CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
TENTH SESSION, HELD AUGUST 19TH, 1844.
MINUTES OF EVIDENCE,
Taken in Short-hand
BY HENRY BUCKLER.
GEORGE HEBERT, CHEAPSIDE.
TYLER & REED, PRINTERS, BOLT-COURT, FLEET-STREET.
On the Queen's Commission of the Peace,
OYER AND TERMINER, AND GAOL DELIVERY
The City of London,
AND GAOL DELIVERY FOR THE
COUNTY OF MIDDLESEX, AND THE PARTS OF THE COUNTIES OF ESSEX, KENT, AND SURREY, WITHIN THE JURISDICTION
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT,
Held on Monday, August 19th, 1844, and following Days.
Before the Right Honourable WILLIAM MAGNAY , LORD MAYOR of the City of London; Sir John Gurney, Knt., one of the Barons of Her Majesty's Court of Exchequer; Sir William Wightman, Knt., one of the Justices of Her Majesty's Court of Queen's Bench; Sir Claudius Stephen Hunter, Bart.; Sir Peter Laurie, Knt.; Charles Farebrother, Esq.; Thomas Kelly, Esq.; Sir Chapman Marshall, Knt.; and Sir John Pirie, Bart.; Aldermen of the said City: the Honourable Charles Ewan Law, Recorder of the said City: Thomas Wood, Esq.; Michael Gibbs, Esq.; John Johnson, Esq.; Sir George Carroll, Knt.; John Kinnersley Hooper, Esq.; Thomas Farucomb, Esq.; William Hunter, Esq.; and Thomas Challis, Esq.; Aldermen of the said City: John Mirehouse, Esq., Common Sergeant of the said City; and Edward Bullock, Esq., Judge of the Sheriffs' Court; Her Majesty's Justices of Oyer and Terminer, and Gaol Delivery of Newgate, holden for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal Court.
LIST OF JURORS.
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
MAGNAY, MAYOR. TENTH SESSION.
A star (*) denotes that prisoners have been previously in custody—Two stars (**) that they have been more than once in custody—An obelisk (†) that a prisoner is known to be the associate of bad characters.
LONDON AND MIDDLESEX CASES.
OLD COURT.—Monday, August 19th, 1844.
First Jury, before Mr. Recorder.
MORGAN— GUILTY . Aged 27.— Confined Twelve Months.
BUNYAN— GUILTY . Aged 19.— Confined Six Months.
GUILTY . Aged 23.— Confined Twelve Months.
GUILTY . Aged 19.— Confined Four Months.
JAMES TILLIER . I live at Hammersmith, and am a farmer—the prisoner has been for some years a labourer in my employ—my carter had a holiday, and he took his place—I never authorized him to take oats or beans from the warehouse—my sacks are marked with my name, very visibly—the policeman brought two sacks to me containing beans and oats, which I missed from my stock in the warehouse.
Cross-examined by MR. DOANE Q. You have no doubt it is your property? A. None at all—my brother is my partner—I have known the prisoner for upwards of twenty-four years—he has a wife and very large family—I thought well of him until this occurred, and I gave him extra wages.
WILLIAM DANIEL MITCHELL (police-constable T 167.) On Tuesday night, the 16th of July, at eleven o'clock, I was on duty near the prosecutor's premises, and heard a noise in the warehouse—I saw the prisoner come from it with a sack of something on his shoulder—there was a wagon laden with straw—he went up a ladder, which was placed at the side of the wagon, and when he was nearly at the top I crossed over to him, and said, "Who is there?"—he said, "It is me, Timms"—he immediately dropped the sack, and some of the beans came out—he said it was the first time, it was a bad job, he should not have taken them unless he had found the door open—he wished me to let him take them back—I took him to Mr. Tillier, who got up; we went to the warehouse, and found the door open and the key in the
lock—on searching the wagon I found a sack of oats—the prisoner said he took the beans, but he knew nothing of the oats—I took him to the station.
(The prisoner received a good character.)
GUILTY. Aged 41.—Strongly recommended to mercy by the Prosecutor and Jury.— Confined Two Months.
1908. RICHARD WILSON was indicted for stealing a carpet-bag, value 5s.; 1 coat, 20s.; 1 memorandum-book, 2s. 6d.; 2 pieces of parchment, 2s. 6d.; and 20 pieces of paper, 2s. 6d.; the goods of William Hannen.
WILLIAM HANNEN . I am a solicitor and live at Shaftesbury, Dorsetshire. I came to London on the 10th of May, and lodged at the Southampton Coffee-house, Southampton-buildings, Chancery-lane—I had a small carpet-bag, a memorandum-book, some writings, a deed, and other papers; the bag was placed on the window-seat in my bed-room, and near it was a wrapper or great coat—about half-past six in the evening of the 13th of May, I went into the room and locked a paper in the bag—I missed it next morning—I have since seen the papers that were in the bag—these produced are them.
CHARLES OAKMAN . I keep the Southampton Coffee-house—in consequence of information I advertised a reward for the recovery of the papers—I have not got the advertisement—on the 15th of May I received this letter, in consequence of which I folded up two sovereigns in a sheet of paper, and sent them by my waiter to the Brown Bear public-house—I directed the piece of paper to "A. B."—I went to the Brown Bear and found a letter in the hands of the bar-maid there—I made some communication to the barmaid, and returned between seven and eight o'clock to the Brown Bear—I found the prisoner there in conversation with the bar-maid, and saw the book and papers now produced lying on the counter before him—I gave him into custody.
AMELIA BROCKENSHIRE . I was bar-maid at the Brown Bear, in Broad-street, Bloomsbury, which was kept by my brother. On the 15th of May a letter was brought, and left with me, directed to "A. B."—shortly afterwards a girl came in and inquired—I directed that person to send the individual who wanted that letter—about five minutes afterwards the prisoner came in, and asked if there was a letter directed for one "A. B."—I said there was—he asked me to let him look at it—I told him I could not allow him to have it in his hands, as he was to bring a carpet-bag, containing papers, before he was to have it—he said he wanted to look at it, to see if there was money in it, as he expected there was—I opened it in his presence, and it contained two sovereigns—he left the house, and fetched these papers, tied in a handkerchief—he opened the handkerchief, but I told him I could not let him have the sovereigns, because he had not the carpet-bag—he said he did not know there was a carpet-bag; if I would let him have the two sovereigns he would leave 5s. for the carpet-bag—I said I could not do that, because I did not know whether they were the right papers or not—he said he did not know there was a carpet-bag, for he was not acting for himself.
JAMES LEWIS ASHMAN (police-constable F 119.) I went with Mr. Oakman to the Brown Bear—I waited outside—on receiving a signal, I found the prisoner standing in the bar, in a private box, and the book and papers on the counter—I took him into custody—I produce a letter directed to "A. B."—Mr. Oakman took it from the bar-maid, and gave it to me—the letter sent to Mr. Oakman was produced before the Magistrate—it was never traced to the prisoner.
looks into the footpath in Southampton-buildings. On the 13th of May I noticed the prisoner pass the kitchen window several times between eight and nine o'clock in the evening.
Prisoner. Q. Are you certain you saw me pass? A. I am certain it was him—when I was at the station next morning, I said I should like to see if it was the same man I saw pass the window several times, and it was the man—the carpet-bag was lost from the second floor—the door leading to those stairs is close to the window—if I had turned my head he might have the opportunity of going up stairs—I had done my work at the time, and was leaning on the kitchen window, looking out into the street.
Prisoner's Defence. Two Sessions ago I was prepared with witnesses to prove that I was in a different part at the time; but in consequence of the case being postponed, I am not now prepared with any witnesses, being in a state of poverty.
MR. HANNEN re-examined. I was ill, and was obliged to move the Court, by affidavits of medical men, to postpone the case—the prisoner produced all the articles I lost, except the carpet-bag.
GUILTY . Aged 38.— Transported for Seven Years.
THOMAS DUNSTER . I live in Gun-street, Spitalfields. On the night of the 15th of August, between nine and ten o'clock, I was in Petticoat-lane—I found the prisoner's hand in my pocket—I turned round, and laid hold of his hand—he got his hand out, and my handkerchief in it—he had got the handkerchief clear out of my pocket when I laid hold of his hand.
Prisoner. I did not have the handkerchief in my hand. Witness. I took it from his hand—150 or 200 persons collected in less than two minutes, and tried to rescue him from me—they got his coat off his back—if I had not called "Police" I do not know what would have happened—I did not say he had been trying to pick my pocket—he had got it wholly in his hand—he told the Lord Mayor that I put it into his hand.
EDWARD SPALL (City police-constable, No. 672.) I took the prisoner into custody—I found a great number of people about him—some parties were attempting to rescue him, when I first went up—his coat was off his back—the prosecutor had got him by his neckerchief, with his left hand, and his own handkerchief in his right, which he said he had taken out of the prisoner's hand.
Prisoner's Defence. The persons took my coat off my back, but it was unknown to me, and they hallooed out that 1 was not the lad; that was why they tried to rescue me, I suppose.
HENRY SOLOMONS . I am a general dealer, and live in Bell-lane, Spitalfields, I never knew the prisoner before. Last Thursday evening, as I was coming home, I saw a crowd of persons in Petticoat-lane, and heard a cry for a policeman—I went up, and saw the prosecutor having hold of the prisoner—I heard the people say he was not the man, he was not guilty, that three boys who had run away were the thieves that took the handkerchief—the prosecutor answered, "No, he is the man"—I did not see the three boys.
SOLOMON DAVIS . I live in Petticoat-lane, up a second pair. I heard a row, and thought it was a fight—I heard a call for a policeman, and heard all the people say to the gentleman he was not the man—I did not see three boys.
GUILTY . Aged 18.— Transported for Ten Years.
GUILTY Aged 18.— Confined Three Months.
THOMAS WARD . I live at Bedfont. On the 3rd of Aug. I had some clothes to sell—the prisoner came, and took up a jacket—after he had tried it on I said, "Either say you will have the jacket or let me have the money"—he said he would by and bye; the weather was rough, and he had to go and cover the bricks—in about an hour and half he came back again, and said he had put the jacket down with the rest of the clothes—I said, "No you have not, and if you don't give me the money or the jacket I shall call an officer"—I saw one coming, and made towards him—as he was drawing near, the prisoner made off.
WILLIAM BEECHEY (police-constable T 182.) On Saturday night, the 3rd of August, I went to the prisoner's house, and inquired for him—his wife said he was not at home, and was not coming home that night—I said I knew he was, and at last he came to the window up stairs—he said he would give me the jacket out, and have no more bother about it—I told him he must come down stairs, and I took him into custody—he said he had bought the jacket.
Cross-examined by MR. BALLANTINE Q. I believe you have known the prisoner? A. Yes, about six months—he has been a hard working, honest, and respectable man for what I know.
NOT GUILTY .
GEORGE TEAKLE (police-sergeant H 8.) On the 2nd of July I was on duty on the Victoria race-ground, at Hackney-wick, about half-past six o'clock in the evening—a number of persons were attending the races—I saw the prisoner in the crowd, in company with two other lads—I saw the prisoner go up behind Mr. Chandler, and the other two lads stood behind him, as if covering him—he instantly put his hands between the flaps of Mr. Chandler's coat, and drew this handkerchief out—I laid hold of him—he dropped it, and put his foot on it—I laid hold of it with one hand, and him with the other, and called Mr. Chandler.
GUILTY . Aged 17.— Confined Three Months.
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, August 20th, 1844.
Second Jury before Mr. Recorder.
NOT GUILTY .
GUILTY . Aged 46.— Confined One Month.
GUILTY . Aged 31.— Confined Six Months.
1916. GEORGE MIDDLEDITCH was indicted for feloniously accusing Frederick Rennell Thackeray, of a certain infamous crime, that is to say, of having made to him a certain solicitation whereby to move and induce him to commit with the said Frederick Rennell Thackeray the crime of b----with a view to extort and gain money from him: 2nd COUNT, charging a certain other solicitation whereby to move and induce him to permit the crime of b----to be committed by the said Frederick Rennell Thackeray: 3rd COUNT, for accusing the said Frederick Rennell Thackeray of a certain infamous crime, with a view and intent to extort money from him.
MESSRS. CLARKSON and BALLANTINE conducted the Prosecution.
MAJOR-GENERAL FREDERICK RENNELL THACKERAY . I have been an officer fifty-one years—I was a cadet in June, 1790. On the 20th of June I lodged at No. 19, Bury-street, St. James's, my family being in Hampshire—I had been at Offley's, in Henrietta-street, and was returning home about half-past ten o'clock at night—I was passing down Hemming's-row, on the north side, and the prisoner came up to me—until then I had not seen him at all—I never had any communication with him either that evening or at any other period in my life—he was dressed in uniform—he endeavoured to whisper to me, and stooped—I rather drew back, and did not hear distinctly what he said—I think he uttered some words—he then asked me what hour it was—I replied I did not know exactly, but it was past ten o'clock—he two or three times attempted to whisper again, but I always drew back, and continued on my way home—I went through Green-street, Leicester-square, Panton-street, into Jermyn-street—I found he was following me and did not choose he should know where I lived—I turned round and said, "Which way are you going, for I am going in the opposite direction"—I turned back from going towards my lodgings, and came into the Haymarket, and began to inquire for a policeman—I turned into Piccadilly, and seeing a cigar shop, I went and asked where I could find a policeman—he was then looking in at the window—they told me where to find a policeman, and as I left the shop door a young man who I had never seen before took me by the arm, and said, "Sir, I will protect you"—I proceeded down the Haymarket towards my lodging—I observed to the young man, "This is the way to my lodging; I don't wish the man to know where I live"—he turned round and said to the prisoner, "What do you mean by annoying this gentleman?"—he said, "I know what I mean "—I returned to the Haymarket, and there were two or three empty cabs near the curb-stone—the young man said, "Get into one of the cabs, and you will get away from him"—I said, "Not for a thousand pounds, if he had met with a young man he might frighten him, he will not frighten me, I will go through it and have him punished"—when we came to Regent-circus I saw a policeman, and said, "This young man has been annoying me"—the prisoner ran up and said, "I charge this person with making an indecent assault on my person"—he said that it was in Orange-street, at an accommodation place for making water—he used those words either in Regent-street or at the police office—I had not been in an accommodation place that evening with the prisoner or any person—he said, he was making water in one place and I in the other, that I bent round and put my hand on his private parts—so help me God there is not a syllable of truth in that—I was then taken into custody—Ioffered bail, and he was sent away with a letter to his commanding officer—I was brought next day before
Mr. Hardwicke, at Marlborough-street—the investigation was gone into—I was discharged, and he was given in charge—he made a statement there which I heard.
Cross-examined by MR. PRENDERGAST. Q. You have been in the army many years? A. I have been an officer since 1793—I was going westward towards my lodging when the prisoner accosted me—I was in Hemming's-row, on the north side—I had not been in Orange-street—the prisoner accosted me in Hemming's-row—I did not go into Orange-street, but crossed, I believe it is called Green-street, through Leicester-square, Haymarket, into Jermyn-street, where I stopped and spoke to him, and came back into the Haymarket to look for a policeman—a great many people were passing, in Hemming's-row, particularly—when I found he persisted in following me—(I had heard of cases of this sort being made against people, and they being nervous, large sums of money extorted from them)—I was determined he should not find out my lodging, and turned round into the Haymarket and Piccadilly, and saw the cigar shop—I went from Leicester-square into a street, I do not know whether it is called Panton-street—I was twice in Jermyn-street, once with the witness, and once before by myself, followed by the prisoner—I told the person at the tobacco shop that the man had persisted in following and annoying me—the first time he said I had done anything to him was to the policeman—he had not said a syllable to me before that—he had tried to whisper to me several times, and might have said something, but I drew back—I did not wish to hear what he said—I did not wish to speak to a person who attacked me in the street in that way—I never asked him what he meant by following me—I asked which way he was going, and I would go in an opposite direction—Brealey asked what he meant by annoying me—he said, "I know what I mean."
HENRY STEVENSON . I am assistant to Mr. Beale, tobacconist, Piccadilly—I was serving in the shop on the 20th of June, about eleven o'clock—the General came into our shop, and asked if I could inform him where he could get a policeman, as the soldier outside, standing at the window, had been annoying him—I told him where he would most likely find one—he went towards where I told him, and returned, saying he could not find one, and afterwards went away—I saw the soldier looking through the window—the prisoner is the man.
Cross-examined. Q. How many persons were in the tobacco-shop? A. Two gentlemen and myself—my master was not there—I did not ask the prosecutor what the annoyance was.
CHRISTOPHER ROBINSON (police-constable C 31.) On the night of the 20th of June I was on duty in Lower Regent-street, and saw General Thackeray and the prisoner there—the General said in his hearing, "I give this man in charge"—before he could state what he charged him with, the prisoner said, "I give this man in charge for an indecent assault"—I asked him in what way he had assaulted him—he said, "He came into a watering-place in Orange-street, put his hand round the partition in the watering-place, and caught hold of my private person."
THOMAS STORE BREALEY . I am assistant to a chemist and druggist. I was passing through a court leading from Orange-street on this night—I did not see the prosecutor in Orange-street—I overtook him in Panton-street, and followed him up the Haymarket—the frequent application the General had made to the prisoner to go away, and not to annoy him made me follow him—the General went into a tobacconist's shop—the prisoner was standing at the window—the General came out, looking about for somebody, I went up, and offered him my assistance—we went to look for a policeman, but when
I got to N----street, I wished him to get Into a cab, but he would not—we met a policeman, as the prisoner was following close behind us—the General spoke first, and said in the prisoner's bearing, "I give this man in charge for annoying me"—he was in such a state of excitement at the time, he appeared unable to say all he wanted—the prisoner said, "I give him in charge for indecently assaulting me"—he did not explain what the indecency was till we arrived at the police-station.
Cross-examined. Q. What are you? A. I have been assistant to a chemist, and am at present doing nothing—I was taking a walk that night, and smoking a cigar in Regent-st.—I had left the chemist's two or three months—I first saw the prosecutor in Panton-street, which comet from the Haymarket into Leicester-square—he was walking along, looking behind him several times—the prisoner was a very short distance off—I heard the General repeatedly ask him the way he was going—I was going home—I lodged in Norton-street, Fitzroy-square—I have now a situation as assistant to a druggist, at Newbury, Berkshire—I was six years and a month with Savory and Co., Bond-street—when I asked the prisoner what he meant by annoying the gentleman, he said, "I know what I want," or "what I mean" whether I said, "What do you want," or "mean," I do not know, but it was one or the other.
GEORGE FROUD (police-inspector.) I was on duty at the station in Vine-street, on the evening of the 20th of June—the prisoner and prosecutor came there—I gave the prisoner a letter, directed to the commanding officer of his regiment, and told him to deliver it to the Commanding officer—it was folded up, but not sealed—next morning the prisoner produced the letter from his pocket—he came to us about nine o'clock, before he went to the Magistrate's office, and asked me if it was necessary he should attend at the Magistrate's office—I said, "Yes, certainly; you have charged this gentleman with an offence, and you must appear"—he said he had been advised not to attend, by one of the non-commissioned officers, as it would bring the regiment into disgrace—I asked him if he had delivered that letter, he said he had—he made a statement in my hearing before the Magistrate—he knew the contents of the note—I read it to him.
Cross-examined. Q. I believe he said, if he attended before the Magistrate, he should want a letter from you? A. No he did not—I gave him the letter overnight, to ask the commanding-officer to allow him to come—it was not written at his request—it is the order of the Commissioners, when a soldier is charged, or charges any person, to write immediately to the commanding-officer.
WILLIAM BISHOP . I am clerk to the Magistrate at Marlborough-street Police-court—I produce the book containing the evidence given by the prisoner on the 21st of June, it is in my handwriting, and is a correct statement of what passed—he was sworn before he made the statement—it is not signed by him—I can recollect what passed, by refreshing my memory by these notes—I recollect his making the charge—I have a partial recollection of what he said—I took down from his mouth what he said accurately—(reads)—"I am a private in the second battalion of Coldstream Guards; between ten and eleven o'clock last night I was proceeding towards my barracks, down Orange-street; I had occasion to stop at a watering place; while so doing the defendant came into the adjoining watering place; there is a partition; he looked round at me, then put his hand round, and caught hold of my private parts; I said, 'What do you mean by that, you d—d old scoundrel?' he made answer, 'Don't make a noise, for God's sake,' and left the place immediately; I followed him, he went into a tobacconist's shop between the corner of Whitcombe and Regent-street; he came out in two
or three minutes, caught hold of a young man's arm, and they walked on; he said to me, 'Which way are you going?' I made him no answer; he stopped, and said, 'I am going the reverse way to you;' he turned round to the right; I still followed him; he stopped, and asked me what I was following him for; I told him I wanted to get a constable; he turned back again; I followed him to Regent-circus, when I gave him in charge;" on cross-examination he said "I made a charge on the 12th of July last against a gentleman, named Williams, of a similar nature; I never made any other charge of this sort against any person; I have never been summoned to appear against Williams; I did not report this case at the barracks last night"—the Magistrate discharged the General—the prisoner had made a charge against Williams at our office.
(The letter to the commanding officer was here read, stating that the prisoner had charged Major Thackery with an indecent assault, and that he must appear before the Magistrate the next morning.)
MR. PRENDERGAST to GEORGE FROUD. Q. Did you hear the prisoner say anything about the charge against Williams? A. I was not aware of it till he told me himself the same night—he said he was on duty at Marlborough-house, Pall-mall, and the party accused was brought to the station.
MR. CLARKSON. Q. What did he say became of that case? A. He said he never had anything more to do with it, the party was held to bail—he was aware he had to go to Marlborough-street next day, where he had preferred this charge—it occurred in July, last year.
MR. PRENDERGAST. Q. Did not the prisoner ask you what had become of that case? A. I asked, and he said he could not tell—I believe he said I might find out by looking at the book.
COURT. Q. Did he say where the alleged offence occurred with Williams? A. Yes, at Marlborough-house, Pall-mall, where he was on duty—he said he charged Williams with the same offence—there is a watering-place in Orange-street with three partitions—it is immediately facing the end of Hemming s-row—he said he was in the watering-place, and the general put his hand round, and caught hold of his private parts—he said, "I asked him what he meant by it, and he left," and he followed him—he said nothing as to his construction of what the prosecutor had done, what he understood he meant.
Cross-examined by MR. PRENDERGAST. Q. Is Panton-street in a straight line going from. Hemming's-row? A. If you turn a little to the right, it leads you into Green-street—Orange-street is immediately facing the end of Hemming's-row—it is not a direct line from Hemming's-row to Panton-street—Green-street is.
COURT. Q. Was the prosecutor going in his way home till he was interrupted by the prisoner? A. Certainly—Orange-street is separated from Hemming's-row by Castle-street, but the watering-place is at the further end from Hemming's-row.
(John Farrow, serjeant of the Coldstream Guards; John Freeman, eating-house keeper, Chelsea; Charles Brett, gardener, Chelsea; and John Clements, hair-dresser, Cambridge-road, Mile-end, gave the prisoner a good character.)
GUILTY . Aged 29.— Transported for Life.
MR. CLARKSON conducted the Prosecution.
six and seven o'clock in the evening, I went ashore with the ship-keeper to get his things—I came back to the vessel in about half-an-hour, and found the prisoner in the forecastle—he did not belong to the ship and had no business there—he had a ham in his hand—when he saw me he dropped it—I asked what he was doing—he said he had come on board along with two of his shipmates; that they were in the forecastle at the time, that they had handed this ham out of the forecastle to him, and that they were going to have a jubilee at the Phoenix—I called out every man's name on board, but got no answer—he said they would not answer, and ran on shore—I called out for the officer, and ran after him as fast as I could—I did not lose sight of him at all—the foreman stopped him—I went with him and the watchman to the dock-house—one of the men then went on board with me—we went down the forecastle and found a case of hams broken open, and a poker lying by the side of it—one ham was gone from the case—I had seen the case safe in the afternoon.
Prisoner. Q. Did you see me with that ham in my hand? A. Yes—I do not think there was any man in the forecastle—I did not go down to see—I called out to the officer as the prisoner was making off, that the forecastle had been broken open—we had no seaman named Jem Vowles.
JOHN MERCER . I am an officer of Customs, having charge of the Mary Ridgway. About six o'clock in the evening I saw the lad fasten the forecastle hatchway—it was padlocked—I went into the cabin to get some refreshment, and while there heard Gould call out—I ran to the spot, and found the forecastle broken open—I found this padlock stowed under the windlass—the ham laid near the foremast—I took charge of it while Gould pursued the prisoner—he told me what had happened—I saw him running along the quay after the prisoner—I afterwards went down and examined the forecastle—it was quite dark—I found a case of hams broken open, and this poker lying by the side of it—it appeared as if it hid been forced by the poker—only one ham was gone from the case, and this ham fitted the place it was gone from—the case only contained two hams—the other ham was packed like this.
WILLIAM WARBURTON . I am a watchman, of the St. Katharine Dock Company. On this Saturday evening, about seven o'clock, I was on duty on the C quay, within a hundred yards of the Mary Ridgway, which was on the B quay—I heard a cry of "Stop thief," and saw the prisoner running towards me and Gould after him—I stopped him and asked what he had been doing—Gould said he had been robbing the ship—he said he had not—a policeman was sent for—he said he had been on board, and they were going to have a jubilee with it at the Phœnix.
JESSE TROWER (police-constable H 182.) The prisoner was given into my Custody—he said he went on board with one of his shipmates, and saw the ham lying on the deck, that he thought it was not all right and ran away.
Prisoner's Defence. I had come from Liverpool; I fell in with Jem Vowles, a shipmate; he told me he belonged to this vessel, and took me on board to give me some bread and cheese; I saw the ham and called to him; he did not answer me, and when the boy said the forecastle had been broken open I got frightened. I had been drinking. I am an American; my ship left me behind at, Liverpool.
GUILTY . Aged 43.— Confined One Month.
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, August 21st, 1844.
Third Jury, before Edward Bullock, Esq.
GUILTY . Aged 38.— Confined One Month.
1919. THOMAS ROBERTS was indicted for stealing 1 cash-box, value 12s.; 4 sovereigns, 7 half-crowns, 2 shillings, and 12 pence; the property of James Parkins, in his dwelling-house; and afterwards, about ten o'clock in the night, burglariously breaking out of the said dwelling-house.
MARGARET PARKINS . I live at No. 99, Cheapside, in the house of my brother, James Parkins. On the 21st of July, I saw the shop shut up at nine o'clock at night—the men shut up the shutters—I saw them leave, and bolted the door after them—the house and shop are connected—I went up stairs, and shortly after my attention was attracted by a noise like a bar failing—I went down stairs, and saw that a bar had fallen across the shop, leading from the cellar door at the back of the shop—I went up stairs again—about half an hour after, I heard a noise like the drawing of the latch—I went down again, and found the street door opening into the shop unbolted—the servant was in the house—I bolted the door again, and went up stairs—about ten o'clock the prisoner came to the door—he had lived with us, but was not doing so then—he asked if our foreman had left some money for him—I said, he had not—he asked me if I could give him anything—I said I could not—he then went away—I bolted the door after him, and went up stairs.
JANE FIELD . I am servant to Mr. Parkins. On the 21st of July, about seven o'clock in the evening, I saw the prisoner in the shop—about half-past nine, I was up stairs with Miss Parkins, and heard a noise in the shop—I went down, and saw the bar that had fallen down in the shop—I went out about half-past nine to fetch the beer—I fastened the bottom bolt of the door—on my return a little boy, who was a servant in the house, opened the door for me when I came back—I afterwards heard a noise at the street door, went down, and found it unfastened.
JAMES PARKINS . I live at No. 99, Cheapside—it is my house, and is in the parish of St. Mary-le-Bow—I live in it occasionally—my servants live in it—on the 21st of June I left the house about five o'clock in the afternoon, leaving my sister and the servant there—I had three desks in the counting-house—I had a cash-box in my desk, it was fastened—I returned about nine next morning, and found the counting-house broken—3l.; of silver was taken from my desk, and 2l.; from Hudson, my foreman's desk—there was no money in the cash-box—it was locked—the prisoner had been in my employ some time before—in consequence of receiving a letter from him, I called on him—he said he was very sorry he had done wrong; he could not account for it, and if I went down the cellar stairs I should find the cash-box—I went and found it—I think his intention in committing the robbery was to get out of the country, as he did not spend the money or go away—having lost his situation, he was destitute, and did not know what to do.
Prisoner. I am very sorry for what I have done.
GUILTY. Aged 17.—Recommended to mercy by the Jury and Prosecutor.—
Confined Six Months.
Before Mr. Baron Gurney.
MR. SOLICITOR-GENERAL, with MESSRS. BODKIN and CHAMBERS conducted the Prosecution.
MATILDA HEPPINGSTALL . I live in Green-street, Stepney, Mile-end, Old Town. On the 4th of June last, about half-past one o'clock, the prisoner came to my house—Mr. Hobson, the bookseller, and Mrs. Belaney, the lady who afterwards died at my house, were with him—they agreed to take of me the front and back parlour of the house for one week certain—they came in at half-past four the same afternoon—Mr. Belaney took a rump-steak by himself—he dined by himself—Mrs. Belaney did not take any dinner that day—after that they took tea at my house—Captain Clark and Mr. Hobson remained there with them—they brought in a bottle of port wine and a bottle of whisky—after that they went to the play—Captain Clark and Mr. Hobson were there during the evening after dinner—they did not accompany them to the theatre—they went away before—they live in my neighbourhood—Mr. and Mrs. Belaney returned home at a little after twelve that night—Mrs. Belaney appeared very well then—a little after seven on the following morning (Wednesday) the prisoner desired a black draught to be fetched—my servant fetched it—shortly after that I heard that Mrs. Belaney was sick—I was in the kitchen when I heard that—she was sick several times during the day—she did not get up at all that day—I saw her between ten and eleven that night—she was then on the couch in the front parlour—she appeared poorly—the prisoner went out more than once, in the forenoon, afternoon, and evening—he was out all the afternoon—in the course of the evening Captain Clark called—Mrs. M'Eachern, Captain Clark's daughter, also called in the evening—they were with Mrs. Belaney—after ten at night she went from the bed-room into the front parlour, when Mrs. M'Eachern and Captain Clark were gone home—the back parlour is a bed-room—I did not see her on the Thursday—they took breakfast and she went out early with the prisoner—they were out till five in the afternoon—I did not see her that evening—they had half a pound of ready dressed ham with their tea when they came home—Captain Clark spent the evening with them alone, and he went out in the evening with the prisoner and purchased some pickled salmon—they came back and supped there—there was a pianoforte in the room—I did not hear it played—on Friday morning they arose about the usual time—they breakfasted at home, and went out about ten—I saw Mrs. Belaney just as she was going out—that was all, not to speak to her—I heard no complaint about her health—she told me on Wednesday night that she was much better, that she was only fatigued from travelling—they came back between one and two, in the middle of the day on Friday—I did not see her then—they remained at home about half an hour—they then went out again and returned about half-past nine at night—I saw her through the door after she returned, not to speak to her—she was sitting at the end of the table in the front parlour, and Mr. Belaney was lying on the couch—she appeared, as far as I could judge, in good health—they retired to bed shortly after—they took no supper—just before seven o'clock, on Saturday morning, I heard them conversing in their bed-room—I heard Mrs. Belaney's voice in the bed-room,
but I could not distinguish what she said, and Mr. Belaney's also—at about a quarter or twenty minutes to eight I was called to the room by the prisoner—he said, "Mistress, mistress, come up here, my wife is very ill"—I went up immediately—the prisoner was then at the bed-room door, which was open—my servant and I both entered at once—the foot of the bed comes to the right hand as you go in, a chest of drawers stands on the left hand, and behind the drawers are folding doors, that open into the sitting-room—when you pass the foot of the bed and turn to the right to go up to the side of it, there is a washhand-stand in a recess facing you, the recess is between the chimney and the window—there is a small table and chair near the head of bed on that side—when I and the servant went in I saw Mrs. Belaney lying on the bed—the bed-clothes were all thrown up against the wall—she had no cap on, nothing but her sleeping gown—I said when I entered the room, "She is very bad indeed, sir," and I immediately went to the head of the bed—she was lying quite motionless—she only breathed from her chest—her eyes were shut, and her teeth appeared closed—she was foaming a good deal from the mouth, and with it some fine biscuit, chewed biscuit—I went up to the head of the bed, raised her up, placed her head on my shoulder, and supported her with my arm—the prisoner was standing close beside me, between me and the fire-place—I said, "She is bad indeed, I have seen many fits—I have seen my dear girls in fits before this, but I never saw fits like this"—the prisoner answered that she had had fits—I asked if she had been subject to fits—he said she had had fits before, but not like them, she would not come out of it—I said, "What do you mean, will she not come to?"—I said, "Do something, sir, do something"—he did not answer, and I said, "Do something, pray do something, send for a doctor, pray send for a doctor"—he said, "I am a doctor myself, I should have let blood before, but she has no pulse"—he had a lancet in his hand, but before that I had sent my servant down for the foot-pail with hot water, and she then came into the room with it—I said, "I do not care, sir, if you are a doctor; two heads are better than one; send for a doctor, send for your friends, send for Captain Clark and Mrs. M'Eachern, send for somebody"—he said, "Send for them"—I sent the girl immediately—before the girl was sent, he said, "She will not come to, this is an affection of the heart; her mother died like this nine months ago"—I put my hand on her heart to feel—I could not feel it beat at all—the only sign of life she exhibited was a convulsion from here (the chest)—the throat was drawn towards the mouth—(describing it)—her mouth was closed—the phlegm appeared to have a trouble to come—it came all over my face two or three times—in the force of coming it splashed all over my face by this convulsion—Captain Clark lives seventeen doors off—the girl returned alone—Mrs. M'Eachern was not up—the girl was followed soon after by Mrs. M'Eachern—while the girl was gone, I was still holding the deceased, and kept urging the prisoner to do something—I put my hand on her stomach, and told him I thought it very much swollen, and he then told me she was pregnant—the girl and the prisoner put her feet in warm water—he assisted in doing that—after the girl returned, I desired some vinegar and water to be fetched—she brought it up directly—the prisoner took the pail of water from her feet, placed it on the middle of the bed, and put both her hands into it—I complained that the heat of her head was very great, took some of the vinegar and put it on her head—I said, "Send for somebody again; why does not Captain Clark come?"—the girl said, "I did not ask for Captain Clark, only for Mrs. M'Eachern"—I then said, "Run for Captain Clark then"—he was sent for—when he came, he called for a clothes-brush immediately, and began to rub her legs—I sent the girl down
for a mustard poultice—it was brought, and placed across her chest—I think Captain Clark did it—she died, as near as I can tell, about twenty minutes after I came into the room—I did not look at the clock—she gasped twice before Captain Clark came—the prisoner was in the room from the time I went in till she died—when Mrs. M'Eachern came into the room, Mr. Garrett, the medical man, was lent for—Mrs. M'Eachern came in before she died—directly she came in, I begged of her to fetch a doctor, and motioned my head to her to be quick—she said, "Who shall I fetch?"—she fetched Mr. Garrett—he lived some distance off—he did not arrive till some time after her death—I asked the prisoner what she had taken that morning—he said, "Only a little salts"—I saw a small tumbler close to the head of the bed, on the table—it was one-third full—it was clear, but whiter than water—there was an empty tumbler at the other side of the table—there was a paper of Epsom salts and a tea-spoon—there was no bottle, tumbler, or anything of the sort, on the drawers—I did not notice the appearance of any broken glass about the room—I did not perceive any smell of any particular kind in the room at any time—after she was dead, the prisoner gave Mrs. M'Eachern a phial full of lavender water, and she sprinkled the room—I went into the front parlour that morning, soon after she died—I noticed on the table a letter folded, ready for the post, and another letter partly written—there was no bottle or phial in the room—the phial in which the black draught bad been contained had been brought down on Thursday by my servant—I saw it on the kitchen dresser, and desired it to remain there—the rooms are rather small—there is a table and chair in the bed-room, which filled up from the bedstead to the recess, and answered for the washhand-stand—the drawers are the height of a table—when you are in one of the rooms, you can hear what takes place in the other.
