--gave the signal for the falling of the drop, when they were launched into eternity. Bishop appeared to die almost instantaneously, but Williams struggled for several minutes. The moment the drop fell, the crowd, which had been yelling all the time, set up a shout of exultation that was prolonged for several minutes.

The bodies having been suspended for the usual time, were cut down at nine o'clock. That operation was performed by the executioner amidst the shouts and cheers of the crowd, which still continued very great.

Immediately after a small cart drove up to the platform, and the bodies of the culprits were placed in it, covered with two sacks. The cart then moved on at a slow pace, followed by the sheriffs and city-marshal, and a large body of constables, along Giltspur-street, to the house of Mr. Stone, No. 33, Hosier-lane--the vast crowd yelling and making other discordant sounds as they proceeded. On reaching Mr. Stone's house, it was with great difficulty the bodies could be removed from the cart, the crowd appearing anxious to get possession of them. The bodies were placed on a table, and in the presence of the sheriffs (in conformity with their duty), an incision was made in their chests, after which they withdrew. The bodies were removed the same night--Bishop to the King's College, and Williams to the Theatre of Anatomy, in Windmill-street, Haymarket--to be dissected. They were publicly exhibited on Tuesday and Wednesday, at both places, when immense crowds of persons were admitted to see their remains.

The skeletons of the two criminals still adorn the museums of the schools, in which their bodies were dissected.

The case of the murder of a Mrs. Pigburn has already been alluded to in the course of this article, and it will be seen that, in the confession made by the two convicts, they admitted their participation in that crime. The statement made by them appears to be strictly correct, as it was fully borne out by Shields, the porter, in a statement which he made before the magistrates at Bow-street.

In consequence of this declaration Mrs. Williams, the wife of the prisoner, was taken into custody on suspicion of her having been concerned in the murder. From her statement, some curious circumstances were elicited as to the prisoners, and her own and her mother's relationship to them. She said that Bishop was the son of a carrier, who lived at Highgate, and who, in the course of a long life, succeeded in amassing a considerable sum of money. Mrs. Bishop, who was at the time of the inquiry about forty years of age, was married to the old man as his third wife, and at this time there were several children living, amongst whom were John Bishop, the convict, and herself, who were half-brother and sister, being both the children of the old man, but by different mothers. At the death of old Bishop, it was found that, by his will, he had divided his property between his last wife, his children, and some other relatives: and the payment of 15_s._ per week was secured to his widow out of a portion of the estate, in which some of the relations had a reversionary interest. In less than six months after the old man's death, his widow and his son married, and they had lived together ever since. She (then Rhoda Bishop), subsequently became acquainted with Williams, whose real name was Head; he had been bred a carpenter, but at this time followed the occupation of a glass-blower, and after a short courtship they were married (about two months before her husband's apprehension on the charge of murder), she being then seventeen years of age. She denied that she was at all aware of the diabolical crimes which had been resorted to by her husband and her half-brother; and although she admitted that she had accompanied Shields on the occasion pointed out, she declared that she was not informed of the nature of the load which he carried.

Mrs. Williams was remanded for a week, but at the expiration of that time, there being no evidence to implicate her in the horrid affair, she was discharged.

We have only a few words to add, in reference to May, to close our notice of these most detestable criminals.

May (who was a tall, light-haired, and rather good-looking man, about thirty years of age) was the natural son of a barrister, who formerly had chambers in the New Inn. His mother was a laundress in the chambers; she was particularly fond of her son, and when he was about twelve years of age she used to lead him about, fearful that any harm should come to him. He was brought up at a boarding-school, and received a tolerable education: he wrote an excellent hand, and at the age of fourteen he was employed in a professional gentleman's office, at No. 10, in the New Inn; but he was always of a wild, roving disposition, and whenever he could get away from his duties he was associating with the worst characters about Clare-market. This appeared to be his sole delight, until he neglected the office altogether, and was, consequently, discharged. He had at the same time some good friends, who felt an interest in his welfare, but nothing could induce him to break-off with his associates; and, instead of remaining a clerk, which he was well adapted for, he took a liking to be a butcher. The first place he got was at Mr. Roberts's, in Clare-market, with whom he lived some time: he afterwards lived with Mr. Price, in the same market; but he never remained long in one place. At last he took up the trade of a "body-snatcher;" and, in order to carry on the business with the greater facility, took a lodging in one of the houses in Clement's-lane, Strand, the back of which looks into the burying-ground, situated in Portugal-street, at the rear of St. Clement Danes' workhouse. Here he commenced business, and was very successful; but, like many others, flushed by success, he could not keep his own secret, and would brag of the number of bodies he had got out of the burying-ground at the back of his lodgings of a night, and what sums he had sold them for. He at first made no secret of his profession, and considered it meritorious, till, at last, he found that he was detested and despised by every person. He then left that part of the town, and got acquainted with Bishop and his associates.

We believe that there is no reason to doubt the truth of his assertions, that he had never been implicated in murder. He made a full confession of the habits and practices of persons engaged in his horrid trade, and his punishment was eventually commuted to transportation for life.

We have already alluded to the doubts which existed as to the ingenuousness of the confessions of the prisoners Bishop and Williams. The general suspicions which were entertained upon this subject, were still further excited by the publication of a report, that another confession had been made, in which the convicts had admitted their participation in upwards of sixty murders. We are inclined to believe that no such confession was actually made, although there is good reason to believe that the wretched malefactors concealed much of their guilt, while they admitted so much only as they knew must eventually be discovered. The idea that their confessions did not contain the whole truth, received confirmation from the circumstance of their denying that the remains found were those of the Italian boy. The evidence of the identity of the body was too clear to leave any room for doubt, and it is a remarkable fact that no information of the loss of such a boy (as they described) from Lincolnshire, ever reached the metropolis. Subsequently to the coroner's inquest and before the trial, two poor people did arrive in London from Lincolnshire, who had lost a boy, and to whom the body of the Italian boy was shown; but, so far from recognizing it as their child, they said, that not only the hair, but the eyes were of a different colour. The whole object of the prisoners seems to have been to mystify the case so as to give them a chance of escape, and having set out with falsehood, they adhered to that course throughout. We have heard that some jealousy was entertained by certain individuals towards Mr. Corder, who conducted the prosecution, and who refused to avail himself of the professional assistance tendered him, and that some of these persons did not disguise their prophecies that the case would "break down," and the prisoners escape for the want of proper evidence of identity. Even Bishop himself offered a bet, before the trial, that he would be safe, as it could not be proved that it was the Italian boy who had been found in his possession. It was not then known that, to meet this difficulty, the count for the murder of "a boy unknown" had been introduced; and when this fact was disclosed, all hope on the part of the prisoners and their jealous friends was abandoned. Mr. Corder received a deserved compliment from the judges for the admirable manner in which he had collected and arranged his evidence, notwithstanding, as he admitted to their lordships, he was "not indebted to any professional man in the progress of his labours." This gentleman subsequently published a letter, urging conclusive reasons for the belief that it was the body of the Italian boy which was found; and, from the testimony of the surgeons who made the post mortem examination of the body, showing the utter falsehood of the statement of Bishop, "that he had been killed by suffocation in the well," instead of by positive violence. The extravasated blood on the brain, and the effusion of blood in the spinal canal, obviously produced by external violence, were the best proofs that, in this respect, Bishop was deceiving his auditors: and, detected in one lie, little reliance could be placed on what followed. It appears, too, that Williams was present while Bishop was telling his story, and simply confirmed him in his narrative. Had they been called upon to make separate confessions, neither knowing what the other had said, some estimate might have been formed of the degree of confidence to be placed in their confession. But, as it was, we think the public are far from having got at the truth; and from the blunders and jealousies of the "officials," we suspect much useful information upon this most dreadful subject was lost.

ELIZABETH ROSS.

EXECUTED FOR A "BURKING" MURDER.

The period of the actual occurrence of the murder for which this woman was executed, was antecedent to that of the crime of Bishop and Williams; but the inquiries which took place in reference to her case, rendered the delay of her punishment necessary until after those atrocious malefactors had expiated their offences on the gallows.

The discovery of this murder took place in the month of November 1831, when a young woman, named Baton, made a statement at Lambeth-street Police-office, which induced a supposition that her grandmother, an aged woman named Elizabeth Walsh, had been unfairly dealt with. An investigation was ordered to be commenced by Lea, the officer, into the affair; and he succeeded in making discoveries which excited the strongest presumptions of the guilt of a woman named Cook, alias Ross, of the crime of murdering the old woman. Mrs. Walsh, it was elicited, was aged and decrepit, and was reduced to obtain a livelihood in the streets by the sale of bobbins, stay-laces, and other similar trifling articles. Mrs. Ross was known as a "cat-skinner," and collector of hare-skins; and she lived with a man named Cook, in Goodman's-yard, Minories, who had obtained an equally unenviable notoriety as a "body-snatcher." Mrs. Ross, having become acquainted with old Mrs. Walsh, had been known to express a strong desire that she would go to lodge with her; but Mrs. Walsh, whose connections were somewhat respectable, had been repeatedly cautioned to have nothing to do with a person whose pursuits and associations were so disreputable. The poor old woman, however, was over-persuaded by the specious arguments of her wily friend; and at length, on the 19th of August 1831, she took up her abode with the supposed Mr. and Mrs. Cook, at their residence. Mrs. Cook occupied only one room, which formed the habitation of herself, her paramour, her son (a boy about eleven years old) and her new lodger. Mrs. Walsh was observed to go out only once after she took up her residence in Goodman's-yard--and after that she was never seen alive. The circumstances of the case were thus far known when the grand-daughter of Mrs. Walsh made her statement to the magistrates; but the inquiries of Lea soon brought other facts to light, which amply proved the guilt of Mrs. Ross of the crime imputed to her. Lea, as a preliminary step, took Cook, Mrs. Ross, and their son, into custody; and, on Wednesday, the 2nd of November, they were conveyed to Worship-street Police-office. During the period which elapsed between the apprehension of the boy and his examination at the police-office, he was observed to be exceedingly agitated and uneasy. The master and mistress of the parochial school at Aldgate, which he had attended for two or three years, were, in consequence, sent for; and he made a statement to them upon the subject of the death of Mrs. Walsh, the substance of which he subsequently detailed before the magistrates.

On the same afternoon Cook and the female Ross were placed at the bar; and their astonishment, on perceiving that their own child was about to be admitted as a witness against them, was quite apparent.

