Offence: Theft > theft from a specified place
It appeared that in April last the Prisoner being, as he said, just come over from Ireland, took a Lodging at Mrs. Barwells, who kept a Publick House . He had lodged there between two and three Weeks, when one Afternoon Mr. Cash, who lived in the same House, went abroad and left the Key in his Chamber Door. The Prisoner, that he might have some Excuse for staying above Stairs, pretended that he had some Accounts to settle, and therefore desired his Landlady to lend him her Pen and Ink, which she did; tho' she afterwards found, that he could not write his own Name. While the People were busy below, he took an Opportunity of going into Mr. Cash's Chambers, and stole his Mourning Coat and Wastecoat; both which he put on, and button'd his own old Coat over them. At Night he came down, and call'd for a full Tankard of Beer; and before he had empty'd it, Mr. Cash came in and spoke to him, but did not perceive that he had any more Cloaths upon his Back than belong'd to him. The Prisoner either seeing, or pretending that he saw an Acquaintance at the Door, call'd out, Hah! Paul, won t ye drink with me? And so stept to the Door with the Tankard in his Hand, and went quite off with it. Mrs. Barwell heard no more of him, till an Advertisement in one of the News-Papers informed her, that such a Tankard as she had lost was offer'd to Sale by such a Person as the Prisoner to Mr. Lake, a Goldsmith in Portsmouth; that the Tankard was stopt, and the Prisoner taken into Custody for not giving a good Account how he came by it. Edith Barwell deposed, that upon reading this Advertisement, she wrote to Mr. Lake; and upon his Answer, she went to Portsmouth, where she soon found her Tankard and the Prisoner. He fell upon his Knees, and beg'd her to be favourable to him. She heard there, that he had pawn'd a Mourning Coat and Wastecoat, which proved to be Mr. Cash's, and she redeem'd 'em.
John Lake thus deposed: This is the Tankard that the Prisoner offer'd to Sale at my Shop in Portsmouth: I examin'd who he was, and how he came by it? My Name, says he, is John Barry , and the Tankard was left me by my Uncle Edward Barry , who is lately dead in Ireland, and these two Letters E and B stand for his Name. Not thinking this Account satisfactory, I had him before the Mayor, who committed him to the Town Prison; and upon my publishing an Advertisement, Mrs. Barwell came down. When she saw the Prisoner, she asked him if he knew her? And he answer'd, Yes, Madam, to my Shame, - my Life is in your Hands.
The Prisoner thus made his Defence: I had the Tankard it's true; but I know no more how I came by it than the Man in the Moon; for I was drunk over Night, and next Morning I found myself asleep in S. James's Park, with the Tankard in my Pocket. Guilty . Death .