Cross-examined by MR. ERLE. Q. Were you acquainted with Mr. Hobson, the bookseller, for some time before? A. Yes—I had desired him to obtain lodgers for me if he could—he introduced Mr. and Mrs. Belaney to me, as his friends—he lives five or seven minutes' walk from me—they came on the Tuesday—I saw them after they had been admitted, just before their tea—I was going past their door—it was open, and I saw them in the room—that was all—on Wednesday morning this black draught was sent for—I heard it sent for—I heard Mrs. Belaney sick many times that day—I cannot say that the prisoner took her from her bed, and carried her to the sofa, when her bed was made, but she was there—I think he must have done so—I had not seen her in the bed—I saw her lying on the couch—the prisoner called—I went up at the same time, and heard what he requested to be done—he called to have the bed made—he treated her so like a child, that I should think most likely he would take her from her bed to the sofa—orders for dinner were given by him, through the servant on Wednesday—I went up myself, and tapped at the bed-room door—the prisoner came to the door—I said, "Sir, I am afraid my servant has made a mistake; she desires a cabbage to be cut up with a neck of mutton"—he applied to Mrs. Belaney—she said, "No, not in the mutton, separate"—I saw very little of them while they were there—he appeared very attentive to her—when I was called in on Saturday, I was very much alarmed at first by what I saw—I was very much alarmed during the whole time I was in the room—when my attention was first called to this, I remembered that I had persuaded the prisoner to send for a doctor—when Dr. Garrett came out of the room I asked him if this would be allowed to pass unnoticed, so sudden an affair—I was not called to give an account of what had passed till Monday—I then attended at the Inquest with Mr. Clark, Mrs. M'Eachern, and my servant—we also attended before the Magistrate—Mrs. M'Eachern and Mr.
Clark were also examined for the prosecution with me—when I was called in on the Saturday morning I observed two tumblers—there was fluid in the one near her—I took them off the table myself, and sent them down stairs—I do not know what became of them—they were washed, or something—I cannot say whether the other tumbler appeared to have been used—it was empty—the tea-spoon was not in the other tumbler, it was lying on the table.
SARAH WILLIAMS . I was servant to Mrs. Heppingstall, when Mr. and Mrs. Belaney came to lodge there—I waited on them on the Thursday evening when Captain Clark and Mrs. M'Eachern supped there, I attended during supper—they had salmon for supper—Mrs. Belaney partook of it—there was a piano in the room—Mrs. Belaney played on it in the course of the evening—she appeared in good spirits, and in very good health indeed—I waited on them on the Friday in the usual way—they went to the Tunnel in the afternoon—they came home about half-past two, stopped at home about half an hour, went out again, and came home about half-past nine in the evening—when they went out in the afternoon I did not hear them say where they were going—they had no supper when they returned—they retired to rest about ten o'clock—on Saturday morning, about five minutes before seven, the prisoner rang the bell, and asked for a jug of hot water, a tumbler, and a spoon—I gave it him—I went into the parlour, and be took them into the bed-room—he was dressed—he did not go out at all after that—about half-past seven I was dusting the parlour—he told me not to do so, for he was going to write—he came into the parlour from the bed-room—I went out—I saw him get the materials for writing—he got the paper and laid it down on the table to begin to write—I did not see him begin to write—he said he would not have the breakfast up, when he wanted it he would ring—I left the room—about twenty minutes to eight I heard him call out, "Mistress, mistress, my wife is very ill"—I was in the kitchen with my mistress—I had not heard the least noise before I heard him call—on hearing him call, I and my mistress went up stairs directly—we went into the bed-room immediately—the prisoner went in with us—Mrs. Belaney was lying on the bed—her cap was off, and her hair was hanging about her head—the bed clothes were right off of her—she was lying straight on her back—she did not appear to be sensible—she had not got her eyes open, or her mouth either—she was foaming very much at the mouth—she was not moving at all only about her neck and head—I and my mistress raised her up in the bed—the prisoner felt her pulse, and said he would use the lancet, only he was afraid her pulse was gone—I went down and fetched some hot water, and the prisoner helped to wash her feet with the hot water, with his hand—he wanted some more hot water, and was going to fetch it himself I got it—he then sluiced her hands, took the pail, and put her hands into it—I went down, got some vinegar, and put it over her face, and across her forehead—he sluiced her face with it—I cannot say who sent me for the vinegar—I think it was my mistress—after that I went down for Mrs. M'Eachern—she came shortly after, and Captain Clark too—Mrs. M'Eachern went for Mr. Garrett—when I went into the room I noticed a tumbler on the table, it was a tooth glass, it was about half full of stuff, rather white and rather thick—I did not see any other tumbler—the water-bottle was on the washhand-stand, that was not very far from the bed—it could not be reached from the bed—I did not take notice where the jug of hot water was that I had taken up that morning—I did not take down the small tumbler that I saw—the contents were thrown away when the glass was washed—I did not take down any other tumbler—after Mrs. Belaney was dead, she was laid out,
and directly after that, about ten o'clock, I dusted the floor of the bed-room—I did not find any pieces of broken glass—I swept the floor with a small hand-brush and a shovel—I stooped when I did it, it was just slightly done—in the course of the morning I dusted the front parlour, I found a stopper of a bottle under the piano, it was too large for a phial—I laid it on the piano on some books—I did not see it afterwards, I have never seen it since—it was broken clean off, the neck part was broken off it—I only found the top—it was only part of a stopper—it must have been about twelve o'clock in the day when I placed it on the piano—I first looked for it after that on Sunday morning, I did not find it—on that Saturday I saw some broken glass on the steps of the door outside, it was white glass, the colour of a phial—it could not have come from the fan-light window, for I looked there—I thought perhaps some one might have broken the window, but it was not broken—I did not smell any particular smell when I was dusting the floor of the bed-room—I did not smell anything when I first went into the room in the morning—the window was a little open—I recollect Mrs. Belaney having taken a black draught a day or two before—Mr. Belaney laid that bottle on the drawers, and told me to take those things and touch nothing else—I took it down into the kitchen—between twelve and one o'clock after Mrs. Belaney died, the prisoner went out—I found the broken stopper after he went out—he did not return at all that day—on Sunday he came three times—he never returned to sleep there.
Cross-examined by MR. CLARKSON. Q. How long did the corpse of Mrs. Belaney remain at your mistress's house? A. Until the following Wednesday—there was a bed overhead, where he might have slept if he had chosen—my mistress had one—I am quite sure it was on the Saturday that I found the stopper—I always have been so—I never entertained any doubt about it—not the least—Mr. Belaney came about half-past four o'clock on Tuesday afternoon—he went out, and brought Mrs. Belaney in about five o'clock—the prisoner appeared to be attentive and very kind to her from the beginning—I remember his carrying the tea and an egg to her from the sitting-room to the bed-room, but she did not touch it—I think she was not well enough—on the Wednesday, the prisoner handed to me the basin with the contents of her stomach, which she had discharged after taking the medicine—on the day she had taken the medicine, after consulting her, he ordered the boiled mutton for her dinner—I asked whether or not the vegetables should be boiled with the mutton, and he went and asked her—I went to her after the prisoner had gone out on the Wednesday, to know whether she would take anything—I went to her three times that evening while the prisoner was out—she told me she would decline taking anything till Mr. Belaney returned—I remembered all this when I was examined before the Magistrate and the Coroner—I did not see the prisoner carry her from the bed to the sofa—I did not see her lying on the sofa—I remember the prisoner calling to me to be quick—on the Thursday evening, when I heard her at the piano, Captain Clark was in the house—he had supper there—I have seen him in attendance here to-day—he was bound over with the rest of the witnesses—on the Thursday, when the prisoner went out, Captain Clark went with him—they had supper together, and went out after—I believe Mrs. M'Eachern staid to keep company with Mrs. Belaney—she is here—immediately on the return of Captain Clark, Mrs. M'Eachern and himself went away, and Mr. and Mrs. Belaney retired to bed—if the prisoner had not called out to my mistress on the 8th, I should not have gone up—I should not have been aware I was wanted if I had not heard the call—when Mrs. Belaney was foaming at the mouth, and in that state, the prisoner cried very much—he sat down, with his handkerchief
over his eyes—I remember the prisoner, as well as my mistress, telling me to go to fetch Mrs. M'Eachern—the prisoner did not say, "Have you been and desired Captain Clark to come directly?"—he just asked me if I had called for Captain Clark—I said, "No, sir, I did not know that I was to fetch Captain Clark"—it was the prisoner who applied to me to know.
MARK BROWN GARRETT . I am a surgeon, and live in New-road, St. George's. On Saturday morning, the 8th of June, about half-past eight o'clock, I was called by Mrs. M'Eachern to attend on Mrs. Belaney—I live full a mile from the house, probably more than that—when I arrived at the house, Mrs. Belaney was dead—I made a general examination of the deceased, and remarked that the death was very sudden, and I could only account for it by supposing she had died of disease of the heart—the prisoner said he was of the same opinion; that her mother had died of disease of the heart some months before—I inquired whether she had taken any medicine that morning—he said she had merely taken some salts—I called Captain Clark into the front room—the prisoner came in shortly afterwards by my desire—I told him it would be necessary there should be an inquiry into the cause of death, it was so sudden—he said if I thought it necessary—he begged me to take the usual steps on such an occasion—an inquest was afterwards held—I attended it—it was on Monday in the forenoon—it was adjourned for the purpose of a post-mortem examination—I assisted in the examination, about four o'clock on the Monday afternoon, in company with Mr. Curling of the London Hospital—we found the whole of the organs generally healthy, and in the stomach we found about a pint of fluid, or nearly so, strongly impregnated with the odour of prussic acid—the fluid was put into a bottle, and sealed, in the presence of Mr. Curling and myself—it was taken to the London Hospital, and has since been examined by an analytical chemist—between eight and nine o'clock the prisoner called at my house with Captain Clark and Mr. Hobson—(the first time he called I was absent)—Captain Clark first inquired as to the state of his daughter, and then he inquired if we had ascertained the cause of Mrs. Belaney's death—I told him that we (meaning Mr. Curling and myself) had not finished our consultation—about ten o'clock that same evening the prisoner called on me again with Captain Clark and Mr. Hobson—the prisoner then made a statement to me—he said, "On the Saturday morning I was about to take some prussic acid, which I had been in the habit of taking for an affection of the stomach, and on endeavouring to remove the stopper from the bottle I had some difficulty; I used some force with the handle of a tooth-brush, and, in consequence of breaking the neck of the bottle by the force, some of the acid was spilt; the remainder I put into a tumbler, and placed it on the drawers at the end of the bed-room; I went into the front room for the purpose of obtaining a bottle wherein to place the acid; instead of doing so I began to write to my friends in the country; I had been there but a few minutes when I heard a scream from the bed-room; I immediately went in; my wife exclaimed, 'Oh dear, I have taken some of that hot drink, give me some cold water,' and she immediately became convulsed;" that was the chief of the conversation—I inquired what he had done with the bottle—he said he had destroyed it, made away with it in some vacant place in the immediate neighbourhood—I asked him why he had not mentioned it before—he said that he was so distressed in his mind, and so annoyed with himself, and so ashamed, that he had not, and he was very sorry he had not communicated it earlier to me—the cause of the deceased's death was decidedly the prussic acid—if prussic acid is spilt on the floor, and some of it poured into a tumbler, there will be a smell in a room for some time, a peculiar smell, as of bitter
almonds—the sensation is immediately perceived in the throat, at least it is so with myself; I have a peculiar bitter taste in the throat, as it were—that would be the case if a large quantity was spilt and became diffused through the room—I did not observe any peculiar smell of that kind when I went into the house—if half an ounce were spilt it would have that effect, if the room was closed—the window was open—I do not think it was much open, but I am not clear on that point—by letting in the external air I think the smell of the acid would be considerably weakened, and I think it possible that a person might not perceive it—I am not acquainted with the symptoms or effects of a poisonous dose of prussic acid—I am acquainted with it as a medicinal agent, but not as a poison—I know what are the proper remedies or restoratives to be applied where a person has taken prussic acid—they are required to be well known in the medical profession—stimulants are the proper remedies, brandy, or any stimulus indeed; if you have not brandy at hand, whisky, gin, or wine, dashing cold water in the face, the smell of ammonia, hartshorn applied to the nostrils, and artificial respiration; those are the principal—I should consider that putting the feet and hands in warm water, or a mustard poultice would be a loss of time—I do not think it can be considered an improper remedy; it would be of very little use—bleeding may be occasionally necessary; but, as I have just stated, I have had no experience of the acid as a poison.
Cross-examined by MR. ERLE. Q. I understand that your opinion as to the proper remedies, is from your course of study as a medical man? A. All medical men are required to know it—I have acquired it by reading and my course of study—any stimulant either taken internally, or any stimulant applied externally, to endeavour to restore circulation—hot water applied to the extremities would not be an improper remedy to endeavour to restore circulation.
Q. I believe when you first examined the contents of this stomach you found no symptoms of Epsom salts? A. That would come out in the course of analysis—I only gave my opinion on the smell—on the morning of the death I conversed with Captain Clark in the front room, merely with regard to the holding of an inquest—the post mortem examination was not mentioned—after I had conversed with Captain Clark, Mr. Belaney was called in, and he said whatever steps 1 thought requisite I was to take.
MR. SOLICITOR-GENERAL. Q. At the time of the post mortem examination was Mr. Clark present? A. Yes—I made use of the word "hydrocyanic," which is the chemical word for prussic acid, to Mr. Curling—Mr. Clark was in the room at the time—I think he saw the contents of the stomach put into the bottle and sealed up.
COURT. Q. Are you aware what quantity of prussic acid, if it be genuine, would be fatal? A. Not the precise quantity—I should say about a drachm—sixty drops of the prussic acid kept by surgeons would be fatal—the dose medicinally is from one to two drops, sometimes three—possibly less than sixty drops may be fatal if it be genuine.
THOMAS BLIZARD CURLING . I am assistant-surgeon at the London Hospital—I attended the post mortem examination of Mrs. Belaney's body, with Mr. Garrett—the vital organs were generally healthy—the heart was sound—she was pregnant, and between the sixth and seventh month, and perhaps the seventh month—on smelling the contents of the stomach I distinguished a strong odour of prussic acid—I made no observation, but handed the contents immediately to Mr. Garrett, and requested him to smell, and he then in a low tone of voice said, "hydrocyanic"—I said, "Yes"—a person named Clark was present, but I question whether he heard the word "hydrocyanic"—the
contents of the stomach were placed in a tumbler—the tumbler was covered with a bladder, and carried away by us to the hospital—I opened it the following morning, and delivered it to Dr. Leatheby—the contents were tested in my presence the following morning, at the hospital, by Dr. Leatheby, and was found to contain prussic acid—at that time no attempt was made to ascertain the quantity—whilst the analysis was proceeding I received a communication from Mr. Garrett of the prisoner's acknowledgment, therefore we took it for granted—the quantity was subsequently examined.
Q. Could you judge from what you saw and smelt whether the quantity was sufficient to produce death? A. That would be very deceptive—the subsequent test would ascertain that—the quantity that would be fatal varies very much in different constitutions, and under different circumstances, but as small a quantity as twenty drops of Scheele's dilution has destroyed life—I do not say it would be fatal, but it has been—the remedies to be used on such an occasion as this would be cold affusion, ammonia, artificial respiration—spirits or any stimulant would be important if you have not ammonia—I should say this poison takes effect immediately on the brain—that would destroy sensation, and the respiration would be affected subsequently—it takes effect immediately—I should say immersing the feet and hands in warm water would be of no avail in such a case—a mustard poultice across the chest would not of itself be an inappropriate remedy, but in a case of such a nature as poisoning from prussic acid nothing but an energetic stimulant would be really of any avail—I never met with a case of poisoning by prussic acid either fatal or which recovered—I have not seen experiments performed on the lower animals with prussic acid of late years—formerly I have seen animals destroyed by prussic acid—after the post mortem examination had taken place I saw the prisoner—he was in the adjoining room—he inquired of me what I believed to be the cause of death—I said that we had not concluded our inquiries, when we had done so I should be very happy to inform him.
Cross-examined by MR. CLARKSON. Q. Have you known prussic acid administered in a diluted state for indigestion? A. Yes, I have prescribed it myself—a mustard poultice applied to the chest would be a stimulant; but in a case where a person presented such an appearance as is represented to have been presented by the deceased, I think the most active would alone be effectual—hot water is rather a stimulant to the nervous system—it is supposed that prussic acid has a considerable effect on the nervous system—the result of its exhibition is as sudden as any poison I am aware of—I do not think sixty drops of Scheele's preparation of prussic acid would kill three or four horses—I cannot speak with confidence, I never performed the experiment—by artificial respiration I mean, pressing the chest and upper part of the abdomen, and then relaxing the pressure, as used in the recovery of drowned persons—that would not be a desperate means to have recourse to with a woman seven months gone in the family way—I never saw it applied as a remedy in a case of poisoning by prussic acid—I never made the examination of the contents of the stomach, to ascertain whether there was any Epsom salts in it; at least the examination was never made by Dr. Leatheby for that purpose—I did not make the analysis—I was present when it was made by Dr. Leatheby—as I never made the analysis, I certainly never detected the salts—the odour attracted me.
COURT. Q. You have heard the state in which this lady was found, on the alarm? A. Yes—so long as she breathed, I should not have despaired of recovery.
in lecturing in the chemical department, as well as that of materia medica—I have made chemistry my particular study—I have frequently made experiments of the effect of prussic acid—the first effect, after taking a strong, or over-dose, is that of a peculiar giddiness in the lower animals, a disposition generally to run round, as if the head was affected; then the respiration becomes rather uncertain and irregular; subsequently, there is a scream, or probably before the scream, the animal drops; at that moment there are two or three violent expiratory efforts, which generally produce a cry, a noise, a shriek; convulsions occur; they foam at the mouth, and in a longer or shorter time, die: the time depends on the strength and quantity of the acid—I have never had an opportunity of seeing the effect on any person—after the shriek or scream there does not appear to be any volition—volition and sensibility have ceased—in my judgment, after the uttering of that shriek, a person certainly could not be able to walk or converse.
Q. What are the proper remedies to be applied in a case where prussic acid has been taken? A. The first remedy being that which is most usually close at hand, is dashing cold water over the face; that is a remedy publicly taught in all the schools, and contained in every medical work, and I presume every medical man knows it—I should immediately apply ammonia, or harts-horn, to the nose, give brandy, or stimulants of any kind, of that sort—in my judgment, immersing the feet or hands in warm water would not be useful in the least—it would not operate as an active stimulant, or anything of the sort—the application of a mustard poultice to the chest would not be of any service till all the mischief was done, for its effects would not come on for many minutes; stimulants that are active enough to rouse the energy immediately would be essential—mustard poultice is too long acting to be of any avail, it should be a sudden and immediately active stimulant—I have been in Court to-day, and have heard the account of the state in which the lady was discovered—I should think remedies could have been applied, which would lead me to suppose she might have recovered—I should continue to use those remedies for at least half or three-quarters of an hour—supposing a person to remain breathing for a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes, there would be much better hopes of her recovery, and I should continue the remedies for a longer time—I was called upon to analyse the contents of the stomach—I did so, I think on Tuesday, the 11th of June—I discovered, at the first analysis, the presence of prussic acid—I made a second analysis, on receiving a summons from the Coroner on the Thursday following, I think—I then discovered the presence of Epsom salts—the means of analysis which enabled me to discover the presence of prussic acid would not enable me to discover the presence of Epsom salts—I should have to go through an entirely different analysis to detect the presenc.
Q. Could you form any opinion, from the quantity that was submitted to your analysis, whether there had been enough taken into the stomach to destroy life? A. Those are not matters of inquiry in medical jurisprudence—the prussic acid that had produced the death had got into the system, and was away from my investigation, and, consequently, that which was in the stomach was over and above what was necessary to produce death—the effect is, it is taken into the system, and then destroys life—I did not analyse it for the quantity—I found full evidence of the presence of prussic acid—there are no data upon which I could come to any conclusion upon the quantity—I could only be guided by the odour, which is very fallacious—I did not analyse it with a view of discovering whether there was sufficient to cause death, only to detect the presence of prussic acid—I have heard the symptoms of the death described, they are the symptoms of death by prussic acid—after the
death and the examination, I procured some prussic acid from Mr. Donahoo—it is called Scheele's, but it is not Scheele's strength—there was rather more than two per cent, of pure prussic acid in it—I have analysed that, merely to ascertain the quantity of prussic acid in it—I have experimented with this very acid, and find there is an odour from it—I threw half a tea-spoonful about rather a large room, and the odour remained for nearly an hour—supposing acid to be poured into a glass, and taken immediately, there would be a slight odour, but a current in the room would drive it away in a few minutes, any means that would produce a little current in the room, it matters not how it is done—supposing half an ounce of prussic acid of this description to be poured into a glass, and left in the room, it would certainly emit an odour—I have since made experiments on animals with the prussic acid I got from Donahoo, and have tried to restore those animals by cold affusion, and the application of ammonia merely—one animal, a cat, was restored in the course of ten minutes—I had given it about sixteen or twenty minumums of the acid I got from Donahoo—I think I gave very nearly as much as twenty—it was dropped into the mouth—I merely guess at the quantity, it was not half a tea-spoonful—I restored the cat by the cold affusion and ammonia—I gave a horse about a table-spoonful of acid, twelve times the strength of this, which would be equal to twelve table-spoonfuls, or six ounces of this two per cent. acid—I restored the horse—it was on the ground in convulsions, in the incipient stage of death—all the symptoms I have stated had occurred to the horse before I applied the remedies—I continued the remedies, I think, about twenty minutes, before the animal was restored—I merely dashed cold water over the horse's head, and put a little ammonia to the nostrils—ammonia exists, I think, in every house, in the shape of smelling salts—I am referring to common smelling salts—I did not try any experiment on any animal that I brought to life merely by artificial respiration, in reference to this particular case—I have done it in former cases frequently—I presume the mode of producing artificial respiration is known among medical men—it should be known—it is publicly taught—it is one of the first things taught.
Cross-examined by MR. ERLE. Q. Was there any perceptible smell of prussic acid in the contents of the stomach? A. There was—I distilled and isolated the whole of the prussic acid from the contents of the stomach—I distilled more than a drachm and a half of a solution, but I cannot tell how much prussic acid was there—there are no data from which I can come to any conclusion as to the quantity—prussic acid comes over mixed with water, and there was a drachm and a half of water and prussic acid—I do not know how much prussic acid was there—the smell would be stronger with a larger quantity—there was a very strong odour—prussic acid taken in large quantities is one of the poisons easiest of detection after death—acetate of morphia is a poison—there is no smell in the acetate of morphia if persons die from taking it—prussic acid is not detected chiefly by its smell—it is a very frequent mode of detecting it—the scream I have spoken of is the indication of volition and sensation having gone—that is, when volition and sensation go, it is generally accompanied by a shriek or scream—it is the last effort of vitality, and the indication that sensation and volition have both gone—the swallowing of prussic acid is not attended with a considerable shock—it is perceptible to the taste—I have tasted it very frequently—I have not swallowed any of it, but I have had it spilt on me, and had it applied to my nostrils, to an extent so as to produce giddiness—it is felt in a few seconds after it is applied—I should say in perhaps thirty seconds, or less than that—that would depend on the quantity—I can give no specific reply to that—if prussic acid is applied to the nostrils you faint almost instantly.
Q. Would there be time for you to cry out between that sensation of faintness coming on and your dropping? A. It would depend on the quantity that is taken—if a small quantity is taken and the symptoms do not come on for three or four minutes, there would be time for crying out—it would depend entirely on the quantity that was taken—if prussic acid is taken immediately after some other fluid, that would have the effect of diluting it and making its action slower—I have never attended a case of prussic acid in the human subject.
MR. SOLICITOR-GENERAL. Q. Is there an acrid taste in what is called Scheele's prussic acid? A. No, it is a bitter taste—not an acrid one—there is no acridity about it at all—an acrid taste is a sort of compound taste of an acid and something else, a stinging sensation—this has a bitter taste—I do not think there is anything that can be called a hot taste.
MR. ERLE. Q. Have you tasted it yourself? A. I have.
DR. ANTHONY THOMPSON . I am professor of medical jurisprudence, at the London University. My attention has been for some time directed to chemistry—among other things to the properties of hydrocyanic acid, and its effects on the system—I have been present during the examination of the witnesses, and have heard the account given of the state in which Mrs. Belaney was found—according to my judgment they are the symptoms hydrocyanic acid would produce, but they might also be the result of any powerful sedative poison—there is a peculiar smell in hydrocyanic acid—it is extremely difficult to give a name to the smell of acids—it is peculiar to itself—it has been described as the smell of the bloom of a peach, or bitter almonds, but in my judgment that is a mistake—the smell is very peculiar—if any was spilled on the ground, the odour would continue a considerable time, unless much movement is made in the air of the room, and the room has a free draft—if poured into a tumbler the smell will remain a considerable time in the. room—if the tumbler was taken up to the lips, the smell would be strong to the nostrils—if a quantity sufficient to produce death was taken, the first effect would be a sensation of giddiness, followed by faintness, a peculiar uneasiness about the chest, vertigo, giddiness, the falling down of the patient, sometimes a sound somewhat like a shriek, insensibility, loss of volition, convulsions resembling those of tetanus, (which is a disease accompanied frequently with locked jaw,) and death.
Q. When the symptoms have advanced to what you describe, as a shriek, or scream, in what state are the powers of sensation, or volition? A. Completely gone—it would not be possible in my judgment after that scream, for a party to talk, or speak, or give any account of what had happened—the restoratives ought to be well known to medical men—they are the subjects of lectures, and books—they are stimulants of various kinds, ammonia, brandy, or any stimulant—chlorine diluted with water, and applied in the form of vapour, and also given internally, ammonia in various forms, dashing cold water on the face, head, and chest, and artificial respiration—I have tried the effect of these remedies on animals—I have administered hydrocyanic acid—I have not tried merely the cold affusion alone—I have tried chlorine, ammonia, and artificial respiration—I have not known cases in which artificial respiration alone has been effectual—putting the feet and hands in warm water would be of no use—a mustard poultice to the chest might stimulate a little, but the effect would be too slow.
Q. Suppose prussic acid had been taken, and the party continued to breathe for twenty minutes, in your judgment, if the proper restoratives had been applied would there be a chance of recovery? A. The probabilities would be in favour of recovery—bleeding has been applied in strong plethoric people, but I believe has no beneficial effects.
Cross-examined by MR. ERLE. Q. Have you attended cases where prussic
acid has been taken by a person? A. Not before death; I have immediately after death—I have seen a case where a large dose has produced very deleterious effects, but not death—it was taken by accident—fainting had come on, and the patient recovered by the means employed, from the fainting—I was brought in about a quarter of an hour after it was taken—it was after the fainting had occurred—I have taken a few drops of prussic acid myself, to the extent of producing a disagreeable uneasy sensation—not sufficient to produce faintness, nor to make it difficult to call out if I wanted help.
Q. You speak of a shriek after, which it is impossible to speak; is it not possible for a person to cry out if surprised by any strong sensation? A. Undoubtedly a person may scream if surprised by any strange feeling—a person might immediately after taking prussic acid feel an uncomfortable sensation in the mouth, and be astonished at that, and scream—it would depend on the quantity of water diluting the acid whether it would take off the taste—the evaporation is quick, but the smell continues a long time—it is diffused through the whole atmosphere of the room.
COURT. Q. The most powerful remedy you consider to be ammonia? A. Ammonia is very powerful, but I consider chlorine more powerful, but not so easily obtained—the first thing I should call for would be a smelling-bottle or hartshorn—ammonia in any form, and brandy, and the cold affusion, at the same time, these things are more likely to be at hand.
THOMAS DONAHOO . I am a surgeon. I live in White Horse-street, Stepney. I knew the prisoner first about four years ago—he was in the habit of coming to my shop—I vend medicines—he lived in Tothill-street at the time—on Thursday, the 6th of June, he came to my shop—I was out—he wrote on my slate that Belaney, my old friend, had called, and would call again—he called about seven o'clock that evening, and wanted some prussic acid, some salts and senna, some acetate of morphia, and carbonate of soda—he said he wanted a small quantity of salts, about an ounce, and an ounce of soda, and an ounce of acid—those he took with him—he said he was in the habit of taking prussic acid, and he had told me so four years ago, and I knew he was in the habit of taking it—he wished me to get him some, as he said he was in the habit of getting it very spurious—I undertook to get it for him—he did not take anything away that evening in a bottle—I afterwards procured from Evans and Co., Bartholomew-close, one ounce of Scheele's prussic acid—he called for it about eight o'clock the following morning—I gave him the prussic acid and acetate of morphia—the prussic acid was in an ounce phial, and the morphia in a half-drachm bottle—that had a cork—the prussic acid bottle, I judge by the feel, had a stopper—I took it out of the paper—on the Tuesday following he called, between eight and nine o'clock in the morning, with Captain Clark—he said he had had a sad misfortune with the prussic acid, that the neck of the bottle or stopper had broken in it, in consequence of which he poured the remaining portion into a tumbler; that his wife poured some water into it in the tumbler, to take it, having taken salts—he wished me to attend the inquest, which at that time was adjourned—I could not attend, having to attend a case of stabbing in this Court.
Cross-examined by MR. CLARKSON. Q. You knew him four years ago; was it at that time he told you he was in the habit of taking prussic acid for a complaint in the stomach? A. Yes—he had said he would return me the bottle, which I suppose to be stoppered—morphia is a sedative poison if sufficient is taken, and is sometimes taken for indigestion, as well as prussic acid.
DR. LEATHEBY re-examined. Taking a quantity of acetate morphia would produce great depression of the w hole of the vital powers, but the effect would come on slowly—the appearance would be that of apoplexy—the symptoms
are well known to the medical profession—it would be very slow in its effects—the application of the stomach pump and artificial respiration would restore the patient.
RICHARD WILLIS FOXWELL . I am shopman to Evans and Co., wholesale chemists, Bartholomew-close—I sold some prussic acid on the 6th of June—here is the order in the book—I do not know the witness, but I sold it fox Mr. Donahoo—it is called Scheele's preparation.
THOMAS LONG . I am gardener at the City of London and Tower Hamlets Cemetery—I saw the prisoner on Saturday the 8th of June, about half-post twelve o'clock, with Captain Clark and another gentleman—he told me be wanted to purchase some ground to bury in—he did not say who—he said he should like a brick grave, and wished the burial to take place on Tuesday—I told him he should give four clear days' notice to get it done—he and Captain Clark said they would have a seven foot grave till they could get a brick grave ready—he went from me and rested on the grave stones with his handkerchief to his eyes, apparently weeping—Captain Clark said I should hear no more of the burial till Monday.
JOHN HAYNES . I am inspector of the Metropolitan police—by desire of the Commissioners I went down to North Sunderland—I got there on the 21st of June—I saw Mr. Bell there—I received these letters Nos. 1 to 6, from him—I also procured these two papers from a cupboard in the prisoner's house at North Sunderland.
GEORGE GRAY BELL . I live at North Sunderland—I know Mr. Belaney—I am agent to some lime works of which he is a partner by the firm of Robson and Skelly—I became agent to them in September last—the works are at North Sunderland—Mr. Belaney lived near the lime works up to June last—Mrs. Belaney lived with him—the 1st of June was the last day I saw him—he was in a gig, departing for London—after he left I received some letters from him which I have since given to Haynes (Nos. 1 to 6)—these are them—I knew his handwriting before I received them—they are his writing, to the best of my judgment, and the body of these two papers—the witnesses signatures are not his—I do not know the handwriting of Rachel Belaney—( looking at two other letters, Nos. 7 and 8)—I think these are his writing—I know the copyhold property which the late Mrs. Skelly had—she was Mrs. Belaney's mother—I believe the property used to be let for 100l.; a-year, but it is let for more now—I should say the whole, including the house property, would sell for 3,700l.;—the lime works are valuable—Mr. Robson is a partner—trade is fluctuating, but I should say the lime works are worth about 2,400l.;—there is a colliery which is included in the lime works—it is all copyhold—the lime works and colliery are all held under one lease—I have estimated the whole property at above 6,000l.;
Cross-examined by MR. ERLE. Q. Had you heard Mr. Belaney talking a long time before of an excursion in the summer? A. So far back as september last year he spoke of an excursion—he did not name London at the time—he spoke of the south—I frequently heard the exeurswn spoken of afterwards, and that it would be an object of interest to Mrs. Belaney to see London—I heard him speak of taking the opportunity of seeing some exhibitions of falconry on the Rhine—he was very fond of falconry and has several birds—I have heard him speak of going to the Rhine to see falconry several times—when I have seen Mr. and Mrs. Belaney together they always appeared on extremely affectionate terms—I never saw the slightest unkindness on his part, nor any unhappiness or complaint on her part—she appeared perfectly
happy in her marriage—the management of the lime-works by the agent of the former proprietor had been objected to by Mr. Belaney—he was removed and I put in—Mr. Belaney apparently had the whole control of the partnership property, and did exactly what he pleased—the copyhold property had been let as long as I knew it—there was a house building on the copyhold property.
MR. SOLICITOR-GENERAL. Q. Did you see much of Mr. and Mrs. Be-laney after their marriage? A. Not much—Mrs. Belaney was apparently about twenty-one or twenty-two years old.
MR. ERLE. Q. Was she an extremely beautiful and attractive young lady? A. She was a very comely looking lady.
ALEXANDER WILSON . I am farm-steward in the service of Robson and Skelly, and have been so nearly twenty years—I knew Mr. Belaney, and remember his marrying Miss Skelly on the 23rd of February, 1843—she was the only child of Mrs. Skelly—at the time of the marriage Mrs. Skelly was in partnership with Mr. Robson in the lime-works—Mr. Belaney had practised as a medical man before his marriage—he gave that up a little after his marriage—Mrs. Skelly died after the marriage, on the 1st of July, 1843—my wife attended her in her last illness—my wife is dead—on the 31st of May, 1844, I remember going to Mr. Belaney—I had heard before that he was going to leave North Sunderland—I had heard him speak of it and say he was coming to London and other parts—I transacted business with him on the 21st of May, the night before he left, and after the business he desired me to give my signature to two wills—they were drawn out—he said these were things people generally did when they went from home—Mrs. Belaney was present—Mr. Belaney produced these two papers—he read one of them over, and said the other was to the same effect—the signature bad been put to them before, but they went over it with a pen, and I put my name—he read it over, and the longest survivor was to do with the effects what they chose—my name is put to both these as witness—Mr. and Mrs. Belaney left for London next day.
Cross-examined by MR. ERLE. Q. You have been farm-steward twenty years? A. I have been in their employ nearly twenty years, and farm-steward since March—I was in the employ in Mrs. Skelly's time—I do not know her age—she was an elderly woman—after Mr. Belaney married her daughter, as far as I knew, he managed the whole of the partnership and all her property—he appeared to do what he pleased also with the copyhold estate as wellneither I nor my wife lived in the house—there was a servant maid and a servant lad—Margaret Reynolds was there when they married—she was examined before the Magistrate—Mr. and Mrs. Belaney always appeared on very affectionate terms—she appeared happy—he appeared to manage the property without any interference on her part—I had heard Mrs. Belaney express a wish to see London many times, as if anxious for the tour—I never saw anything in him but kindness and humanity—that was his character as far as I knew—he was inclined a little to the amusement of falconry—I have seen Mr. Hancock visiting him—I know Mr. Belaney gave advice to some persons as a surgeon—he took a room for the purpose, and I have had him in my house several times.