The magistrate asked the boy if he was quite willing to make a full disclosure of what he knew as to the disappearance of the old lady, Elizabeth Walsh? And, having answered in the affirmative, he was sworn, and made the following statement:--He recollected the old lady, Elizabeth Walsh, coming to his father and mother at No. 7, Goodman's-yard, Minories, about ten o'clock on a Friday morning. She brought some bread in a basket, a part of which she gave to him for his breakfast; she went away shortly afterwards, and returned about tea-time in the evening, when she, as well as his mother and himself, had some coffee; his father was not present at the time, though he was when she came in the morning; they had coffee about half-past nine on the same night for supper. He (witness) took part of it, and it made him sleepy, but not sick; the old woman also took some of it, and it seemed to make her drowsy, as she shortly afterwards stretched herself on his father and mother's bed, and placed her hand under her head. She did not at the time complain of illness; on the contrary, she appeared in good health. Sometime afterwards he saw his mother go towards the bed, and place her right hand over the mouth of the old woman, and her left over her body [the boy here burst into tears, and said he was sorry to be obliged to state such things against his own mother]. When his mother placed her hand on the old lady's mouth her arm fell down, and she lay flat on her back on the bed, and his mother continued to keep one hand on her mouth and the other on her person for at least half-an-hour; the old woman did not struggle much, but her eyes stared and rolled very much. He (witness) stood by the fire at this time, and his father, who was now in the room, stood looking out at the window; his father stood so all the time, and he was sure he never once turned round to see what was going forward, and that he had nothing to do with it. In about an hour afterwards his mother raised the body of the old woman from the bed, and carried it down stairs, but where to he did not know; the body was not undressed at the time; he and his father went to bed some time afterwards, and he could not say what time his mother returned, as he did not see her again on that night, after she left the room with the body in her arms. On the following morning he got up about seven o'clock; his father and mother were then up, and in the room; he had occasion, previous to going to school at eight o'clock, to go into the cellar to the privy, and while searching through the cellar for some ducks which he was told were there, he saw the body of the old woman in a sack, which was placed underneath the stairs; a portion of the head was out of the mouth of the sack, and the body appeared to be partly bent, and reclining against the stairs; there was sufficient light in the cellar for him to discern the colour of the hair on the head; it was partly grey and black, but he could not say whether or not the body was dressed or otherwise; the sack in which it was, was one belonging to a person named Jones, with whom his father worked; he had frequently seen it in their room, and he thought it was there on the night before. He went to school shortly afterwards, and never mentioned a word then or since about what had occurred, or his seeing the body in the cellar; on returning home at twelve o'clock in the day, he found his father beating his mother; he thought the cause to be, that the latter had been out drinking with a young woman, the grand-daughter of the old lady, who had called to inquire after her; his mother, he believed, while his father was beating her, called him a villanous murderer, but he had no recollection of her threatening to give any information of him. He (witness), after getting his dinner, went out to play, and did not come home until late; himself, his father, and mother supped together on the Saturday night, and at about ten o'clock his mother left the room; in about half-an-hour afterwards he was standing at the window, and saw her go past with the body in the sack on her shoulder; it was in the same state as he saw it on that morning, except that the mouth of the sack was tied; the body appeared to be partly bent.--[The female prisoner, in an audible voice, exclaimed, "Good God! how could I have borne a son to hang me!"]--The lad again burst into tears, and said he could not help it--that he was telling the truth. He then proceeded with his statement. He did not know at what time his mother had returned on Saturday night, as he and his father, who remained in the room, went to bed, and he was asleep when she came in; on the Sunday morning his mother told him that she had taken the body to the London Hospital. The boy here, as in many parts of his statement, said his father had nothing whatever to do in the business. The magistrates examined him very minutely as to what had taken place on the Friday night, and what conversations (if any) had taken place between his father, mother, and himself, previous to and after the horrid deed had been perpetrated. He said that no words or quarrel had taken place; the old woman and his father and mother were on good terms, and nothing particular had occurred during the evening, until his mother placed her hand, as he had before described, on the mouth of the old lady; nor did she say a word to him or his father while she so held her hand on her mouth. He recollected she had been saying something to him about taking the body to an hospital. He did not see his father lay a hand on the old woman.

The magistrates expressed some surprise that the prisoner should, for a whole day, leave the body in the cellar of the house, which was accessible to all the inmates; but this was satisfactorily explained by the landlady, who said, that in consequence of its being so dark, and so infested with rats, the lodgers very seldom indeed entered it.

This was the substance of the boy's statement, and in many particulars it was distinctly and amply corroborated by the concurrent testimony of other witnesses. In some points, however, he was contradicted. It will be observed, that he stated that the body was carried away by his mother alone; but a man named Barry, whose evidence appeared to refer to the same transaction, declared that he had seen the boy in company with her, and assisting to carry the sack; while another negatived the possibility of the truth of one of his declarations--that his mother had carried the body in her arms, and with great facility--by stating that the deceased was a very tall woman.

The prisoners, upon the proofs which had been adduced, however, were remanded, and subsequent inquiries terminated in the production of further evidence of the guilt of Mrs. Ross. This consisted of the declarations of several persons that she had sold articles of clothing to them in Rag-fair, which were identified as having belonged to the deceased; and, more especially, that she had actually disposed of the stock-in-trade of the poor old woman. All exertions to discover the body of the deceased, however, proved unavailing; and, after several examinations, the prisoners, Edward Cook and Elizabeth Ross, were, on the 24th of December, committed for trial upon the charge of murder.

The intermediate occurrence of the case of Bishop and Williams, the details of which we have already described, and the violent alarm created in the public mind by the frequent reports of mysterious disappearances, and "burking" murders, excited a great degree of prejudice against these unfortunate prisoners, and it was not until the 6th of January 1832, that their case came on for final investigation at the Old Bailey. Ross was then indicted for the wilful murder of the deceased, while the charge made against her paramour, Cook, was that of having aided and abetted his fellow-prisoner in the commission of the offence.

Mr. Adolphus conducted the case for the prosecution, and Mr. Barry and Mr. Churchill appeared on behalf of the prisoners. The defence set up was,--Perjury on the part of the boy, and the possibility that Mrs. Walsh was still living, arising upon the non-discovery of her body. The jury, however, returned a verdict of "Guilty" against Mrs. Ross, but acquitted Cook.

The convict was immediately sentenced to be executed on the following Monday: her body to be given over to the surgeons for dissection.

On Monday, the 8th of January, the wretched woman was hanged, in pursuance of her sentence. After her conviction, as well as before, she persisted in the strongest declarations of her innocence. Her statement was, that she had left the old woman with Cook on the night of her supposed murder, and that having then gone out, she did not return for several hours. On her going back she was told that the old woman had quitted the house. She maintained an extraordinary degree of firmness of nerve; and, up to the last moment of her existence, continued uttering protestations that she was not guilty, and ejaculations of her misery at quitting her own country (Ireland) to be hanged. She mounted the scaffold without assistance, and was turned-off at the customary signal.

HENRY MACNAMARA.

TRANSPORTED FOR FELONY.

The offences of which this person was guilty attracted considerable observation at the time of their discovery. He was taken into custody on the morning of Sunday, the 29th of April, 1832, at the New Hummums Hotel, Covent-garden, on a charge of robbery, committed under somewhat remarkable circumstances; and, on the following day, he underwent an examination at Bow-street, before the sitting magistrate.

From the statement which was then made, it appeared that the prisoner had gone to the New Hummums on the previous Saturday night, and had requested to be accommodated with a bed. His appearance was such as to lead to a supposition that he was a person of respectability, and there was no hesitation in complying with his desire. His luggage, which consisted only of a carpet-bag, was conveyed to the apartment assigned to his use, and, having partaken of a handsome supper, with its concomitants, he retired to rest. The New Hummums, like its brethren under the piazza, was a hotel much resorted to by single gentlemen, or casual visitors to the metropolis; and, on the night in question, its accommodations were as much in request as usual. Major Hampton Lewis occupied a sleeping apartment on the floor beneath that in which the prisoner's room was situated; and, on the same corridor, were four other bed-chambers, all of which were also in use. In the middle of the night, when the house was wrapt in quiet, Major Lewis was suddenly awoke by hearing some person in his apartment; and, on looking up, he saw a man, attired only in his shirt and trousers, as quietly as possible making his way towards the door, carrying off his gold watch, chain, and seals, and his purse in his hands. He jumped up and pursued the intruder, but did not succeed in catching him until he had reached the passage, when he seized him by the shirt and braces. The fellow struggled hard, and succeeded in extricating himself, and ran off up stairs; but the noise had by this time alarmed the other inmates of the house, and instant search was made for the thief. Every room was examined; and at last the constables, who by this time had been called in, arrived at that to which the prisoner had been conducted. They found him in bed; but, on their calling him up, they perceived that he still had his trousers on, and his braces and shirt were torn. The detached remnants of these articles were found, on examination, outside the door of Major Lewis's room, having evidently been torn off in the scuffle; and the watch and purse of that gentleman were also discovered on the stairs leading to the corridor in which the prisoner's apartment was situated. This was a chain of circumstances so conclusive, as denoting the guilt of the prisoner, that he was carried off in custody to the station-house. The uproar and confusion naturally created by a nocturnal event of so extraordinary a character, had, however, scarcely subsided, when four other gentlemen, who slept in the apartments adjoining that of Major Lewis, discovered that they too had been robbed. One gentleman missed a shirt-pin; another some English and French money, amounting to about 3_l._ 15_s._; a third a loaded pistol, which he carried for his protection, and his purse, containing a considerable sum in gold and notes; while the rings and purse of the fourth had been purloined from his dressing-table. In a room opposite to that in which the prisoner had been placed to sleep, and which had not been occupied for several nights, the whole of these articles were found strewed indiscriminately about the floor, under the bed; and with them was also discovered a key, which, on examination, proved to fit the lock of the prisoner's carpet-bag.

These were the circumstances which were proved in evidence on the day of the first examination of the prisoner; but the extraordinary nature of his proceedings in this case, struck the attention of the magistrate so forcibly, that he determined to remand him, in order that, if any other charges of a similar description existed against him, he might be made liable for them too. The prisoner was ordered, therefore, to be again brought up on the following Friday; and on that day a host of persons was in attendance, each more anxious than the rest to detail the circumstances of some robbery of which the prisoner had been guilty.

The evidence of the robberies at the New Hummums having been first gone into, and the prisoner having been ordered to be indicted upon three of them--at the prosecution of Major Lewis, Mr. Courthold, of Barking, in Essex, and a young gentleman named John C. Millenden, who had put up at the hotel on his way from Bordeaux, where his parents lived, to school--the other new cases were taken.

The first of these was preferred by a gentleman named Heath; and, from his evidence, and that of two other witnesses, it appeared, that at a late hour on the night of Friday, the 27th of April, the prisoner went to the Swan-with-Two-Necks, Lad-lane, and asked to be accommodated with a bed. His request was complied with, and he retired to his room, which was situated in a corridor built in the old-fashioned style, round the inn-yard, and which was near to that to which Mr. Heath had been previously shown. In the course of the night, Davy, the porter at the inn, was disturbed by the loud barking of the watch-dog; he went to him to quiet him, but the sagacious animal was aware that there was an intruder stirring upon the premises, and conducted Davy to a dark kitchen, or cellar, where he found the prisoner. He pretended to have come from his room for a necessary purpose, and was allowed to return to his apartment. Soon afterwards, however, he escaped over the balustrades of the corridor, and from the yard, leaving his boots behind him. On the following morning Mr. Heath discovered that his money had been stolen from his room in the course of the night. Both the porter, and a witness who had seen the prisoner quit the inn-yard, and had aided him in adjusting his cloak in the street, were able to speak positively to his identity; and he was committed for trial upon this charge also.

Many other cases were, at subsequent examinations, brought against him, which, however, were so similar in their character to those which have been already detailed that it would be useless to enter into their history or description. The prisoner was recognised as having been guilty of almost innumerable offences, within a very short period; and he was also identified by one of the keepers of Maidstone jail as having made his escape from that prison, where he had been sentenced to be confined for three months as a pickpocket.

On Monday, the 21st of May, the prisoner was tried at the Old Bailey upon the charges preferred against him, and verdicts of "Guilty" were returned. The crimes which he had committed rendered him liable to capital punishment; but the ends of justice, it was felt, would be amply satisfied by the permanent removal of this offender from the scenes of his former exploits, and from the opportunities of renewing his depredations.

Of a piece with the proceedings of this fellow, were those of a man who victimised nearly every hotel in every principal city or town in the kingdom, and who was universally known as "The man with the carpet-bag." A carpet-bag was an article of such a nature as that it was unlikely that the intentions of any persons would be suspected merely on account of his carrying such a means of transporting his luggage. In the case of the person to whom this epithet was applied, however, the carpet-bag was employed for purposes far different from those for which it was customarily used. His habit was to enter that house which presented the most seemly and comfortable aspect, and having partaken of a hearty supper, he would convey his "luggage," of which he always took the greatest care, to his apartment. In the morning it was invariably found that he had decamped, having generously left behind him the contents of his sack, which usually consisted of hay or straw, and a stray brickbat or two, and carried off in their place such portions of the bedclothes as he could conveniently stow away. The possession of a carpet-bag by a traveller was at one time looked upon by landlords and waiters as almost certain evidence of his being a swindler; and numerous are the occasions upon which such a supposition has created considerable inconvenience. The following letter, published in a newspaper of the period, happily hits off the miseries of a "man with a carpet-bag," searching for lodgings. It was addressed--

"To the Editor of Bell's Life in London.

"SIR,--As a stranger in this town, perhaps I shall be excused for addressing you on a topic which may prove amusing to some of your travelling readers, and prevent a series of mortifications to which, from the accidental circumstance of carrying a carpet-bag, they may be exposed. I arrived from Manchester on Monday afternoon last, having travelled the whole of the way outside of the coach. On alighting, I was as miserable as torpid circulation and pinching cold could make me. I had still energy enough left to give the guard and coachman their customary fee, and with my luggage, which consisted only of a carpet-bag, containing a change of apparel, and other matters, to set out in search of a tavern in which I was likely to enjoy the comforts of a good fire and a night's lodging. You will ask why I did not at once take up my quarters at the White Horse, Fetter-lane, where the coach stopped, and which, I had been informed, affords excellent accommodation at a reasonable price? I answer, that I have always had an objection to the bustle of a coach inn; and, I may add, I fancied I could get cheaper quarters elsewhere. Whether I was justified in this conclusion I will not stop to argue; you must take the facts as they come. I turned into Holborn, and went into the first coffee-house which met my eye: I do not know the sign. On entering the coffee-room, I placed my carpet-bag on the table, and commenced freeing myself from the wrapper which surrounded my throat, at the same time ringing the bell for the waiter. A smirking chap soon entered, and casting a look at my bag, and then at me, asked me what I wanted? I replied, 'A steak for my dinner, and a bed for the night.' 'I'm afraid we an't got no bed to spare, sir,' said he, 'but I'll go and ask missis;' and then taking another look at me, and a second at my carpet-bag, out he flounced. I thought this uncivil, but had not long to wait before he returned; and with a sort of would-be knowing look, he informed me his missis hadn't a bed to spare, but I might have a steak if I liked. 'I don't like!' said I; and taking up my bag, off I went in no pleasant mood. I was not long before I discovered another house, into which I popped, and was met by a pretty girl in the passage. 'Pray, my dear,' said I, 'can I have a bed here to-night?' She eyed me from top to toe, and more particularly fixed her attention on my carpet-bag. 'No, indeed, my dear,' said she, laying a stress on the latter words, 'you cannot, so you may walk yourself and your carpet-bag off.' Well, thought I, that's cool, at any rate, and I very soon took her advice. A third house was not far distant, and here again I made my entrance; but had not reached the door of the parlour, when a voice from the bar exclaimed, 'Oh, here's the fellow with the carpet-bag! Thomas, Thomas, come and show him out!' and, sure enough, before I could ask a question, I was taken by the shoulders, and gently pushed into the street, with a polite intimation that they were 'fly' to the carpet-bag, and so I might 'mizzle.' Well, thought I, this is London politeness with a vengeance! but a lodging I must get, and on I went. The next house I approached looked clean and cheerful; and seeing the waiter standing at the door, I civilly asked him if they took in travellers? The fellow, who proved to be an Irishman, laughed, and replied, 'Faith we do, sir, when we can.' 'Then, perhaps, you'll take me in for the night?' said I; 'I have just got off the Manchester coach, and want my dinner and a lodging.' Once more did I notice the particular attention paid to my carpet-bag. 'Be asy, old boy!' said the rascal, with a good-humoured grin; 'though we take in travellers, we don't mane to be taken in ourselves, so walk off with your four bones and your carpet-bag together;' and, turning upon his heel, he marched into the passage, exclaiming to one of his companions, 'The old codger with the carpet-bag has just been here, but it wouldn't do.' I now really began to be vexed, and indignant at this treatment. I pursued my course, however, to a fifth house. Here I was lucky enough to find a rousing fire in the parlour; and having, as I hoped for the last time, deposited my carpet-bag on a chair, I was about to ring the bell, when I was saved the trouble by the landlord, who, entering in a great pet, approached me without further ceremony, took up my carpet-bag, placed it in my hand again, and ordered me out of his house without delay. 'I want a bed,' said I. 'Do you?' said he; 'then you'll find one elsewhere, for you shan't stuff your carpet-bag at my expense!' and out he pushed me, in defiance of all my expostulations. Never was poor devil so incensed: I was completely at a loss to discover the cause of this treatment. It had now become dark, and my anxiety for a lodging became still greater. I resolved upon one more experiment, however, before I gave myself up to despair, and seeing a sixth house of a very tempting description, in I marched, and approaching a good-looking woman in the bar, I made my best bow, and asked her if I could be accommodated with my dinner and a lodging for the night? 'Certainly, sir,' said she, with a smile; and, in a loud tone, called William, the waiter, and Betty, the chambermaid. Both came in a trice; and the landlady, pointing to me, said, 'This gentleman wants a bed and his dinner; show him into No. 2, Betty; and you, William, take the gentleman's order for dinner? William and Betty hesitated, both scanning me and my carpet-bag more particularly, with as much surprise as if they had never seen two such objects before; and at the same moment putting their heads towards their mistress, I could just hear them whisper, 'Carpet-bag!' In an instant the smile of the hostess turned to a frown, and, without further explanation, she exclaimed, looking over the bar at the same time at my unfortunate carpet-bag, 'No, sir; we have no room; it won't do here;' and for the sixth time was I sent forth on my adventures. I now became thoroughly enraged, but suddenly recollecting that, by law, victuallers are obliged to receive travellers, I resolved to be no longer trifled with, and, for the seventh and last time, entered a house in High Holborn, where, without ceremony, I walked into the coffee-room, threw my carpet-bag under the table, took off my great-coat, and desired the waiter to get me a beefsteak, oyster sauce, and potatoes. 'Yes, sir,' was the quick reply. The order was given to the cook in an audible voice--'Nice rumpsteak, hoister sauce, and tators, for one!' The cloth was laid, and in less time than I could have expected, I was discussing the merits of the viands laid before me. Good meat, thought I, requires good drink, and I ordered, in a breath, a pint of porter and a pint of sherry. 'Yes, sir,' said my attendant again, and with equal rapidity they were placed before me. The fellow, in turning round from me on this occasion, observed my carpet-bag under the opposite table. 'Holloa!' said he, 'whose is this here carpet-bag?' ''Tis mine,' I replied. Had I confessed myself a kangaroo or a rhinoceros, I do not think I could have produced more astonishment than this admission, and I could observe him look round the room to the assembled guests, as if he expected them to join in his surprise. Still I had no suspicion that there was anything in my bag, or in my appearance, to attract extraordinary attention; so, without further reflection, I finished my dinner, and called for a pint of port. On this being brought in, I put the old question, 'Can I be accommodated with a bed?' 'No, indeed, you cannot, Mr. Carpet-bag!' said he, shaking his impudent face close to mine. This was past all endurance, and, with an oath, I exclaimed, I would not stir out of the house that night. 'Won't you, indeed!' said he; 'we'll soon see that,' and out he went. The persons in the room regarded me with side-long glances of doubt; but before I could make any remark upon what had occurred, in came Mr. Waiter with a policeman. 'That's him,' said he, pointing to me. 'That's who?' roared I with indignation; 'what have you to say to me?' The policeman, who seemed a decent fellow of his sort, begged of me not to be violent; he believed, he said, I had a carpet-bag? 'I have,' replied I; 'and what then?' 'Only I should like to look into it, sir,' said he. 'I'll be ---- if you shall,' retorted I. 'Ha! ha!' sniggered the waiter, 'I thought how it would be.' I now became perfectly outrageous, and demanded of the policeman if he took me for a felon? 'No, sir,' said he; 'but the fact is, a man with a carpet-bag has been going round to the different taverns in town, plundering the landlords, and 'a caution' to this effect having appeared in the public papers, suspicion has arisen that you may be 'the man with the carpet-bag,' and I have been called in to ascertain the fact.' The civility of the fellow, as well as the ludicrous, although vexatious, cause of all my wanderings, being thus explained, I could not but smile at my situation, but determined at once to justify my character. I gave him the key of the padlock, desiring him to open the bag, the contents of which I enumerated, concluding with the astounding declaration, that, last of all, he would find a canvas bag, containing one hundred sovereigns, and letters to certain persons, whose names I mentioned. The man was a little abashed, but, at my desire, made the search--found all as I described, to the minutest particular--apologized for his interference--and took his departure. The waiter also humbly begged pardon; the company laughed heartily at the recital of my mortifications; I got my bed, paid my bill, and the next morning proceeded to the house of a friend, where, had I gone in the first instance, I should have been saved the trouble of writing this letter for the express purpose of giving landlords 'another caution,'--and that is, not to look, in future, so suspiciously on a traveller with a carpet-bag, unless upon some more cogent ground than mere surmise.

"I am, sir, yours, "A MANCHESTER WAREHOUSEMAN."

The same subject was also made the subject of a farce at one of the minor theatres.

The real "Man with the carpet-bag" was eventually secured, and his fate was similar to that of the convict MacNamara, whose offences have just been alluded to.