Cross-examined by MR. CLARKSON. Q. How long had you known Mr. Belaney? A. First and last, it may be seven or eight years—since his marriage his conduct to Mrs. Belaney was kind and affectionate.
June—in June last I was absent from home—I returned home on Monday, the 10th of June, and found a letter from Mr. Belaney waiting for me—I found it between ten and eleven in the forenoon, to the best of my recollection—at that time, a letter put into the post in London on Saturday night, could not reach me on Monday—I could get it by sending to the post by half-past twelve o'clock on Monday; but if I did not send, I should get it generally about five in the afternoon—it would come up by the children from school—I have destroyed the letter—to the best of my recollection, it was dated the 6th of June—I cannot positively state—it was dated from the Euston Hotel—I showed it to Mr. Younghusband, junior—I recollect the contents of the letter—to the best of my recollection, it stated that he had promised to write me before be left home, but he had not been able to get down to Ascot races; that I should be sorry to hear his wife was taken unwell, and he had two medical gentlemen attending her; that he had or was going to move her to private lodgings; that he was afraid the same was going to happen to her as happened before, and that he must for the present decline going to Leu (which is in Holland)—I think that was all he stated in the letter—I had heard him before he left talk of going to Leu—that they were going to London, and Mrs. Belaney was going either to stay in London, or down at his brother's at Arlington—I understood Mrs. Belaney had had a miscarriage before—the letter said that he was afraid of it, not the medical men.
Cross-examined by MR. ERLE. Q. Did you know Mr. Belaney intimately? A. For the last two or three years, and Mrs. Belaney, sixteen or seventeen months—I frequently saw them together—they always appeared to live happily together—I have been in their house frequently—I never staid there for days, merely called—I have been there some hours at a time—she was agreeable and cheerful in her manner, as far as I saw—I know Mr. Belaney was fond of falconry—I kept falcons, but have none at present—Mrs. Belaney seemed very anxious to see London—I have heard Mr. Belaney's brother, at Arlington, is a clergyman, and that she was acquainted with him, and that he had been there—I have heard her express a wish to visit Arlington—as far as I know, the prisoner always bore a high character for humanity and kindness—he was in the habit of associating with persons who practised falconry—I went with him to the Cheviot Hills, to hawk, a few days before he left for London.
THOMAS ROBERT YOUNGHUSBAND . I am a farmer, and live at Elwick, and am acquainted with Mr. Dinning—I remember seeing him on the 11th of June at a meeting of the board of guardians—that enables me to state the day—I have seen the prisoner, and spoken to him—Mr. Dinning showed me a letter he had received—I read it—I cannot exactly repeat the contents—I do not remember the date, but I remember it was dated Euston Hotel—it stated that he had arrived safe in London, and was sorry to say his wife Rachel was very unwell—that he had moved her to private lodgings, and had two medical gentlemen attending her, and Mr. Dinning would be sorry to hear Rachel was so unwell; that he was afraid it was going to be with her as it had happened before—the 11th was Tuesday—I heard of Mrs. Belaney's death on the Thursday or Friday.
Cross-examined by MR. CLARKSON. Q. Was you examined before the Magistrate? A. No—I was called on by Thorpe and Dixon's clerk about this—it was since the prisoner has been in custody, about a fortnight ago.
MR. BODKIN. Q. You heard of Mrs. Belaney's death on the Thursday or Friday following the Tuesday? A. Yes—the contents of the letter recurred more forcibly to my recollection then.
office in June this year—I know Mr. Dinning, living at Elford—at that time letters put into the London post-office on Saturday, the 8th, would arrive at eleven on Monday—there is no post from North Sunderland to Elford—the letters used to be sent to him by his servants or school-children, in the evening generally—I knew Mr. Belaney before June last—I know his handwriting—I recollect a letter coming to the post-office, after Mr. Belaney had left for London—to the best of my recollection, that letter was in my post-office on Saturday, the 8th—it was directed to John Dinning, Esq., Elford—I saw it in the post-office on Saturday, the 8th, about eleven o'clock—it would be posted in London on Thursday, the 6th.
Cross-examined by MR. ERLE. Q. Were you acquainted with Mr. and Mrs. Belaney? A. Yes—I have known him since he came to North Sunderland, and knew her as long also—I have seen them together—they lived on very good terms, exceedingly affectionate—she appeared cheerful, and happy in her marriage, and he appeared attached to her—for anything I know he was humane, kind, and obliging, respected and esteemed in the neighbourhood.
WILLIAM BLOTT . I am employed in the General Post-office, London. This letter (No. 2,) has a post-mark, which indicates the time it passed through the Post-office in London, but not very closely—it is the morning stamp of the 10th of June—it must have been posted after half-past five o'clock on the evening of Saturday the 8th, and before eight in the morning of Monday, the 10th, Sunday being no day—this letter (No. 3,) has the Post-office evening stamp of the 10th of June, and must have been posted after eight in the morning of the 10th, and before half-past five.
GEORGE SCOTT . I am registrar of births and deaths in the Elford Union, in which North Sunderland is included. I have my book with me—I remember the death of Mrs. Skelly—on hearing of her death I called at the house where she had resided, and saw the prisoner there—I inquired of him, for the purpose of entering in the register, the day of her death, the name, age, rank, or profession, and cause of death, and Mr. Belaney signed it as the informant and present at the death—when I inquired the cause of death, he stummered a little, or demurred, and said, "Well, you may put it down as bilious fever"—I did so, and he signed it—(read.)
MR. ERLE to JOHN DINNING. Q. Were you present at Mrs. Skelly's house in her last illness? A. About a day or two before she died—Mr. Hunt was the medical man that attended her I understand—I cannot say that I saw him there—I did not hear him sent for.
ROBERT DAWSON FERGUSON . I am clerk of the steward of the manor of the Castle of Bamboro'. I was present at the Manor Court on the 24th of Oct., 1843. I know Mrs. Belaney—she attended the Court with her husband on that occasion, and was admitted—I produce the examined copy of the Rolls—I compared it myself with the roll—what was done was explained to her in her husband's absence.
Cross-examined by MR. ERLE. Q. Did you take the examination? A. No, Mr. Thorpe, the steward, did in my presence—Mrs. Belaney was examined apart from her husband as to her wish to part with the copyhold property to him, and expressed her wish to do so—(The entry on the roll admitted Mrs. Belaney as devisee under her father's will, then her husband and self as joint tenants in fee, she surrendering it to her husband.)
MR. ERLE to SARAH WILLIAMS. Q. Do you remember any article being brought for Mrs. Belaney after her death? A. Yes, just upon ten
o'clock that morning a man brought an article which had been bought the day before—I believe it was a bonnet—I saw nothing else.
(The following documents were here read.)
"I, James Cockburn Belaney, do hereby will and bequeath all my property, personal and other estates and hereditaments, with their rights and titles, to Rachel Belaney, my lawful wife, to be enjoyed and disposed of by her, as she best thinks fit.
"P. S. John Dinning, jun., Esq., of Elford, is to have my Greenland falcon, as promised.
J. C. B.
"North Sunderland, May 17th, 1844."
(The other will was of the same date, signed "Rachel Belaney" bequeathing the property to her husband.)
(No. 1.) "Euston Hotel, London, June 5, 1844. Dear Sir,—We arrived here yesterday evening, safe and sound, although to-day, I am sorry to say, Mrs. Belaney is rather unwell. The fatigue of travelling such a distance, no doubt, to a constitution delicate like hers, was sure to tell a little upon her; and I think her spirit, to bear up and carry all before her, has been greater than her strength was equal to. However, I trust that in a day or two, after a good rest, she will be all right again, and we will be able to proceed to Arlington, to my brother's. She does not think very much of what, as yet, she has seen of London. That is easy to be accounted for, she being not over well on the one hand to enjoy anything, and, on the other, having seen almost nothing of interest but crowded streets. I hope all goes on well with you. As today I leave this hotel, and, as I will be moving about from place to place, you had better direct my letters to a bookseller's, who I have arranged with to receive and forward them to me wherever I may be. His address is, 'Mr. Hobson, bookseller, Commercial-road-east, London.' This, with my name, will find me, and I shall either call every day at the shop for my letters, or he will send them to me. If there be anything of importance requiring my consideration, you may mention it, and I shall make as little delay over it as possible. In haste, yours truly, J. C. Belaney. P. S.—The hotel ink is hardly to be surpassed by a Sunderland beer-shop."
(No. 2.)—"London, June 8, 1844. Dear Mr. Bell,—I have little else to write to the north about at the present than to give you (who, I know, are all interested in it) a very unhappy account of Rachael's state. I have had her removed from the hotel to private lodgings, where, with two medical attendants, she remains dangerously ill. Symptoms of premature labour came on a few days ago; but what is still worse, one of the medical men pronounces the heart to be diseased. Of this I had some dread myself. This will alter my former plans greatly; but, if she be spared, that will be every thing. Hoping you are all well, I must in haste conclude, yours sincerely,—J. C. BELANEY.—No letters have yet arrived.—Mr. G. G. Bell, North Sunderland, Belford. Northumberland.
(No. 3.)—"London, June 9, 1844. Dear Mr. Bell,—The worst that could be dreaded has come to pass. Rachael is no more. You shall know all. Put the men all off work at the new house. As such could not be done at the quarry and lime works without great inconvenience to the partnership, I shall not desire the same there. I am hardly able to sit up; but hope to be able to write to-morrow more particulars. As her death has occurred chiefly among strangers and so suddenly, an inquest and post mortem examination will be held. This has been mentioned to me. Of course I do not object to it.—Yours sincerely, J. C. BELANEY."
(No. 4.)—"London, June, 1844.—(post-marks 14th and 15th June.)
Dear Mr. Bell,—I intended writing to you an account of what had happened to my dear Rachael, through my infatuity or inadvertency, and to myself; but at present am unable to do so. I have written Hall a sort of account of it, which I wish you to go immediately to peruse and consult with him what to do. Oh! what is this come upon me like a thunderbolt? I did not mention the cause of her death to you before, through a desire to bury the shame and avoid the public reproach for my fatal neglect. Yet I know well you can account for it under such circumstances; but, oh God! I can never forgive myself. I would like you to call upon Mr. Simpson, and give him the particulars of what I have given of the awful occurrence. Lose not a moment in getting for Mr. Darnel testimony of my marriage from Bamborough, and post it to Mr. Clark, 17, King-street, Stepney, London."
(No. 5.)—"June, 1844. My dear Mr. Bell,—By the time this reaches you, you will have learned from Hall's letter, and my communication yesterday, the awful cause of my loss; and you, well I know, can and will feel for me. O God! what a visitation comes upon me, like a thunderbolt shot down upon me in the midst of my happiness. Alas! where are all my summer arrangements gone with my dear Rachael? But I cannot write. You shall hear from me immediately. To meet the next payments go to Thew for the price of the wheat. I will arrange for your supplies. Let no one interrupt you in your usual course. I have legal advice to direct and go through the case for me. I wrote a few lines for Captain Clark to direct him to write you, giving instruction for you to go on with the business as usual, and where to apply to for money to meet the pay. I did not think of writing you at that time; but have now done so. Besides several other friends who are coming up, and who have known me for some time, I should like to see Mr. Hunt of Belford. Do go and tell him what has happened, and that I should like him to come up immediately to say what he knows of me. Mr. Hancock and several others have arrived. Tell him, for God's sake, to come off immediately. I will pay all expenses. I must have a few respectable friends to come forward to establish my character and say what they know of me. Oh, God! I know not what I am doing or saying. Tell him I shall pay every expense. When he comes he must call at Hobson's, bookseller, Commercial-road East, London, or at 17, King-street, Stepney, London, at Mr. Clark's. Yours ever, in haste, J. C. BELANEY.—Pray put the men upon the partnership on their work again when required, if they are not already on."
(No. 6.)—Post marks, 14th and 15th June—"London, June, 1844. Dear Hall,—Oh! I am distracted. I cannot write, nor do anything. I have lost my dear Rachel; and, what makes the loss so much the worse, it was caused by my own neglect, from leaving some medicine, which I myself had been taking a portion of for my stomach, in a tumbler on the top of the drawers, at the opposite end of the room where she was. She had gone for the tumbler, and poured some water into it, without observing anything in it; the medicine being only a small portion of liquid in the bottom of the glass, and clear as the glass or water; then she had drunk it. Oh, my God! I know not what to do. My dear Rachel is gone, gone for ever from me. You, and all of you, knew how happy we were together. I had just gone, leaving her in bed, out of the room for a minute or so, into the other room, in search of another bottle to put the medicine in; for I had broken the one it was in, and had got a tumbler in the mean time to secure the contents in, and she had got out of bed to use the----, and take some salts, which were on the table by her bedside, and, wishing to take some water after the salts, and supposing the glass an empty and clean one, she had gone to the other end of the room, unknowingly poured water into it, and, oh, God! have mercy upon us all! she drank
a portion of it. I heard her cry for me in the other room. I flew to her; but, oh, God! it was all over in a few minutes, and I am now in a state of mind bordering on utter misery and madness. In the sudden shock I knew not what to do or say. I called for immediate assistance. It was brought, but it was of no use. The awful occurrence having taken place in a situation where I am entirely unknown, all are strangers around; and the people being much inclined to doubt my statement that she was my wife, and every thing else I said, I am in a terrible situation. The law has a right to suspect me, and as yet I have not a creature found to prove my marriage, or what I am or who I am. I have nothing to prove anything as yet. The solicitor who I have employed will either have to come down to establish my character, and prove how we lived, and that we were married, or else he will require a few of my friends who have known me and her also to come up and testify what they know of me. I know you will all do what is required for me. What I now regret the most next to the accident, in my confusion and half-stunned state, is, I did not say what had caused her death. I knew not what I was doing or saying, and of course, horror-struck and shocked at my infatuity in having left such medicine there, though it was only for a minute, and the poor dear Rachael was in bed, and knowing well that the world would blame me perhaps too severely for my carelessness in leaving such a dangerous medicine where it was in danger of doing such evil, I did not, until after I became a little more collected, say what had happened. This, though very natural at such an awful juncture, is considered as against me. Oh, God! I know not what to do or say. It came upon me like a thunderbolt. If I were able I would write to you all, I mean most of my friends; but at present I cannot. Go to Mr. Bell, and William Wilson, and Alexander Wilson, and who you think fit, and state the melancholy contents of this to them, because I cannot acquaint them all. As poor Mrs. Stobbs is now the only memorial of dear Rachael I know, go to her, and give her ray respects, and tell her that I have lost beloved Rachael; and although there was not much friendship existing between them for some time past, I hope better will now exist between us and that I shall always regard her for dear Rachael's sake. I must now step; for I am bewildered, as if in an unconscious dream. Yours ever, J. C. BELANEY. I wish William Wilson could give you Mr. Tewart'a address in London. He is one who knows me, and would say something for me. Go to Mrs. Stobbs immediately, for, as a relative, it is my duty to acquaint her. Tell Mrs. Patrick, and all others you think well of. Oh! I am gone. I hope the Lord will support me under such trouble. If I can write to Mr. Simpson, who is the minister of the parish, I will; but at present I cannot."
(No. 7.) "To Mr. Dinning (post marks 14th and 15th of June.) My dear Dinning,—I received yours to-day, but O what a change has taken place since I last saw you! O God have mercy on us all! My poor Rachael is gone—gone for ever! Instead of writing to you in that happy strain I had promised, when happy last both beside you, I must now in a state of half insensibility and frenzy communicate to you the awful account of my dear Rachael's death. I can hardly believe that this is not a dream, but it cannot be one. Too true it is that she is not beside me. O God, after she had almost recovered from the fatigues of the journey, and after making purchases of some dresses in town for herself and myself, for going off to my brother's at Arlington, in Sussex, when we were about to fix on the day, and wrote to him, she mistook some powerful medicine, which I had been using for my stomach complaint, for water, or rather took the tumbler in which a portion of it remained, it being the colour of glass and in small bulk, and no doubt believing it to be empty, poured some water into it to take after her salts, which she swallowed, and O God, O God have mercy upon us all, I cannot
tell you more of it! I had just gone into the other room, the parlour (our lodging consisted of two rooms, bed and sitting-room,) for only one minute to get a bottle to put some medicine in, the one I had having been broken in my hand, and Rachel during this time having risen to take her salts, which were placed on a different table by her bed-side, the other medicine which I had left in a tumbler was on the drawers at the opposite end of the room. But I don't know what I am saying or doing. She called. I was in the other room. I flew to her, and O God, O God, she expired in my arms, or nearly so! I called assistance when I was able from the stun to do so, and after what could be done in the time, she went off in my arms, or rather in the mistress's of the house. I was in the mean time, as far as strength would allow me, trying remedies and holding her. As I am entirely among strangers, and an inquest is going on, I must use means to establish my character, to prove that she was my wife, which they have strong suspicions of, having no one to prove this in the mean time, and the law being strict, I am placed in an awful position; but what among the strangers makes it appear worse is, that I did not, during the shock, at first, being half insensible of what was going on, and horror-struck and ashamed of having, through the awful neglect of having left the medicine in a place where any one could get at it; but O, I little thought she was going to rise so soon, and then it was at the other end of the room! But I cannot tell you more. O tell your father, who I am sure will feel for my loss and unhappy condition. I am shocked, and all I can do—nothing! I know not what to do or say. It is for me to establish my character, and prove my marriage. O, I know your father will do all he can. I cannot say what must be done until I see a solicitor here; he, I dare say, will have to come down for proof of my marriage and the state we have lived in. They did not believe we were married, nor that if she were my wife I would talk of leaving her in town or at Arlington, and go myself up the Rhine, as I stated. In this way, and in the absence of all proof, and being entirely among strangers, I stand in a very unhappy position. O do use every means to assist me. Your father, I hope, will do all too to establish my character since we were married. He knows whether she was my wife or not, and whether we were happy—so do you. O God, I know not what is to befal me; and poor dear Rachael is lost! Most of the people in the neighbourhood know something of me, and I dare say will do anything if required. I think if I required most of the Magistrates in the neighbourhood could speak to my character. Mr. Hancock, Sullidan, and others, whom I have written to for aid, will I know do all they can in this awful crisis. O God, What a change of things! The solicitor will perhaps either tell me what to do, or will see you besides others. I have written Dr. Embleton also; I know he will spare nothing to serve me in such an hour. I wrote to inform some of them in the neighbourhood of her death a day or two eince, but having inadvertently been the awful cause of my own wife's destruction, I thought in the madness and agony of the time, I should save myself from the censure and blame of the world by burying it in my own bosom. This was madness; but who can think rightly in such a condition? Thus it makes me stand on very suspicious ground, where I am not known. O tell Hunt and all other of my friends about it, because references of character will be required from many to serve me. Adieu, my dear Sir; I hope that God out of his love and mercy will defend and protect me in this awful crisis."
(No. 8.) "To Mr. Embleton. London, Wednesday, June, 1844. Mr. Embleton—O God, what has happened to my beloved Rachel! she is gone, gone for ever from me. She took out of a tumbler which I had left on a table at the opposite end of the room, imagining it to be empty no doubt, as there did not appear to be anything in it to one in her situation, whilst there was a portion
of prussic acid in it, which I had been taking a small portion of for my stomach. The reason I had it in such an exposed situation was because on my taking a little of it for my stomach, which I dare say you are aware I am in the habit of doing, when my side or stomach is bad; I think you recommended it to me among others; the stopper having broken in the phial, I was obliged to knock off the neck of it, and having done so, set a tumbler to catch the contents, a portion of what was saved was left in the glass. I went into another room in search of another phial to put it in, knowing well how dangerous it was to have it exposed. I was not a minute absent when Rachel having got up to use the----, and take some salts out of the glass off the table, in order to take some water after the salts, and from the clearness of the acid, not perceiving it in the glass, poured some water in it, and drank a portion of it. O God, what a calamity for me. I heard her in the other room, and flew to her, I called for assistance; but in a minute or two it was all over. Ashamed of my awful neglect in having left the acid for a moment in such a situation, and in awful confusion in the shock, I did not communicate the circumstances until after a while, which in consequence of my being entirely among strangers, is likely to place me in an awful position, &c. &c."
Thursday, August 22.
THE QUEEN AGAINST JAMES COCKBURN BELANEY—Continued.
Witnesses for the Defence.
ROBERT EMBLBTON . I am a surgeon,. residing at Embleton, in Northumberland. I am acquainted with the prisoner—he has consulted me several times about a complaint that he was labouring under—when he first consulted me he complained of palpitation of the heart, with slight difficulty of breathing occasionally—the first time he consulted me was either in the latter part of 1838, or the beginning of 1839—I cannot speak definitively as to the exact period—he thought that he was labouring under organic disease of the heart and the nerves—I examined his chest with the stethoscope, and told him I could not detect any signs of organic disease—on further examination I found he was labouring under dyspepsia—a deranged action of the stomach, which had been existing a considerable time—I told him I considered the palpitation of the heart and the slight difficulty of breathing were merely secondary symptoms—I advised him to take some bitter infusion, with a couple or three drops of prussic acid, twice a day, and to take some slight alterative pill, or blue pill at night—I also advised him to take a little preparation of opium when the pain became violent at any time—I advised morphine, which is a prepartion of opium—he consulted me from time to time afterwards about his symptoms—he said he had followed the plan I had advised him, and had found the symptoms gradually amending—he got well—I frequently saw him after his marriage—I have known him well for many years, and Mrs. Belaney also—I had an opportunity of seeing what his conduct was towards his wife—it was that of unvarying kindness—and her feelings seemed to be reciprocal to his—the affection seemed mutual—those appeared to be the terms on which they were living constantly—I never heard anything brought against his character—it has been that of kindness to all with whom he was connected.
MR. BODKIN. Q. When you first knew him was he practising as a surgeon,
and apothecary? A. He was, at North Sunderland—I knew him practising in that profession since 1838—he was practising as an apothecary at the time he consulted me about himself—I did not write him any prescription, but told him what he should take—I expect he was aware of the quality of the drug I recommended him to take—it was probably three or four months after he had first consulted me, that he told me he had got better—he repeatedly consulted me afterwards—there was a recurrence of the disease at different periods—I said, I could advise him to no better plan, and as it had been so effectual in the first instance to continue it—I think the last time he consulted me regularly on the subject of his own illness, was about the beginning or middle of the year, 1841—that was before his marriage—he has not consulted me for that disorder since his marriage—1841 was the last time—I knew his wife before her marriage—I cannot speak with certainty as to how long he was paying attention to her—I had heard it mentioned for several months before—I did not attend the family.
MR. ERLE. Q. Had the defendant any accident? A. About six months ago his horse fell with him, and his clavicle was fractured—I attended him for that—I did not know whether he was qualified as a regular practitioner—I did not inquire into that point, and had no opportunity of knowing—he had a medical library—I do not sell drugs myself.
ROBERT SWAN . I am a druggist, at Alnwick, in Northumberland. I am acquainted with Mr. Belaney—he has bought prussic acid of me—not more than once—that was on the 1st of May, 1841—I was acquainted with him and his wife—I had no opportunity of seeing the terms on which they lived with each other—I never saw them after being married—I knew them separately, and have seen them separately after they were married, but have not seen them together—Mr. Belaney has always borne a good character—I never heard a great deal about his character, but I never heard anything against it.
MR. BODKIN. Q. Was he practising at the time he bought this prussic acid of you? A. He was, and he was in the habit of taking of me such drugs as he wanted in his profession.
COURT. Q. How long was he absent when in London some four years ago? A. I do not know.
MR. EMBLETON re-examined. I do not know how long he was in London four years ago—I knew he was absent, and in London part of the time.
MR. ERLE. Q. Have you been applied to on behalf of the prosecution, by Messrs. Dixon and Thorpe? A. I have.
MRS. ROBSON. I am the wife of John Robson. Until he retired he was in trade at North Sunderland—I was acquainted with Mrs. and Miss Skelly for fifteen years—I remember the prisoner's marriage with Miss Skelly—she was a most pleasing woman—the marriage was quite with Mrs. Skelly's consent—there was no difficulty in ascertaining in North Sunderland that the prisoner was married to Miss Skelly, at Bamborough—I was in the habit of visiting them after their marriage—I remember Mrs. Skelly sending to me to come to her after the marriage—Mr. and Mrs. Belaney seemed perfectly agreeable with each other, and appeared to be an aflpectionate and happy couple to the best of my knowledge—I was at the house of Mrs. Skelly during her last illness—Mrs. Belaney did not quit her at the time of that illness—I know Mr. Hunt the doctor—he attended Mrs. Skelly the day before she died—Mrs. Belaney told me he had been sent for by Mr. Belaney without Mrs. Skelly's knowledge—Mr. Wilson was the family doctor, but Lord Grey was taken ill, and had sent for Mr. Wilson from Alnwick, the day before—that was the reason Mr. Hunt came—I did not visit Mr. and Mrs. Belaney so frequently after Mrs. Skelly's death, but I did visit them—I saw Mrs. Belaney after her miscarriage,
and she gave me an account of it on the afternoon of the same day—I assisted to change her linen—Mr. Belaney appeared to be most anxious to protect her against cold, and to procure assistance for her—I saw nothing but the tenderness and affection which a husband would be expected to show to his wife—I have frequently seen Mrs. Belaney in her husband's absence—she has always spoken of him in the most affectionate terms—I remember Mr. Belaney being in Scotland in Feb. last—Mrs. Belaney appeared to manifest anxiety for his return—I saw Mrs. Belaney ten days previous to her leaving for London—she had spoken to me of her intended journey—she appeared most anxious to go to London—I remember the progress of the house building on the copyhold property—he seemed to manifest every anxiety to meet her views on that occasion—the house was only partly finished at the time the death occurred, and is not now finished—Mrs. Belaney talked much about her journey to London—I said to her, "Are you not afraid to go to London being so weak?"—she was at that time nearly seven months in the family way—she said, stopping behind Mr. Belaney a month or six weeks would make her much worse than the journey would—I saw nothing in his conduct that an affectionate wife could not expect.
MR. BODKIN. Q. Can you tell us how far Mrs. Belaney had advanced in her pregnancy when the event took place which she told you of? A. She never gave me any hints—I was there on the afternoon of the same day—she was then in bed—I cannot tell how far the pregnancy had advanced—I had noticed signs of pregnancy before—I think this happened in the beginning of Aug., last year, to the best of my knowledge.
MR. CLARKSON. Q. Did you ask her whether she had seen the foetus? A. I did—she said no—Mr. Belaney said it was not proper she should see it, it was in decay.
MRS. WILSON. I am the wife of William Wilson—he is very ill, or he would have been here—he has been ill for a month—I live at Bredenell, near North Sunderland. I know Jenny Armstrong—I saw Mrs. Belaney three or four days after her miscarriage—she came to my house, and I learnt from her that she had had a miscarriage—I asked her how it had happened—she said either by reaching over or stepping off a chair, I could not understand which—I had opportunities of seeing Mr. and Mrs. Belaney together, and his conduct towards her was quite agreeable—it was affectionate and kind.
ANDREW GIBSON . I am a mason, and live at North Sunderland—I have a farm, and also keep an inn there. I have known the prisoner nine years—I was in his company on the Cheviot hills to get hawks two days previous to his coming to town—he did not seem very anxious to go, but Mr. Dinning was very wishful for him to go with him—he would not go to Cheviot without Mrs. Belaney's consent, as it was a long journey, and it would be late before he got home—I had heard Mrs. Belaney speak of the journey to London—I cannot say how long before—I saw her the morning she left Sunderland, and was the last that shook her hand from the place—she seemed in good health, and chaffed, and said she was very glad she was going away that morning—she spoke lightly, and appeared to be cheerful—I knew Mr. Belaney after he was married—I never saw anything in his conduct towards her but what would be expected from an affectionate, kind husband—he appeared to be very fond of her—she was a very pretty and fascinating woman—they seemed to be very fond of each other—that continued down to the time they left for London.
REV. ROBERT BELANEY . I am the prisoner's brother. I visited him at North Sunderland since his marriage, about June or July last—I had an opportunity then of seeing the terms on which he and his wife were living—I had never seen anything more indicative of strong affection between any
parties in my life—I am at present vicar of Arlington—at that time I was a curate at Sydenham, near London—the prisoner proposed taking a house where I was, and bringing his wife up to town, where she might pursue her study of French, I think, and music—I think the first reason assigned for putting off that visit was her miscarriage—the next time he had fixed was in Feb. or March, and that was put oft in consequence of his having to go to Perth or somewhere respecting his money concerns—after I went to Arlington I invited them to come there—there was a proposal to visit me several times—eventually they had fixed to be with me on the Monday after her death—during the time I was at North Sunderland I had some conversation with him about making his will—I happened to know some of the clergy in the neighbourhood, and he drove me to call on them, and on two occasions I jumped out of the carriage in consequence of my apprehensions from his driving—he drove carelessly, he let the reins under the horse's tail twice—when I got home I mentioned it to his wife, and she told me some other circumstances where he had met with accidents, and I said a person incurring such risks, being let down over the sea to get his falcons, which is a very perilous risk, ought not to be without a will; for if he had any property, though I was not likely to trouble him, it was possible I might get into debt, (I said it in a jesting way,) and ray creditors would come on him for either one-third or two-thirds—I did not know the law, and therefore I spoke at random—Mrs. Skelly was then dead.
ROBERT HALL . I live at the sea houses, North Sunderland. I knew Mr. and Mrs. Belaney, and had frequent opportunities of seeing them together after their marriage—they seemed exceedingly fond of each other—they were in my house the Sunday night before they left for London—Mr. Belaney said he thought he should give up the journey to London this season, as Mrs. Belaney was in such a state it was not right—Mrs. Belaney said he should not get off that way, that she would go herself, if she got hold of his brother she would be all right—she said that pleasantly—I know that Mr. Belaney carried poison about him—I have seen it—I did not know what it was—he took a small bottle out of his pocket, and let me see it, and told me it was poison—I said, "Why do you carry it?"—he said he was obliged to keep it, and take it for a pain in his side.
ELLEN KERN . I was in the service of Mr. and Mrs. Belaney—I had been in the service fifteen days before they left for London. I was with Mrs. Belaney daily, and the greater part of the day—their conduct to each other was quite loving—I knew they were building a house on the copyhold—I have not heard Mr. Belaney consult Mrs. Belaney as to the mode in which it should be erected—I have heard them talk about the house—he took her with him from time to time to see it in its progress—his conduct was uniformly loving.
JOHN HANCOCK . I am an ironmonger, and live at Newcastle-on-Tyne. I have been acquainted with Mr. Belaney between six and eight years—he was fond of falconry, and I paid some attention to it, and to botany and ornithology, which he pursued in common with myself—I made a visit to him after his marriage in Jan. last—he and I were frequently in the habit of communicating on those subjects—I staid there a fortnight—my visit was chiefly from the joint interest we had in those matters—I never saw two persons so much attached to each other as himself and wife—they called on me on the 1st of June last, as they passed through on their way to London—he called on me first—I was about to make a call on a gentleman that be wished to be introduced to—he said he would like me to call on his wife first at the inn, he would like to see her first—we went, and found her lying
on the sofa—he said to her, "My dear, you should not lie there, you will get cold, there may be a draught; you are not in your own house you should remember"—his conduct was just as affectionate as when I was visiting them—they had brought some plate with them, which was to be changed—Mr. Belaney asked me if I would go with him to Mr. Lister's, a silversmith, in Newcastle, and deposit it there, so that it might be safe—I went with him, and heard him give an order for some new plate, which he was to take as he came back.
GEORGE HOBSON . I am a bookseller, and live at No. 8, Crombie's-row, Commercial-road. I was examined before the Coroner on the subject of this death, and was afterwards bound over as a witness for the Crown, to appear here on the trial—I appear now in obedience to my recognizance—I have known the prisoner between five and six years—he has published a work on Falconry—when he came up to London I introduced him to Mrs. Heppingstall's lodgings—I saw Mrs. Belaney at the same time—I had never seen her before—their conduct to each other appeared most kind and affectionate—I helped to bring the luggage into the lodgings—Mrs. Belaney appeared at that time in a delicate state of health, and advanced in pregnancy—they went to the theatre in the evening—they both wished to go—it was on the Tuesday evening, the evening of their arrival at the lodging—he and I went together to the Euston Hotel, and brought their things from thence to the lodging—I did not see them on the Thursday—I saw Mr. Belaney on the Wednesday—I saw nothing more of them till the Saturday, when I saw Captain Clark—I was present before the Magistrate, but was not called—I went to Mrs. Heppingstall's house about half-past ten on the Saturday morning, in consequence of seeing Captain Clark, and hearing that Mrs. Belaney was dead—I saw the prisoner—he appeared very much distressed, and was in tears—I afterwards accompanied him and Captain Clark to the burial-ground—he was at that time also very much distressed—there was nothing in his conduct which I should not have expected to see exhibited by an affectionate husband who had so recently lost his wife—I was with them on the Sunday evening, from seven till about half-past nine o'clock—I was also with them, on Monday, the 10th, the day of the inquest—I heard that they had called at my house, but I was not at home—I saw them at my house about ten o'clock on the Monday evening—the prisoner then appeared very much distressed—they invited me to go out with them—seeing the state Mr. Belaney was in, I asked Captain Clark, in his presence, what was the matter—he appeared to me to be in a fainting state—I had to support him—Captain Clark, in his presence, gave me an account of what Mr. Belaney had represented had happened at the time of the death—that was the first time I had heard anything of the prussic acid—I went to Mr. Garrett in consequence—I have received no intimation on the part of the Crown that I should not be required to give evidence—I attend in obedience to my recognizance—I was not taken before the Grand Jury—I had an intimation that I should not be required to go before the Grand Jury, but not that I should not be required to attend here as a witness on the trial—I have been attending ever since.