THE REFORM RIOTS OF 1831-2.

The year 1831 will ever be memorable in the history of Great Britain, for the struggles by which its progress was characterised, in favour of the great measure of Reform. There was, in reality, no problem ever more clearly or more satisfactorily demonstrated, than the iniquities of parliamentary elections and representation. The necessity for reform was almost universally admitted; for the errors and evils of the existing system had ceased to be seriously denied, and were made the subject of discussion by way of defence only, by persons whose ingenuity and sophistry enabled them to raise arguments in their favour. Half a century had elapsed since reform was on the point of being achieved by a national movement, when it was arrested by the "No Popery" riots of Lord George Gordon. Subsequent events of a nature too powerfully exciting to admit of so large a measure of power to be immediately accorded to the people, required its temporary abandonment; but never entirely laid aside, and always appreciated for its importance and certain utility, it was reserved to be brought forward at a period when tranquillity and favouring circumstances should secure for it a triumphant reception. Such an opportunity presented itself at the commencement of the reign of a liberal and puissant monarch. In William the Fourth, a king was found in every respect worthy the admiration and respect of his subjects, and his reign, short though it was, forms an eventful period of modern history.

The retirement from office of those ministers who had so long swayed the destinies of the nation, afforded to the party who had cherished the anticipation of their procuring the adoption of a measure, which should have for its effect the removal of the existing abuses, an opportunity of attempting to carry out the object which they had in view, and which was so anxiously looked for by the people. The formation of a ministry from among the leaders of this party was an event highly calculated to excite the most favourable expectations, and the speedy declaration of the wishes of his majesty being in entire accordance with those of his people, produced a degree of general satisfaction, which had not been equalled during a long series of years. Savile, Wyvile, William Pitt, Charles Grey, Burdett, Cartwright, Brande, Lambton, and Lord John Russell, were among the names of those by whom the important topic of reform had been already brought before Parliament, and the period had now arrived when the exertions of these men were to have their effect and their reward.

The ministry of Earl Grey was formed in November 1830. Public opinion imperatively marshalled the way, and there was no intention exhibited by the new advisers of his majesty to diverge into any by-path. Those members of the government who had not always been favourable to reform, were now converted, or acquiesced in the necessity of the introduction of such a measure, and it was fully understood that the conditions on which the ministers proposed to conduct the government committed to them, was peace abroad, and reform and retrenchment at home. These were pledges which they most honestly redeemed, in a spirit of wisdom, and temperance, and of firmness, and patriotism.

The Reform Bill was first introduced to the House of Commons on the 1st of March 1831, and so great had been the excitement during the election of the preceding year, that the second reading was carried by a majority of one, in a parliament chosen under the auspices of the Wellington administration: but on the 20th, General Gascoigne carried an amendment, in opposition to a clause proposed by ministers, by a majority of eight. Two days afterwards parliament was dissolved, in a speech in which the king stated that the appeal about to be made to the people had been resolved upon, expressly with a view of ascertaining their sense as to the proposed alteration in the representation. The general election took place in May, and the new parliament met on the 14th of June. On the 24th of the same month the second Reform Bill was introduced, and on the 4th of July, after a debate of three nights, the second reading was carried by a majority of one hundred and thirty-six; the motion having been supported by three hundred and sixty-seven members, and opposed by two hundred and thirty-one. The bill passed the House of Commons, but at half past six o'clock on the morning of the 8th of October, after a debate of five nights, it was thrown out, on the second reading, in the House of Lords, by a majority of one hundred and ninety-nine to one hundred and fifty-eight. On the 20th, parliament was prorogued, and was not called together again until the 6th of December. The year, which had already been so busy and eventful, did not close till the great measure, in the discussion of which so much time had been spent, was again before the legislature. The third Reform Bill was introduced into the Commons on the 12th of December, and was read a second time on the 17th, by a majority of two to one. Having, however, been detained nearly two months in committee, it did not leave the Commons until the 19th of March 1832, when the third reading was carried by a majority of three hundred and fifty-five to two hundred thirty-nine. At seven o'clock on the morning of the 14th of April, it was read a second time in the House of Lords, by a majority of nine, the numbers being one hundred and eighty-four in its favour, and one hundred and seventy-five against it: four nights having been occupied in its discussion. On the 7th of May, the day on which parliament re-assembled after the Easter recess, the motion proposed by Lord Lyndhurst, to postpone the consideration of the disfranchising clauses until the enfranchising clauses had been discussed, was carried against ministers by a majority of one hundred and fifty-one to one hundred and sixteen; and as this was looked upon as the first of a series of obstructions, dextrously intended by the noble and learned lord to delay and mutilate, if not to destroy, the national scheme, the ministers adopted, on the instant, a firm and resolute course. On the 9th of the same month Earl Grey announced in the Lords, and Viscount Althorp in the Commons, that ministers had resigned. A week of terrific agitation ensued, but the sequel proved the efficiency and the excellence of the step which had been adopted.

Lord Lyndhurst, the Duke of Wellington, and Sir Robert Peel, were the new advisers selected by his majesty; but they were made acquainted with his majesty's determination that an extensive reform should be effected. Lord Lyndhurst and the noble Duke were not unwilling to lend themselves to the existing emergency; but the right honourable baronet was more untractable, and the consequence was, the abandonment of the design of the new administration, and the recurrence of the king to his old advisers. On the 18th of May, Earl Grey intimated that he and his colleagues had re-assumed their offices, and that they had done so with an assurance from the king, that his majesty's co-operative aid to carry the Reform Bill should not be wanting. Reports had been long in circulation of the possibility of the creation of a sufficient number of new peers to overwhelm the Tory majority of the House of Lords; but the king and his ministers had hitherto manifested a laudable reluctance to resort to such a measure. Now, however, it was felt that this was the only course left to be pursued; and that measure, which was looked upon rightly as one to which recourse should be had only when all other means had failed, was determined to be resorted to. But the king's resolve having become known, its execution was rendered unnecessary. The Tory peers, rather than such a step should be taken, consented to forego their opposition; and, on the 4th of June 1832, the Reform Bill was read a third time, and passed by a majority of one hundred and six to twenty-two. On the 7th of June it received the royal assent. The Scotch and Irish Reform Bills, and the Boundaries Bill, were, in like manner, soon after enacted into laws. On the 16th of August parliament was prorogued, and, on the 3rd of December, a dissolution took place. The remainder of that month was occupied in the first general election under the new system of representation.

Having thus succinctly detailed the eventful proceedings of parliament during this short period, we shall now proceed to describe the consequences produced by the frequent and repeated refusals of the legislature to accede to the wishes of the people--consequences, the causes of which, without such an introduction, would scarcely be intelligible.

It was in allusion to the rejection of the Reform Bill in the month of October 1831 by the House of Lords, that the popular feeling was most strongly exhibited. Many of the newspapers, which announced the result of the division in the House of Lords, were put into mourning, and a feeling of the deepest and most melancholy foreboding soon spread itself throughout the country. The fate of the Reform Bill became speedily known, and on the Monday following marks of unequivocal sorrow and disgust exhibited themselves. In the metropolis circulars were distributed in every parish, calling meetings; all business appeared suspended; and the shops in all directions were either partially or totally closed. Mourning flags were exhibited from the houses, accompanied by placards, in which the bishops, who had formed a considerable portion of the majority against the bill, presented a source of prolific censure. In King-street, Seven-dials, the effigy of the Duke of Wellington was burned; and, in Tottenham-court-road, a placard was exhibited at a shop, announcing that arms might be had, to be paid for by instalments. On the part of the government, every precaution was taken for the preservation of the public peace. Troops were marched into London, and stationed so as to be ready to be called into immediate activity in case of necessity; ball-cartridges were distributed, and everything was done which prudence could suggest for the maintenance of order. Numerous meetings were held in the course of the week, at which the most enthusiastic determination was exhibited; and every means was adopted by the people to throw disgrace and discredit upon those by whom their wishes had been opposed. The Duke of Wellington, and other noble peers who had distinguished themselves by their opposition to the bill, were roughly greeted, and were pelted on their way to the House of Lords. The Duke of Cumberland was also nearly receiving much ill-usage from a mob assembled in the Park. On Wednesday the 13th of October, the king held a levee at St. James's Palace, at which an immense number of addresses was presented. The trades' unions assembled in vast mobs in the neighbourhood of the palace, accompanied by their flags and other insignia, and some violence was done by the mob. The residence of the Marquis of Bristol, in St. James's-square, was made the object of an attack by them. Many of the windows were dashed in, and a considerable quantity of valuable effects destroyed; but fortunately there were many well-disposed persons in the vicinity, by whom the police were assisted, and the rioters dispersed. The mob, however, had been no sooner driven from here, than they proceeded at once to the residence of the Duke of Wellington, Apsley House, Piccadilly. This was, in turn, made the object of an assault even more severe and determined than that of the Marquis of Bristol. At about half-past two o'clock in the day, several parties were seen to approach the residence of his grace, and the foremost of the gang threw a few stones at the windows, and sent forth the most horrible yells. Some of the servants belonging to the establishment came forward and presented pistols at the mob assembled; but this only served to increase their anger. A volley of stones was instantly hurled at their supposed assailants; and a cry being raised of "They are going to fire on us--now let us go to work," an instant attack was commenced on the mansion. Stones flew in showers on the house, and not a dozen panes of glass were left undemolished, while many valuable pictures inside were utterly ruined, and the furniture was destroyed. The police at first were in small numbers upon the spot, but a reinforcement having arrived from the Vigo-street Station-house, a vigorous attack on the mob was commenced. The employment of their staves, and the determination which was exhibited by the constables, served, in a very material degree, to drive away the assembled crowd; and, of those who were taken into custody, all were of the lowest class--showing that their object was rather mischief or depredation, than the assertion of a principle, or the maintenance of a right. At about seven o'clock in the evening, a new attempt to get up a riot was made by a mob of two or three hundred persons, who were met on their way through Piccadilly towards St. James's Palace; but a speedy stop was put to their proceedings by the police, who had assembled in large bodies to repel any such new effort as might be made.

But while in the metropolis no acts of serious mischief were done, the effects produced by this event in the country were of a nature much to be regretted. At Derby and Nottingham, more especially, serious riots took place. At the former place it is exceedingly probable that the event would have been passed over without any disturbance, but for the indecent and insulting ebullition of joy manifested by a party of those who were opposed to the Reform Bill. The bells of the churches had been tolling during the whole of Saturday evening, the news having reached the town by express at an early hour on that day, and a number of persons, amounting to a considerable crowd, having assembled at the coach-offices, awaiting the arrival of the London coaches, in order that their fears might be set at rest, they were assailed with laughter and other uncalled-for insults by their political opponents. The consequence was a retaliation on their part, which terminated in an attack upon the houses of those who had made themselves unpopular by their conduct. The windows of many of these houses were demolished, and the persons of some of their owners subjected to violence; but at length a considerable number of the rioters were taken into custody. This served only to increase their anger, and an attack being made upon the jail, the whole of the prisoners were liberated. The mob in turn were assailed by the keeper of the prison and his assistants, with fire-arms, and the result was that three of their number were killed. The soldiery were then called out, and tranquillity was at length with some difficulty restored.

At Nottingham the riots bore even a more serious aspect. The consternation which was produced by the arrival of the news of the defeat of the reformers was of a fearful description. During the night of Saturday anything but tranquillity prevailed; and, on the following morning, all were on the tiptoe of anxiety for the arrival of the London newspapers. These brought food to increase the exasperation of the populace. At dark on the Sunday night thousands of persons assembled in the streets of the town, and perambulated the principal thoroughfares. The result was, an attack upon the houses of all those who were opposed to the measure of reform. Windows were broken in all directions; and, as the night advanced, a body of the 15th Hussars, stationed in the neighbourhood, was marched into the town. The people were entreated to disperse, and they indeed quitted the spot on which they were found assembled, but only to make a fresh circuit of the town to complete the work of annoyance to their opponents which they had commenced.

On the next day a meeting of the inhabitants of the town and county of Nottingham was held in the market-place, in pursuance of a requisition which had been numerously signed. A stage was erected in the centre, which was speedily occupied by the mayor, Lord Rancliffe, and many other of the influential inhabitants of the vicinity. Resolutions were adopted, and an address to his Majesty, in unison with their tenor, was enthusiastically cheered. All the speakers urged the people to be guilty of no excesses; but the mob showed little disposition to listen to advice so wholesome, and loud and deep murmurs were heard to escape their lips, expressive of their dislike for their opponents, and of their anxiety for an opportunity to take revenge upon them for their unpopular acts. Shortly before the meeting separated, fourteen bodies organised themselves, and marched in different directions, apparently intent on mischief. Many of them joined at the outskirts of the town, and proceeding to the race-course they destroyed a mill there; after which they shaped their way to the residence of Mr. John Masters, Colwick Hall. Here they committed havoc of the most serious character. Attacking the house, they soon forced an entrance, and they carried off or destroyed every article of property which it contained. The damage done was immense, and the destruction of some valuable pictures is much to be deplored. An attempt was also made to burn the premises, which, however, was unsuccessful, and the mob, armed with the iron palisades by which the house had been surrounded, returned to Nottingham. The castle of Nottingham, belonging to the Duke of Newcastle, a determined anti-reformer, was an object which was soon exposed to their fury. It had been built about one hundred and fifty years before, by an ancestor of the present Duke of Newcastle, at a cost of 25,000_l._, and it presented to them at once the means of gratifying their revenge and their spirit of mischief. They entered the castle gates, and proceeding through the court-yard they soon reached the lofty pile. All was anxiety, but suspense was not long delayed; flames were seen in a few minutes issuing in abundance from the windows, and by the next morning the edifice was destroyed. The amazement created in the neighbourhood was intense; and for a considerable time prevented the inhabitants from taking any steps to prevent or to stop the proceedings of the rioters. The fifteenth Hussars were active in the discharge of their duties, and exhibited both judgment and humanity. On the morning of Tuesday the 11th of October, the castle was found to be still burning, but the destructive element had extended its mischievous effects only to the interior of the building. The external walls remained standing, while the whole of the interior woodwork, together with a large quantity of valuable tapestry, which formed its only furniture, had been destroyed.

During the whole of this day the troops patroled the town, but the spirit of incendiarism was abroad, and a party of the mob of the preceding night assembled at Beeston, near Nottingham, where they ransacked and fired a silk mill belonging to Mr. Lowe. The whole of the machinery and the premises were destroyed, and no fewer than three hundred persons were thrown out of employment in consequence of this dreadful act. The mob were attacked and routed, and two or three persons were killed, besides about twenty being taken prisoners; and it was only the exhibition of the determination of the military and constabulary forces to enforce the law which at length thoroughly and completely dispersed them.

On the following Thursday, tranquillity had been completely restored.

At Liverpool, Manchester, Birmingham, York, Sheffield, Northampton, Worcester, and other places, the expression of the popular opinion was no less distinct, although it was not attended with any of those mischievous results which characterised it in the districts to which reference has been already made.

During the ensuing week, at Nottingham, active measures were taken to secure the persons of those who had been engaged in the riots in that town. The Duke of Newcastle having arrived at his seat, Clumber House, issued a proclamation, as lord-lieutenant of the county, and Clumber House, and Wollerton Hall, the seat of Lord Middleton, were both fortified and garrisoned, lest any new outbreak should take place. No event occurred, however, which showed this step to have been necessary, and in the course of a few days an additional number of twenty prisoners was made, charged with being concerned in the late riots.

The serious nature of these occurrences attracted universal attention, and it was deemed fit that the crimes of the offenders should be made the subject of investigation before a special commission.

The commission was opened at Nottingham, on Wednesday the 4th of January 1832, and the proceedings of the court terminated on Saturday the 14th of January. Many prisoners had been convicted of minor offences in the course of ten days, during which the judges had sat, and had been sentenced to imprisonment, or fine; but on the 14th of January, those who had been capitally convicted were brought up to receive sentence. Their names were, George Beck, George Hearson, Thomas Armstrong, Thomas Shelton, and Thomas Berkins. These were placed in front, and behind them stood William Kitchen, David Thurman, Valentine Marshall, and Thomas Whitaker. The prisoners were addressed by Mr. Justice Littledale, in a feeling manner: and the learned judge having stated the leading circumstances attending the riots, said that the four last-named prisoners would be recommended as fit objects for the exercise of the royal clemency--the others, however, whose share in the riots had been greater, must prepare to quit this world.

The learned judge concluded by passing the sentence of death upon the five prisoners to whom he had severally addressed himself.

During the period which subsequently elapsed before the time fixed for the execution of these culprits, great and meritorious exertions were made by the inhabitants of Nottingham to procure a remission of their sentence, which were not entirely unsuccessful. On Tuesday 31st January, letters were received by the proper authorities from the Home-office, announcing a determination that the full sentence of death should be carried out upon Beck, Hearson, and Armstrong, but that the other two prisoners, Berkins and Shelton, should be respited. Some disappointment was exhibited that this measure of clemency did not extend to the whole of the prisoners under sentence; and the arrival of the mail on the next morning, when the other convicts were to be executed, was looked for with much anxiety, in the anticipation that further letters might be received. In obedience to the wish of the townspeople, the execution was postponed from eight o'clock on the Wednesday morning until eleven; but at a quarter-past ten the mail arrived with no further respite.

The prisoners were then immediately led from their cells to be pinioned, preparatory to their execution. They had passed their time since their conviction in the exercise of such religious observances as were deemed by Dr. Wood, the minister of the jail, best suited to their position, and declared themselves perfectly ready to die. During the period occupied by their being pinioned, they were all three perfectly calm and collected.

On Dr. Wood's concluding the affecting prayer which is always read to criminals just before their execution, and on his consigning them to God's gracious protection and mercy, the procession was formed to ascend the scaffold. Beck ascended it first with great seriousness, but with a firm and unfaltering footstep. Hearson, who had joined with much fervour in all the devotional exercises of the morning, surprised all who had seen his previous conduct by the manner in which he behaved after mounting the scaffold. He took his cap off his head waved it in a sort of triumph, and began to dance like a maniac in his chains. He recognised some individual who was seated on a housetop opposite the scaffold, and shouted out, "Well done, Will, lad." A person in the crowd said to him, "Good bye, Curley," addressing him by the name by which he was commonly known. This address set him to dancing again; and his extraordinary conduct at this crisis of his fate is attributed, not to any spirit of bravado, but to sudden delirium. He turned round to the hangman, and complained that he had not an inch of rope, saying, "Give me rope enough that I may be sooner out of misery." Armstrong, who was brought last upon the scaffold, was much distressed on seeing the frantic gestures of Hearson. About eight minutes were consumed in these preparations. Exactly at twenty minutes before twelve, the hangman drew their caps over their faces; and that ceremony seemed to be the signal for a thousand voices to utter the fearful cries of "Murder!" and of "Blood!" These sounds must have been ringing in the ears of the unfortunate men at the very moment when the withdrawal of the fatal bolt carried them from the tribunals of man to appear at the bar of heavenly justice. They were clasping each other's hands at the moment they fell, but the suddenness of their fall severed the association, and the agonies of death prevented their renewing it. They struggled, but not violently, for five minutes. At the expiration of that time, their frames had ceased to heave, and life was evidently extinct. After the cry of murder had subsided, the multitude, which must have consisted of eight or ten thousand people, behaved with great propriety and decorum. It did not, however, disperse until the hangman made his second appearance on the scaffold to cut down these unfortunate delinquents. This was done at twenty minutes before one o'clock. The bodies were then placed in their respective coffins, and were delivered to their friends in the course of the next day.

At the ensuing assizes for the county of Nottingham, some further convictions for robberies during the riots took place; and several prisoners were sentenced to transportation, to which punishment, also, the sentences of those who had been capitally convicted before the special commission, but respited, were commuted.

At the Derby assizes, on Saturday the 17th of March, several prisoners were put upon their trial for the alleged participation in the riots which had taken place in that town. The prosecution was sought to be supported by the evidence of an approver, who, however, was disbelieved by the jury, and a verdict of acquittal returned.

Other prisoners were not so fortunate, and paid the forfeit of their offences, by suffering imprisonment for various short periods.

In London, too, a similar measure of justice was dealt out to the offenders who had been secured, but the prisoners were almost all of the very lowest classes of the people, and their respective cases presented no features of general interest.

THE BRISTOL RIOTS.

These disgraceful proceedings were consequential upon the rejection of the Reform Bill, to which allusion is made in the last article. Sir Charles Wetherall, who was recorder of Bristol, had, throughout the debates which took place upon this most important subject, in his seat in parliament, delivered himself of sentiments strongly opposed to the great measure, which was justly looked upon as so important to the interests of the people; and his conduct had procured for him on this account a notoriety as unenviable as in the sequel it proved dangerous. The wishes and the desires of the people were treated by him with levity, and even with contempt; and in Bristol, more especially, a strong feeling of hostility was excited against him, from the near connexion by which he was bound to that city.

It was pretty generally known that Sir Charles would enter Bristol on the 29th of October, 1831, for the purpose of opening the commission for the trial of offenders; and very natural apprehensions were entertained that his appearance would produce some popular commotion. The mayor and civic authorities were apprised of the impending danger; and with a degree of discretion not usually found to be exercised on such occasions, they procured the aid of the military, and swore in a great number of special constables, in order to be ready to meet and quell any disturbance or riot which might arise. The office of special constable was looked upon by the more respectable portion of the inhabitants as one which, under existing circumstances, it would be irksome to hold; and many persons were sworn in, whose conduct in the end unfortunately showed how ill the confidence placed in them had been bestowed. The consequences were of the most fatally appalling nature; and the following statement of the occurrences of the 29th, 30th, and 31st of October will be read with pain, not unmixed with disgust at the excesses which were committed.