WILLIAM DENU CLARK . I live, at No. 17, King-street, Mile-end Old Town, and am a master mariner. I am a friend of Mr. Belaney's—I knew him for about twelve months from, I think, about July, 1839, to the following year—he was living in Cannon-street-road at that time—he attended me and my daughter during that time as a surgeon—on Tuesday, the 4th of June last, he called on me in company with Mr. Hobson, who is an acquaintance of mine through Mr. Belaney—Mrs. Belaney called with him—that was my first introduction to her—she dined with us that day while Mr. Belaney
went with Mr. Hobson up to Euston-quare for his luggage—they then went to their lodging, and took tea—Mr. Hobson was in company with them, and they went to the theatre afterwards—I saw them again on the Wednesday evening—she had been very poorly all the day, and was in bed—my daughter was there also when I called—I Saw Mrs. Belaney, and spoke to her—she did not appear to be poorly then—she was much better at that time, and very cheerful—she was in bed then—she complained of her head being light, but she was very cheerful—I saw them again on the Thursday afternoon—I understood they had been up towards the West End, to Regent-street, and that he had bought a hawk on a roll—he unrolled it, showed it to me, and said he had plenty of work for Mrs. Belaney during his absence—he said he should be gone a long time, if she had to finish it by the time he came back—I had heard a talk about his going to this hawking in Holland more than two years before—on the Thursday evening I took a little salmon with him—my daughter was not there—they were on very cheerful and agreeable terms that evening—I never saw them otherwise—on Friday, about half-past two o'clock, Mr. and Mrs. Belaney called at my house—they said they had been down to the Tunnel, and on to the Mile End-road, making some little purchases—they did not bring any stays or purchases with them—she appeared to be very much fatigued, and looked pale—she did not go out again, and he left her, and went to Euston-square to see for letters—he came back, I think, about half-past eight o'clock, to my house—we were at tea—he took some tea, and they went home—he produced an order that he had for Mrs. Belaney to go to the House of Lords on that day—he had received a letter from Earl Clanwilliam, inclosing two orders, one for him and one for her, to go to the House of Lords that day, but it was too late to make use of it then—he had been himself, and the House adjourned very early on the Friday—up to the time of their parting from me on the Friday evening they were on the same affectionate and intimate terms—I never saw anything to the contrary—they always appeared to be very affectionate indeed, and very happy together, much more so than I have generally seen, and I believe that was the general remark—on the Thursday evening, when at supper with him, he intimated to me that he should like very much for Mrs. Belaney to stop with my daughter during his absence to the Rhine, which would be about ten or twelve days—my daughter was not present—I spoke to her about it, and she told me something—I do not remember his assigning any particular reason why a change was made about Arlington, only something about being in the country, and a distance from any medical man, or something of that sort, but it is very indistinct in my memory—on the Friday I stated to him and her that I had spoken to my daughter about her stopping with us, and she had given her consent, and they both seemed very happy that it was so—on the Saturday morning, as the clock struck eight, I began to rise, when the servant knocked at the door, and said I was wanted immediately—in consequence of what she said I got on my things as quick as I possibly could, and went with all speed to Mrs. Heppingstall's house—when I got there I found Mr. Belaney very much distressed in mind, and he seemed very much horrified—I did not see him crying when 1 first went in—he had a lancet in his hand—Mrs. Belaney was lying on the bed insensible, with her eyelids closed—I saw her heave twice—the first gasp was pretty strong, and I then supposed she was coming to—presently after she gave another slight sigh, and I believe that was all—I do not particularly remember what the prisoner's first observation was—the first observation I remember was that she would not recover; and about five or six minutes afterwards, I cannot say exactly, he said, "My God! this is entirely through my own neglect; I am
the cause of all this, through my gross neglect"—I did not put any question upon that, but I certainly should had he been a stranger—I had understood on the Friday that she had been down the Tunnel and I said to Mr. Belaney, "You have done very wrong to take your good lady in that state down the Tunnel; had I known you were going I should have endeavoured to dissuade you from it; it is rather too much in her state, of pregnancy;" or something of that sort—I understood his words to refer to that; moreover, I stated that I thought it was too long a journey to bring her in her then state; and the construction I put on his statement to me then was that he had been neglectful—he had also said Mrs. Belaney had been very subject to costiveness, and I thought perhaps it might have been that he alluded to, as well as bringing her the long journey, when he said it was through his gross neglect—I was for trying friction, because I have seen friction tried in cases of fits——Mrs. Heppingstall went down for a mustard poultice, spread it on the drawers, handed it to me, and I put it on her chest, Mr. Belaney moving her linen on one side while I did so—we then had hot, or rather warm water, it was not very warm, and I requested brushes to rub her legs with—the prisoner during this time appeared very much distressed and overpowered, but he stated it was of no use, she would not come to—he appeared from the beginning to have no hope whatever of her recovery—he put his hand to her heart and to her pulse, and said, "She has no pulse, it is no use bleeding her"—I felt her heart and pulse too, and there was no pulsation—the conversation shortly after passed about the inquest—Mrs. Heppingstall, Mr. Garrett, and myself, thought it was necessary—I do not remember whether it was proposed by Mrs. Heppingstall or Mr. Garrett, but he said he thought it would be right to have one—I considered so for Mr. Belaney's justification—it was mentioned to him while he was at the door of the bed-room—he came into the other room afterwards—he made no objection—he acceded to it immediately—a woman came to lay out the body, and she wished to have the deceased's clothes—the prisoner seemed indignant at the idea of taking her clothes away, and said he wished to have her clothes, and would pay money, for he would rather have those that she died in than all her other things—the woman had been brought in by Mrs. Heppingstall—he was so indignant at the desire of taking away the last things his poor wife had on, that he was desirous of having everything out of the house—I went away to Mr. James, the undertaker—I had spoken to the prisoner about the interment, and he said he must leave it entirely to me and Mr. Hobson—I have been examined before the Coroner, and before the Magistrate, and was bound over for the prosecution—on my return from the undertaker, I called at Mr. Hobson's, told him what had occurred, and begged him to come on—he presently after came on to Mrs. Heppingstall's, and after sitting there a while, and talking to the undertaker, Mr. Hobson and I proposed going to the cemetery, to see about a piece of ground—Mr. Belaney then said he thought he would go with us, and take the air—Mrs. Heppingstall said she hoped the funeral would take place as soon as possible, because it was a painful thing for the occurrence to take place in her house, and she suggested that it might take place on the Tuesday, as the inquest was expected to take place on the Monday—Mr. Hobson, myself, and Mr. Belaney, then went out—we first went into the Beaumont cemetery, and afterwards to the City of London cemetery—I do not remember Mr. Belaney making any observation to the man—all that passed was between me and Mr. Belaney—the man said he must have four days clear to prepare a brick grave, and it was arranged there should be a seven foot grave—I afterwards went with him to see a brother of his who is in trade at Mr. Cursitor's, in Whitechapel, and either in going or coming
back, I do not remember which, he stated in similar words that he regretted very much that he was the cause of her death through his gross neglect, he was the sole cause—he expressed that once or twice—that was on the Saturday afternoon—I made a mistake before the Magistrate with respect to the Sunday, which I beg leave to rectify—it was not on Sunday, it must have been on the Monday that I walked down to the Globe with him—he then said the same as before, that he was the cause of his dear Rachel's death, through his gross neglect—that was on the Monday, towards noon, and I observed each time he stated this to me, he seemed to wish to get away from the hearing of every one, towards the middle of the road; for example, in going to the Globe in the Mile-End-road, he seemed to wish to be in the very middle of the road—although I paid no particular attention to that at the time, from what happened afterwards my memory has been thrown back—a post mortem examination took place on the Monday—I did not hear either of the surgeons say to the other what was the cause of the death—I inquired of them, and they gave me an evasive answer—I had no reason whatever to guess that it had been from prussic acid—I had not the least idea that there was anything wrong or unfair in any way, from the confidence I had in Mr. Belaney—on the Monday evening I was walking with the prisoner—I was going to see my daughter-in-law, who had just been brought to bed—I called on my way on Mr. Garrett, who was attending her—he was not within—I afterwards saw him, and after leaving him, the prisoner seemed to wish to get me, I think, into Chapman-street, in the Commercial-road, which appeared a retired street—we walked from there up the Commercial-road, Cannon-street-road, and ultimately into Jubilee-place—he there stopped, and was shedding tears very abundantly, with his handkerchief to his eyes, and he said, "My God, Mr. Clark, I am the sole cause of my dear Rachel's death"—he said it so forcibly that I began to think it very strange, as he had spoken in that way so repeatedly, and I said, "What do you mean, doctor?"—he said, "Mean! my wife has taken poison!"—"Poison!" I said, "what poison?"—he said, "Prussic acid"—I said, "Good God, do you mean to say that you have given your wife prussic acid?"—"No, thank God," said he, "I have not that to charge myself with"—he then began to relate how it had occurred; that he was in the habit of taking prussic acid, and I know he was in the habit of taking prussic acid when he was in London before—I had heard him say so—he said that he had been taking it, that he had by mistake broken the stopper of the bottle in getting it out, I understood him to say he had spilt some of it, that he got a tumbler, placed it on the drawers, and emptied the phial into this tumbler, and that it was his impression that his wife had come out of bed, and taken it after he left the room—he was in a dreadful state at the time he made this narrative—I then took him to Mr. Hobson—it was then proposed to go to Mr. Garrett—we went to Mr. Garrett, and there he made this statement.
MR. BODKIN. Q. Have you told us all the prisoner said to you about his wife at the time you went into the room shortly before her death? A. If I recollect right, he said she would not recover; he also added that her poor mother died of the same complaint, a diseased heart—I was present at the post-mortem examination on the Monday; Mr. Garrett asked me if I would—I understood that the prisoner had expressed a wish to be present—I cannot exactly say whether I heard it expressed, but I understood, (I do not remember from what quarter,) that he wished to be present—I noticed the two surgeons remove the stomach and its contents from out of the body, and that each of them smelt the contents of the stomach—I did not hear them say anything particular—there was some conversation, but I did not understand
anything they said—I did not hear one of them, on smelling the contents of the stomach, say one word which I thought was Latin—I have not said so—I do not remember ever making such an assertion—I remember Mr. Garrett saying something about his having a cold, and he could not smell—I understood the prisoner was in the next room while the post-mortem examination was going on—I saw the contents of the stomach sealed up and taken away by the surgeons—I saw the prisoner, I dare say, not many minutes after—he was in the front room—I dare say I told him what had occurred—I do not recollect particularly what I said to him, but I think it most likely I did tell him—before he made the statement to me which I have related, he bad been with me to Mr. Garrett's house—when we came out I said to him, "I suppose Mr. Garrett does not like to say what has been the cause of death before he goes before the Coroner"—I do not know that the prisoner had spoken to Mr. Garrett while he was there—I spoke to Mr. Garrett in his presence, and asked him; and after we came out I said to the prisoner, "I suppose they don't wish to make known the cause of death till they come before the Jury"—he made no answer that I remember—it was about ten minutes after that we got to this private place, where he made this statement—it was in the course of the same walk—I think it was about half-past twelve o'clock on the Saturday that we went to the cemetery and had the conversation about the grave—when he was telling me how this matter had occurred, he said he had seized the tumbler out of the hand of his wife, and that he emptied the contents into the po.
MRS. M'EACHERN. I am the wife of Robert M'Eachern, and the daughter of Mr. Clark—I was introduced to Mr. and Mrs. Belaney on the 4th of June—I saw them from time to time from Tuesday the 4th, to Saturday the 8th—I saw her on the Wednesday, when she was extremely sick during the course of the day—Mr. Belaney said that she had had a miscarriage some few months before, and symptoms of the kind had appeared again, but he hoped it would not be so—I saw them together on several occasions, and they appeared to be on the most affectionate terms—I saw her at times alone; she appeared to be perfectly happy in her marriage, and spoke of it to that effect—throughout the whole of the time his conduct was that of a kind and affectionate husband—I was called to come to their lodging on Saturday morning the 8th—I found the prisoner very much agitated, and crying—Mrs. Belaney laid apparently quite quiet in the bed—I thought she appeared as if she had been out of bed, as her cap was off, and her hair down, as it would be if she had been putting it in order in getting up—that was my impression—she had on nothing but her night-clothes—she appeared insensible—the landlady said it was necessary to have a doctor—I said, "Shall I fetch Mr. Garrett?"—Mr. Belaney said, "Yes," and I fetched him—Mrs. Belaney had spent most of the Friday with me, and before she left she said she should take salts either that night or next morning—I noticed Mr. Belaney emptying a tumbler on Saturday morning—it was on the table in the bed-room—that was after Mr. Garrett and Captain Clark had been and left the room—my servant fetched away the clothes she died in, and other things—I did not see the black draught bottle—a bonnet came afterwards, which had been bought the day before—my father had spoken to me about Mrs. Belaney stopping with me during the time the prisoner might be abroad—she had not spoken to me about it herself—Mr. Belaney intimated to me in Mrs. Belaney's presence, rather in an indirect way, that it would be agreeable to him if it suited me, or something of that sort—I did not assent to it then; I named it to my father first, and he approved of it—I was examined before the Coroner, and bound over to appear—I have been examined by Mr. Reynolds, but not by any attorney for the prisoner.
MR. BODKIN. Q. What day was it he spoke to you about the miscarriage? A. While she was in bed and sick on the Wednesday—she was in the room at the same time—he spoke of symptoms of miscarriage having appeared again, but he hoped it would not be so—he did not allude to any time, but Mrs. Belaney said, "I am better now, I hope I shall soon be well "—the observation was made while Mrs. Belaney was in the bed—he leaned on the bed, and I was sitting on a chair beside her—I understood him that symptoms of miscarriage had again appeared but had passed by—the bed-room is a small one—when I went into the room on the Saturday she was lying in bed on her back, with her head leaning on Mrs. Heppingstall's shoulder—there were curtains to the bed—I believe they were up—one side of the bed was against the wall—the curtains were away from the foot and side.
MR. ERLE. Q. Had you any knowledge about the symptoms except just what you heard pass? A. Nothing more—he said he was afraid something might happen which had happened last year—and she said, "There is no fear, I am better now, I hope I shall be better, and that it will not occur," or words to that effect.
WILLIAM HACKETT SHAW (police-constable K 2.) I was examined for the prosecution before the Magistrate—I have not since been examined for the prosecution by Mr. Reynolds—I have not been to his office on the subject—I have not been before the Grand Jury—I arrived from Liverpool the night before last—the bill was found then—I was examined before the Coroner on the part of the prosecution—I was bound over to appear on behalf of the Crown before the Coroner—I have attended in accordance with my recognizance for that purpose to be examined—I was the sergeant on duty at the Stepney station-house when the prisoner was brought in custody on Tuesday night the 11th—I cautioned him that he need not say anything unless he liked, and whatever he said might be used against him, or whatever he wrote—I visited him several times in the course of the night—he asked whether pen, ink, and paper would be allowed—I said, "Yes"—he was furnished with materials by his friends—I allowed that—he asked if be might have a letter put into the post for him—I said, I must first inspect it—he said, "Very well"—at six o'clock in the morning he delivered me this letter (No. 8) addressed to Mr. Embleton—it was open for me to read it—I read it—I did not put it into the post—I kept it—it was shown to the Coroner—it was shown to the clerk at the Magistrates' office—not in the presence of the prisoner—I told the prisoner that I had detained the letter—I showed it to the Magistrates' clerk—I think during the prisoner's first examination—I do not recollect that it was in a private room—I think it was in Court—it was in Mr. Symons' hands—I will not be sure.
PETER M'CARDELL (police-constable K 4.) I took the prisoner into custody—I attended before the Coroner to state what passed, and to produce the different things that were found at his lodgings—I was in Court before the Magistrate—I was not examined—I produced the bundle—I was asked a few questions by his worship—I was not questioned by the clerk before the Magistrate examined me—I do not recollect that I went into the private room when the letter to Mr. Embleton was produced—there was another sergeant in the case—I took him on Tuesday the 11th of June, about half-past seven o'clock in the evening—I have got the morphia—I was bound over before the Coroner to appear and give evidence on the part of the Crown—I have not been before the Grand Jury—I was in waiting to be called if they wanted me, and sworn to be examined—the morphia is in the same state as when I found it—it has been tested by Mr. Bride, the nearest surgeon to the house—he opened the bottle—it was not full at that time—I do
not think he took much out of it—he tested it with a knife, or something, I do not know what—of course he knew better than I did—I found this also in a box—it is concentrated crystallized vinegar, and this salve—that is all—I found the acetate of morphia and crystallized vinegar in his trunk, at the house of Captain Clark, No. 46, King-street—the tooth-powder was in a box with the bottle of crystallized vinegar—I found the acetate of morphia, tooth-powder, and vinegar all together in the trunk—I found a paper on the Wednesday, containing salts and carbonate of soda, at Mrs. Heppingstall's on the table near the bed—the prisoner's things must all have been removed from Mrs. Heppingstall's by Captain Clark, before I found these things, for I examined the boxes at Captain Clark's—the prisoner was, I should say, in rather an excited state when I took him—in taking leave of his brother Archibald, down stairs, he appeared to be much affected, and greatly excited—I told him what he was charged with—that was up stairs, in the presence of Mr. Hicks, who was then his solicitor—he said, "Oh my God!" and sunk into a chair by the side of him—when he was down stairs, he said to his brother, who was crying, "Oh Archy, Archy, why do you take on so? it is an inquiry that must be instituted"—shortly afterwards, when a cab was being sent for, he said, in a low voice, "Oh my angel, my angel, I have done this; I have caused this; I am a murdered man!" or something to that effect—I found the morphia, the vinegar, the powder, and the salve, on the Tuesday—this case containing two lancets, was given me afterwards by Mrs. M'Eachern.
MARY GOTTO . I live with my brother, who keeps a Berlin wool warehouse in Regent-street—I remember a lady and gentleman calling at our shop, in the beginning of June—this is the pattern the gentleman bought—it is one of the most expensive and beautiful patterns we have—the gentleman appeared kind to the lady.
ANN REBECCA KING . I am assistant to Mrs. Roberts, a bonnet-maker in the Mile End-road. On Friday, the 7th of June, about twelve o'clock in the day, a lady and gentleman called at our shop—the gentleman purchased a bonnet for the lady, and at the same time left a pair of new stays, to be sent home with the bonnet—the gentleman's conduct appeared most affectionate towards the lady—it made an impression on me at the time, and I remarked it at the time to the persons in the house—Mr. Belaney called in the course of the day for the stays, and the bonnet was sent in the morning.
F----H----SALVIN. I live at Linton Spring, Yorkshire. I have been acquainted with Mr. Belaney for two years—I joined with him in his taste for hawking—I have visited him at different times—the first year of my acquaintance with him I visited him three times—I visited him once since he was married—he and his wife appeared to be perfectly happy in the marriage—I have become well acquainted with Mr. Belaney—he always bore a very good character for humanity and kindness in every relation of life—I knew him at the time when he was in practice—I saw him with his medicines about—he was a person of very careless habits, and his medicines were thrown very carelessly about his house—I have spoken to him about it once or twice—I have observed that habit.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Thursday, August 22, 1844.
CAROLINE FLEMING . I am servant to George Bague, of No. 19, Coleshill-street, in the parish of St. George, Hanover-square. On the 4th of July, about half-past one o'clock in the morning, I was in bed in the kitchen, and was awoke by the noise of a gallipot knocked off the dresser, and heard a person's hand passing along the dresser—I listened for ten minutes, then heard the fire-shovel fall—I then heard the hand again pass along the dresser—I jumped out of bed, and found the kitchen door open—I went up stairs to my master's bed-room, opened his window, and called "Police"—master was there—I found the staircase window up-—I was called down in about ten minutes, and found the prisoner in the policeman's custody in the hall—when I went to bed the house was all fastened—the kitchen door is an inside one—I went to bed at twelve o'clock, and left the family up—I shut up the lower part of the house myself—I know the staircase window was shut down, but cannot say it was fastened—every other part was fastened—a person could get in at the staircase window by getting on a closet in the garden—four flower-pots which had been inside the window were moved outside.
Cross-examined by MR. HOBRY. Q. There was nothing moved to be taken away? A. No—the staircase window has a hasp, which does not fasten of itself—I had shut the window in a hurry at half-past nine o'clock, as it rained, but do not recollect hasping it—I saw it was shut at twelve.
ROBERT M'KENZIE (policeman.) About one o'clock in the morning I heard the witness call "Thieves" and "Police" from Mr. Bague's house—I immediately went to the house, and requested a gentleman who was passing to stand at the front door while I ran to the back of the house—I got over into the garden—another constable lifted me—on the top of the closet I found the flower-pots, and the window open—I got into the house, went down with a light, and found the prisoner sitting on the kitchen dresser—I asked what he was doing there—he said, "Nothing"—I found nothing but a small key on him—he was without hat or shoes—I called the witness down—I took him to the station—he refused to give his name or any account of himself—I found several footmarks in the garden, and the prisoner's hat and boots close to the closet.
CHARLES BAGUE . This is my house, and in the parish of St. George, Hanover-square—my wife, three daughters, and myself were the last persons up—we sent the servant to bed at past eleven o'clock, and about half-past twelve we all went up together—I know everything was fast, and as I went up stairs I saw that the window was closed down; whether it was fastened I cannot say, but it was very close down—the servant afterwards alarmed us.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you put your hand to the window? A. No—I saw it was closed—I sleep in the back room second floor—the window has a bolt to it, which only fastens when pulled to.
(Thomas Tepple, of Gravel-lane, Blackfriars, gave the prisoner a good character.)
GUILTY . Aged 20.— Transported for Ten Years.
First Jury, before Mr. Recorder.
GUILTY . Aged 19.— Confined One Month.
GUILTY . Aged 14.— Confined Fourteen Days.
MR. BODKIN conducted the Prosecution.
LYDIA THOMPSON . I am the daughter of labouring people, living at Chiswick. I have a cousin known by the name of Grecian Thompson—on Sunday night, the 23rd of June, as I and my sister went by Carey's house, between ten and eleven o'clock, the prisoner came out with a pair of tongs, and hit me a violent blow on the head with them twice—I fell down, and lost my senses—when I came to myself I was in my own house, which is near Carey's—Mr. Dodsworth, the surgeon, attended me—I have seen the prisoner but had no quarrel with him, or been a party to any quarrel—I said nothing to him or he to me.
Cross-examined by MR. DOANE. Q. Where had you been? A. At supper with my married sister—the prisoner never spoke to me in his life or I to him—I had to pass Carey's in my way home—they were kicking up a row in Carey's house—I do not know how many people were in there—I only saw the prisoner—I do not know Mrs. Mahoney—I saw no woman there—the prisoner came out of the house alone just as I passed.
MR. BODKIN. Q. Did he know you by sight? A. I do not know—he is an Irishman.
RACHAEL THOMPSON . I am the witness's sister, and live at Turnham-green. I was with her—as we passed Carey's, which is a lodging-house, the prisoner came out with the fire-tongs in his hand—he struck my sister on the head with them twice—he said nothing to her nor she to him—she fell senseless—I found her head bleeding, and took her home—she then came to herself, and I took her to Mr. Dodsworth—I had been no party to any quarrel with the prisoner.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you ever speak to him? A. No—I saw nobody but him.
COURT. Q. Was there light enough to show him you were two women? A. Yes, there was a candle in the house—I heard a great noise in the house—we had no bonnets on—we were coming from my sister's, which is facing Carey's, and had not to go above five minutes' walk.
WILLIAM THOMPSON . I live at Turnham-green. I have the nickname of Grecian Thompson—I do not know why—I was at the Wellington Arms, at Chiswick, on this Sunday night, about 200 yards from Carey's house—the prisoner threw some beer away, and atruck me with his pot—another man chucked the table over—I then struck him—we were separated, and I went home—the prisoner came into the house, and called out, "Here is Irish"—he came there with his companions, who are Irish—I saw nothing in his hand—this was by Carey's house, and four of them flew on me like lions out of a den—one with a quart pot, another with tongs, and two helped to hold me while the prisoner struck me—my cousin had nothing to do with it—I have
known the prisoner three or four years—he has seen my cousins in my company, and must have known them—he lived next door to me.
Cross-examined. Q. Were you drinking at the Crown and Anchor? A. Yes—I went in about nine o'clock, and came out about a quarter past ten—we had three pots of beer among five of us—I believe the prisoner was drunk—I found him there—after the quarrel he left the house, and went to Carey's, and I went by there to go home—I did not call out, "I want Jemmy Ryan, if I catch hold of him I will kill him?"—I called out for help when I was struck—I did not cry out anything—when I got to Carey's door, he knocked me down with a pair of tongs—he had been waiting for me at the door—I then went away—I was led into Mr. Fenton's by a woman, and had my head washed—I was sentenced to transportation fourteen years ago, for thieving a pair of shoes, when I was fifteen years old—I did not go abroad.
MR. BODKIN. Q. How long were you in prison? A. I was four years and six months at Chatham—since that I have been an errand boy, living honestly—after the quarrel at the public-house I left before the prisoner and went to Mr. Fenton's—I came out in half an hour to go to my lodging—I heard my cousin had been assaulted before I went to Carey's, and I was assaulted myself.
FREDERICK CHRISTOPHER DODSWORTH . I am a surgeon, and live at Tumham-green. On Sunday night, the 23rd of June, the prosecutrix was brought to me—she was in a state of collapse, very much exhausted, and on examining her head, I found severe bruises, with a laceration about one inch long, which appeared to be produced by a blunt instrument—a pair of tongs would do it—the skin was divided—the blow must have been violent to cause this injury—there was only one mark of injury—it was on the top of the head—I considered it dangerous at the time—I continued to attend her a week or ten days—I was apprehensive of erysipelas, which in that hot weather would have been dangerous.
JOHN WILLIAM NICHOLLS . I am clerk to Mr. Clive, of Hammersmith Police Court, before whom the prisoner made a statement which I wrote down, and read over to him—he made his mark to it—this is it—(read)—the prisoner says, "I don't know whether I struck the girl or not, but I had been ill used by her cousin Grecian Thompson and others that night."
(Witnesses for the Defence.)
ELLEN CASEY . I am the wife of David Casey, a labourer, and live at Turnham-green. I know Carey's house—he keeps lodgers—on the night in question, about half-past eleven o'clock, I was standing at my door, and saw William Thompson come out of Mrs. Fenton's house, and heard him say, "Here is English against Irish"—Rachel Thompson came out of her father's house, and stood with him—they went to Carey's door, and he began to kick at it—Rachel Thompson stood by the whole time—he got the door open, and went into the house—he used very low language indeed, and swore that G—strike him dead, if he caught Jem Ryan he would kill him—when he got into Carey's house, I saw him and Ryan catch hold of each other—I turned to go home, and as I got back Lydia Thompson stood at the door, and said to me she was struck, and who struck her I do not know—she stood at the door the whole time—I never saw anybody strike her.
MR. BODKIN. Q. Did she appear much hurt? A. No—I turned back, and said I could not help her—she caught hold of me, and walked along with
me ten or twelve yards, till her sister Rachel came up to her—she seemed able to walk very well—I knew her very well—she lived next door to me—I went with her to the doctor's, and he was not there—she was at home about a quarter of an hour before she went to the doctor's—she sat down till she was fit to go to the doctor's—her head was washed—I did not see any one hit her—I do not know whether she fell down and hurt herself.
COURT. Q. What was her head washed for? A. Her head was cut and bleeding.
MARY CAREY . I keep this house. On the night in question, at past eleven o'clock, Ryan came into my house, and was sitting inside the door, when Bill Thompson came and stamped and kicked at the door, and shouted G—strike him dead, if he would not kill Jemmy Ryan if he caught him—the door was shoved open, and he got inside—Ryan said, "Do you want me again, Bill Thompson?"—he got off his chair, and came up to Thompson, who dragged him outside, clawed him down, and Ryan was all hurt in the face—I went out with him—his face was cut and bleeding, and I was going to wipe it with a wet towel—I did not see anybody handle the tongs, for when they were thrown down I went after a policeman—the prisoner had not the tongs in his hand at all—they are my tongs—Thompson had hold of them, and me and my husband and sister dragged them away from him—I cannot say how he got them—when I came back from looking for a policeman, he and Ryan had the tongs between them struggling for them—I did not see Lydia Thompson at all.
GUILTY of an Assault. Aged 30.— Confined Six Months.
EDWARD M'INTYRE . I now live in Crispin-street, Spitalfields, with my father. On the 16th of July, I lived with Mr. Cummins, boot-closer, Dean-street, Soho, on trial—I have not remained with him—one Tuesday he gave me 5s. to pay to a loan society in Great Portland-street—I carried it in my hand—I went through Oxford-market—the prisoner came up to me in Great Titchfield-street, and said, "Halloo, young Cummins"—I said my name was not Cummins; my master's name was Cummins—she said, "Oh yes, I know you, where are you going?"—I was going to answer, and she said, "Oh, I know where you are going"—she said, "I have got four sorts of coloured beads for your mistress; I wish I could find a piece of paper to wrap them in "—she never offered to pull out the beads, but began talking, and said, "Let me wrap your money up; give me your money; I will wrap it up in this paper"—she took up my hand, opened my finger, and I then opened my hand; she took the money, wrapped it in paper, and asked if I had got any more money—I said yes, two farthings, one a good one, and one bad, which I had picked up; the other mistress gave me to make haste—she said, "Let me wrap those up"—she picked up another piece of paper, and wrapped them both in two single parcels—she kept talking, and said, "Where shall I put it?"—I kept saying, "Put it in my pocket"—she said, "No, I will put it in the corner of your handkerchief"—she took my handkerchief and put it down my bosom, then snatched it out quite quick, and said, "Come with me to No. 21, where I am going, I will give you the beads"—I went about half way, then she made a sudden stop, and said, "Stop, you had better run and pay your loan money"—I thought she had put it in my bosom, and she said, "When you come back, come to No. 21, and wait for me—stop, and see that turning that I go down;" and when she got out of my sight, I put my hand in my bosom for the money, and could only find two farthings—she
was a stranger—she came back in half an hour after, as I went to No. 21—I stood there half an hour, crying that I had lost my money—she came back to me, took my arm, shook me, and said, "Go, pay your money, sir"—I said, "You are the person who took my money," and begged the people to hold her—a gentleman held her while I fetched a constable.
Cross-examined by MR. BALLANTINE. Q. Were you crying and complaining of your loss when she came up? A. Yes—I went to No. 21, where she told me—she left me about half-way from there—I missed my money almost the moment she left—a crowd came round me at No. 21, and she came up—I had never seen her before that day—my mistress was present when master gave me the five shillings—he gave it to me in the room on the first floor—it was in the forenoon—I went straight on, and spoke to nobody but the prisoner.
JOHN TOTOLER . I live at No. 30, George-street, Foley-place. On this forenoon I saw the witness in Titchfield-street, crying—I went and stood by his side—the prisoner came up, and caught hold of his collar, said, "Go along, sir, pay your money"—he turned round, caught hold of her apron, and said, "You are the woman who took my money"—she said she was innocent—a gentleman collared her.
Cross-examined. Q. What had the boy said just before? A. He said, "Oh some one has taken my money"—I did not hear him say where he was going to take it—the prisoner came up after I was standing there—I do not know in what direction she came—there were a great many men and women in the crowd.
JOHN POINTER . I live at No. 16, Clarence-gardens, and was a coachman till I lost my leg. I saw this boy between ten and eleven in the forenoon in Titchfield-street, crying—the prisoner came up eight or ten minutes after me—there was a great crowd round the boy—he said he could swear the prisoner was the woman who robbed him—I stopped her—she was going away, and very much wanted to go when I had got her—I said, I would not let her go, if she was innocent she would not be hurt—she struggled a good deal, and said, "I am innocent, let me go."
Cross-examined. Q. Did you see what direction she came from? A. No—whether she had joined the crowd, I do not know.
EDMUND NASH (policeman.) I was in Titchfield-street, and saw the boy crying—a crowd soon came around—he said, "I charge this woman with stealing five shillings"—she said she was innocent, and in going to the station she said, "I knew the boy had the five shillings, and only went to tell him to go and pay it to the loan society"—I cautioned her to say nothing, as I should mention it before the Magistrate—she said nothing more—the loan society had not been mentioned before in my hearing.
Cross-examined. Q. What had you said before she said, "I knew he had the five shillings?" A. I made no observation, except that she must go to the station—I was walking along and not speaking—I will swear that is what she said—nothing was found on her at the station.
Cross-examined. Q. Was he on trial with you as an apprentice? A. It was not decided—he came as an errand-boy—I never saw the prisoner before—I had told nobody I was going to send five shillings to the loan society—Mclntyre is a very good lad—he is about thirteen years old—he has not made mistakes about people who have called.
MRS. CUMMINS. I was present when my husband gave the boy the 5s., in
the work-room—nobody else was present—I do not know how anybody could know what he was going about.
EDWARD M'INTYRE re-examined. I had the loan-book in my hand, and she said she knew where I was going by the book—she said it was a loan-book, and that I grew very tall, and asked if my master was not a boot-closer—I said, "Yes."
(The prisoner received an excellent character.)
GUILTY . Aged 34.— Confined One Day.
OLD COURT.—Friday, August 23rd, 1844.
1926. JAMES DAVIS was indicted for burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of John Alexander Cleugh Hague, about the hour of ten in the night of the 12th of July, and stealing therein, 1 locket, value 7s.; 1 guard-chain, 5s.; 3 rings, 1l.; 8s.; 2 brooches, 8s.; 1 snuff-box, 5s.; 1 pair of bracelets, 3s.; and 1 necklace, 4s.; the goods of Sarah Lock: and 1 watch, 2l.; the goods of James Alexander Cleugh Hague; to which he pleaded
GUILTY . Aged 18.— Transported for Ten Years.
GUILTY . Aged 22.— Transported for Ten Years.
Before Mr. Baron Gurney.
1928. PATRICK LARKIN was indicted , for that he, being employed in the Post-office, did steal a certain post-letter, containing 1 order for the payment of 100l.; I Navy bill of exchange, for the payment of 9l.; 14s. 2d.; and 1 security for 2l.; the property of her Majesty's Postmaster-general.—Five other COUNTS, varying the manner of stating the charge.
MESSRS. SHEPHERD and AOLPHUS conducted the Prosecution.
JOHN WILLIAM JAMISON . I am accountant in the Central Bank of Perth, in Scotland. On Saturday, the 10th of Aug., I received from Mr. Burns a letter—this (looking at one) is it—here is some writing on the fly-leaf of it—the letter contained Bank post-bills, bills of exchange, and checks—I compared the bills with the writing on the fly-leaf, to be certain the bills mentioned there were in the letter—I gave the letter with the bills to Mr. Rogers, another clerk, to have them endorsed, and the letter copied—it was returned to me—I then compared the Bank post-bills, bills of exchange, and checks, with the particulars on the fly-leaf, and found they corresponded—I inclosed them in the letter, which I handed to Rogers, to have it posted—it was directed to Messrs. Glynn, Halifax, and Mills, bankers, London—we were apprised in the course of post that it was not received.
Cross-examined by MR. BALLANTINE. Q. You did not make the memorandum on the fly-leaf? A. No, but compared it after the bills were returned to me, before I sent them to the post.
MR. ADOLPHUS. Q. The memorandum of what the letter contained was made before you received it? A. I received the Bank post and other bills, to have a note made on the letter, which was done—I compared them with that memorandum before I gave the letter to Rogers to post.
the 10th of Aug. he gave me a letter, directed to Glynn and Co.—this is the letter—I copied it, endorsed the bills of exchange, put them in the letter, and handed it to Mr. Jamison again—he inclosed them, and gave the letter to me—I put it into the Post-office.
SIDNEY HAMPDEN WYBROW . I am a clerk in the General Post-office, the prisoner was employed there. On the 12th of Aug. I received a letter, directed to Messrs. Glynn and Co., in the Edinburgh bag, which arrived about ten minutes to six o'clock—the letters are passed to me by a messenger, who opens the bag, and divides the town and country letters—it then went away to be stamped—it bears the Perth stamp of the 10th of Aug., the Edinburgh of the same day, and the London inland stamp of the 12th.
WILLIAM BLACKBURN . I am a journeyman plumber, and live in Kings-gate-street, Holborn; I am employed on the water-closets at the Post-office. On the 12th of Aug., in consequence of directions I received, I went near the water-closets, and placed myself in a situation to enable me to see the whole of them, with Peak the officer, at a quarter to six o'clock in the morning—I was in a situation to see four of the water-closets, and if I moved could see the other two—there is a gas-light directly opposite the closets, so that I could see who went in and out—there is no door to the closet—Peak was about ten feet from me—the closets are beneath the letter carrier's office, on the basement, at the end of the kitchen—they are self-acting water-closets—when a person sits on the seat, he fills the box with water above his head, and when he rises, the seat rises an inch, and the water immediately rushes into the basin—there are two gallons in the box, and it leaves one gallon in the basin—when the person rises, it carries down whatever is in the basin—I saw the prisoner enter the closet at ten minutes past six—he was the first person who entered that closet while I was there—I could see distinctly what he did—he tried the closet twice, to see if the water would flow, by sitting down with his clothes buttoned up, and rising up—he then unbuttoned his clothes, and sat down, put his hand into his pocket, and took from it a letter or paper—he then put his bead down to listen, to know if anybody was coming—I then saw checks and Bank-notes in his hand—he commenced examining them, and put some of them underneath him in the closet, with his right hand, into the pan—he then rolled up the letter, or paper, in a round ball, and put that in the pan—I then communicated with Peak, and he ran round and took my place—I took my station again—the prisoner was then examining papers—I directly heard a struggling, then ran round to Peak's assistance, and found him on the prisoner, holding him down on the seat—I put my knee on the seat, to prevent the water flowing into the basin—Peak pulled the prisoner off the seat—I then called for a light, put my arm into the basin, and took out two letters, some bills and checks, and gave them to Peak—the prisoner said, when he rose from the seat, "You cannot hurt me now"—he was taken into custody—they were struggling together in the kitchen.