On Wednesday, the 26th of October 1831, Sir Charles Wetherall arrived at Bath; and, contrary to his usual custom, which was to take up his residence at the house of his sister-in-law, the lady of Colonel Jones, he repaired to the York-house Hotel. During his stay there, although there existed against him a good deal of angry feeling, no particular notice was taken of him. Bills, announcing the place of his sojourn, were distributed through the town; but even this failed in so far exciting the minds of the people as to induce them to offer any injury, or even insult, to the learned gentleman. The ill-feeling which prevailed against him was, however, known, and its consequences apprehended; and so desirous were his friends to avoid any popular outbreak against him, that the period of his departure from Bath was determined to be concealed. Friday night was therefore openly named as the time at which he should quit Bath, but, in reality, he did not retire from the city until Saturday morning at ten o'clock. His carriage at that hour was drawn up in the back-yard of the hotel, ready for his accommodation; and, drawn by four horses, the learned gentleman was quickly driven off.

Although he thus stealthily quitted Bath, Sir Charles had repeatedly expressed his determination not to enter Bristol in a covert manner. He declared his belief in a "reaction," which would produce a strong feeling in his favour; and although he was warmly and strongly recommended not to adopt the course upon which it was understood he had fixed, he persisted in pursuing the line of conduct pointed out.

At about half-past eleven o'clock, Sir Charles was perceived to approach Bristol at a rapid rate, in a chariot drawn by four greys; and, on stopping at Totterdown for the purpose of being handed into the sheriff's carriage, he was instantly assailed by the most deafening yells, groans, and hisses. The constables were then, in considerable numbers, placed around the carriage; a gentleman on horseback riding close by the side of each door, and three or four hundred preceding and following. In this manner the cavalcade, which comprised also the usual number of mayor's and sheriff's officers, mounted, with favours, proceeded slowly towards the city. Just as Sir Charles was passing over Hill's-bridge, his carriage was assailed with four or five stones; but no movement took place with a view to apprehend the offenders, the whole force being anxious only for the protection of the recorder's person. As the procession moved onward, the expressions of disapprobation from the multitude became more and more deafening. In Temple-street, the windows of the houses were crowded with spectators, and the lower orders of females were particularly vociferous in the expression of their feelings, frequently charging the men with cowardice and want of spirit. In passing from the bridge to High-street, one of the constables, a respectable tradesman, received a dangerous contusion in the head; and, in the latter street, also, some few stones were thrown.

On arriving at the Guildhall, in Broad-street, it was with the greatest difficulty that Sir Charles could alight, from the pressure of the immense multitude; but, after the lapse of a few minutes, he was handed out in safety, and proceeded to take his station on the bench. The doors of the hall were then thrown open to the populace, and in a few minutes the area was completely choked up.

The usual forms for opening the commission then commenced; but the noise and confusion occasioned considerable interruption. Amidst a scene of indescribable uproar, they were with difficulty gone through; and, at their conclusion, an adjournment of the court to the following Monday morning took place. The recorder then withdrew from the bench, and the populace, after some further marks of their displeasure towards the learned judge, gave three cheers for the king and retired into the street. Some considerable time then elapsed before the recorder was taken up for the purpose of being conveyed to the Mansion-house. During the interval, Broad-street, and, indeed, the whole line of the route, was occupied by a dense mass of the population. Beyond the mere vocal expression of their feelings, however, there was nothing in their conduct, at this period, calculated to excite alarm. On Sir Charles's reappearance, he was greeted with a repetition of the same favours which had before been so liberally bestowed upon him, which continued through the remainder of his progress, with the exception that, at the Commercial-rooms, in front of which a body of his admirers had placed themselves, he was greeted with three cheers. But there was no violence until the arrival of the carriage at the Mansion-house, in Queen-square. There a few stones were thrown, and a lamp or a window of the carriage was broken; but the recorder himself received no injury.

We have now arrived at what we conceive to be the most important part of our narrative, inasmuch as it was the universal opinion, that the proceedings which directly followed the arrival of the recorder and corporation at the Mansion-house were the more immediate cause of all the disgraceful events which subsequently occurred. A few minutes after their alighting, a rush was made on the populace by a posse of special constables, for the purpose of securing the persons by whom the missiles had just been thrown, and an individual was taken hold of, and dragged into the Mansion-house. Again another rush took place, and another capture was made; and this was repeated several times; the conviction being pretty general, that persons were selected at random. The least show of opposition on the part of the populace, who, during these proceedings, were really guiltless of any new outrage, subjected them to the most brutal attacks of some of the persons who assumed to be special constables, many of whom, by imprudently brandishing their staves, did much to excite the feelings of the people.

At this moment the number of persons collected in the square could not have been less than ten thousand; and a cry having been raised of "To the back," where piles of faggots and firewood were usually kept, a large body proceeded thither, and having armed themselves with sticks, returned in a few minutes to the scene of action. It was then that, for the first time, any serious collision was apprehended; but the constables rushing out in a body, in a moment infused terror into the people, and the sticks were soon to be seen strewed in every direction upon the ground. These were gathered up in bundles and carried off. This was about half-past twelve o'clock. From that period till about four o'clock, the time was passed in occasional skirmishes between the constables and the populace, which generally ended in some one being taken into custody. During these proceedings it was visible that the people were becoming more and more exasperated. Now and then a pane of glass was smashed in, or a club hurled at the heads of the constables; and these attacks generally led to measures which heightened, rather than allayed, the popular feeling.

At about four o'clock, when the shades of night were rapidly approaching, a considerable portion of the constabulary force was most unadvisedly permitted to retire to their homes, for the purpose of refreshing themselves, with an understanding that they should return to relieve the remainder at six o'clock. From that moment the mob became more daring in their attacks on the Mansion-house, until at length the mayor came forward to beg of them to desist, and to retire to their homes. The sentiments delivered by his worship on this occasion were such as did honour to his heart, though it is to be regretted that he did not come forward at an earlier stage of the proceedings, before the minds of the people had been so highly wrought up. His worship, during his address, was assaulted with stones, and a very large one very narrowly missed striking him on the head. The Riot Act was then read, but without producing the least effect upon the mob, who, perceiving the weakness of the force opposed to them, rushed upon the constables, disarmed them, and beat them severely. In this affray many persons sustained serious injuries. One constable, as a condition of release from their vengeance, was compelled to throw his own staff at the mayor's windows; others were obliged to seek refuge in flight; and one was actually chased into the float (dock), whence he was taken up by a boat-hook.

Nothing now remaining to curb the mob, the work of violence immediately commenced by a general and simultaneous attack on every part of the Mansion-house. In an instant the windows and sashes were smashed to atoms; the shutters were beaten to pieces; the doors forced: and every article of furniture on the ground-floor broken up. Tables, chairs, side-boards, mirrors, chimney-glasses, were demolished. The iron palisades, together with the curb-stones in which they were set, were thrown down as if they had been mere reeds stuck in a mud-bank, and furnished many a desperate villain with a formidable iron bar; young trees were torn up by the roots, and converted into weapons of destruction; walls were thrown down to provide bricks with which to assail the upper windows; and straw and combustibles were procured with which to fire the whole premises. At this critical moment it was that Sir Charles effected his retreat, in disguise, through the adjoining premises; but it was not made known until twelve o'clock on the following day that he had left the city. For the present, however, the Mansion-house was saved from conflagration by the arrival of the troops.

It was supposed, judging from the conduct of the mob in the morning, that the appearance of two troops of horse would have been the signal for a general rout. They had now, however, acquired a considerable accession of force, and it was obvious that they had been joined by some of the most determined and desperate characters of the place. Instead of retreating, the thousands who were present, clustering like bees on the adjoining walls and elevations, cheered the troops with the greatest enthusiasm.

Under the protection of the military, the constables and specials again collected in considerable numbers, and several of the most daring of the mob were made prisoners. Still it was found impossible to clear the square or the streets adjacent. The soldiers trotted their horses backward and forward amidst the cheers of the mob, but not the slightest disposition was shown to disperse. The colonel of the district (Colonel Brereton), exerted himself in the most humane and laudable manner. He harangued the multitude, begged and entreated them to repair to their homes, and cautioned them of the dreadful consequences which their conduct otherwise would infallibly draw upon them. He was everywhere received with the greatest cordiality, and with loud cheers.

In the manner already described, things proceeded in the square until twelve o'clock at night. About this time a party of the rioters, disappointed by the restraint which the troops imposed upon them, proceeded to the Council-house, where they commenced operations by smashing the windows. Meanwhile orders were given to the cavalry to make a charge, and here the scene became one of the greatest confusion. The people who ran in all directions, were pursued through the streets for a considerable distance by the soldiers, and several of them received severe cuts from their sabres. Many of the people took refuge in the various passages in Wine-street, from whence they assailed the troops with stones, particularly at the top of the Pithay, where one of the soldiers having been struck, he immediately turned round and shot a man dead upon the spot. This was at half-past twelve; and the soldiers continuing to gallop about the street, prevented the re-assembling of the mob during the night.

On Sunday morning the people again began to collect at an early hour in Queen-square, but everything remaining quiet, and it being hoped that danger had subsided, the troops were withdrawn for some refreshment. They had scarcely disappeared when the mob again commenced their outrages. Ascending now to the upper rooms of the Mansion-house, they proceeded to throw out the valuable furniture into the square. The drawers and other depositories were ransacked, and wearing apparel, bed and table linen, china, &c. were plundered, or wantonly destroyed.

But another, and a most dangerous, exciting cause began to develop itself. During the sacking of the Mansion-house the wine-cellars were forced, and it is supposed that at least one-third of a stock of three-hundred dozen of choice wines was carried off, and wasted and drunk by the mob. It is needless to say that the result was fraught with the worst possible effects; they became madly infuriate, and regardless alike of what mischief they committed, or what risk they incurred. The scene at this moment was of the most depraved description; all ages, of both sexes, were to be seen greedily swallowing the intoxicating liquors; while upon the ground the bodies of scores were to be found, dead with drunkenness. The streets remote from the scene of action, from this time became noisy from the turbulence of wretches who were to be seen staggering about in all directions. The troops were then speedily replaced, but the infuriate mob began to act on the offensive, and sought to wreak their vengeance on them for the wounds they had inflicted on the preceding evening, and particularly to be revenged for the killing of the man on the top of the Pithay. They attacked them with a shower of stones and brickbats, which the men were prevented from resisting, no magistrate being in attendance to take the responsibility of orders to that effect. In this state of things the commanding-officer judged it prudent to withdraw the troops (the 14th Light Dragoons) and replace them with a body of the 3rd Dragoon Guards, commanded by Captain Warrington. On the retirement of the former, they were followed by a large portion of the mob, who continued their assaults upon them along the quay and over the drawbridge. On arriving at St. Augustine's Back, being provoked beyond further forbearance, they turned round and fired several shots on their assailants. The mob, however, nothing daunted, still continued to follow them; and in College Green some further firing occurred. In this place a considerable number of persons had assembled, expecting that Sir Charles as usual would attend Divine Service in the Mayor's Chapel. Still the mob continued their assaults, hanging upon the soldiers' heels, until they arrived at their quarters in the Boar's-Head-yard, where they were again fired upon. The discharges, as the result must show, were however but partial; the number of killed being only one, and wounded seven or eight. One poor fellow, who had taken no part in the disturbances, was shot through the arm as he was standing upon the Quay, on the opposite side.

Immediately after these occurrences, Colonel Brereton rode down to the Square, followed by a considerable number of men and boys, who cheered him on his way thither. He assured them that there should be no more firing, that the 14th should be immediately sent out of the city, and again exhorted them to return to their homes. This was about eleven o'clock; and it was truly awful to reflect on the scenes which were passing at the time when service was commencing in the churches in the neighbourhood. In the square, with the exception of the scenes of drunkenness which were still going on, nothing particular transpired until the evening, with the exception that an individual mounted the statue of King William, and fixing a tri-coloured cap on a long pole, pronounced aloud, "The Cap of Liberty." The soldiers were drawn up in front of the Mansion-house, and the mob seemed nowise disposed to molest them.

After a while, however, they manifested a restlessness for action, and a party, by no means numerous, proceeded to the Bridewell, for the purpose of rescuing the prisoners. On their arrival, they lost no time in procuring sledge-hammers from the nearest smith's shop, and immediately proceeded to beat in the doors. The keeper, Mr. Evans, had just sat down to dinner when he received the visit of the unwelcome intruders. Having succeeded in opening the doors, they became apprehensive that the large folding-gates, which at night shut up the thoroughfare, would be closed upon them, and they directly set about removing them. This they accomplished with the most astonishing facility, and disposed of them by throwing them over the bridge into the float; they then proceeded to liberate the prisoners, and having accomplished their end, they forthwith set the building on fire. During their operations not the slightest molestation was offered to them. This happened about two o'clock.

About the same time a stronger party of rioters, comprising, indeed, almost the whole body, proceeded to the New Jail, a strong-built modern edifice, having been erected about ten years before, at a cost of nearly 100,000_l._ The scene which there presented itself almost baffles description. Along the New Cut, in front of the jail, a dense mass of the rioters had assembled; and on the opposite bank of the river, and, indeed, wherever the eye could range, the people were posted in thousands. The mob had already succeeded in forcing an entrance into the yard and the governor's house, and were busily employed in throwing every moveable article into the New River; and, as the tide was fast ebbing, all was carried off by the stream. The caravan used for conveying the prisoners to the Guildhall, was launched into the water entire, and thither also were consigned the governor's books, and the apparatus for constructing the drop. The rioters procured hammers from the adjoining ship-yard, and with them the massive locks on the iron doors of the different wings were smashed to atoms. The prisoners were now released, and the scenes which followed were dreadful. Many of them, both male and female, stripped off their prison clothes, and proceeded on their way almost in a state of nudity. As they passed along, the mob cheered them and followed them with exultations. Many of them met their friends on the outside; and it is not easy to depict the extravagant joy with which they mutually embraced each other.

After the prisoners had been liberated, amounting altogether (exclusive of debtors) to more than one hundred, the next step taken was that of setting the prison on fire; and a black handkerchief having been tied to the weathercock on the top of the porter's lodge over the gateway, it seemed to be the signal for commencing operations, for immediately after dense clouds of smoke were seen to issue from every part of the building. The flames were first seen to break out from the tread-mill, which burnt with fury until it was quite consumed. In about an hour the governor's house, over which was the chapel, was completely enveloped in flames, and the reflection on the heavens was grand and terrific. The wings, however, being almost exclusively of stone and iron, with iron roofs, were but little injured by fire; though the rioters left behind them every possible mark of wanton outrage. During the proceedings, and while the prisoners were in the course of liberation, a party of the third guards, about twenty in number, arrived; but the mob appeared nothing intimidated; but cheered the troops, who acknowledged the compliment by taking off their caps, and almost immediately after turned round and departed.

As soon as the work of destruction was here completed, the rioters divided themselves into parties, the one proceeding to the toll-houses, at Prince's street-bridge, another to that at the Wells, and another to that at St. Philip's. These, in the present state of things, were considered minor affairs, and were speedily in flames. The tenants had liberty given them to remove their effects. While these were being destroyed, the fire at the prison raged with the greatest fury.

The rioters then set off, about seven o'clock, to the Gloucester county prison, Lawford's-gate, which in a short time was broken into, the prisoners all released, and the building also fired. Here the flames were as appalling as at the new jail. At the same time, also, a party proceeded to Bridewell, which had been only partially destroyed, and kindled up the wing occupied by the keeper; so that the three prisons were in flames at the same instant.

There was now not even the appearance of a check to the licentiousness of the mob, nor indeed had there been since the firing of the soldiers in the morning; and they seemed to revel in a consciousness of their security. Accordingly, a mere handful of the miscreants proceeded to the Bishop's-palace, Canons' Marsh, and, having effected an entrance, immediately commenced the work of destruction. A few individuals, however, were hastily collected, and for a while succeeded in staying their diabolical designs. Orders were sent for the military, who had been guarding the Mansion-house, to repair for the protection of the bishop's residence. They had no sooner left for that purpose, than the mob, who had all day meditated the total destruction of the Mansion-house, commenced operations, and in a very short period set it on fire, beginning in the kitchen under the banqueting-room. On the arrival of the troops at the Bishop's-palace, they found things there tolerably secure; but the flames which even then arose from the Mansion-house, too plainly indicated that they had gone to the protection of the one place at the expense of the destruction of the other. They turned back again, but by the time of their re-appearance in the square, the reflection on the opposite side of the Froom made it apparent that, by their endeavours to protect both places, each had been sacrificed to the fury of the incendiaries. When they arrived in the square, they found the whole of the back premises of the Mansion-house burning fiercely, and the rooms in the front occupied by wretches facilitating the destruction of the building, by firing the apartments simultaneously. The infatuated creatures, no less intoxicated with their successful career than with liquor, pressed forward to the windows and waved their handkerchiefs, cheering at the same time, in exultation of the final accomplishment of their designs on the ill-fated building. Many of them paid the forfeit of their lives for their criminal temerity. From the rapidity of the progress of the flames, it is supposed that some were cut off from a retreat, and that they thus met with an untimely end. The fire spread with most surprising quickness, and in about twenty minutes the roof fell in, and, together with the whole front, came down into the street, with a tremendous crash.

By this time, the fire at the Bishop's-palace raged throughout the whole pile of building, which in a short period was reduced to ashes. The Right Rev. the Bishop, who happened to have been in town during the last ten or twelve days, removed out of the city about the middle of the day; and the most valuable of his effects had also been removed, as a measure of precaution.

But to return to the square.--After the destruction of the Mansion-house, it was hoped that the fury of the mob would have been appeased. The military, having no orders to act otherwise than as mere spectators, were, immediately after their arrival, withdrawn, and joined the remainder of their comrades, altogether few in number, in protecting the Council-house, which it was expected would be the next public building attacked. It was at least hoped that the house adjoining the Mansion-house, if not protected from the flames, would be the last that would be permitted to be destroyed; but we blush while we record the fiend-like conduct which followed. The rioters conceived the plan of firing the adjoining houses, and, by twelve at night, the whole mass, from the Mansion-house to the middle avenue, including the Custom-house, and all the Back Building, in Little King-street, was one immense mass of fire. The Custom-house, as may readily be supposed, was a large building, and the expertness of the wretches in lighting it up, it is certain, proved the destruction of many who were ranging the upper apartments. Many of them were seen as they approached the windows to drop into the flames, and others, among whom was a female, threw themselves in desperation from the windows. The latter was carried to the infirmary, where she subsequently died.

Again the hope was raised that the dreadful work would now cease; but it was in vain. A small band, chiefly boys, who seemed to go about their work as if they had been regularly trained to the hellish employment, proceeded to extend the ravages of the devouring element, preceding their operation by giving half an hour's notice to the inmates to retire. The windows were afterwards smashed in, the furniture thrown out and carried off, and the premises ignited with a rapidity truly astonishing. In this manner they swept away one whole side of the square, and then proceeded to another, commencing with the Excise Office, at the corner. To follow up the account from this time, three o'clock in the morning, would only be a repetition of the details which we have already given.

Morning dawned on such a scene as had never before been witnessed in this place. The flames, it is true, were subsiding, but the appearance of Queen-square was appalling in the extreme. Numerous buildings were reduced to a heap of smoking ruins, and others were momentarily falling in; while around, in various parts, lay the rioters, in the last stage of senseless intoxication, and with countenances more resembling fiends than men. Meantime the soldiers, who had been ordered out of town, were remanded; and the magistrates, having again assembled, came at length to a decision, called out the posse comitatus, and made an application to Mr. Herapath, through the medium of Mr. Under-Sheriff Hare, for the assistance of the Bristol general union. Mr. Herapath, their vice-president, called the members together by public notice--a course which we understand he had already determined on; and in a short time a large body of them had collected together; previous to which Mr. Herapath was invested, by the magistracy, with an authority equal to that of the Under-Sheriff. We are sorry to have to record another piece of folly. The military were ordered to clear the streets--an order which was fulfilled to the letter by a party of the troops which had experienced some rough treatment, and had, in consequence, fired upon the people on the previous day. The sight of this useless piece of duty was peculiarly distressing; nothing was to be seen on every side but unoffending women and children, running and screaming in every direction, while several men, apparently on their way to work, were deliberately cut at, several seriously injured, and some killed. Yet worse effects might have followed this ill-advised measure, if the soldiers had not been shortly after withdrawn from their bloody work, and the streets principally manned with the inhabitants, armed with good strong staves. Several troops, however, of soldiers, together with the eleventh regiment of foot, continued to reach Bristol during the day, and, in the course of the afternoon, intelligence having arrived that there was some disturbance in the neighbourhood of Lawrence-hill, a party galloped off, and secured four countrymen in the very act of robbing a house. With these exceptions, no further collision with the military took place.

Towards the evening, the flames in several houses of the square broke out afresh, and part of the pavement in King-street was forced up by the heat arising from some brandy which was burning in the vaults beneath; but the engines being in readiness, no further injury occurred. An attack on the shipping having been anticipated, the ships' bells were rung, signalguns were fired, and every thing was prepared for resistance. The Earl of Liverpool was moored in the centre of the river, and mounted with guns, an attack on her in particular having been expected; but happily these anticipations were not realised. It being thought possible that if the rioters renewed their attempts, they would, in all probability, endeavour to reduce the streets to total darkness, by cutting off the gas-pipes, the magistrates issued a notice, recommending the inhabitants to illuminate their houses--a recommendation which was pretty generally complied with. The churches also were lit up, and the posse comitatus of the several parishes were stationed in them, a constant guard being kept up, and relieved at stated intervals. The members of the union paraded the streets during the whole of the night.