MATTHEW PEAK . I am a constable attached to the Post-office. On the morning of the 12th of Aug. I was with Blackburn, about ten paces from him—he came there a little after six o'clock—when he had been a little while looking into the water-closet, he made a communication to me, and I took his position, and saw the prisoner break open a letter with a red seal—he was sitting on the closet—the light was strong enough for me to see the colour of the seal—there was a gas-light seven or eight feet from the prisoner, opposite him—when he broke the seal he took out a square substance, a paper, and put it down by the side of him, either into the pan or under his thigh—it appeared to go into the pan—I ran round to him and seized him—he then
commenced kicking and knocking about—I did not take him off the water-closet, but kept him on the seat, knowing that if he got up the water would flow down, and the contents wash away—he then commenced straggling—Blackburn came round—I saw him put his knee on the seat—I then took the prisoner off the seat—he said, "There, you cannot hurt me now; you only want to injure my character;" and kept striking and knocking at me—I called for Blackburn—I then searched him, and found nothing on him but two fourpenny-pieces, and a sixpence I received from Blackburn—the papers produced are a letter directed to Messrs. Glynn and Co., a Bank post-bill for 15l.; 19s. 10d., and altogether post-bills and securities to the amount of 670/.—he was taken to the solicitor's office, and the letter shown to him—he was told he was charged with stealing and breaking it open that morning—he said he had broken no letter open—he lives at No. 141, Golden-lane, St. Luke's—I had seen him at that lodging on the 22nd of July, and then he said he had no money at all.
WILLIAM LAST . I am a sub-sorter at the General Post-office. The prisoner was a letter-carrier—it was his duty to collect in the letters of divisions Nos. 11 and 12—No. 10 is near that, on his left side—I observed him, when he was collecting Nos. 11 and 12, very frequently blend the letters of No. 11 with No. 10—I have several times remarked to him that he was a very careless and clumsy fellow—he had done that the very morning this happened—he took No. 12 letters in his right hand, and placed them in his left hand—he should then take No. 11, and place them also, dividing the letters with his fingers, but in doing so he pushed them among the letters of No. 10—I saw him do so that morning, and remarked to him that he was at his conjuring tricks again, was not yesterday sufficient to practise in—he asked what I meant, twice—I told him to mind some morning one of the letters did not stick to his fingers—he said nothing to that—he had nothing to do with No. 10—Messrs. Glynn and Co.'s letters would be sorted to No. 10.
JOHN ROBERTS . I am a letter-sorter. I was on duty on the 12th of August, and saw the prisoner there—he is my collector—the 10th division is not in his part—on the morning of the 12th I saw him push the letters of No. 11 with those of No. 10, and after he had walked round to divisions 11 and 12, and laid the letters down, he laid his body completely on the 12th division letters, and looked through the wire division of the 12th sorting-table at me, and said, "If I had you down stairs I would curl your hair for you"—he had his body completely over the 12th letters, and would have an opportunity of taking up a letter without my seeing it—this was about five minutes before he was in custody.
MR. JAMESON re-examined. This Bank post-bill for 18l.; 19s. 10d. was one of those inclosed in the letter.
(William Perry, a plasterer, gave the prisoner a good character.)
GUILTY . Aged 32.— Transported for Life.
Before Mr. Baron Gurney.
CAROLINE GIBSON . I keep the Palace Tavern, in the Savoy. The prisoner came into my service about three months ago—I intimated to her my suspicion that she was with child—she said, "No"—I took her into my bed-room, and named it to her three different times, and said if she would confess the truth I would be a friend to her, she should not be exposed to any one, I would keep it secret, and do the best I could for her—the last time I named it I said I would have her examined by a medical man—she objected to that,
and gave warning—she was to leave in a fortnight—on a Monday before the day she was to leave I heard of her being ill, and sent her some brandy—she left about half-past eight or nine o'clock on Tuesday morning—directly after she was gone I was taken into her bed-room—she had insisted on my going before she left—I saw nothing then—after she was gone, I and the cook went up, but I did not see the child, as I ran away.
SARAH BREWER . I am Mrs. Gibson's cook. The prisoner slept in the same bed with me—the night before she went away I went to bed about a quarter past eleven o'clock—the prisoner went up at the same time, undressed, and went to bed—in the course of the night she complained of being very bad with spasms, and appeared in considerable pain during the night—she kept saying, "Oh, dear me, how bad I am with spasms!"—at a quarter past two in the morning I got up, and got mistress to give me something—she still continued to groan—I got up at a quarter past five, as she called me—I did not go down stairs—she was at the side of the bed when I got up, at a quarter past five—she told me it was a quarter past six, and I dressed, and looked through the blind, and, thinking it was not time to get up, I laid on the outside of the bed with my clothes on—in a short time she called me again—I got up, and was going out of the room—she said, "When you go down tell mistress to send for Mrs. Pennyfather to do my work"—I did not see her again till about seven o'clock—she was then in the room, lying in bed—I took her some tea—I said, "Here is some tea for you"—she said, "Is it hot?"—I said, "Yes, get up and drink it"—she did not get up—I did not see her again till she came down, about half-past eight, into the bar parlour, to go away—a cab was sent for for her—she was paying me a trifle she owed me, and said, "When you pack up my clothes don't let mistress look into my box," as she said she had put some things in there she did not want mistress to see—she went away, and after she was gone I went up stairs, and perceived the bed had been turned topsey turvey—I went to her box, and took a black dress from it—it was not locked—I threw the lid off, and saw a lot of dirty linen in the corner of the box—it was in a very dirty state—I went down to mistress, came up again, searched further, and found a child in the box, dead, and wrapped up in a piece of cloth, but not tied—the head was tied up—I saw the body, but not the head—I did nothing to it before the constable came—he found it in the same state as I did, only the cloth it was wrapped in was off.
Cross-examined by MR. BALLANTINE. Q. You took the cloth off? A. I lifted it up with my hand, and the cloth dropped right off—I did not perceive it till I touched the cloth, which was merely covered over it—I lifted the child's hand up, but did not lift the child up at all, nor pull it towards me, I am certain.
JOHN RUSSELL TAYLOR (policeman.) I was sent for on Tuesday, the 23rd of June, and saw the child—I did not touch it—I went in search of the prisoner, and found her at No. 6, Fleur-de-lis-court, Shoemaker-row—she was taken to the station, and then to the workhouse—Mr. Smith, the surgeon, was sent for.
MARGARET PENNYFATHER . On the morning of the 25th of June, I was sent for by Mrs. Gibson—I went up to the prisoner's room, and opened the door—she smiled at me—she was in bed—I said, "Well, Sarah, what is the matter with you?"—she said, "Oh, Mrs. Pennyfather, I have been very bad all night with the spasms "—I said, "Are you subject to spasms? "—she said, "Yes, very much lately"—after she was gone, I went up stairs with the cook and Mrs. Gibson, and saw the child in the corner of the box, with a cloth round it—the cook pulled the cloth off, and there was the child—Mrs. Gibson and I ran down stairs screaming—I went up afterwards to see if it
was alive—the cook took up its hand, and found it was dead—I felt it—it was just warm—it was a boy—we did not notice the neck—it remained in the same state till the medical gentleman came.
GEO. ALFRED WALKER . I am a surgeon, and was called in on this morning. I saw the child in a box, lying on its back, partly covered with dirty linen—the face and neck were concealed from view by a petticoat, or cloth—the string of the petticoat was tied fast round the neck twice, and the end of the string inserted, and drawn tight—I made further observation of the body—the navel-string had been cut, evidently—I afterwards made an examination—I found the head crushed—I think the cause of death might be threefold, the crushing of the head; the ligature round the neck was sufficient to prevent its breathing, unquestionably, and the other cause was the loss of blood from the navel-string, which was not tied—I think the crushing of the head alone would be sufficient, and the ligature round the neck would alone be sufficient—the ligature would be sudden in its operation.
Cross-examined. Q. I suppose there is a great difficulty in a woman delivering herself? A. Not necessarily so—women are frequently delivered when medical men are not present—the difficulty Would be much more likely to occur with a first child—the head presents itself first ordinarily—that is not more delicate than other parts of the body—the bones of the head are not united at first, which makes it delicate—they are covered of course—it is possible a woman might crush the skull in the agony of delivering herself.
MR. WALKER re-examined. Q. Was there any appearance which enabled you to say whether the ligature had been applied before or after death? A. It had been applied before death, I think, in consequence of a mark under the right ear, on the side of the neck—it was a full-grown child—I think it must have been living at the time the ligature was applied.
MR. BALLANTINE. Q. How long have you been in practice? A. Nine years—I have attended many confinements, and some cases where children have been born dead—I cannot tell how often, but not very frequently—I have noticed the effect of external violence on a child born dead—the blood congeals very soon after death—I cannot tell how soon—it must be almost immediately—there may be instances of blood remaining twenty minutes or more in a fluid state, and doubtless, have been.
Q. If blood was in a fluid state when there was pressure on the neck, would not all the appearances be created as if the child was alive? A. You must have the power of the heart's action—I believe if the blood had not congealed it would not exhibit all the appearances I have spoken of—it would require a pulsation—the action of the heart must be opposed to it—there were appearances on the neck which I think could not be produced after death—the discoloration was the consequence of the blood circulating—it was an injury done to the vessels—the blood being in a fluid state would occasion that mark—the effect of the pulsation of the heart does not remain some short time after death—I examined the petticoat—the strings are made of tape, I believe—they are at the top of the petticoat—I do not know whether they are running strings—if I remember right they were fixed at either side—both petticoat and string embraced the child's neck—I do not think the petticoat had marks of blood on it—I think it was very dirty—it had evidently been worn.
COURT. Q. You say the string was twice round the neck, was it tied? A. It had made two circles round, and the end of the string was passed and drawn into this double circle, so tight it took me some time to remove it—there
was nothing in the appearances inconsistent with the head being crushed at birth, the child dying, and the string being applied immediately after that—she might possibly have aided the delivery by putting the string round.
GUILTY of concealing the birth. Aged 22.— Confined Two Years.
Third Jury, before Mr. Recorder.
MR. BALLANTINE conducted the Prosecution.
JOSEPH GILL . I am landlord of the George the Fourth public-house, Old Street-road. The prisoner was in the habit of coming to my house—about eight or ten months ago I forbid him to do so—on Wednesday, the 17th of July, about eleven o'clock, he came—he was quite sober—he began very abusive language to me, insulting me—he said he would not allow me to put him out—he called me "thin face," or "lantern-jaws," or something of that sort—I said I did not wish to have anything to say to him, and told him not to annoy me in my business, I did not wish to be interrupted—I told him if he did not be quiet, I should take the liberty of putting him out—he said, if I attempted to come on the other side of the bar, to put him out, he would muzzle me, and wring my nose out of my face—I called my servant girl to the bar, and went to the door to look for a policeman—I did not find one—I then went back to the bar again—the prisoner was before the bar—he used the same expressions as before—a young man in the bar called for a pint of beer—I put it on the counter, and as I did that, the prisoner said, "Well, old Gill, you are glad to take my money, after all"—I said that I was not aware it was his money that I was taking, that I had taken it from another young man, if it was his money, I should take the liberty to take the beer back again, and give the man the money again—I did so, and returned the money—the prisoner stood still close to the counter, close to me—there was only the width of the counter between us, and he kept putting his head close to my face in a very insulting manner—I told him to stand off, and not insult me in my business—he said he would do as he liked—he was near enough to strike me, and was using threatening language—I took up a pewter jug that was standing between us, to prevent his taking it up and striking me with it—he immediately caught hold of it with both hands—I held it very tight by the handle—there was, I dare say, a quart of water in it, and in the struggle some water fell over him—the jug was not used to strike with—I took it back and put it down in the bar—he immediately took a quart pot up and hove it at me with all his might—it missed me—he then took a second and threw it at me—that missed me—I avoided it—he then took up a glass and hove it at my head—it struck my head, and cut it very much—I was quite stupid at the time—a medical man attended me—the glass broke—these are the pieces.
Cross-examined by MR. PAYNE. Q. Was it hot water in the jug? A. Cold, for the purpose of serving—I am quite sure I did not strike him with the pewter-jug—I took hold of it by the handle, lifted it up off the counter, and put it into the sink—when I lifted it up he caught hold of it—I have not been in trouble about assaulting my customers—I was before a justice once about turning a man out—I believe he was in the hospital afterwards—I did not ask to be allowed to pay a sum of money to recompense the man—I was fined 2l.; for the assault—I was summoned by a woman, who charged me with knocking her down, and kicking her teeth out—I paid nothing for that—she was bound over to keep the peace for three months, and not to enter my doors—it could not be proved that I kicked her teeth out—she swore it—I do not
recollect that I had any witnesses at all to contradict her—she had got very few teeth in her head, I believe.
MR. BALLANTINE. Q. Did you knock them out? A. No—Old-street-road is not a very quiet neighbourhood—she kept a brothel near the Vinegar-yard—it is two or three years since the other assault happened.
ELIZABETH ADAMS . I am bar-maid to Mr. Gill. On the 17th of July, I was called to the bar by my master—the prisoner was there—master said, if he did not hold his tongue, he should certainly turn him out—he said, if he offered to put him out, he should certainly muzzle him—master took no notice of him, but went to the door, to see if he could see a policeman—he did not find one, and came back into the bar—master took up the pewter water-jug himself—the prisoner dashed at it, and tried to take it out of his hand—when he found he could not, he immediately took up a quart-pot, and then immediately another, and threw them one after another—they missed my master—I saw him throw the glass, and picked it up myself—it hit my master on the head—master had not struck him, or struck at him the whole time.
Cross-examined. Q. Were you in the kitchen? A. No—I am bar-maid—I have housework to do—when my master came back from fetching the policeman, he said, "Be quiet, and hold your tongue, sir"—the prisoner said he would not—I heard the words, "Old Gill, I have got the beer"—there were more than two young men present—two men came in and asked for a pot of beer, and master served them—when my master was told it was Cole's money, he would not let the prisoner drink the beer—he gave the money back—my master did not strike the prisoner with the pewter-jug—I was standing close by my master when this happened—my mistress was in bed—it was eleven o'clock—there were several persons came to the bar at the time.
GUILTY of an Assault. Aged 22.— Confined One Month.
OLD COURT.—Saturday, August 24, 1844.
Before Edward Bullock, Esq.
GUILTY . Aged 19.— Confined One Month.
GUILTY . Aged 34.— Confined Two Months.
Before Mr. Baron Gurney.
1933. SACKVILLE SACKVILLE, alias Charles Davies , was indicted for feloniously forging and uttering a Bill of Exchange, for the payment of 250l.;, with intent to defraud William Henry Frederick Cavendish.—Other COUNTS, varying the manner of stating the charge, to which he pleaded
GUILTY . Aged 27.— Transported for Twenty Years.
Before Mr. Justice Wightman.
1934. AUGUSTUS HALIFAX was indicted for feloniously forging and uttering an order for the payment of 65l.;, with intent to defraud George Carr Glynn and others.—Two other COUNTS, stating his intent to be to defraud Edward Western and others.—Two other COUNTS, with intent to defraud Edward Western and another.
MESSRS. BODKIN and DOANE conducted the Prosecution.
George Carr Glynn and others; there are six partners. On the 25th of July this check for 65l.;, signed E. Western, was presented by some one, I do not know who, at the counter of the banking-house—I paid it in twenty-five sovereigns, and four 10l.; notes, Nos. 56319 to 56322 inclusive, dated the 4th of June, 1844.
Cross-examined by MR. BALLANTINE. Q. Were you the person who received this check? A. Yes, and I paid the money—I took down the numbers at the time—it took two or three minutes.
EDWARD WESTERN . I am a solicitor, and live in Great James-street, Bedford-row. I keep a cash account at the house of Glynn and Co., and am in the habit of drawing checks on that house—the prisoner was in my employment from six to nine months—he was first employed as a permanent clerk—he ceased to act in that capacity, I should think about two years ago—I have employed him occasionally, and given him writing to do out of the office since that time till the present—I do not doubt that he had an opportunity of knowing that I kept an account at Glynn's—my check-book was usually on the table in my office—this is the book—there are three checks printed on every page—on the first discovery of this forgery I examined the book, and missed the last sheet from it—I have two numbers on my checks, my own private number, and the printed number which is on them when Glynns issue them, which is B. X., 901 to 1200—my number is put on them when I fill them up—it would not be on the blank checks—the check produced is not my handwriting, or any part of it, nor was it written by my authority—the signature, I should say, was a good imitation of mine—I am acquainted with the prisoner's handwriting, and have seen him write frequently—I believe the filling up of this check to be his writing—the signature is not like his writing, it is an imitation of mine—the name and address on this bank-note, "James Martineau, 9, William-street, Islington," I believe to be the prisoner's writing.
Cross-examined. Q. I believe the prisoner is a relation of yours? A. No—the family do not consider him a relation—his father was my uncle—he is an illegitimate child—I have frequently seen writing of his in the office, briefs that he has copied—I cannot recollect when my attention was last called to it—his is a very stiff handwriting, and he writes very slow—I call his whole writing peculiar from A to Z—his f is always peculiar, ending square at the bottom, and every letter—this "James Martineau" is not much feigned—it is not much like his ordinary writing—it is more like his writing than that in the check—I have a stronger belief about it—he lived at one time with his mother, but I do not think he did latterly.
COURT. Q. Was your own private number for your information or the banker's? A. Merely for my own—it is a number in the margin which I put when I fill up the checks, and of which the bankers take no notice, because I might possibly issue a check without putting that number, which I should do if I did it away from the office.
JOHN RICHARD SYKES . I am a clerk in the Bank of England. On the 25th of July I cashed these four 10l.; notes, numbers 56319 to 56322, dated the 4th of June, 1844—I gave forty sovereigns for them—I do not know the person who presented them—I do not remember asking the person to write his name—I might have done so, if he had not done it before—I should not have cashed them without the name and address—we always require it—this is "James Martineau."
Cross-examined. Q. You gave the money? A. Yes—I have never seen the prisoner before to-day—I was not examined at the police-office.
MR. BODKIN. Q. Did you also enter the name in a book? A. Yes—the entry there is "Martineau, four 10l.; notes"—the name is only on one of the notes.
CHARLES FRANCIS WESTERN . I am brother to the first witness, and am a solicitor, in Great James-street I know the prisoner—I have been in the habit of seeing his writing, and seeing him write at my office—this check was not written by me, or by my authority or knowledge—I believe the filling up in the body of it is in the prisoner's handwriting—I believe this name and address on the back of this bank note to be in his handwriting.
Cross-examined. Q. Have you a stronger belief of the one than the other? A. That on the back of the note is more like his ordinary writing than the other—I think it is quite as stiff as the other—stiffness is the character of his handwriting—I think this on the note is more like his ordinary writing than the other—I have had frequent opportunities of seeing his writing—I first saw this check on the Wednesday or Thursday following the date of it—that was before the prisoner was taken into custody—I was with my brother in the room when he got the pass book from the bankers—I saw this note on the following day—the prisoner was given into custody on Saturday morning—I did not show this to any of the clerks till after the prisoner was taken—it was shown by Mr. Bush.
EDGAR THEODORE HEPBURN . I am clerk in the service of Messrs. Western. I have known the prisoner about three years—I am very well. acquainted with his handwriting—I believe this check to be his handwriting, and the writing on the back of this note I believe to be his.
Cross-examined. Q. Do you mean to swear that you have any belief on the subject of this check? A. Yes—I believe it to be his handwriting—this is the first time I have seen it—I have seen one of the notes before—his is a very peculiar hand—I should know it ever so much disguised—I think I could trace it if quite altered—it is quite altered there—it is a very strong writing—I never saw a hand like it—this check is more disguised than the other—it is not so strong, not so much in the character of his handwriting—I do not think it so stiff as the other—it is not so much like his general writing, it appears to be freer—this on the note I think is more like his general writing.
WILLIAM MEE . I am clerk in the service of Messrs. Western, and have been so nearly eighteen years. I am acquainted with the prisoner's handwriting—I believe this filling up of the check to be the prisoner's writing disguised—the body of it bears a very strong resemblance to his—I am more inclined to think it is his than any one else's—I believe the body of it to be his—the handwriting on the back of this bank note I think is also his—I was at the office on the 24th of July last—the prisoner came there in the course of that day—he was at that time occasionally employed—he passed through Mr. Charles Western's room into mine—Mr. Charles Western was not there—he waited in my room a few minutes, and then went into Mr. Charles's room again on his way out—whilst he was there I heard a sound like a sheet of paper being torn in two—there are two doors which open from my room into Mr. Charles's—when he went out he partly closed the door, he could not quite shut it—I could not see him after he had partly closed it—I heard the sound almost immediately he went into the room—I did not go into the room just then, I did in about five or six minutes—he was not there then—I think the bankers' check book was lying on Mr. Charles's table at that time, I cannot say for certainty, I think it was—it is occasionally there, and occasionally in Mr. Edward's room—I do not recollect that I had seen it in the course of the day—I had no occasion to look for it—I do not know that I did see it except at the time I went in—I think I did then, I cannot say for certain.
Cross-examined. Q. When did you first recollect that you heard anything like the tearing of paper? A. Some days after—I cannot specify the exact time when Mr. Edward first found out that this forgery was committed—it was before I was examined before the Lord Mayor—I am quite sure of that—I
cannot state the time I first recollected it—Mr. Western told me I must recall to memory what occurred as far as I could—I do not recollect that he suggested that it could hardly have been done without my knowing it—I told him about the tearing of the paper immediately I recollected it—he was the first person I told of it—I cannot state the day I told him—it was before I was examined before the Lord Mayor—I will swear it was before the examination—I am quite certain about it—I did not mention it to him on the first occasion, because I did not recollect it—I was examined by the Lord Mayor, and I went before the Grand Jury—I believe the body of this to be the prisoner's writing, and this on the note likewise—I should say they are both his writing—I have not more belief about the one than the other.
MR. BODKIN. Q. Do you remember being examined at the office of Messrs. Bush and Mullens, solicitors for the prosecution? A. I do—that was before I went before the Lord Mayor—I mentioned about the tearing the paper to the clerk of the solicitors, but not at his office in St. Mildred's-court.
WILLIAM KENTISH . I am an engraver, in Change-alley, Cornhill. I engrave the check books for the house of Glynn and Co.—this check book of Mr. Western is one that I engraved—at the end of this book a sheet has been torn out—this is one of the checks that I engraved, forming part of this book.
JOHN FORRESTER . I am an officer of the City. I took the prisoner into custody on this charge on the 3rd of Aug., in London-street, Caledonian-road, where he said he lived—on searching his boxes, I found fifty sovereigns in a little box, and on his person 5l.; 10s. in gold, and 2l.; 1s. in silver—57l.; altogether, and fifteen pawnbrokers' duplicates, three of which are of recent date, the others are in 1843—they are for small amounts—in consequence of directions I received, I have made inquiries about a person of the name of Martineau, of No. 9, William-street, Islington—there is no such number in the street, and no such person.
WILLIAM COCKING . I live at No. 25, London-street, Caledonian-road, Islington. The prisoner lodged with me about three months, up to the 25th or 26th of July last—he was to pay me 4s. a-week—the first month he paid me pretty fair, but after that it was dropped, and went on for several weeks—he owed me 1l.; 12s. for rent before he left—that was up to the very day he left, 26th of July—on that day he paid me 1l.; 10s.—he paid me with two sovereigns—I did not see whether he had any more money about him—he came down and said, "Cocking, I shall pay you"—I said, "Very good"—he said, "Will 30s. do for you?"—I said, "I don't know, my rent is 1l.; 12s., I will name it to Mrs. Cocking; I dare say we shall not be particular for 2s."—I went into the shop—my wife came in—I said I would not mind 2s., so he handed me over two sovereigns—I said, "I have not got change, I will go and get it"—he said, "Never mind for the present, any time will do in the course of the day"—I thought it would be handy for him, and I got change and gave him the 10s.—he appeared as usual—not at all excited—a cab fetched his boxes away that evening—he left with it—he rode outside—I do not know where he went—next day, or the day following, he came to ask if there were any letters for him—I did not see any change in his dress then—I did not let him in—I never saw him after that day.
(Thomas Hewit Key, lecturer, at University College; William Wells, attorney's clerk, Tokenhouse-yard; Ellen Clark, wife of a bookseller; Sarah Morgan, wife of a cabinet-maker; and Mary Dodd, wife of John Dodd, of No. 56, Marchant-street; gave the prisoner a good character.)
GUILTY, strongly recommended to mercy. Aged 20.— Transported for Seven Years.
Before Mr. Baron Gurney.
1935. JOSEPH INGHAM, alias Walker , was indicted for feloniously forging and uttering an order for the payment of 6l.; 12s., with intent to defraud William Miller Christie and others.—Other COUNTS, varying the manner of stating the charge.
MESSRS. BODKIN and DOANE conducted the Prosecution.
JAMES SAMUEL, JUN . I carry on business with my father, a boot and shoe-maker, in East-road, City-road. On the 19th of July last, I saw the prisoner—I had seen him before on business—he asked me if my father was at home—I said, "No"—he said, "I want him to cash this check, I will give you the least one"—he had two in his hand—he showed me this one for 6l.; 12s., drawn by Mr. Whistler, and wanted me to cash it—I said, I dare say I could—he said he wanted another pair of boots, and he would leave 1l.; off the check to pay for the boots—I went up stairs, and met my father coming down—I spoke to him, and paid the prisoner a 5l. note and 12s.—he said he would call again on Wednesday week for the boots—I gave the check to my father—on the 1st of Aug. I heard the shop bell ring—I ran up directly, and saw my father and the prisoner—the prisoner asked me if the boots were done—I said, "No"—I walked towards him, and said, "Did you know that check you presented to me was a forged one?"—he said, "Good God, you don't mean that," and he turned round and said to my father in my presence, "I must go and get you the money, will you meet me in the morning?"—my father said no, he would not let him go, and told him he must give him into custody—at that time the policeman had come in, and he was given into custody.
JAMES SAMUEL . The prisoner came to my shop the first time on the 4th of June—he had some dealings with me after that—on the 15th of June, I had this check for 3l.; 7s. of him—I kept it by me for a week—he did not give me any account of how he became possessed of it—I asked him where the Bank was, being a stranger—I took down the Directory, and when I was turning over the leaves he said it was in Princes-street—I closed the Directory, and put it back—I did not know his name at all—on the 1st of August he came again, and was given into custody.
JOHN LEWIS PATON . I am one of the cashiers of the London Joint Stock Bank Company, Princes-street. Mr. William Miller Christie is one of the partners—there are others—Mr. John Whistler, of Laurence-lane, has an account at our blank—on the 21st of July, this check marked B was presented by the elder Mr. Samuel—I required an explanation of him—I stopped the payment of it as forged—the check for 3l.; 7s. had been paid previous to that—I was not the person that paid that.
----NUTTER. I am a clerk in the London Joint Stock Bank. It is our custom to issue checks to customers with a particular number on them—the number of this forged check is 15,992—this paper was brought to our banking-house on the 15th of June—I received it myself—I gave a book of blank checks to the person who brought it, with the number I have stated—I do not remember the person to whom I gave it.
----CRISFIELD (police-constable N 345.) On the 1st of Aug., I was called into Mr. Samuel's to take the prisoner in custody—I told him the charge—he said he knew nothing about it, other parties must be concerned—I took him to the station—he gave the name of Joseph Walker—I searched him, and found on him four checks on the London Joint Stock Bank.
Lawrence-lane, Cheapside. The prisoner was in my employ in the beginning of last May—he had the opportunity of knowing that I kept an account at the London Joint Stock Bank—I knew him by the name of Joseph Ingham—I never knew him by the name of Walker—this note is not my handwriting—I did not authorize it to be written by anybody—I know nothing of a book of blank checks being obtained for me on that day—this 6l.; 12s. check is not my writing, or written by my authority—this for 3l.; 7s. is not mine—the other four are not my writing—they all bear the same bankers' number in the corner—the prisoner was with me as a commission traveller, taking orders for me in town—he was in my counting-house about once a day.
The check was here read; the note was as follows:—"15th June, 1844.—To the London Joint Stock Bank Company. Please send by the bearer a check book, for J. Whistler, No. 31, Laurence-lane."
GUILTY . Aged 27.— Transported for Fifteen Years.
Before Mr. Justice Wightman.
MR. CURWOOD conducted the Prosecution.
SARAH POWELL . I know the prisoner—I live in Laundry-yard—he lives in Great Peter-street, which is no great distance off—on Sunday morning, the 23rd of June, he asked me to go and have something to drink with him—I went with him to a public-house in Tothill-street—I think it was the Three Johns—we went up York-street to buy a pair of shoes—we had some more to drink—from there I went with him to buy a pair of stockings—we had a good deal to drink—I cannot exactly say how much—we were both in liquor—we went home, and I must say I aggravated him—I began the quarrel—he wanted to go out, and I would not let him—I told him I would have blood for blood—he took out a knife—I can recollect no more, being in liquor—my sister had not been drinking with me—if I led taken her advice it would not have happened—she was at home with my two children—she advised me not to go out—I do not know how it happened—I was struck with a knife in my left breast.
Cross-examined by MR. PRENDERGAST. Q. I believe you had been eating mutton-chops together? A. Yes—I believe he generally eats with this knife—I would not let him go out—I caught hold of the hair of his head—he said on the spot he did not know the knife was in his hand—he led me part of the way to the hospital—some other persons took me out of his hands—I remember his expressing his sorrow for it.
MARY ANN PARROTT . I am the sister of the last witness; I have been married since this. On Sunday, the 23rd of June, between two and three o'clock, I was in the room—my sister and the prisoner came in—they were in liquor—the prisoner was worse than my sister—they brought in some mutton chops—my sister put them in the frying-pan to fry—her head was bad—she laid down—he wished her to get up and go for a walk—she said "No," she wanted half-an-hour's sleep first—he called her a name—she got up—he struck her nose and made it bleed—I got between them—he wished to leave the room—she said she would have blood for blood first before he left the room—I stood between them—he said, "Have you got a knife?"—she said, "No," she had not—I placed my hand against the cupboard door, for fear he should take one out—he drew one out of his pocket, and placed it by the side of him—he was nearly one or two minutes before he opened it—she said, "Perhaps you will do it," and in an instant his hand was over my shoulder—I took hold of his hand, and said, "For shame, John, how can you be so foolish?"—she
said, "My God, I am stabbed!" and he said, "My God, Sarah, how could I do it? I did not know I had done it"—they were about to be married—they were not living together—he was living with his mother in Peter-street—I am certain he took the knife out of his pocket—he opened it down by his side—I did not know it was done, till she said, "Oh God, I am stabbed!"—she had given him no provocation at that moment, but saying, "Perhaps you will do it"—I took the knife out of his hand.
Cross-examined. Q. Was she standing before the door, to keep him from going out? A. Yes, and I stood between them, to prevent his striking her—she had hold of his hair before, when she was lying down—he wanted her to get up, have some dinner, wash herself, and go out—she pulled his hair, because he teased her—his knife was in his pocket when she said, "Blood for blood"—it was in his hand one or two minutes before he stabbed her, and when he had done it, he said, "I did not mean to do it, Sarah. My God! what have I done?"—I did not hear him say he did not know the knife was in his hand.
WILLIAM NOLAN (policeman.) On the 23rd of June the prisoner was given into my charge—he told me he had committed the offence, and he was very sorry for it, that he was in liquor when he did it, and that he did it through love—I took him to the station—the sister came to the station, and pressed the charge against him—I took him three hours after the offence was committed—I went to the hospital—the prosecutrix was there—the house surgeon produced this knife.
Cross-examined. Q. This was by the station, was it not? A. Less than a quarter of a mile from the station—he did not give himself up—he was pointed out to me in Great Peter-street, by a female, who told me that he had committed the offence—I went to him, and asked him to that effect—he acknowledged that he struck her with the knife, that he was in liquor, and he did it through love—he did not say he came to give himself up—I know the female who gave me the information—it was neither of the witnesses—he did not come up to me while I was talking to her—he was standing there at that time.
ROBERT BEUAMONT . I am a surgeon. The prosecutrix was brought to the hospital—she had received a wound on the left breast, three or four inches deep—I considered it a dangerous wound, so as to do great bodily hurt—I have attended all my lectures—I am not a member of the College—she was a month in the hospital—I do not think it is likely to inflict a lasting injury on her.
(The prisoner received a good character.)
GUILTY of a Common Assault. Aged 28.— Confined Four Months.
Before Mr. Baron Gurney.
1937. JOHN FULLER, MARY WOODMAN , and ANN STEPHENS , were indicted for a robbery on Charles Silman, and stealing from his person, and against his will, 1 shilling, 1 sixpence, and 2 pence, his monies; and beating, striking, and using other personal violence to him.
CHARLES SILMAN . I came from Oxfordshire to London after work—I was out of work three weeks—on Sunday, the 4th or 5th of Aug., I was without work or lodging—I was uncommonly tired and fatigued—my feet ached very much—I went into the park and slept under a tree—in the morning the prisoners came to me and awoke me—I said, "Halloo"—they said, "Halloo" again—they had a little bother, and I got up and was going away—they caught hold of me round the waist—Fuller threw me down, and took my money out of my pocket—I had 1s. 6d. and two penny-pieces—he gave it to one of the women—I do not know what the women did to me—Fuller never struck me at all—they then walked away—I followed them
into Oxford-street, found a policeman there, and gave them in charge—the two women ran away—he gave the man into another policeman's hands, while he went after them—two penny-pieces were afterwards produced, which I thought were mine—before he took the women, I told the constable there were notches in one, and one was scraped with a knife—the women did not do anything to me—they fell on the top of me.
WILLIAM NASH (policeman.) I met the prosecutor in Oxford-street, about a quarter to six o'clock—I saw the three prisoners—he charged them with robbing him—I took Fuller—the women both ran away—I gave him in charge of another, and went after them—I took them, searched them, and found two penny-pieces on Woodman, and 6d. in silver on Stephens, and 3 1/2 d. in copper—I produce the penny-pieces—before I found them the prosecutor said they were two old penny-pieces, that one had six or seven notches round the edge, and the other scratches of a knife—they are so.
Stephens. After the policeman showed him the penny-pieces, the boy said he could swear to them.
Fuller's Defence. I never touched him at all.
Woodman's Defence. I received the penny-pieces in change for 1s., on Sunday.
Stephens's Defence. On Saturday night I changed 1s., I spent 2d., and had 9 1/2 d. when the policeman took me—he showed it to the boy, and he said he could not say it was his.
FULLER— GUILTY. Aged 20.
WOODMAN— GUILTY . Aged 20.
STEPHENS— GUILTY . Aged 18.
Of robbery, without violence.
Confined Twelve months.
Second Jury, before Mr. Recorder.
1938. JOHN LEGRAND was indicted for breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Robert Anwyl, and stealing therein, 2160 caps, value 32l.; 12 capes, 12s.; 12 pelerines, 12s.; and 41 collars, 10s.; the goods of John Byng Banks.—2nd COUNT, for breaking and entering the warehouse of John Byng Banks.
MR. BODKIN conducted the Prosecution.
ROBERT ANWYL . I sell silk and Manchester goods, and occupy the ground-floor of Mr. Banks' premises, in Lawrence-lane—he occupies the second floor. On Christmas eve I closed the outer door myself, about ten o'clock, and went with the key to my brother's, at Brixton, a little after nine—I gave the key to Jones, my servant, to go to the warehouse, and get a light ready by the time I came—I intended to sleep there—I got there at twelve o'clock, found Jones there, and the police in the house—this robbery had been discovered—it was Sunday.
THOMAS JONES . I am in the service of Mr. Anwyl. On Christmas eve he gave me the key, at half-past nine o'clock—I got to the warehouse about twenty minutes past ten—I opened the outer door with the key, and went up stairs to master's room—that was all right, but I found Mr. Banks's door broken open—I ran down stairs directly, and called a policeman, who came in and examined—the things were all thrown about and in confusion—the key had not been out of my possession after master gave it to me.
HENRY MASON (City police-constable, No. 487.) I was called into this house by Jones, and found Mr. Banks's warehouse broken open, twenty-six holes bored in the door with a centre-bit, and the angle in the pannel knocked
out—the boxes and drawers containing goods were all open and in confusion, most of them empty.
Cross-examined by MR. BALLANTINE. Q. Did anything but a centre-bit appear to have been used? A. No.
JOHN LAYFITTE . I live at No. 31, Addle-street, and deal in French goods. Last February I bought 180 dozen of ladies' caps of the prisoner. I did not know him before—I paid him 28l.; 10s. for them—he came and said a Mr. Le Roy, whom I did business with, had recommended him to me—the caps were different qualities—I sold part of them to Mr. Mansbridge, and part to Mr. Quin—Mr. Banks's clerk came to me in June last—I told him how I became possessed of them, and gave the officer a few which I had left.
Cross-examined. Q. Did the prisoner bring the caps himself? A. I believe he did—I cannot sell the caps for what I gave for them—I have offered them to wholesale houses.
COURT. Q. Are these day-caps? A. Yes, part of them.
MR. BODKIN. Q. Did you have an invoice of them? A. No, only a receipt—some of them sell in the shops at 1d. each.
JOSEPH HEDINGTON (policeman.) In consequence of information, I went with Wardle to the prisoner's house, No. 10, Clipston-street, Fitzroy-square, and found he was carrying on business there, and lodged on the first floor—we saw him near the house—Wardle went up to him, and said, "Mr. Legrand"—he said, "My name is not Legrand, you don't know me"—I told him it was no use denying his name, for we knew better—he had opened the door, and endeavoured to shut it to prevent us following him, but Wardle put his foot inside the door—we pushed the door open, went in, and asked him if he knew a person named Layfitte in the City—he said he did not know any such name—I asked if he had sold any goods to him—he said he did not know any such person, it was a mistake—I took him "outside, and told him I had seen the goods he had sold to Mr. Layfitte, and they were stolen from a gentleman in the City—he said it was all a mistake, his name was not Legrand, that he knew nothing about it—I said I did not intend to part with him till I found out what his name was—I asked his name several times—he refused to tell me—I went back to the house, and knocked at the door—a female opened it, and, as we went in, she said, "Oh, here is Mr. Legrand"—he said nothing to that, and I took him to the station—when we got there, he said he had purchased them of a man named Dumas, who had since absconded, for 20l.;—I searched his room, and found two collars—I received six dozen and a half of caps from Quin, and sixteen dozen and eleven from Mira.
Cross-examined. Q. Were not you going to take a respectable tradesman into custody for this? A. No, a Mr. Manby, of Addle-street, complained to the Magistrate—I was compelled to summons him three times—he said the Magistrate and police were a set of humbugs, and we went there like two sneaks—the prisoner spoke broken English—I heard something mentioned at the Hall about a person named Grant.
MR. BODKIN. Q. Did you speak broken English when you asked if his name was Le Grand? A. No—he could not mistake me—I do not recollect finding any card on him.
CONSTANT MIRA . I live in Southampton-buildings, Holborn. In March last I bought of Mr. Layfitte 110 dozen and seven caps, at different prices—I gave 17l.; for them—I have since sold some at 5s. a dozen, 1s. 3d., and 1s.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you suppose you were giving too low a price for
these articles? A. No—they are very badly made, I could not sell them—I have been in many houses in the City, and could not sell them—I sold some to Mr. Quin, and the others I could not sell.
MR. BODKIN. Q. Are you aware that if the prisoner is convicted you will have to give up the goods? A. I have given them up to the policeman, seventeen dozen and eleven—I have sold ninety-two dozen and eleven to Mr. Quin—I have none left now—I have not lost money by them—I did not enter them in a book—I could not sell them at a profit—they were in a very bad condition.
FREDERICK QUIN . I live in Southampton-street, Strand. I bought ninety dozen caps of Mira, at three months' credit, and have not paid for them—I have sold two dozen, and given the officer the rest—I could not sell them.
Cross-examined. Q. Are they bad articles? A. Very bad.
JOHN BYNG BANKS . These goods were made at my manufactory, at Coggeshall, Essex—I have seen the goods sold to Layfitte, for 28l.; 10s.—the cost price of them is from 30l.; to 35l.;—these produced cost me from 15l.; to 20l.;—the selling price of them would be 30l.; or 35l.;—they would fetch 5s. or 6s. a dozen on an average, one with another.
MR. BALLANTINE. Q. What is the value of these? A. We sold them at that time at 2s. 6d. a dozen—we pay from 4s. to 8s. a week for making them—people who have 4s. a week work between ten and twelve hours—they are children, from nine to twelve years old—they make about a dozen a day of this sort—the groundwork is done by a machine, before they go to the workpeople—the plain ones would be worth 1d. each—these would sell wholesale at 7 1/2 d. each.
NOT GUILTY .
THOMAS TRIMBLE (police-constable T 153). On Sunday, the 28th July, about half-past one o'clock in the morning I was in Drum-lane, Ealing, and met a tall stout man, and found the prisoner lying in a field at the back of a quickset hedge with a mare pony—I went within a few yards of him and said, "Hallo, mate"—he lifted up his head but never spoke—he laid down again—I asked what brought him there—he made no answer—I asked him if the pony belonged to him—he said it did not, it belonged to the field, he thought—it had a halter round its neck, and the other end of the cord was round the prisoner's leg—while I was speaking to him I heard a footstep but saw nobody—I found the gate of the field locked—my sergeant came up, and we took the prisoner to the station—in coming from the Magistrate the prisoner said if he had known as much last night he should have had the other man apprehended, as well as himself.
Cross-examined by MR. CHARNOCK. Q. Was he not in liquor? A. No—I cannot swear whether he was asleep—he raised his head up and put it down on his shoulder—the prisoner has worked for Sir F. Booth.
JOHN SCOTNEY (police-sergeant T 5). I was in Drum-lane and heard some persons talking—I went to the field and found the prisoner in custody—he said, "You don't think I was going to steal this mare?"—I said, "It looks very suspicious"—he said, "I had been drinking or I should not have been found here"—I said, "I could not perceive any signs of drink"—he said he hoped I should not take him to the station—I took hold of the string and said, "This looks like the string you use in your work?"—he said, "I might have had the string, and might have put it over the horse's head, but how it came on my leg I don't know"—I knew he worked at Sir
F. Booth's distillery—they use this sort of string to their sacks—he did not appear intoxicated.
Cross-examined. Q. The horse was in the field, where it ought to be, and the gate locked? A. Yes—he said he had been drinking with a blacksmith, and that a man brought him to the field.
Cross-examined. Q. It was found in your field? A. It had been turned out there.
MR. CHARNOCK called
THOMAS HAZEL . I work for Mr. Hazard, brewer, Old Brentford. The prisoner lodges with me—he came home at half-past nine o'clock on the night of the occurrence—he was then very tipsy—I told him he wat unfit to go to work—he had two hours' work to do then—I requested him to stop at home, but he said he would go to work, which was at the distillery—I saw him again at half-past eleven, sitting at the steps of the Bull public-house, which is the first house from the distillery—about 200 yards from Drum-lane—he was then a great deal worse—I asked if he was going home—he said in a grumbling way he should presently, and fell backwards with his head on the steps—I did not see him again till he was in custody.
COURT. Q. Did you see a man with him? A. No—I attended to state this to the Magistrate—Scotney said I could not go in and state this—I had four more mates to prove he was tipsy.
NOT GUILTY .
CHARLES WILMOTT . I am assistant to Francis Soames, pawnbroker, Bethnal-green. An alarm was given on the 20th of July, about twelve o'clock—I pursued two men with Blanch—I secured the prisoner in Globe-lane, in the arch of the railway—Blanch produced four silk handkerchiefs which belonged to my master—I gave the prisoner in charge—I had seen the handkerchiefs hanging inside the door a few minutes before twelve.
JOHN BLANCH . I am a leather cutter—I live in Green-street, Bethnal-green. I was standing in my shop, which is opposite the prosecutor's, and saw the prisoner make two or three tugs at a bundle of handkerchiefs, get them down and make off with them—I sent my son over to give information while I ran after him—he had another man in his company, apparently—the prisoner got over a high fence—I lost sight of him for a moment—he came over the fence a little further on, and I secured him—I saw the handkerchiefs in, his hand.
JAMES BLANCH, JUN . I ran after the prisoner, and saw him get over the fence—I came up to my father—he had got hold of a man—I got over the fence after the prisoner—a woman pointed to the archway—the prisoner ran out, and knocked me down by running against me—I found the handkerchiefs buried eighteen inches deep, by the archway, under some rotten cabbage leaves—it did not take a minute to find them.
Prisoner's Defence. I heard a cry of "Stop thief;" a man in a fustian jacket was running, and a mob after him; I followed, and as I got to the pathway, they caught hold of me.
(The prisoner received a good character.)
GUILTY . Aged 21.— Confined Three Months.
JOHN PORTER (police-constable, G 101). On the night of the 20th of July, I saw the prisoner in Acton-street with another man, and tried to stop him, but he got past me—he was stopped in Gray's-inn-road—they each threw a ham down and ran off in different directions—I took the prisoner—he said he knew nothing of it.
Prisoner. I am not the person; it was so dark it was impossible to see across the street. Witness. I was on the curb; it was quite light enough to see him; I had seen him about the neighbourhood before—I never lost sight of him.
RICHARD WALKER (policeman). I saw the witness, and noticed two persons running with each a ham—there was light enough to see him—the door of a beer-shop opened, and threw a light as he passed—I am positive he is the man—I have frequently seen him about King's-cross with prostitutes.
JOHN BUTLER . I keep a cheesemonger's shop in Acton-place. These two hams are mine—I missed them at a quarter past eleven o'clock that night—I had seen them safe a few minutes before, close to my window, which was open—there was a side of bacon beyond them.
Prisoner's Defence. I don't think there are two lamps in the street; I live not a quarter of a mile from there.
GUILTY . Aged 23.— Confined Six Months.
OLD COURT.—Monday, August 26th, 1844.
HENRY TATE (policeman.) I produce two certificates of marriage from Stepney church and St. Mary's, Islington—I compared them with the registers, and saw them signed by the clergyman—I took the prisoner in charge, and told him he was charged with marrying two wives—he said it was true.
MR. BALLANTINE, for the prisoner, here stated he could not struggle with the evidence.
GUILTY . Aged 35.— Confined Six Months.
THOMAS DIMOCK GIBBS . I am a draper, and live in Plummer's-row, City-road. The prisoner was our porter for twenty-one months—he lived and lodged in the house—about eleven o'clock on Sunday, the 21st of July, he came home after having been out—in consequence of something on the Monday morning I sent for a policeman, and went with him and the prisoner to the prisoner's bed-room—I directed the policeman to search his boxes—one was locked, and the other not—the policeman asked him for the key, and he gave it him readily—he unlocked the box, and found the articles stated, which are my property, and had been in the shop.
Cross-examined by MR. CHARNOCK. Q. A portion was found in each box, I believe? A. Yes—the key of the locked box was on a ledge, and visible—I have twenty-three persons in my service, who lodge in the house—these are common articles, which a young man like the prisoner might have—there
is no mark on them—do one had been into his room that morning but himself.
JOHN SMITH (policeman.) I was sent for—I asked the prisoner if he had any property in his boxes which did not belong to him—he said he had nothing but what belonged to him—I asked if he had any objection to his master's seeing their contents—he said, "No"—I went with him to his room—I turned to the locked box, and asked if it was his—he said, "Yes"—I said; "Have the kindness to open it"—he did so—I took out some things, and Mr. Gibbs saw two or three pairs of gloves, which he said he thought were his.
GUILTY. Aged 36.—Recommended to mercy.— Confined Four Months.
Before Mr. Justice Wightman.
GUILTY . Aged.— Death Recorded.
Before Mr. Baron Gurney.
1946. JOHN JOYCE was indicted for feloniously assaulting Frederick Randall, and threatening to accuse him of a certain infamous crime, that is to say, of having attempted and endeavoured to commit with him the abominable crime of b----, with a view and intent to extort money from him.—2nd COUNT, for threatening to accuse him of having solicited him to commit with him the said crime, with a like intent.—3rd COUNT, for feloniously demanding his money from him, with intent to steal the same.
MR. BALLANTINE conducted the Prosecution.
FREDERICK RANDALL . I live at No. 10, Lancaster-place, Strand. For the last three months I have not been in any business on account of ill health—before that I was with a friend, who is a solicitor, merely to occupy my time and to increase my income, intending to go into mercantile pursuits again—I know the prisoner—I first became acquainted with him on the 21st of July, at least he crossed the road in Fish-street-hill, as I was crossing towards the Monument—he came up to me, and claimed my acquaintance, saying he had met me at the Lyceum theatre—I said he might have done so, but I did not remember him—he reminded me that he was speaking to a gentleman named Myers, who I had formerly known, and had a sort of bowing acquaintance with—he said, "I think you will recollect that gentleman"—I said, "Yes, I recollect him, although I know very little of him now"—he walked and talked with me—he did not seem inclined to go, and I did not tell him to go—we went to a public-house called the Half Moon, in Gracechurch-street, where I wished to see somebody on business—I called for a pot of stout, which we took together—we came out together, and parted near the Monument—he said he saw a friend of his—I said, "Don't let me detain you," and he left—I met him again on the following Wednesday—he came running up to me at the pit door of the Lyceum theatre, and said, "How do you do, sir?" and asked if I was going into the theatre—I said I thought I was, and said, "Are you going in?"—he said, "No, I am going westward, but in all probability shall look in on my return"—that was all that passed then—I went into the theatre, and saw no more of him that night—on Sunday, the 28th, I saw him on London-bridge Wharf, I think it is called—I was waiting, to see a person I expected from Gravesend—he came up, and said, "How do you do?"—I think he asked me if I would have some stout, and I declined—I said no, in consequence of ill health I should go home—I went home to my chambers—I said, "If you have nothing better to do, if you like a blow up the river, I shall be very glad to give you some tea"—he accepted the invitation and went to my lodgings, in Lancaster-place—I
have half the chambers there, with another gentleman—when we got to the chambers the tea-things were on the table, as my friend had given the servant leave to go out—the water was boiling in the kitchen—we went on the top of the leads, as he admired the view of the river—I said, "There is a splendid view, you see up to Chelsea from the top of the house" (we were in the habit of taking our friends up) he went up with me—we returned in three minutes to the sitting-room—the window was open, and the door also—the window looks over Somerset-house—it is an upper floor—the rooms are overlooked from Somerset-house, and from Lancaster-place—he took some gin and water—I took some tea—I had said on the quay, "It is very dull always to be in the City on Sunday, if I had not come here on business I should have preferred being at the other end of the town"—he said "I am used to it, my father lived in Water-lane, my name is Joyce"—I said, "Oh, I knew your father very well, he has been dead about four years; I also knew your brother-in-law, Mr. Carrington"—after he had the gin and water, or while he was taking it, he gave another account of his family—he said his brother had treated him very ill; that he would not speak to him; that he went to the Opera the previous night, and met his younger brother there, and he passed him, and would not take the slightest notice of him—he said his guardian allowed him 100l.; per annum, but only allowed him 5s. a week for his expenses—he had spoken of dining at——, and drinking claret—I asked how he could do that with 5s. a week, it was impossible—I do not think he made any answer—I said it was no business of mine, but I then remarked on the subject of a bill of exchange which he had drawn—I accused him of having accepted a bill of exchange for 45l.;, which happened to have been presented to me to be discounted—he said he never received a farthing of the amount, and he did not know what had become of the bill at all; he was under age, and should not be liable for it—I told him it was a swindling transaction, because he represented it to belong to his brother, to be drawn by his brother, payable at his brother's bankers'—before he mentioned about the bill, he said he wished me to go and speak to his friends, and said when he lived at Camberwell he had seduced a young girl of eighteen, who proved to be in the family way; that she had been to his brother, and told him the story, and the child had died four days after it was born—I said it was an awful thing in so young a man to have seduction laid to his charge, and he should endeavour to conquer his passions; if he could not do it entirely, there were many unfortunate women about the streets, for no respectable family would receive him if they knew he had seduced a respectable female, as he stated—he said he was afraid of the disease—I said, "Do as the French do; I have been abroad many years; use a French letter"—he said he did not know what they were—I showed him—no observation was made with regard to it—about half-past nine o'clock I said, "You must not think me inhospitable, but I wish to retire early to rest; I will walk a short distance with you into the Strand, as I wish to purchase a cigar"—I went out of the room—I said, "If you will excuse me a few minutes, I will be ready"—he said "I will take a little more gin and water during your absence"—I said, "Help yourself"—I went up stairs for about three minutes, returned to the room, and he was reading a number of cards of visitors round the looking-glass—I said, "Well, are you ready?"—he said, "No; you brought me here for improper purposes, and I will make you pay for it before I go"—I got in a great rage with him. and said. "You wretch, you shall not remain in my room, no man can be safe with a man like you; I insist on your leaving my room this instant"—he said, "I shall not, till you give me money"—I said, "You are mistaken in your man; you have mistaken my character altogether, in, supposing I will give you a shilling: it is very evident to me now
how you get your money"—he then said, "Then I won't leave the room," and threw himself down in a chair—I insisted on his going—he said he would not—I said then I must to get assistance to have him taken out—I went out, and in the course of eight minutes brought a policeman back with me—immediately we got into the room the prisoner had put out the lamp, and was in the act of re-lighting it—he said immediately he saw the policeman, "Oh, policeman, take this man, he has been taking indecent liberties with me"—the policeman said, "No, you are my prisoner," or something to that effect.
Cross-examined by MR. CLARKSON. Q. How old are you? A. Thirty-six—I have been a merchant, in Ostend and Antwerp, a owner and shipbroker, a general merchant, a salt importer, and exporter of flax—I have ceased to be a merchant about four years—I thought I had saved sufficient money to live without business at all—I lived at No. 7, Agar-street, Strand, in lodgings on the first floor, about two years, doing next to nothing, living on the produce of the shares of the vessels I left abroad—I am a man of small fortune—I am now going to establish a business again—I went from Agar-street to Abingdon-street for about four months—then to Park-chambers, Park-street, Westminster, where I have lived till the last three months—I had an office in Park-chambers on the first floor, and a room up stairs—the office was on the first floor—I had the use of it with a Mr. Ikey, an attorney—I do not know that he has run away—I used to write for him and myself too for about a year and a half—I did what he desired me—nothing dishonorable or wrong—I have been to the Judge's chambers for him—not every day in term, nor three or four times a week—I never issued a writ—I do not think he did anything in that way—he had very little business—he was a discounter, I believe, and a money-scrivener—he is living at Walworth—I saw him one day last week for a moment—he engaged to pay me 2l.; a week, but I never got it—I got part of it by instalments—he has a large, family, and got into difficulties—I got about 80l.; from him during the year and a half—while with him I corresponded abroad, having some little affairs unsettled there—I never had occasion to attend the Judges' chambers for myself—I have no property here—it is shares in ships, but it is involved through my foolishness in putting my name to bills for other parties—it has been involved ever since I came away, and before—I did not come away because it was involved, for I have been to Ostend since, two years and nine months ago—the bankers at Bruges have the charge of my property, and also a banker at Ostend—they keep it as security—I cannot tell what my liabilities are—Mr. Ellis is a friend of the prisoner's, I understand—I have known him—I gave him a home when he had not one for two months—he did not sleep in the house—I gave him everything but a bed, which I had not got—that was in Abingdon-street—I was there about four months—I was introduced to Ellis about three years ago by the son of the Hon. Mr. Hare, of Leamington—it is about a year and a half ago that I gave him shelter—I never gave shelter to anybody else—the son of the Rev. Mr. Probyn of Twickenham lodges with me in Lancaster-place—the chambers are in his name—I share in the expenses—a solicitor, named Robinson, in Essex-street, is the landlord or agent—I have been there about three months—we have one large sitting-room, two bed-rooms, a kitchen, and two smaller rooms—the sitting-room is on the third floor, and the bed-rooms in the roof—they are unfurnished—we pay 35l.; a year—I have seen Ellis once within the last eighteen months—he knocked at my door—I happened to answer it myself, and ordered him down stairs—he said he wished I would allow him speak to me a moment—I said, "No, you shall not come into my place; if you wish to speak to me I will meet you in the presence of a third party"—I had not quarrelled with him, but heard he had been living by swindling and living a very irregular life—he had accepted a bill, he said it was accepted by–
Mr.———When the prisoner reminded me of his speaking to Mr. Myers at the theatre, I recollected him—I believe Myers is a merchant—I was not on intimate terms with him—I have not spoken to him ten times within ten years—it was the prisoner said, "What a fine view you have from the window"—I did not say to him that I took strangers up, but Mr. Probyn and myself were in the habit of doing so, as we are proud of so fine a view—when I met the prisoner, on Sunday the 21st, I did not ask him how he was amused on the Friday—I did not say I was thirsty, when we got to the door of the Half Moon—I asked him to go and have some stout—that was about half-past six—I was going there to meet a gentleman—I expected to find a Mr. Knight there—I wished to purchase some cigars of him—he trades abroad, and promised to get me some—he lives somewhere near Trinity-square—he is steward or something of a steam-packet—when I got near the inn, I said, "I am going in here, will you walk in and have some stout or beer"—he went in—I called for a bottle of stout—I paid one shilling for it, and he paid sixpence for two cigars, which we had—several people were sitting there—Mr. Knight did not come—I did not very much expect him—I was not certain of meeting him there—I did not meet a butcher there whom I knew, or a butcher's lad—I spoke to one person there whom I had met before, a gentleman in the Manchester trade, from Manchester—I do not know his name—I did not take the prisoner anywhere else—we came out together, and walked as far as Gracechurch-street—he said he saw some friends, and left me—I swear most solemnly that I did not make an appointment to meet him the next Sunday on London-bridge wharf—I met him on Tuesday the 23rd, at the entrance of the theatre, as I have described—I said I thought I was going in, because it was not exactly an order I had, it was a pass—a friend had come and said, "If you like to go in you can, for nothing"—it was Mr. Smith, of Barton-street, Westminster—he is a gentleman in Somerset-house—I was very undecided whether I should go in, as I do not care much about theatres—an order and pass are the same thing—I left my lodgings on purpose to go, but a man may change his mind—it was about half-past nine—I think I stayed there about half an hour—I shook hands with the prisoner—I did not invite him to come in, nor remind him of an appointment for Sunday—I never made one—I got into the City on the 28th about six—I was not on the wharf above three minutes—I went to find the man about the cigars—I waited some time for him, and found he was gone to Gravesend—he had promised to get me some cigars very cheap—I waited at the Half Moon an hour—I had left home about a quarter to six in a boat from Waterloo-bridge—I landed at London-bridge—I dined at my chambers that day with Mr. Probyn, Mr. Dudley, a gentleman from the Admiralty, and a very respectable lady—we have a servant lad, and a charwoman when required—the servant lad is here—he was not at home on the Sunday—I did not refuse to give his name—he wears Mr. Probyn's livery—we do not pay him wages—we clothe him and give him what we please—he is about fourteen years old—I met the prisoner as I was coming out of the wharf, and shook hands with him—I did not express either joy or sorrow at meeting him—I did not expect to meet him—after telling me his name and who he was, I invited him home—he said he had had tea—the gin and water was standing on the table—we went on board a steam-boat—I paid for myself and he for himself—I solemnly swear that I bought two cigars at Waterloo-bridge, and gave him one—it was near eight when we got there—it was about a quarter to ten when I went for the policeman—when I got to my lodging the tea was set for two I think—there was only Mr. Probyn to come home—we generally have some one drop in about tea time—I did not go down and fetch up cold meat, we had none in the house, I think, at least I did not take any that night—I did not give the prisoner a
card nor show him one and tell him that was not my name—I did not ask if he liked women—not an indelicate word passed from my lips, nor an indelicate act—I produced the French letter to him—I have been at Ellis's father's house, and smoked a pipe with his father once or twice—I have seen his brother—that is two years ago, when he lived in Vincent-square—I do not know how he got his living—he slept at his father's—I never dined with him in the Haymarket but once, that was not with him, but with a Mrs. Fenton, who, I believe, is a married woman, at the Cafe de----, that is the only time Ellis was there—he and Mrs. Fenton dined together there—Mrs. Fenton does not keep the house, but a lady living on her means, in Albany-street, Regent's-park—I was never there—she lived at 76, New Bond-street, when I saw her—she lived there by herself—I had very little knowledge of her—she was introduced to me—I paid for Mrs. Fen ton's dinner, but not for Ellis—I met him there by accident—I did not tell the policeman not to take the prisoner into custody if he could get him out of the house without, nor anything of the sort—I got the French letter from Calais—I produced it from a small box on the book-shelves—I did not show him any prints—we have rio such things in the place nor any books—there were no figures on the French letter—I did not leave him in charge of anybody while I went for the policeman—I had told him I must call for assistance if he did not leave, that he knew where to find me if he had anything to say against me—I did not produce any friend before the Magistrate, nor ask the officer if it was necessary—he did not say he thought it was—I did not say the steward of the steamer sometimes gave me smuggled cigars, and was there a necessity to produce him—I said, "It might injure the man's reputation in the steam-packets if it was known he occasionally smuggled cigars"—I did not say he refused to give evidence—I would have produced him if my solicitor had advised me to do so.
MR. BALLANTINE. Q. Have you brought your boy here in consequence of notice from the solicitor for the prisoner? A. Exactly so.
WILLIAM FOOT (police-constable F 72.) I was spoken to by the prosecutor on Sunday, the 28th of July, from half-past nine to ten o'clock—from what he said, I went to Lancaster-place, went up to a room, and the prisoner had got a lucifer match in his hand, about to light a lamp—when he saw me he said, "I give him in charge for taking indecent liberties with me," pointing to the prosecutor—I told him the prosecutor had given him in charge for attempting to extort money from him, by accusing him of taking indecent liberties with him—he then put on his hat, and went with me to the station.
Cross-examined by MR. BODKIN. Q. I suppose the prosecutor was a perfect stranger to you? A. Yes—he told me what he wanted my assistance for before I got to the place—he did not say he did not want him taken into custody if I could get him to leave the place—he said as we were going, there was a young man there who wanted money, that he took him for a friend of his, that he would not leave his place unless he gave him some money—he said previous to the charge he did not wish to hurt him—that was before I got to the room—he did not say all he wanted was that he should be got out of his place—he said he did not wish to hurt him, but it was not fit such a scoundrel as that should be at large, therefore he must give him in charge—that was before we got there—he said he could not get him out of the room, not that he did not wish me to take him into custody—no such word passed.
MR. PROBYN examined by MR. CLARKSON. I am twenty-nine years old—I am a clerk in the Admiralty—I have been acquainted with Mr. Randall since February or March—General Bateman introduced him to me—he was living where I lodged, in York-road, Westminster-bridge, at the time, and Mr. Randall used to come to see him—I think he removed from Fenton's hotel there—Mr. Randall was then lodging in Park-street, Westminster—I first
went to live with him two months ago, in furnished chambers—I took them of the proprietor, or agent, for a year at 35l.;—I am responsible for the rent, but we divide it between us equally—I was at Greenwich, on Sunday the 28th—the prosecutor did not go with me—he was going into the City—I did not ask him to go with me, as he said he had an appointment elsewhere to meet I forget who, and where—he told me the name, and where he was to meet him—it was at a house not on a wharf—I did not return that night—I had not left word with him whether I should return or not—it was quite uncertain—I slept in town—I had gone to Greenwich with a friend from the Admiralty—I knew Mr. Randall had got French letters—I saw them when I first went into the chambers—he was destroying some old letters, and there were several of these scattered in the box—I took them up, and said, "Do you use these sort of things?"—he said be did—I saw no figures on them—I never saw any French prints—I would not allow such things in the chambers—I do not know Mr. Ikey—I did not refuse to give the name of my lad, but it being Mr. Randall's business I gave him the letter who applied for it, to do as he liked with it.
William Ward, the servant boy, was called, but not examined.
GUILTY . Aged 20.— Judgment Respited.
Before Mr. Baron Gurney.
1946. HENRY BROWN, ELIZABETH JONES , and EMMA BROWN , were indicted for feloniously, and without lawful excuse, having in their custody and possession a mould, on which was impressed the obverse side of a sixpence.—2nd COUNT, stating it to be the reverse side.
MR. BODKIN conducted the Prosecution.
WILLIAM PENNY . I am a police inspector of the G division. On Sunday morning, the 14th July, I went with some other officers to No. 8, Broad Arrow-court, Milton-street, St. Luke's—the street door of the house was open—I went up to the front room second floor—I found that door fastened—I forced it with the assistance of the other officers—I found Henry Brown sitting on a chair in front of a clear fire—Emma Brown was sitting on his left, quite close to him—Jones was sitting on a flock bed which was on the floor with a child in her arms—Henry had a mould in his left hand which he immediately threw down, and rubbed under his feet—the other part went into the fire—I produce the part I picked up—on a chair on his left, I found a pair of pliers, a pair of scissors, a hammer, a knife, and three gets, one of which was quite hot—he immediately got up, and was seized by Sergeant Brannan—he kicked and made a great resistance—he laid hold of 2s. previous to being seized, put them into his mouth and swallowed them—we could see him do so—Brannan seized him by the throat—the women were pulling and laying hold of him—Emma Brown said, "Don't kill my father?"—she called him father at that time, and afterwards uncle—she called him a great many different names—she laid hold of him by the arm, and pulled at him to get him out of our custody—after he was secured, I commenced searching, and just by his chair I found a complete pair of moulds used for casting counterfeit sixpences, wrapped up in this piece of linen rag—in the cupboard I found a quantity of plaster of Paris which is used for making moulds—he was at that time secured—he began to use violent and shameful language—he said he had been in this country long enough, he did not care a b——how soon he left it, for he had been all over it before—the women were not exactly so bad, but their language was very rough—I knew Jones before.
JAMES BRANNAN (police-sergeant G 20.) I went with Penny to this house in Broad Arrow-court—I seized the male prisoner by the neck directly I went in, seeing him pick up some counterfeit coin from the chair on which he had sat—I held him so a considerable time—Jones came with both her hands
before his chin, and said, "Spit them out, my dear; the b----policeman will choke you"—he succeeded in swallowing the counterfeit shillings—the portion of the mould that he threw on the fire upset this spoon, which contained some melted metal, which I afterwards picked up—it fell through the grate—I produce a portion of it, and the spoon, three counterfeit sixpences, a get, and a portion of a mould, with some letters on it—this is the mould which he endeavoured to stamp on while I held him by the throat—it is for casting counterfeit shillings—I produce a pipe which was stuck in the fire at the same time, close by the spoon—it is used for melting, I believe—the women seized me by the arm, and endeavoured to turn me round, and Emma said, "Don't choke my father, Mr. Brannan"—she knew me well by name—I am sure the man is not her father—I know her father.
HENRY REDMAN (police-constable G 224.) I went with the other officers—I produce a file, one counterfeit shilling, four counterfeit sixpences, and part of a mould, which I took off the fire—the heat of the fire caused it to crumble—it is in pieces—there is only an impression on one piece—the women assisted in trying to get the male prisoner away from us—at the time he put the shillings into his mouth they lodged in his throat—I saw the lump—I saw he had something in his hand, and, in trying to get it, one of his teeth caught my hand, which caused me a bad hand for a week or so, and from that hand this shilling dropped, with a little piece of the mould—the women's language and conduct were very violent—Jones got up from a bed, where she was sitting, went to the mantelpiece, and laid hold of something, I could not see what—as soon as I succeeded in getting the hot shilling that dropped on the boards, and put the male prisoner in the corner, I went to the mantelpiece, and from a shell there I picked out four counterfeit sixpences—that was the very corner to which Jones had gone.
MARY MULLINS . I keep this house, No. 8, Broad Arrow-court, Milton-street, which the officers came to—I let the room to Jones, who passed as Mrs. Brown—they all three lived there, and had been living there nine months.
MR. JOHN FIELD . I am inspector of coin to the Mint. This is a plaster of Paris mould for casting sixpences—it has the impression of both sides of a sixpence on it—it is a perfect mould in all respects, and appears to have been used for that purpose—these are four counterfeit sixpences—all of them appear to have been cast in this mould—here are also two others which have been cast in this mould, and one that has not—here is a small portion of a plaster of Paris mould which appears to have been broken—it has a small part of the impression of the obverse side of a shilling on it—the three letters "VIC" in the word "Victoria" appear clearly on it—here is a counterfeit shilling of the present reign, just as it comes from the mould, with all the surplus metal on the edge, just as it is cast—it has similar letters to those on the mould—here is a get, which appears to have been produced by a mould, and which fills up the channel when the metal is poured in hot—here is a small file, with white metal in the teeth of it—it would be used to remove the surplus metal off the edge of the coin when cast—here is an iron spoon, which might be used to melt the metal in, and appears to have been so used—here is some metal which appears to have been in a state of fusion—it is white metal, similar to that of which the counterfeit coin is composed—here are other tools, a pair of scissors, a pair of pliers, and a knife, which are all articles used in coining—the plaster of Paris is similar to that of which the moulds are made.
Henry Brown. Q. Do not you know a girl called Mary Allen? A. No, I do not know such a person at all.
Henry Brown's Defence. I do not know much of the woman myself; she came to my place on Saturday night, and asked if I could give her a night's
lodging; I said I could not, unless my wife consented to it; she said she had nowhere to go to; she was wringing wet; Jones came in afterwards, and looked very black at me, seeing the woman there; however, we got friends after a bit, and the woman continued there; she said she had been out trying some of these sixpences; she said she was in date over the water and in Middlesex; she remained there that night, and next morning Jones got up soon, and went after some money which we have for a nurse-child, 3s. a week; during that time the woman commenced making these things; I had not been out of bed for seven weeks with rheumatics; when Jones came back this woman was making these; she said she had done what she wanted; I said I would have nothing to do with it, or have them in my place; she said, "I will take them away, let the mould be where it is;" we gave her her supper that night, and her breakfast next morning; she wanted the key of the closet; she went, under the pretence of going into the next room for it, and during that time Jones said, "For God's sake, get up, Henry, I don't like these things in the place;" I got up, and had the mould in my hand to break it, when up came the three officers; the door had neither bolt nor lock, nothing but a wooden button; it is a complete plot, and I am as innocent of it as a child; I never issued a bad shilling; I always got my living in the Docks; Penny was talking with this woman all the morning; she has had eighteen months one time, and two years another, and very lately she has been turned up from the offices.
(Jones put in a written defence to the same effect.)
Emma Brown's Defence. I am merely at home on the Sunday; I work at the boot-closing.
HENRY BROWN— GUILTY . Aged 41.
JONES— GUILTY . Aged 23.