These measures at length effectually put an end to the frightful scenes which had been enacted during the last two days. In the course of the ensuing week, the magistrates and other authorities of the place were occupied in adopting such measures as would prevent the repetition of the attack, in disposing of the cases of the various persons in custody, who had been concerned in the riots, and in making other general arrangements to secure the tranquillity of the town. Nearly two hundred persons were found to have been secured, but of the whole number, there were very few who were really inhabitants of Bristol, or who were in any way connected with the political party interested in the opposition offered to Sir Charles Wetherall. Many of the facts which were disclosed in evidence before the authorities, as to the occurrences of the days of the riots, were of the most astounding description. Prisoners were proved to have been made, whose pockets and houses were crammed with stolen property, consisting of furniture, gold and silver plate, specie, bank-notes, and other matters of great value. Many inquests were held upon the bodies of persons who had been killed during the riots, in the course of which the most frightful disclosures were made. No new riot, however, arose, and the system of watch and ward, which was adopted, effectually prevented the repetition of such outrages as had been committed. The conduct of the magistrates became the subject of discussion, and many were found who did not hesitate to assert, that they had exhibited great pusillanimity in the course which they had taken. The magistrates were not backward in entering into a defence of their proceedings. They in turn imputed blame to the military, whilst Colonel Brereton declared that he had been actuated by a feeling of humanity only, and by a positive conviction of the uselessness and the danger of infuriating the mob, to the destruction of life, as well as property, by adopting steps more decisive than those which he had taken.

The result of this event, however, was a conviction throughout the public mind, of the necessity of some improvement in the police system of the country. Already had the institution of a metropolitan police force produced a firm reliance in the powers of such a body to suppress outrages of a similar description, and the adoption of some new measure, more extensively carrying out the general plan, was strongly recommended to the attention of Parliament by his Majesty, on his opening the session, on the 6th of December following. The recommendation was not unattended with good results, and the adoption of a measure sanctioning the establishment of a police force in Bristol, similar in character to that which existed in London, afforded considerable satisfaction to the inhabitants of that city.

A special commission for the trial of the persons who were in custody, and who were charged with having been concerned in the riots, commenced at Bristol on Monday, the 2nd of January 1832.

On Tuesday, William Clarke, Patrick Kearney, James Williams, Daniel Higgs, James Courtney, and John Mackay, were placed at the bar. They stood indicted for that they, in that part of the parish of Bedminster within the city and county of Bristol, with others riotously and tumultuously assembled, and pulled down and destroyed a house, the property of his majesty. Other counts in the indictment laid it as the property of the corporation of Bristol, of the citizens, of the commissioners for building the jail, and of the governor.

Having pleaded severally "Not guilty," they were again arraigned upon the indictment for having burned down the same jail; to which also they in a firm tone put in their plea of "Not guilty."

The attorney-general, in opening the case, said, that the charge now against the prisoners was framed on the words of the Act of the 7th Geo. IV., which contained almost in precise words the terms of the Riot Act, passed in the 1st Geo. I., "that if any persons shall riotously and tumultuously assemble together, and begin to pull down any house, &c., every such offender shall be a felon without benefit of clergy." Under this Act of Parliament, persons tumultuously assembling together for the purpose of destroying any house were guilty of felony. With regard to the individuals now before them, it would be proved that they were riotously and tumultuously assembled together, to the disturbance of the public peace; that they were parading the town about noon on Sunday, the 20th of October, in the most riotous and disorderly manner; that after destroying the Bridewell by fire, they proceeded to the public jail, and whether for the purpose of liberating the persons there confined, or with a view to the general destruction of property, they broke into the jail, and set fire to several parts of it. Clarke was seen with a crowbar on his shoulder, actively engaged in the acts of violence and outrage at the head of the party that attacked the jail, which was a strong building, and the gates of which required considerable force to break them down. They did resist for some time all the combined efforts of the mob. At length, however, an entrance was effected by making a small hole through one of the gates, through which some of the rioters made their way, and who succeeded in wrenching them from their hinges. Arrived at the interior of the jail, the mob proceeded, amongst other acts of outrage, to the destruction of the governor's house, which was in a short time reduced to a heap of ruins. These acts would be satisfactorily proved; and it would be also proved, that the prisoners criminally participated in those acts of outrage. To establish still more clearly the guilt of the prisoner Clarke, it would be proved that he was afterwards seen with the keys of the prison in his hand, going about in one of the public-houses in the town, boasting of what he had done--talking of the keys of the "Hen and Chickens," or some expression to that effect, and indulging in the most violent and inflammatory language. He believed that this prisoner was rather of a superior caste, and one from whom such conduct was not to have been expected. He stated himself to have been a Dorsetshire man, and it appeared that he had for some time been himself the proprietor of a public-house. It was to be the more lamented that an individual thus raised above the common crowd should have demeaned himself in so disgraceful and criminal a manner. With regard to all the other prisoners, he did not believe that they would be affected by evidence of the same strong description; but he believed there was not one of them who would not be clearly proved to have taken a large share in the late disgraceful riots.

Several witnesses were then called, who proved most distinctly the active part which Clarke had taken in the disturbances. The trial was continued by adjournment from Tuesday to Wednesday, when the jury found Clarke, Kearney, Higgs, Courtney, and Mackay, "Guilty;" but acquitted Williams.

Clarke, the principal prisoner, appeared throughout the investigation in a most deplorable state, and his weak nerves, contrasted with his muscular figure, rendered him an object both of surprise and compassion. He fainted two or three times, and seemed in a state bordering on insensibility during the three hours which it occupied the lord chief-justice in summing up. He was a strong athletic man, rather above the common size, with nothing in his countenance indicative of the determined outrages laid to his charge. The prisoners Williams, Kearney, Higgs, and Mackay, were young men of about twenty years of age, and Courtney about the middle age; they all appeared to be of an inferior station in life, and presented nothing remarkable in their appearance.

Thomas Evans Bendall, aged nineteen, and James Sims, aged eighteen, were then placed at the bar, charged with having riotously assembled, together with other persons, to the disturbance of the public peace, and with having demolished and destroyed, or begun to demolish and destroy, a certain dwelling-house, the property of the Lord Bishop of Bristol. The attorney-general, in stating the case, said, that though by the act of parliament, the mere beginning to pull down and demolish any building was sufficient to constitute the offence with which the prisoners were charged, yet in this case he should be enabled to prove that the prisoners had been most active on this particular occasion. An attempt was made to prove that Sims was silly, but both were found guilty.

On Wednesday, Christopher Davis, a man of most respectable appearance, about fifty years of age, was placed at the bar, charged with having, on Sunday, the 30th of October, with divers other persons, riotously assembled, demolished and pulled down a certain house belonging to his majesty, called the New Jail. The attorney-general, in opening the case, described the prisoner as having acted as a leader of the mob. He would be proved to have been first at the Mansion-house, encouraging the mob by gestures and by language; to have been one of those who entered that building; to have been up during the whole night; and to have been present at all the disturbances of Sunday. He was near the Bridewell when it was broken into; he was afterwards in Queen-square and at the New Jail, where he was seen at the time that building was in flames. He would be proved to have been seen waving his hat, saying that it was a most glorious sight, and what he had long wished to see; that the churches should be pulled down to mend the highways, and that the bishops should be put down. When the Bishop's Palace was in flames, it would be stated to them by a witness, that he appeared quite overwhelmed by joy. He expressed his readiness to head any mob for purposes such as these. He waved his hat on his umbrella, as if it were a cap of liberty. He was a man of most respectable situation in society, retired from business, and living with his family on a comfortable independence thereby acquired. From such a man a very opposite course was to have been expected--one would have thought he would have rather dissuaded the mob from their disgraceful outrages, than have given his open approval to them.

Several witnesses were then called, who sustained the opening of the attorney-general to the letter, and on the following day the prisoner was found "Guilty."

Many other prisoners were also convicted in the course of the week, and on Thursday a most heart-rending scene was presented. The capital convicts were then brought up to receive sentence of death. Their names were Christopher Davis, William Clarke, Thomas Gregory, Richard Vines, and Joseph Keys, and each prayed with earnest cries for mercy.

The Lord Chief Justice, in a most impressive, though tremulous, manner, addressed the prisoners:--

"Prisoners at the bar:--You have been convicted, five of you in number, upon evidence, in each particular case, which can leave no doubt of your guilt, upon any reasonable mind, of crimes so deeply affecting the interests, and even the very existence, of human society, that your lives have become justly forfeited to the laws of your country. Assembled together with multitudes of other evil-doers like yourselves, you have, by threats and acts of violence, thrown the peaceable and industrious inhabitants of this city into a state of panic and alarm--you have deprived many of their only means of livelihood--you have carried fire to public buildings and to private dwellings, and have exposed the property of all to pillage, and the lives of many to destruction. Human society cannot be held together, if crimes like these are not put down by the strong hand of the law. Unless others are deterred from the commission of similar enormities by the just severity of your punishment, all that makes life valuable to man--the free enjoyment of the fruits of his honest industry, and protection from personal violence, must be altogether given up. The innocent and weak will become a prey to the wicked and strong; and mere brutal force will take the place of order and of law. What motive could lead you to the commission of these crimes it is impossible, from the evidence brought before us, to judge with any reasonable certainty. It was not the pressure of want or misery--it was no grievance, imaginary or real, under which you laboured. I fear no other purpose can be assigned that will apply to the greater number of those who shared in these wicked transactions, than that of giving up this city to flames, that it might become the object of universal pillage. You stand, each of you, a striking and awful example to others, of the wickedness which men commit, and the misery which inevitably follows it, when they throw off the restraint of the laws of God and man, and give themselves up to their own unbridled passions. I can only pray that your unhappy example may be the means of preventing all others from treading in your steps."

Having then separately referred to the circumstances of the cases of the various prisoners, he said in conclusion--

"Let me most earnestly exhort you all to prepare yourselves, by every means in your power, for that great and awful change which doth most assuredly await you within a very short time; apply yourselves earnestly and fervently to the Throne of Grace, that you may endeavour to obtain from him, who knows how to reconcile mercy with justice, that forgiveness which the laws of man cannot extend to you. And now, nothing more remains than the duty, to me a most painful one, of pronouncing the last sentence of the law--That you, and every of you, be taken to the place from whence you came, and from thence to the place of execution, where you will be severally hanged by the neck until you are dead; and may the Lord, in his infinite goodness, have mercy on your guilty souls."

This awful ceremony having been gone through, the prisoners were removed in a most pitiable condition.

The following prisoners were then brought up:--

Patrick Kearney, Daniel Higgs, James Courtney, John Mackay, T. E. Bendall, James Sims, John Powel, Matthew Warry, Cornelius Hickey, James Snook, William Reynolds, George Andrews, Patrick Barney, Benjamin Broad, Stephen Gaisford, Michael Sullivan, Timothy Collins, Henry Green, and Charles Williams.

The Lord Chief Justice addressed them in the following terms:--

Spotted a typo or a problem in this chapter? Tell us