Transported for Twelve Years
EMMA BROWN— GUILTY. Aged 16.—Recommended to mercy.— Confined Six Months.
Before Mr. Justice Wightman.
MR. BODKIN conducted the Prosecution.
WILLIAM FRANKS . I Live In Great Manchester-street, Waterloo-town, Bethnal-green—I am chairman of a loan society, which is held at a public-house there. In Jan. last, a loan of 6l.; was applied for—it was to be lent to a person of the name of Elliott—John Scott, of Pollard-street, Pollard's-row, was proposed to be surety—I went there to make inquiry about the solvency of Scott—I there found the prisoner—I asked him if he was John Scott—he said he was—I asked him how long he had lived there—he said, "For the last ten years"—I asked him if he was the housekeeper—he said, "Yes"—I asked him whether he was a satin-dresser, according to the description on the form—he said he was—I asked him where he was employed—he said, at Stanbridge's, in Pitfield-street—I had the form with me in which the description of the person proposed as security was—I held it in my hand—it is not usual for the parties to look at the form—I asked him whether he knew Elliott—he said he did, very well—I asked him whether he knew what he was going to do with the money, in case it was lent to him—he said yes, he wanted money to buy tools with, as he was only casually employed, and if he had this money he could purchase tools and employ himself in the evening—I asked him to show me his receipts for rent—he produced them, which showed me that the rent was paid up to the Christmas quarter—I then pulled out a blank note on a stamp, which I generally carried with me, filled it up, and
asked him to sign it, which he did, in the name of John Scott—I produce it—( The note was here read, and was signed by Gustavus Elliott, and John Scott, satin-dresser, 5, Pollard-street, Pollard's-row, Bethnal-green-road, engaging to pay the sum of 6l.; 6s. 8d. by weekly instalments.)—He wrote that name and address in my presence, and, in consequence of that, I let Elliott have the money.
Prisoner. Q. Did you speak to the old lady, Mrs. Scott? A. No, I saw her and Mr. Scott, but there was no occasion to speak to them—I went to speak to John Scott.
COURT. Q. This Gustavus Elliott is a member of your loan society, I suppose? A. He was the applicant—we let anybody have the money, if we approve of the security—I let Elliott have 6l.;—we deducted the interest, 1s. in the pound—I gave him 5l.; 11s. 6d. altogether—two sovereigns have been repaid by one of the parties.
JOHN SCOTT . I kept the house, No. 5, Pollard-street, Pollard's-row, Bethnal-green, at this time. I had consented to be security for Elliott—some of the security, not all—I had not agreed to be one of the securities for him borrowing this 6l.;—there are some other loans that I know about, but I did not know about this one at the Three Crowns—I had been security for some other persons—I had not been security for Gustavus Elliott—I know the prisoner—he was at the time a lodger in my house, but I knew nothing about it—I did not authorize him to sign my name to this—I know nothing at all about it—I know nothing of Elliott at all—he is no acquaintance of mine—I did not consent to my name being proposed as a security—I cannot read these receipts—I have seen them before the Magistrate—I saw them when the landlady came to my house to look at them—they are not receipts which had ever been given me for the payment of my rent—I know nothing about them—I can write my own name.
Prisoner. Mr. Scott has been answerable for me in other loans, and he said I might at any time make use of his name to other loans. Witness. I told him so, but I never told him except I was there—I have been answerable for him—he never signed my name before—I always signed myself.
WILLIAM DAVIDSON DAY (police-constable K it.) I took the prisoner into custody—I told him what he was charged with—he said he had forged the receipts with the consent of Mrs. Scott, and he had forged the bill, but Mrs. Scott was present in the room at the time when he did it—he used the word "forged"—he did not say in my presence that he had any authority from Mrs. Scott—he said he meant to pay it unbeknown to Mrs. Scott, or unknown to them.
JEMIMA SCOTT . I am the wife of John Scott. I do not know anything of Elliott proposing to borrow some money—the prisoner was a lodger of mine—I remember his being at my house when Franks came—I saw him come, but I did not know what he came about—I did not take any part in it—I did not authorize the prisoner to write these receipts for rent that were shown—I did not know anything of his putting his name to this bill.
Cross-examined by MR. SIMON. Q. Do you remember attending with the prisoner at the society? A. Never—I knew nothing about it—I will swear that J never went with the prisoner at all—I never represented myself as the prisoner's wife—my husband and the prisoner were on very intimate terms—my husband can read and write very little indeed, and I am no scholar at all—I am quite sure I have not represented that the prisoner was my husband, or quite as good—the prisoner has ruined us—we have nothing except what we stand up in—I was not present when he was asked for what purpose the money was wanted—I know nothing about it—nothing was said about tools being.
wanted—I have got a good memory, and have told you the truth—I did not say, "You need not be afraid of the money, we will pay it if he don't"—I can take a hundred oaths I know nothing about the Three Crowns, or the receipts—I do not know that my husband has had money from these loan societies—I have not heard from him that he had part of this money—I was not in the room when the name was written—I swear that—I never went to the loan society myself—I recollect seeing a lame gentleman at our house—I do not know what he came for—I do not know who he came to see—he asked for Mr. Corbey—that is all I know about it—he asked for Mr. Scott—I let him in—he went into my parlour—I was not in the room all the time he was there—I let him into the room—I did not see him sign the receipt.
COURT. Q. Who was in the parlour at that time? A. Mr. Corbey—I did not go in—I went up stairs to his wife.
MR. SIMON to JOHN SCOTT. Q. I believe you do not write very well? A. No—I can write sufficient for people to understand me—I never have anybody to write for me—I never employed anybody to write my name for me—I can write more than my name—no proceedings were taken against me in reference to this case—I have not been served with a writ that I know of—if any came nobody has shown them to me—I have not heard that I have been served with any proceedings to recover this money from me—there have been papers at my house, but I have not read it, and have not been shown it—papers have been left for me or for somebody up stairs, Mr. Corbey, I think—I do not know that there is an action commenced against me in the Queen's Bench, in reference to this very loan—(looking at a paper)—I have never had this paper in my hand before now—I cannot read it—there have been letters written to me, but I had not had them—they were directed to my house, but Mr. Corbey read them—I could not read them myself—this letter is directed to "Mr. J. Scott, satin-dresser, 5, Pollard-street, Bethnal-green-road"—that is my name—I never had that letter opened to me—I might have seen it—I never heard from my wife that she had seen it—I cannot swear that I have seen it before, because I have a good many letters come from the country, all with that direction—the letters I received I got somebody to read for me—I used to get Corbey to read them sometimes—I do not recollect that I took this letter to him to read to me—I will not swear I did not—I never took a letter up to him to read—I only told him once that he might use my name, but he went on with it after I told him—I did not tell him I would stand security for him, and he might use my name when he required it—we were good friends till I wanted to get my money—I have not received money from him—he promised me money when he got his fortune—he has not got it yet, or any signs of it—I am quite sure I was never served with this writ—I might have seen the outside, but I never saw what was inside—I could not read it—I should take it to some friend to read for me—if I have letters from the country from my father and mother, I can read them—I could not read this—I do not know who I generally apply to to read my papers for me—I hardly ever have papers of this kind—I never took them up to Corbey—I might perhaps have taken this letter up, I do not recollect it—I never heard from my wife that these papers had been left—I never got any one to read my papers for me but Corbey, for I have not had any lately—I suppose he read them all unknown to me—he had the management—he read all the letters there were—I did not bring them to him, my wife took them up)—I knew nothing about it.
MR. BODKIN. Q. If writs or law papers came to your house, would they be shown to the prisoner by your wife? A. Yes, I should think they would—he has never told me that there were any proceedings taken against me on account of this loan—he has never said u word to me about it.
COURT. Q. You say you received letters sometimes, and persons used to read them to you? A. Yes—I do not know that there were any answers returned—I never gave any answer to any letters.
WILLIAM FRANKS re-examined. Q. About 2l.; has been paid by instalments on account of this loan? A. I do not receive payments—it was not paid after Scott disputed the signing of this paper—it has been standing for two or three months—it ought to have been nearly all paid now—I saw the prisoner write—I believe these two letters to be his writing—there is a peculiarity in all the s's, which I remarked on the note—(These letters were dated 12th Aug., 1844, addressed by the prisoner to Mr. Scott; the first expressed his sorrow for what had occurred, but stated he was compelled to be far away immediately; that he would repay him for all he had done; but it was impossible for him to keep paying the loans at present; that proceedings would be taken about them, and advised him to remove his goods, or get the landlady to put in a claim for rent;—the second stated, that he need not fear for his person or goods, for under the new act no one could be arrested for any debt under 20l., and neither of the loans were to that amount; that he never should have thought of them, until he was pressed to have them, but as soon as possible he would make all right.)
JOHN SCOTT re-examined. The prisoner left my house last Monday week—he did not tell me he was going—these letters have come since—I do not know who read them to me—they were read to my wife—I did not receive 2l.; 12s. in rent from the prisoner on this loan being obtained—he owes me 3l.; now.
Third Jury, before Mr. Common Sergeant.
GUILTY .— Judgment Respited.
MR. BODKIN conducted the Prosecution.
MARY ANN YOUNG . I am the wife of John Young, a journeyman baker, and live at No. 4, King's-arms-yard, Smart's-buildings, High Holborn. About twelve o'clock at night, on the 3d. of July last, I went with my sister Catherine Asseape, to see Louisa Morris, who is a friend of mine, home—she lived at No. 11, King-street, Holborn—she was minding the house—we left her there, and were returning home—my sister is fourteen years old—I saw the prisoner, and another young man—the prisoner caught hold of my arm, shook me, and said, "Jane, my dear, where are you going to?"—I ran across the street away from him, and my sister with me—the two men followed us—we went from the corner of King-street to the corner of Newton-street, the men followed us—I there spoke to two journeymen bakers, friends of my husband, and they walked with us to the corner of Smart's-buildings—we bid them good night there, and went down Smart's-buildings—the prisoner ran after us, caught hold of my arm, shook me, and used some disgraceful language—my sister ran away from me—he ran after her, knocked her down, and kicked her in the forehead—I went after him and caught hold of him—he then hit me
in the eye, and gave me a black eye and swollen lip—he knocked me down, I screamed out "Police"—he said "D——your eyes, you b——b——, you street-walking wh—"—I do not know where his companion was at that time—he was not with him—a policeman came and picked me up—my sister was taken to Bow-street, and then to Charing-cross Hospital—she was covered all over with blood—I had not given the prisoner any provocation—I never spoke to them, and had never seen them before.
Cross-examined by MR. PRENDERGAST. Q. Whereabouts did you first see the prisoner? A. At the corner of King-street—I do not know whether he was singing—I was not taking notice of him—the two bakers were then in the Bell, in Newton-street—I did not find them there—they were coming up Newton-street, when I crossed over after running from the prisoner—I called "Police"—I had not seen the bakers before that evening—my sister and I did not laugh at the song the prisoner and his companion were singing—I did not take up any mud or throw any at him, nor did my sister—that I swear—he was not pushed down on the ground at all that I saw—I did not push him down, nor did my sister—the bakers had left us when we were knocked down—they only went a little way up Holborn with us—I spoke to them, thinking that the prisoner and his companion would go away—I told the bakers they were following me up—we bid them good night at the corner of Smart's-buildings—we did not stand there—we went down the buildings, and had got as far as the corner of Mr. Jones's shop where he keeps his shutters, when we were assaulted—that is about twice the length of this court from the top of Smart's-buildings—the prisoner followed us down after the bakers had left us—I did not fall against the railings—the prisoner knocked me down in the road—there is a small road there for a horse and cart—my sister's name is Asseape—that was my maiden name.
CATHERINE ASSEAPE . I am going on for fifteen years of age, and live with my mother at No. 4, King's Arms-yard, Smart's-buildings. On the night in question I went with my sister to see Mrs. Morris home—I do not know the name of the street—as we were returning home I saw the prisoner and another man—the prisoner laid hold of my sister's arm, and said, "Jane, my dear, where are you going?"—my sister ran away from them across the road—I went with her—we were going home up Holborn—the two men followed us—when we got to Newton-street we met the two journeymen bakers, whom we knew—my sister asked them if they were going up as far as Drury-lane—they said, "Yes," and walked with us as far as Smart's-buildings—-the two men still kept following us—when we got to Smart's-buildings we bid the bakers good night, and they went away—we turned down Smart's-buildings—the prisoner ran after my sister—I ran away from him—I suppose he thought I was going for a policeman, and he ran after me, and knocked me down, and when I was down he kicked me with his boot in my head—here is the mark—I had not said or done anything to him—my sister came to get him away from me, and he hit her in the mouth—I bled very much indeed—a policeman came up, and picked my sister up—she was lying in the road—I got up myself, and was taken to Bow-street—from there I was sent to the hospital, where I staid six weeks all but three days.
Cross-examined. Q. How do you spell your name? A. Issop—I am no scholar—I cannot spell—I never went to school, and never spelt a word in my life—I live with my mother—my sister lives in the same house.
JAMES ANDERSON . I am a journeyman-baker. I know Mrs. Young and her sister—on the night of the 3rd of July I saw them in Holborn, at the top of Newton-street, and two men following them—they told me the men were abusing them all the way down Holborn—they were near enough to hear what was said—they were close behind—they wished me to go as far as
Smart's-buildings with them—I had a friend with me, and we went, I should say, about 200 yards, to the top of Smart's-buildings—we there left them—after I had gone about six yards I heard a noise, and Mrs. Yonng calling "Police"—I went back, and saw the prisoner knock the prosecutrix down, and kick her in the forehead after she was down—the other man was behind him—Mrs. Young was standing a little way off—I did not see anything happen to her—I took hold of the prisoner—he called to his brother to call a policeman, and give me and my friend in charge—he did not say for what—I held him till the policeman came and took him into custody—the brother walked down to the station after us—I had never seen the prisoner or his brother before, to my recollection.
Cross-examined. Q. You knew these women? A. Yes—I was at the top of Newton-street when they first saw me—I had not been walking with them—I had not been in company with Young's husband that night—I did not see any dirt on the girls' bands—I did not see her throw mud at anybody—I know Young's husband—he is a journeyman-baker at Robinson's, in Macclesfield-street, Edgware-road—I do not know where he was that night—he would begin work at twelve o'clock—I was out of employment at the time.
MR. BODKIN. Q. Did the man who was with you stay to see this, or did he go away? A. He stopped to see—his name is John Jackson—he went to the station-house with us.
JOHN THOMAS LEA (police-constable F 112.) I was on doty about twelve o'clock this night in the neighbourhood of Smart's-buildings, and heard the screams of some females—I proceeded to the spot, and saw Mrs. Young lying on the ground—while assisting her up, I was called to a crowd of persons, twelve yards distant, and found the prosecutrix bleeding profusely from the head, supported by a man—the prisoner was pointed out to me by the crowd, and I took him into custody—I looked at the prosecutrix's hands—there was not the slightest appearance of mud upon them—the prisoner had complained of her throwing mud at him—he appeared to be sober—I conveyed the prosecutrix to the hospital.
Cross-examined. Q. Were either of the women a little drank? A. Not the slightest—I did not see mod on either of their hands—Mrs. Young had been down on the ground, and was covered with mud, but her hands appeared to be quite clean—I saw no mod on her face—her bonnet was covered with mud—she had fallen on her side.
RAY CHAS. GOLDING . I was house surgeon at Charing-cross Hospital when the girl was brought there about one o'clock—I examined her—she had a lacerated wound at the upper part of the forehead, extending to the scalp, and her face was discolored with blood, the result of the wound—it was such a wound as might have been inflicted with a kick from a shoe—the skin was cut—she appeared to have lost about a table-spoonful and a half of blood—I dare say not more—she was six weeks in the hospital—the wound was not quite to the bone—it might have been dangerous—she got well of the wound very soon, but inflammation of the eye coming on, we kept her in for that—that was not the result of the same injury—it was a pustular inflammation, which never occurs as the result of violence, and had no connexion with the injury on the head.
Cross-examined. Q. Erysipelas may follow a very slight wound? A. Yes, it might have followed this—in other respects it was not at all likely to be dangerous—pustular inflammation arises from a bad state of the body.
----BOWSTEAD. I am clerk to the Magistrates at Bow-street. I took the examination of the prisoner on this charge—he made this statement, which I took down in writing—(reads)—"I was walking with my brother,
and saw the two females; the younger one took up some mud, and said she would have a lark with us; I told her not to throw the mud, but she would, and then ran away, ran against something, and cut her head; I never struck her; the elder sister shoved me when I attempted to get hold of the younger one."
MR. PRENDERGAST called
ALFRED SULLIVAN . I am the prisoner's brother. I had been spending this evening with him—we left the public-house a little after twelve, and went up Holborn—I live at No. 21, Wootton-street—my brother lived at No. 27, Clare-street, Clare-market—we were arm-in-arm together, and were very jovial, singing a song—we saw two men and these two women together, a great way up Holborn—they appeared to be larking and as we approached them, the girl insulted us and said, "We will have a lark with these fellows"—she went to the kennel, and gathered two handfulls of mud to throw at us, but previous to that some words passed between us—the men insulted us also, and a scuffle ensued—the men not finding themselves strong enough for us, ran away towards Drury-lane—the women, I believe, ran down Smart's-buildings—the girl had thrown some mud at my brother, and we ran after her, calling "Police," as a matter of course—I had escaped the mud by standing on one side, and my brother received the whole of it—in running after her, she fell against the iron palisades or bars in the place, and on her face on the stones—my brother stooped down to pick her up, to hold her till the police came up, when the elder girl shoved my brother—my brother shoved her, and she fell—at that moment the police came up—I was there the whole time, and I declare solemnly, on my oath, my brother never struck her, or kicked her—it was entirely accidental.
MR. BODKIN. Q. So she fell against the iron palisade without any touch from your brother? A. Without the slightest—we were both fresh—we had been drinking the whole evening, in an Alton alehouse in Gray's-inn-lane, consequently we could neither be drunk nor sober—I was sufficiently sober to see all that I have stated, and to give an account of what took place—I appeared as a witness, and was examined on behalf of my brother before the Magistrate at Bow-street.
Q. On your oath, did you not, on that occasion, swear to this effect: "I was with my brother, the defendant, at the time in question; we had partaken together of eight pots of ale; I was so inebriated that I could not take much notice, but I saw the females with two engineers, who wanted to fight us; my brother struck at one of them, and the blow fell on the girl accidentally, which knocked her down and cut her head; I do not recollect much about it; the girl certainly pelted my brother with mud; they might have been all knocked down, and I might have assisted in knocking them down myself?" A. I did not positively swear to what is written there—my brother did make a blow at an engineer—he did not strike the girl by accident instead of the engineer—I swear I did not say so—the fact is, the Magistrate was very prejudiced against my brother, and I verily believe he induced these witnesses to swear any thing.
GUILTY of an Assault. Aged 26.— Confined Eighteen Months.
NOT GUILTY .
GUILTY . Aged 26.— Judgment Respited.
GUILTY , and entered into his own Recognizance to appear for Judgment.
MR. O'BRIEN conducted the Prosecution.
GUILTY . Aged 19.—Recommended to mercy.— Judgment Respited.
SARAH RAY . I am the wife of Robert Ray, and live in North-street, Limehouse-fields. On the 29th of July, my husband went to the North Pole public-house to have some beer—I went after him—the prisoner snatched out of his band a paper with the numbers of some bank notes that he bad lost—I said to him, "You do not know the consequence that might be of"—he then smacked my face, and afterwards repeated it a second and a third time; and he ill-used my husband dreadfully—about half-past six o'clock next morning, my daughter went out to her work, and left the street door open—I was going to wash, when the prisoner came into the kitchen, and knocked me down with his fist—it was a severe blow under the ear—I had not spoken to him—as soon as I got up and recovered myself, I went into the street, and said, "Oh, you villain"—he walked out of my own place, and struck me a severe blow on my head with an iron instrument, a piece of an auger, which had been in my house—it cut my head," which bled very much—I was swamped with blood—I was taken to the hospital—I did not know any more till after I was at the hospital—I was there a fortnight.
Cross-examined by MR. HORRY. Q. Were your daughters up? A. One was gone to work—when the others heard me scream, they came running—I was not out in the street before be struck me on the head with the instrument—he must have taken it out of our house—I believe it was in the fire-place—I did not go and knock at his door before he came into our house—I swear that—I did no violence whatever, to my knowledge—I did not touch the prisoner—my husband was not up—he did not come down till after I screamed—he then put on his trowsers, and came down—I never had any quarrel about Mrs. White—I made no observation about her that morning, or over-night—there was a mob in the street after I was bleeding, they were running from all quarters—there was no mob or riot before the blow—there was not a creature about—I did not go across to the prisoner's door at all or strike it—I know a Mrs. Williamson and Mrs. Cox—they were not there—I did not disturb the prisoner in any way—I had said, the night before, that I would take out a warrant for him—he did not come out and ask what I meant—my husband came out with a rail—that was when I was bleeding, after I was struck—my daughters came after they heard me scream—I did not strike the prisoner's door with this instrument—it was not taken from me or from my husband.
ROBERT RAY . I heard a scream on the morning of the 30th of July—I ran down stairs to the door, and saw the prisoner strike my wife with this iron auger, on the head—it bled, and the blood ran down the gown behind—there was a wound—he struck me also.
Cross-examined. Q. Did your wife call you down? A. No—my children
were hallooing "Murder"—I ran down first in my shirt—the prisoner and I had a fight over-night—my wife was down stairs in the morning before me—I looked out of the window, and saw the prisoner strike my wife—I only saw one of my daughters in the street—this auger is mine—I never had it in my hand—I heard no quarrel, nor anything said to the prisoner's wife.
HANNAH PESLER . I live near Ray's. On the morning of the 30th of July, about half-past six o'clock, I saw Mrs. Ray in the street, and Mr. Ray in his bed-room—words occurred between them, but I cannot say what it was, but I heard Mrs. Ray say, running across to the prisoner's door, "There, do you hear that"—I saw no more then—I afterwards saw the prisoner strike Mr. Ray with the iron—I did not see Mrs. Ray struck.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you not see Mrs. Ray go over to the prisoner's door? A. No.
WILLIAM GRIFFITH . I live in Gerrard-street, Islington. I was house-surgeon at the London Hospital at this time—I examined Mrs. Ray on the morning of the 3rd of July, and found a lacerated wound of the scalp on the left side of the head—she had lost a considerable quantity of blood—this auger was a very likely thing to produce the mischief—she was in considerable danger afterwards, when reaction took place—she was ill about ten days or a fortnight—her illness was occasioned by the wound.
CHARLES TIBBEY (police-constable K 144.) I came to the spot, and saw the prosecutrix bleeding at the head very much—I did not find the prisoner at his own house, but next door concealed in the kitchen, about seven o'clock in the morning—in bringing him out, Mrs. Ray said, "That is the man that struck me with the poker"—he said, "It was not a poker, it was an auger."
Cross-examined. Q. Have you got a better memory now than you had before the Magistrate? A. Yes—I could not recollect this at that moment.
(Witnesses for the Defence.)
CAROLINE MOAXAN . I live next door to Mrs. Ray. On the morning of the 30th of July I was awoke in a fright, and saw the prisoner rush out of his house, and strike Mrs. Ray with his fist—I then saw Ray run out of his house with a bed-rail in his hand to defend his wife—the prisoner rushed out of his house with the iron in his hand—the two men wrestled—I left the window, and when I came to the window again, Mrs. Ray was lying on the pavement in a lifeless state—I saw the blood running down her head from a wound—I do not know what occasioned it—I saw no blow struck with the iron—I saw nothing done to the prisoner's door.
HENRY COX . About a quarter to six on this morning I was in bed, and was awoke by a disturbance in the street—I got up to see what was the matter, and found Mrs. Ray trying to break the prisoner's door open, first pushing with her back, and then kicking with her feet, and using all manner of abusive language—finding she could not get the door open, she tried at the shutters—she continued doing so some time, and at last went away—the prisoner came out to remonstrate with her, he went over the way to her house, and was not there half a moment—in coming back again, Mrs. Ray followed him with the auger in her hand, and, before he could close his door, she got the auger between the door and door-post, and prevented his shutting it—finding he could not shut the door, he came out, took it away from her, and hit her on the head with it—she bled—Ray at the same time came running out of the house with a bed-rail in his hand, and struck the prisoner over the shoulders.
GUILTY of an Assault. Aged 33.— Confined Nine Months.
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, August 27th, 1844.
EDWARD LAURENCE . I am a baker, and live in Bride-terrace, Liverpool-road, Islington. I know Mr. Glenn, a builder—I have been in the habit of lending him money, from time to time, for the purpose of his business—the prisoner came to me about half-past four o'clock on Saturday the 20th of July—I did not know him—he came with Mr. Glenn's compliments, and I was to send all the cash I had got—I told him I had got very little cash that day, for I had given change to three different gentlemen for three checks, but what I had got I would send—I opened my cash-box—I had got a 10l.; note, four sovereigns, and two half-sovereigns, which I gave him, and said, "That is all I have got"—he said, had I not better take the number of the note—I said I did not see that that would be of any use—there was a piece of paper lying on the counter—I said, "You may as well give me an acknowledgment on this piece of paper, it will be just the same"—he said, certainly, he would do that—I looked at it, and he had not put his name—I said, "You may as well put your name," which he did, and went away—in consequence of some suspicion, I told my son to watch where the prisoner went, and I kept him in sight the whole of the time—it is a long line of road—he went into no house—it is in the same road where Mr. Glenn lives—he did not go in there, but he went by—my son was about a hundred yards before me—I did not hear him speak to the prisoner—the prisoner turned back to me after my son spoke to him—I then said that Mr. Glenn had not sent him for the money, for he was not at home—the prisoner then said, "I know that; I have left him in the City; he told me to make haste home, and get all the cash I could for him against he came home"—I said, "You give my money back; I will not let you have it; I will give it to Mr. Glenn when he comes home"—: he gave me the money and I left him—I have the number of the note in his own handwriting—the Magistrate said I had no occasion to keep the note—the prisoner gave me back the whole of the money wrapped up, just as I had given it to him.
JOHN GLENN , builder, Liverpool-terrace, Islington. The prisoner was in my employ—I had discharged him from my service about half-past five o'clock on Saturday morning, and requested him not to come on my premises again—that was at Islington station-house—he had no authority from me to go to Mr. Laurence—I did not send him to get the money for me—it is not true that I sent him to Mr. Laurence to say I wanted all the cash he could give him.
Prisoner's Defence. On Saturday afternoon I went to receive my wages; Mr. Glenn was not at home; the clerk said he would be at home in about an hour's time; I called and asked the clerk if he did not know where to send for some money; he said, "You can go to Mr. Laurence, and ask him if he can spare Mr. Glenn any money to-night;" I went and asked him to spare Mr. Glenn some money; he gave me 15l.; I told him to take the number of the
note. As I was coming home I called at a public-house to get it changed, as the clerk asked me to get small change; I could not get it there; I was going to another public-house at the corner of Mr. Glenn's yard, when Mr. Laurence came up and said he would give the money himself to Mr. Glenn; I gave the money up to Mr. Laurence without any hesitation.
MR. GLENN re-examined. The clerk is not here—he was with me in the City on this occasion—the prisoner did not come to me in the City—there were no wages due to him.
GUILTY . Aged 19.— Confined Four Months.
THOMAS MUNN . I live with my father, Jonathan Munn, a grocer, at Old Brentford. On the 18th of June the prisoner came to our shop, and asked if I would allow him to have some things for Mr. Winter, as he was going out in the barge—he said he wanted three loaves, a quarter of a pound of lard, half a pound of bacon, and half an ounce of tobacco—I knew Mr. Winter had dealings with my father—I knew the prisoner was in his service, but he was not at that time, I believe—I let him have the things for Mr. Winter.
THOMAS WINTER . I am a lighterman and barge-master—the prisoner was in my employ—he left about three months before this—he was not in my service on the 18th of June—I did not send or authorize him to go Mr. Munn's shop for any goods for me, or at any time.
(The prisoner put in a written defence, stating that he had not obtained the things in Mr. Winter's name, but on credit, as he had done before.)
T. MUNN re-examined. He had not dealt with us on his own account—we never gave him credit—I am sure he used Mr. Winter's name.
GUILTY. Aged 18.—Recommended to mercy.— Confined Two Months.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Justice Wightman.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Monday, August 19th, 1844.
GUILTY of a common Assault. Aged 40.— Confined One Month.
ZILPAH SMITH . I live with my father, William Smith, an oilman in Rosaman-street, Clerkenwell. Between eight and nine o'clock on the morning of the 9th of July the prisoner came and asked the price of a jar of girkins—I went up stairs to my father to ask the price, when I came back my brother was with the prisoner, and asked me what was missing—I looked in the till, and missed 1 1/2 d. which I knew was safe a few minutes before—I did not say anything to the prisoner about it—my brother let him go out of the shop, and went immediately after him.
WILLIAM SMITH . I am brother of Zilpah Smith, and live with my father, William Smith, who keeps the shop—I had seen the prisoner outside the door two or three times before I saw him in the shop—my sister left the shop, and I was outside—I saw the prisoner lean over the counter, pull the till out, and put his hand in—I went in, and asked his business—he said he had sent my sister to know the price of a jar of girkins—she came back—I spoke to her, then went after the prisoner, brought him back, and charged him with this—he said he had not done it—my father came and gave him in charge.
Prisoner's Defence. I had but three halfpence about me, which I pulled out; they detained me.
JURY to ZILPAH SMITH. Q. How do you know that the three halfpence were gone? A. I had just taken twopence-halfpenny for half a pound of soap, and had given a penny for milk, and there was only three halfpence in the till, and that was gone.
GUILTY. Aged 17.—Recommended to mercy.— Confined Twelve Months.
JAMES DOUBLETON , butcher, Elstree. At a quarter past four o'clock in the afternoon of the 6th of July I was at the Green Man, at Kingsbury, with some meat in a cart—I was at the house half an hour or twenty minutes—I am sure my meat was safe when I went into the house—I came to the door once or twice, and was talking to two young men—I got up in the cart, and drove to where I was going to leave the meat, and it was gone—I had got about three quarters of a mile before I went to take it out—I had not uncovered the cloth from the meat—I had not stopped anywhere else—I immediately drove back to the public-house, and after that I drove to a field—I inquired for a person who I thought had taken it, and he was gone—I pursued Biggs, and accused him of it—he denied it—some time after that he said something, and I went after the prisoner—I saw him, and asked him where he had taken the steaks to out of the cart—he denied it—I told him once or twice that a man saw him take them—he denied it—I fetched a policeman, and gave Biggs into custody—Bolingbroke brought me some steaks—I do not know them.
Cross-examined by MR. HORRY. Q. You fancied Biggs was the party? A. Yes—he was in the house—the prisoner came into the public-house while I was there—he did not stop one minute—I went after Biggs, and asked him a good many times to tell me—I came back in half an hour, and then he told me who it was, and I took the prisoner—I appeared at the Middlesex Sessions, but I was not required to give my evidence—I went there two different times on the Monday and Friday.
GEORGE BIGGS . I live at Harrow. I was coming out of the Green Man, at Kingsbury—the prosecutor was at the door with a horse and cart—I saw the prisoner there, getting off the prosecutor's cart—he had some meat with him—I cannot say whether it was beef or mutton—he went away, and I saw no more of him—I was charged by the prosecutor with stealing this—I denied it, and afterwards told who it was.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you know the prosecutor? A. No more than by seeing him about with the cart—I knew the prisoner—the prosecutor came
up to me close to the public-house—he left me then, came back, and gave me into custody—I am a bricklayer, and work for Mr. Martin.
THORNTON BOLINGBROKE (police-constable S 215.) In consequence of information from the prosecutor, I went after the prisoner—I told him the prosecutor had come to give him in charge for stealing two pounds and a half of beef-steaks out of his cart—he said he knew nothing about it—he got into the cart, and rode out with us—he said he did not know where they were, and then he said they were in the field—I went back, and met Matthews with them, buttoned in his jacket.
NOT GUILTY .
THORNTON BOLINGBROKE . I went to look for the steaks, and met the prisoner, with something buttoned up in his jacket—I said, "Mike, have you got beef-steaks here?"—he said, "Yes," and they were there—they were shown to Mr. Doubleton, who identified them.
NOT GUILTY .
WILLIAM NOBLE , linen-draper, High-street, Shoreditch. About nine o'clock on Wednesday night, the 24th of July, I was in my shop—I saw this piece of print inside my doorway—I saw the prisoners just outside the door—my shop-lad was there, standing in the middle of the shop, folding up—I saw the piece of print go from the door—I called out to the lad, he ran out, and caught the two prisoners by their shawls, about three or four yards from the shop—the print was between them, they had each got part of it—Smith got away from the lad for two or three yards—he got hold of her again, and I got up in the mean time, and took the other—I gave her into custody with the print—this is my print, I know it from the mark.
Lewis. When he came up it was on the ground. Witness. You had got it in your hand.
Lewis's Defence. The young woman that took it came up to Hicks's-hall to give herself up; she went up to the door; I met Smith, she asked me to go and have a pint of beer; I was bidding her good bye, then the print was chucked between us; the boy came, and said we stole it; I looked up, and saw the young woman running.
(Witness for the Defence.)
ANN FULLER . I am an unfortunate girl. I took the print from just inside Mr. Noble's shop, in Shoreditch—there were several other persons round the shop—I know Lewis, I do not know Smith—I met Lewis that evening by Whitecross-street, about half-past eight o'clock—I took the print between eight and nine—I had been in Lewis's company but was not at the time I took the print—I did not see where Lewis was when I took it, till the boy
came out—then I threw it down between them, and ran away—I did not exactly notice who I threw it between.
LEWIS— GUILTY . Aged 23.— Transported for Seven Years.
SMITH— GUILTY . Aged 18.— Confined Three Months.
GUILTY . Aged 43.— Confined Four Months.
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, August 20th, 1844.
Sixth Jury, before Mr. Common Sergeant.
GUILTY . Aged 42.— Confined Two Months.
GUILTY . Aged 17.— Confined Four Months.
1967. ISRAEL WOODCOCK was indicted for breaking and entering the dwelling-bouse of James Francis Herbert, in the parish of St. Leonard, Shoreditch, on the 26th of Dec, and stealing therein 2 chairs, value 3s.; 2 sheets, 3s.; 1 table-cloth, 1s.; 3 chimney-ornaments, 2s.; 1 blanket, 1s. 6d.; 3 drinking-glasses, 1s. 6d.; and 2 glass globes, 4s.; his goods.
JAMES FRANCIS HERBERT . In Dec. last I lived in Church-street, Bethnal-green, in the parish of St. Leonard, Shoreditch; it was my dwelling-house. Between half-past five and six o'clock, in the evening of the 26th of Dec., I left my home perfectly secure, to go to my father's, at Stepney—I locked the door—the window was down, and the shutters too—I returned about half-past eleven, and found two cane-bottom chairs, a pair of sheets, and a blanket, and the other things stated, taken away—the prisoner is a chair-caner—I knew him—he came the next morning, and sympathised with me, and said he was very sorry to hear of it—I heard no more till the 16th of June, when a woman, who I believe to be his wife, came and gave me information—I then gave him into custody for the robbery—he said he knew nothing about it—I went with the officer and the prisoner to Leonard-street, where they told me he lived, and found my property there—he did not say anything.
Prisoner. Q. Were you ever tried in this Court? A. Yes, twice for stealing metal—I was not tried for holding a situation in the docks, and giving orders for persons to receive goods.
COURT. Q. Are you married? A. Yes—I live with my wife—these chairs and chimney ornaments are mine, bought and paid for—there was other property in the house—I have been foreman at Mr. Lock's timber-yard, in the Curtain-road.
MICHAEL MAYO (policeman.) I received information, went to this room, at No. 6, Leonard-street, where the prisoner lodged, and found the property—I took him to this room—he did not deny its being his room—he did not say anything on the subject.
(Witness for the Defence.)
two years. I know the prisoner well—I do not know where he lives—I work for Mr. Woodcock, a chair-maker, in Turvill-street, where the prisoner works—on the 26th of Dec. I was at Woodcock's from ten in the morning till two the next morning, and the prisoner was with me—I remember it because it was boxing-day—the prisoner did not leave that I know of—I was there all day—I did not hear of his being taken up till lately.
Prisoner's Defence. These horns and globes I bought down Petticoat-lane about five years ago; I have bad them in my possession ever since.
(Property produced and sworn to.)
GUILTY .* Aged 43.— Transported for Ten Years.
MR. DOANE conducted the Prosecution,.
JAMES GAZE LAST . I am a publican, living at Yarmouth. I have been married eight years—the prisoner is a painter—up to about Midsummer last he lodged with me—he had given me no notice of leaving—on the 24th of June I was at a fair in the country—I returned about six or seven o'clock, and he and my wife were both missing—I missed a dozen small silver spoons and two large ones, a silk pocket-handkerchief, four gold rings, two brooches, and a steel seal, and a box with my wife's clothes—I accompanied my brother to town next day—I was directed to a public-house in the Old Bailey, and in a bed-room there I found the prisoner and my wife together—I gave him a good dressing—I saw my brother find this silk handkerchief in the prisoner's pocket—it is mine—there is no mark on it—I generally wear such a one—I saw the purse found in the prisoner's pocket—it contained a sovereign and a half, four gold rings, two brooches, a seal, and a small locket—I used the seal myself, and so did my wife sometimes—these are all mine.
Cross-examined by MR. PRENDERGAST. Q. Your wife generally used this purse? A. Yes, and the rings too—I bought this seal—I did not give it to my wife—it has her initials on it—I was very much surprised to find her gone—she did not tell me on the Sunday before that she was going, and I did not say that I would keep the child—we lived on very good terms—I know Tammy Larnes—I do not know she had a child, not by me—I do not know where she lived—I only know her by sight—I do not know Ann Hinkling—I never beard of her—I never received a letter from a person named Ann Hinkling—my wife and I are living together—I took her back for the sake of my child—she had been a very good wife up to this time—these spoons were marked with her maiden name, and were her property before we married.
WILLIAM ROBERT LAST . I accompanied my brother, and found the prisoner and my brother's wife in a bed-room together—I searched his pockets, and found this handkerchief in his coat pocket, and this purse, which contains the other property, in his trowsers pocket.
Cross-examined. Q. Your brother and his wife lived on bad terms? A. I believe not—I swear I never knew that he used his wife improperly—I believed he used her well—I have not sworn that he did not use her well.
THOMAS WEST . I am a silversmith, and live on Ludgate-hill. In June, the prisoner came to my shop to sell some spoons—to the best of my belief they were two table-spoons and some tea-spoons—the whole amounted to 2l.; 1s.—I
had occasion to send a quantity of old silver to Mr. Sirrell that day, 1 sent them—I did not take notice of these old spoons.
Cross-examined. Q. Are you certain he is the man? A. Yes, for while I was weighing the spoons, he got talking to my wife—she said, "They are old things, how long have you had them?"—he said he did not know much about them, they were not his, he was selling them for a person outside—he did not say it was a woman—I did not see any person.
NOT GUILTY .
Fourth Jury, before Mr. Common Sergeant.
GEORGE GIBSON LYNN (police-constable, F 199.) About a quarter past eight in the evening of the 2nd of July, I was on duty in Long-lane, Hillingdon—I saw a horse and cart standing in the lane—I then saw the prisoner coming through a gap in the hedge from Mr. Nash's rick-yard with a bundle of hay, which he put into the cart—I asked what right he had with it—he said he had it given to him—he afterwards said he had found it—I compared that with the hay in the rick-yard, and it appeared to agree.
Cross-examined by MR. WILDE. Q. How far were you from the rick-yard? A. About forty yards—there is a thick hedge between that and the lane—I was walking in the road at a distance from the hedge—I informed the prosecutor.
JOHN NASH . I have seen this hay—I have not compared it with my own hay in the hay-yard—I cannot say whether it is my hay—I have not missed any—I was there in the morning—I left the binders binding hay, and how the rick was left I do not know.
Cross-examined. Q. You cannot identify the hay at all? A. No—as far as I am concerned, I would not have prosecuted—the prisoner lives about two miles and a half from me.
NOT GUILTY .
1970. JAMES CRANE was indicted for stealing 1 pawnbroker's duplicate, value 1l.; and 1 card, 1d.; the goods of Charles Keene.—2nd COUNT, stating it to be an order for a watch, value 1l.;: and ALFRED EAMES , for feloniously receiving the same, well knowing them to have been stolen, &c.
JANE KEENE . I am the wife of Charles Keene, a soap-maker, in Goring-street, Hackney. Crane lived with me—I had a pawnbroker's duplicate for a watch—it had been pawned at Mr. Harris's, in the Hackney-road—Eames had worked for my husband—I saw the duplicate safe in a box in the workshop after Eames left, and missed it on the 4th of July—I know the duplicate again.
JOSEPH HARRIS , pawnbroker, Hackney-road. On the 4th of July Eames came to me, and obtained 15s. more on a silver watch, which had been pawned before for 1l—he produced the duplicate of the watch—no one was with him.
NOT GUILTY .
GEORGE GOLDING LORD . I keep the Wagon and Horses public-house, at Tottenham. The prisoner was in my service four months—he took out my beer, and was to account for the money he received on the morning following—if he received 4s. and 8s. 7d. he has not paid it me—I every week asked him for these sums.
Cross-examined by MR. HORRY. Q. You frequently might go on for a few mornings, and then ask him? A. I gave him the bill every week, and he never delivered it—I gave him a certain quantity of beer—he was to give me the money, or the names of the persons who be trusted—when I spoke to him about the money he said he had not received it—his last week's wages were due—he did not say that he had lost the money, and was going to pay it with his wages.
GUILTY. Aged 18.—Recommended to mercy.— Confined Three Month.
BENJAMIN GODFREY . I am a plasterer's labourer, in the service of Mr. James Fulham. Between twelve and one o'clock in the day of the 12th of Aug. I was at the Wellington Arms, Uxbridge, asleep—I went in between twelve and one, and sat talking some time—I felt my money in my pocket before I laid down—I saw the prisoner lying down behind the door—I was asleep about two hours—when I awoke my money was gone out of my side pocket, and the prisoner was gone too—I bit the half-sovereign on the Sunday, and should know it again—this is it—I swear it is the same I had in my pocket.
Prisoner. Q. Was I drunk or sober? A. You appeared to be asleep.
WILLIAM FLITNEY . I saw Godfrey at this public-house—the prisoner was lying on the seat behind the door, and Godfrey said, "Here lies a plasterer, or a plasterer's labourer"—he rose up, and said, "Yes I am a plasterer, my name is Bird"—Godfrey said, "Are you Bird's son?"—he said, "Yes"—the prisoner rose up, and said, "I am very queer, I have no money"—Godfrey called for a quartern of rum, and gave him a glass—he spilt part of it—he gave him another—he drank it, and then Godfrey took one—we sat down, and Godfrey fell asleep—after that the prisoner removed from where he was sitting against Godfrey's feet—I sat some time, and fell asleep—the prisoner was there when I went to sleep, and when I awoke he was gone—I awoke the prosecutor—he had then lost his money—I got an officer, and found the prisoner at the Bird in Hand, about six o'clock—the policeman searched him, and found 19s. 6d. and 6d. in halfpence.
JOHN VAGG (police-constable T 141.) I found 19s. 6d. on the prisoner, and 6d. in copper—Mrs. Hearn, who keeps the house, said he had changed this half-sovereign—I found he had bought a new suit of clothes in the town about an hour before—he changed a sovereign where he bought some of the things, and another where he bought a pair of shoes—he said, "D——n the b----y money, they can't swear to the money."
trowsers, and hat of me, about five o'clock on the 12th of Aug.—they came to 19s. 6d.—he gave me a sovereign.
Prisoner's Defence. I was working for 5s. a day; when I went into the house I had three sovereigns and 13s. in my pocket; I kept it to buy some clothes; the prosecutor had got twenty sovereigns besides these.
GUILTY . Aged 28.— Confined Six Months.
JOHN ROBERTSON . I am in the employ of Charles Wilson, a linen and woollen-draper, in Ludgate-street. On the 3rd of July I saw the prisoner lurking about—she passed the door, and immediately a hand was passed round the door-way, and this piece of goods taken—I went out as far as St. Paul's Churchyard, and saw her on the other side—I went and lifted her cloak, and took this piece of woollen cloth from her—it is my master's.
GUILTY .* Aged 36.— Transported for Seven Years.
MICHAEL LEVY . I live in Old-street, St. Luke's. About seven o'clock in the evening of the 27th of July I was walking with my wife in Aldersgate-street—I felt something at my pocket—I saw the prisoner a short distance from me—I attempted to collar him, and found my handkerchief in his pocket—he ran away—I pursued, and gave him in charge—this is my handkerchief.
Prisoner. I picked it up, and he asked me for it. Witness. No, there was no one near me but him—he was about five paces from me—he ran after I saw him, and I ran and collared him—I was not certain whether my handkerchief was marked.
GUILTY . Aged 25.— Confined Nine Months.
SILAS ALFRED PROUTING . On the 13th of July, I stopped at Mr. Leonard's, who keeps a public-house, on Sunbury-common—I left my umbrella in care of the landlady, and when I called it was lost—this is it.
LUCY LEONARD . I am landlady of this house. The prosecutor gave me his umbrella—I placed it outside the door, it being a wet day—in a short time it was missing, and the prisoner was the only person that went out of our house—he had been sitting on a stool—when it was missing I looked for it, but could not find it—soon after the prisoner went into a wheat field opposite our premises, and then he returned to two other persons in the tap-room—they had a pint of beer, and went out altogether—one went on to the Chertsey-road—the prisoner and one of the others went on till they came to the wheat field, and then the prisoner went into the field, and came out with the umbrella—I ran and took it from him—he wished me to make it up.
Prisoner's Defence. I went for a necessary purpose, found the umbrella—Leonard came and asked for it; I gave it her; a policeman came and took me.
GUILTY . Aged 23.— Confined One Week.
GUILTY . Aged 45.— Confined One Year.
GUILTY . Aged 28.— Confined Three Months.
GUILTY . Aged 18.— Confined Three Months.
1979. JAMES CLARKE was indicted for stealing 1 smock frock, value 2s.; and 1 shirt, 2s.; the goods of Mark Watts: also 1 smock frock, 1s.; the goods of James Watts, also 1 shirt, 1s.; the goods of George Burford, his master, and that he had been before convicted of felony; to all which he pleaded
GUILTY . Aged 21.— Confined Six Months.
GUILTY . Aged 32.— Confined Six Months.
GUILTY . Aged 35.— Confined Six Month.
WILLIAM PARRINGTON . I am a packer, in the service of Mr. Snelling. On the 3rd of Aug. I saw the prisoner and two others together for five minutes—they moved about twenty yards opposite, and one of them went into the prosecutor's, and brought out a chest of tea—he gave it to the prisoner—they walked away—I followed and gave him into custody with the tea on him—he said nothing.
Cross-examined by MR. PAYNE. Q. Were you acquainted with the other persons? A. No—I never saw them before.
JAMES STEWART (City police-constable, No. 578.) I was on duty in Leadenhall-street—I saw the prisoner coming down Leadenhall-street with the tea on his shoulder—Parrington gave me information—I pursued the prisoner, and he dropped the tea at my feet—he made a desperate resistance, and got away—my brother officer took him again.
Cross-examined. Q. Where did you first see him? A. In Sugar Loaf-court, Leadenhall-street, which is some distance from Rood-lane.
GUILTY . Aged 25.— Transported for Seven Years.
Prisoner. I went there to offer some jugs, and had been there half an hour—the prosecutor sent for a policeman, and this was found in my boot
but I took it up with my own things. Witness. it was under his trowsers—it could not have fallen into the boot.
(The prisoner received a good character.)
GUILTY. Aged 27.—Recommended to mercy.— Confined One Month.
1984. GEORGE RICKMAN and ARTHUR RICKMAN were indicted for stealing 2 tools, called piercers, the goods of Benjamin Wigg Hickling, and HENRY WHEELER for feloniously receiving the same, well knowing them to have been stolen, against the Statute, &c.
EDWARD GADSBY . I am in the service of Benjamin Wigg Hickling, of Noble-street, City. These two tools are used in making braces, and are called piercers—they are my master's—I am quite sure of that—the three prisoners were formerly all in my master's employ.
Cross-examined by MR. BALLANTINE. Q. Is there any private mark on the tools? A. No—Mr. Bliss made them—Wheeler left our employ some time in January, and George Rickman two years ago—I saw these things safe about twelve months ago—I should say I have seen them within a twelve month—George Rickman has not been in the habit of coming to our premises since he left—Arthur Rickman left some time in May last, after Wheeler.
Cross-examined by MR. PRENDERGAST. Q. You do not know that Wheeler ever saw this tool used? A. He had access to it—he left in Jan.—he saw it as many times as I have.
Cross-examined by MR. BALLANTINE. Q. You have made a great many others? A. Yes, and sell them as they are ordered—I know this by a particular way I have of turning out my work—I manufactured it according to Mr. Gadsby's order—I have customers for these kind of things at Manchester, Birmingham, and other places—I am sure these tools did not go to Manchester—I never made such tools as these, except these—they are different to the others I made.
JOHN WATSON . I pawned these things on the 10th of Jan.—they were brought to me by Wheeler to pawn for him—he told me to take them, and pledge them for all I could get, as he was short of money—he said they were his—I paid him 6s. in a public-house—George Rickman was present.
Cross-examined by MR. PRENDERGAST. Q. What are you? A. A tailor—I do not know that George Rickman has said that they were pawned by his order—when I went back Wheeler and George Rickman were there.
Cross-examined by MR. BALLANTINE. Q. Are you quite sure of its being your handwriting? A. Yes, I am quite sure—there were two examinations, and they were taken down by the clerk—(read)—"The voluntary statement of Henry Wheeler: 'I gave the tools to Watson to pawn, on George Rickman's account'"—"The voluntary statement of George Rickman: 'The tools are mine; I bought them, and took them to Wheeler, and asked him to buy them; he suggested that they should be pawned.'"
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, August 22nd, 1844.
Fifty jury, before Mr. Common Sergeant.
GUILTY . Aged 20.— Confined Three Months.
MR. PAYNE conducted the Prosecution.
WILLIAM IRWIN VASSIER . I am in the employ of John Patterson, stock and brace manufacturer, Wood-street. Between the 3rd and 15th of June twenty-four brace lengths and two short lengths of silk webbing were brought to me by Watson, for sale—these are them—I purchased them for 15s.—I bought them expressly to make inquiries, as I was certain they were stolen—I found out whose manufacture they were.
JOHN WATSON , tailor, Denmark-court, Golden-lane. I sold these brace lengths at Mr. Vassier's—I got them from Wheeler the same day—he brought them to my place, and said he wanted to make up a little money—George Rickman was with him—I am not certain which of them said he wanted to get the money—Wheeler did not say how he became possessed of them—he asked me to take them down and sell them—he told me to ask 19s.; he wanted to raise a little money to go on with his business—I cannot say that George Rickman said anything—Arthur Rickman came in after I had been in and sold the property—I cannot say that he came in before—I sold it for 15s.—I gave the money to Wheeler—George Rickman was there at the time—I cannot say that there was any one else there.
Cross-examined by MR. PRENDERGAST. Q. I believe Wheeler does deal in braces? A. Yes—he was in business for himself—I have not dealt with him at other times—I am a master tailor—I have no shop, but I have a little private trade.
EDWARD GADSBY . I am in the employ of Benjamin Wigg Hickling, a brace manufacturer, in Noble-street—this property is my master's, and was made from my own design—the three prisoners were in Mr. Hickling's employ—Arthur Rickman was in the department where this web was cut up—he left in the middle of May, or the latter end; Wheeler about six months previous—George Rickman had left nearly two years—I had had the web on the premises about six weeks before it was lost—it was made by Mr. Wells, who is in the employ of Mr. Keene—I did not miss it till Vassier came—I then looked, and missed it—we never sell these things in this state—these have not been sold by us—this is the sixteen yards of India-rubber webbing, worth about 28s.—there are two sorts of it—these others I do not swear to.
Cross-examined by MR. BALLANTINE. Q. When did you see these things safe? A. About five weeks previous to the 18th of May—I have seen the web about—I could not say that I have seen this particular web about.
Cross-examined by MR. PRENDERGAST. Q. Are you a partner with Mr. Hickling? A. No—I do not know that Wheeler had any access to this property—he was in the house at the time it was there—he was never on our premises after he left, to my knowledge—the web was kept in the ware-house, under my inspection—there are three men who cut it out—any one that belongs to the establishment has access to it—it is put on the first
floor, in the brace department—we do not sell any of it cut up in this way—it was made to my order, and never was made for any one else, that I know of—our premises are locked up at night, and I am there all day—they were not broken open.
MR. PAYNE. Q. Would these persons, from having been in the employ, know where the property was kept? A. Yes—I was not always on the premises—there were opportunities for persons to come in during my absence.
Cross-examined by MR. BALLANTINE. Q. When were they sold? A. In April.
NOT GUILTY .
1987. GEORGE RICKMAN was again indicted for stealing a certain tool, called a buckle-end tool, value 18s., the goods of Alexander Grant and others; and HENRY WHEELER , for feloniously receiving the same, well knowing it to have been stolen; against the Statute, &c.
MR. PAYNE conducted the Prosecution.
WILLIAM ROWLAND DANIEL . I am assistant to Mr. Howes, pawnbroker, Old-street. I produce twelve tools—this buckle-end tool is one of them—Watson pawned them on the 10th of June, for 6s.—this is the duplicate I gave him.
JOHH HOORWAY . I am in the employ of Alexander Grant and two others. I know this tool to be their property, by the particular make and shape of it—I did not miss it till after I received information from the officer—it is worth 18s.—both the prisoners were in my master's employ—Rickman left on the 29th of April, and Wheeler on the 25th of March—I cannot tell when this tool was in use—it is a particular sort of thing, that was not very often used.
Cross-examined by MR. BALLANTINE. Q. Have you made some tools for George Rickman? A. I never made any of this sort for him, or any other person but the prosecutors—some of these other tools I made for George Rickman.
Cross-examined by MR. PRENDERGAST. Q. Did you make this tool with your own hand? A. My sons and I made it between as, but nothing can go out without my seeing it.
JOSEPH HEADINGTON (City police-constable, No. 112.) I took the prisoners—George Rickmau gave me his address, "No. 58, Maria-street, Haggerstone"—I did not go there—Arthur Rickman gave me his address at the same place.
Cross-examined by MR. BALLANTINE. Q. Is that house where you found it occupied by more lodgers than one? A. Yes, it was a back-room.
Cross-examined by MR. BALLANTINE. Q. Can you undertake to say that the statement had reference to the particular articles that are the subject of this indictment? A. The whole of the articles were exhibited at the time—I
think there were two examinations—both charges were gone into at the same period—I think they were referred to on both days—I cannot say whether the prisoners made more than one statement—(read)—"The voluntary state, ment of Henry Wheeler: 'I gave the tools to Watson, to pawn on George Rickman's account.' The voluntary statement of George Rickman: 'The tools are mine; I bought them; I took them to Wheeler, and asked him to buy them; he suggested that they should be pawned.'"
NOT GUILTY .
(The witnesses did not appear.)
NOT GUILTY .
STEPHEN ELDRIDGE . I live in Walford-street, Old St. Pancras-road. I was in the tap-room at the Two Brewers public-house on the 2nd of July, in George-street, St. Giles—I saw the prisoner and the prosecutrix there, with several others—after I had been there five minutes, the prisoner got into conversation with the prosecutrix, and after they had been in conversation some time, she went to sleep—in five minutes the prisoner shuffled from her right hand round to her left side—he then deliberately took a knife from his pocket, and turned up her clothes—I saw him take a bag out—he tipped the silver out of the bag into his hand, doubled this bag up, and put it back—I went out, and called a policeman—one shilling was found on the prisoner at the station—three or four shillings appeared to come out of the bag.
Prisoner. Q. Were you not in the tap-room when I came in? A. No—I did not notice that the prosecutrix was in company with any man.
DANIEL HALL . I was in the tap-room with Eldridge that night, and saw the prosecutrix sitting by the side of one man—that man went out—another man came in—the prisoner went and sat by the side of the prosecutrix and the other man—the other two were larking with her previously to the prisoner going near her—I saw him lift up her gown, but I did not see him take anything—I saw a knife in his hand.
Prisoner. Q. Were you in the tap-room? A. Yes—I did not see the prosecutrix call you from one side to the other—I did not see her give you and the other man a fig—I did not bear her say she had no money in her possession but one farthing, and tell you to put your hand in her pocket and try.
BRIDGET MADDEN . I was in this public-house. I had 3s. in a little bag in my pocket—I had half a pint of beer—the prisoner sat by my side—I went to sleep—when I awoke, my pocket was cut, and my money gone—the little bag was put back—I lost 4s. altogether—I had not a penny left.
Prisoner. Q. Were you in company with another man? A. He was sitting alongside of me—he was not pulling me about—there were a good many persons sitting, but I was by myself—I never saw you before that day—I did not sleep with you a week before, nor give you any figs, nor ask you to go home with me to Knightsbridge, and tell you that I had a room at 1s. a-week—I did not tell you to try my pocket, and put your hand in.
(The prisoner received a good character.)
GUILTY . Aged 30.— Confined Nine Months.
JOHN COOPER . I am a seaman, lodging at Williams's, in Back-lane. Between four and five o'clock, on the 7th of Aug., I met the two prisoners, I went home with them, and went to bed with both of them—I had fife sovereigns, a 10l.; note, and other monies, which I had seen safe at nine in the morning—they asked for something to drink—I sent for two pots of half-and-half—they drank that, I would not give them more—Davies said, "I have got 6d., I will go and get some"—I looked at my money, and found it was all right—I put it into my jacket pocket and went to sleep—about ten Neale came in and awoke me—I could not find my clothes—she went down and brought up my clothes, but the money was gone—I had got the note from the mate of the True Briton.
Davies. Q. On that morning did you not ask me to take up your jacket I A. Yet.
CAROLINE NEALE . I keep this hoose—the prisoners came in with the prosecutor, at half-past five o'clock in the morning—they sent out for two pots of half-and-half—after they went to bed I went to bed myself—in the morning my father awoke, and gave me information—I went up stairs—the prosecutor said they were gone—there was another couple in the next room—the prosecutor said he had lost his clothes—I could not see them—I went out to tell my father, and on the landing I fotmd the clothes—I said, "Here are your clothes"—I brought them in—he looked in his jacket pocket, and said, "They have taken five sovereigns and a note from me"—I said, "Get a policeman, I know the girls"—he got up, dressed himself, and got a policeman—I am sure the prisoners are the girls that slept with him—I gave the policeman a description of them—he went and found them.
WILLIAM JOHN HOWE (police-constable K 251.) I received information, and accompanied the prosecutor to a house in Bluegate-fields—I took Danes into custody in the Highway, about twenty minutes to tea o'clock the same morning.
JAMES LEWIS (police-constable K 339.) I took Harrington into custody—I said she had been in company with Davies, and robbed a sailor of five sovereigns and a 10l.; note—she said she had been with Davies, but knew nothing of the robbery.
Davies's Defence. We met him in a coffee-shop, he asked us to go home; we went to Neale's, and went up stairs, and I gave Harrington 1s. to take down stairs; she went down; he sent for two pots of half-and-half, and went to bed; and in the morning we awoke; he asked me to stand a pot of half-and-half; I said, "How can I, out of the little you gave me;" he asked me to give him his jacket, and I did; he took the little pocket-book out, took his money out, and put it on his pillow, with the watch.
Harrington's Defence. He was wide awake, smoking his pipe, and said we might go as soon as we liked; there was neither lock nor key to the door.
JOHN COOPER re-examined. I had put the money into my jacket pocket, and put the jacket on the chair—my watch was on the pillow—both the prisoners were there at nine o'clock, and it was about twenty minutes before ten when I awoke—I was quite sober.
DAVIES*— GUILTY . Aged 25.— Confined One Year.
HARRINGTON— GUILTY . Aged 22.— Confined Three Months.
JOHN AUSTIN . I am a fishmonger, and live at Greenwich. About five o'clock in the evening of the 8th of Aug., I was in the grand stud at Edgware, where the horses were—I had a scarf on, with a gold union breast-pin—I saw it safe a minute before I missed it—I felt a pull at my scarf—I turned round, and accused a man close behind me—I do not know who he was—I sent for a policeman, who took him into a booth, and while searching him, some boys came and gave me information—the policeman ran after the prisoner about 200 yards, and took the pin out of his hand—this is my pin—it was about three minutes from the time of my losing it, and the prisoner's being taken.
Cross-examined by MR. PAYNE. Q. You saw a hand over your shoulder? A. No, I felt his elbow on my shoulder—I did not see the prisoner near me at all.
WILLIAM BESSANT . I was at harvest-work at Edgware—I was at Edgware fair on the 8th of August—I saw the prosecutor there that day—I saw the gold pin in his bosom—I turned round again, and looked at the prosecutor, and the pin was gone—the prisoner was near him—I saw the gold pin in the prisoner's hand—I saw him drop it—he put his foot on it, and the prosecutor turned his back, and took another man—the prisoner cut directly, and took up the pin, and ran away.
Cross-examined. Q. Where do you labour? A. At Reading, in Berkshire—I have never been in prison in my life, that I swear—I have been in prison at Tothill-fields once, about six weeks ago, for fourteen days, for begging—I have not been charged frequently with robbing farmers—I was hay-making, but it was a wet morning, and I did not go to work—I get my living in general on the Great Western Railroad—the policeman has not told me I must be sure and swear against the prisoner—three or four persons stopped me, that I should not go up to the prisoner—I did not say before the Justice that I saw the prisoner put his arm over Mr. Austin's shoulder, and the gold pin fell on the ground—I was reminded by the prisoner, and I said, "I think I said last night that I saw you take it out of the handkerchief;" but I did not see that—I first told the policeman of this on the turnpike road, nearly half an hour afterwards—I could not tell him sooner, because I had the prisoner's chaps round me—I did not know them—when I got on the road I told the policeman directly—I did not see the prisoner take the pin, but I saw him pick it up, and run away—I did not run after him—I had not the chance—I was stopped—I did not call out to the prosecutor that he had got the wrong person, but directly I saw the prosecutor I knew he was the man that had lost the pin—as soon as the prosecutor turned round, with the other man, the prisoner picked up the pin, and off he went—I did not see who took it out of the prosecutor's stock.
JAMES THOMAS (police-constable S 53.) I received information, and ran after the prisoner across the field—I told him I wanted him for a gold pin that he had got—he said he was looking for the gentleman; but he was not coming towards the prosecutor, but going from him—he had this pin in his right hand.
Cross-examined. Q. Did he not say, "I am looking for the gentleman it belongs to?" A. Yes—there was nothing to prevent his throwing it away—I never saw Bessant before.
GUILTY . Aged 23.— Transported for Ten Years.
HENRY CARTER . I live in Berkshire. On the night of the 10th of August I was at Edgware fair, and went to a place where there was dancing and music—I had a watch in my fob, with the ribbon of it through my buttonhole—the prisoner snatched it from my pocket, gave it to a man, and he ran away—I went to the officer, and gave her in charge—I lost sight of her for a few minutes, but I am sure she is the woman—the watch has never been found.
JURY. Q. Had you ever seen her before? A. Never in my life—I am sure she is the woman—it was between two and three o'clock in the morning, at the George—the prisoner came in, and sat down by the side of me.
Prisoner's Defence. I never was in his company; I happened to be at the house, which was open, to have a pint of beer.
GUILTY . Aged 36.— Confined Six Months.
MR. DOANE conducted the Prosecution.
MRS. SYDNEY MADOCKS . I am a widow, and live in Denbighshire—my sister, Miss Robarts, lives in Eden-place, Belgrave-square—I have an account with Robarts, Curtis, and Co., bankers, Lombard-street. On the 15th of July I had occasion to go out in an open carriage, with my sister, to Regent-street—I bad a reticule with me—I had written this check (looking at it) before I went, and placed it in my pocket-book, which was in my reticule—when we got to Regent-street, we stopped at Mr. Holmes's shawl warehouse—we got out, and left nobody in the carriage—I had placed my reticule in a basket on the seat of the carriage—we were engaged in the shawl warehouse for a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes—it was past five o'clock in the afternoon—when we returned to the carriage I looked for my reticule, and it was gone—as soon as I got home I informed my brother, Mr. Robarts, of it, with a view to the payment being stopped.
THOMAS HARRISON . I was coachman to Miss Robarts—I drove her and Mrs. Madocks, on the 15th of July, to Regent-street, and set them down at Mr. Holmes's—I afterwards heard of the reticule being lost—I had not observed anybody take the reticule during the time that the ladies were in the shop—I had not been looking about—I kept my eye on the horses—it was an open landau.
ROBERT MORRIS . I am clerk to Robarts and Co., of Lombard-street. On the 16th of July this check was presented at the banking-house about a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes past nine o'clock in the morning—the house does not open before nine—the check was lying on the counter, and I asked the prisoner, who was there, if it belonged to him—he said, yes, it did—in consequence of information that I had received, I asked him to step into the inner room—I left him there with Mr. Stevens, one of the partners.
Cross-examined by MR. BALLANTINE. Q. Had you received information that this check was lost before the banking-house opened? A. Yes—there were several other persons there—I did not observe either of their persons particularly—the place is not very large.
MR. CHARLES STEVENS . On the morning of the 16th of July my attention was called to this check and to the prisoner by Mr. Morris—the prisoner came into the inner room, where I was—I asked how he became possessed
of the check, or from whom he received it—he said he hoped there was nothing wrong about it—I said I wished to know from whom he received it—he said, he thought he might as well speak the truth at once—he said, he was coming into the City, and observed two Frenchmen disputing or quarrelling about a piece of paper which they had in their hand, and they made some observation about a bank, or the bank, and he took the check from then, saying he would receive it for them—I asked if the Frenchmen were in waiting, and finding they were not, I gave him into custody—I sent out to set if the Frenchmen were there.
Cross-examined. Q. Is the person you sent out here? A. No—I did not go out myself—I went into the front office, as I thought at first the parties might be in attendance there—I did not find any persons answering the description, and, after considering a little, I sent for an officer—it is not usual, if a check is not suspected, to take persons round to make inquiry—taking a person round would attract attention, and there would be opportunity for persons to have escaped.
MR. SAMUEL ROBERT GOODMAN . I am chief clerk to the Lord Mayor. I remember the prisoner making a statement at the Mansion-house, which I took down before Sir Peter Luurie, the sitting Magistrate—I saw it signed by Sir Peter Laurie.—(Read) "The prisoner says, 'I had two friends, Jama Winson and James Wardle, with me; I overtook them in Aldgate or Whitechapel; and when we were in Lombard-street, there were two foreigners, who laid, 'Robarts, Robarts, which is it?'—they showed me the check, and I went into the banker's. I first said to my friends, 'Stop, or wait a minute.'"
Cross-examined. Q. On what day was this? A. On the 17th of July, between twelve and two o'clock—Sir Peter Laurie directed that the witnesses for the prisoner should be sent for if they were able to find them.
MR. BALLANTINE called
JAMES WINSON . I have known the prisoner for the last eight or nine year—I knew him living at Romford, and also at Wapping—he carried on business as a medical man at Romford, and in a small way at Wapping—he has been in the habit of attending me for the last two years—I keep a lodging-house for sailors at No. 2, Martha-street, St. George's-in-the-east—I have lived there three years and a half—I came from Shadwell—I have lived at the east end of the town from a child—I saw the prisoner on the 16th of July in Aldgate—he overtook me—I was in company with a young man named Wardle, who assists me—we had some conversation with the prisoner, and went down Fenchurch-street with him—we crossed Gracechurch-street, and saw two persons in Lombard-street—I do not know what they were doing—they accosted us, they were uttering something together—they were moving about and they came up to us—one of them had something in his hand, and asked for the bank, or a bank, or something of that kind, in broken English—the prisoner directed them to the Bank of England—the taller one of them said, "No, no," and the shorter one said, "This is here," and he presented the paper to the prisoner—I did not see what was on the paper—nothing else passed between them to my knowledge—they walked towards a banking-house, I do not know the name of it, and got on the steps—I cannot say whether any of them went in—I walked on and Wardle with me—I do not know whether the prisoner went in—I went down to Gravesend the same day—there was a letter directed to me two days afterwards, and that was the first intimation I received about the piisoner—I did not go to him—I was subpœnaed to come here.
MR. DOANE. Q. How many sailors do you have at a time in your lodging-house? A. Nine or ten, sometimes—I find clothing for them, and find them in board—I do not get a ticket from them to receive their money—they receive it themselves generally—I do not take any security, I trust to their honour in paying—I feed them for days and days until they are paid, and then they pay me—Sailors' Home, in Well-street, is on the same plan as my house is—one of my lodgers once complained of me before Mr. Ballantine for keeping his clothes, and he told me I was justifiable in what I was doing—they leave their chests and hammocks and other things with me, and on them I can lend them a little money—I have known the prisoner nine or ten years—when I first knew him he kept a doctor's shop in Wapping, nearly opposite the Thames Police-office—he kept that shop two years or longer—I do not know where he went to then—I did not see him again until about two years ago, when he was a doctor in York-street, Commercial-road—I did not go to his house there—whether he had his name over the door or on a brass-plate I do not know—I suppose he was living there—he recently attended me as a medical man—my illness took place in January last, and through the medium of a friend the prisoner was sent for—he was then living in York-street—I went to him there in February—it was a private house, and he had his medicine and his business in the back parlour—there was no name over the door—he had cards—I believe he has lived there up to the present time—I have not been there since February to my knowledge—I was cured in the beginning of February—I only knew him as a doctor—he has not visited me nor have I him since February—he has met me promiscuously in the street, and asked me how I was—I cannot say how many times—I never saw him at any fairs—I never attended any myself—Wardle is partner with me, and he shares the profits if there are any, but sometimes there are very heavy losses—he hat assisted me in my business in Martha-street for the last six or seven months past—he knew the prisoner—I cannot say that I have seen them in company together—the prisoner has visited Wardle when he was laid up with the gout at his house in King David-street—I was at Wardle't house when the prisoner was there—it may be two or three months ago—I cannot tell whether it was in March or since—I was not in the habit of visiting Wardle—I have been there several times—he carries on a small business in the green grocery—I cannot tell how long he was laid up—he wat away from my house six or seven days, more or less—I was there this morning—hit wife is carrying on the business there—on the 16th of July I went to Wardle's house, about six or seven o'clock in the morning—I cannot tell exactly for an hour whether it was five, six, or seven—I do not think it was later than teven—I found him in bed with his wife—I called him up—I did not go into the house—I called him outside—he came down into the street—he said he wat in bed—the house was shut, the shutters and door were fastened, and he answered me from up stairs—he told me he would come down—he came down only partly dressed—he had no jacket or waistcoat on to my knowledge—he opened the street door—he left me at the door to get on his jacket, waistcoat, and hat—we then went down to the Shadwell entrance of the London Docks to see if any ships were coming up—we made some inquiries—whether we were there an hour or two hours I cannot answer—we did not go into Wardle's house when we came back, nor into King David-street—we passed by the street, and went to the Commercial-road—we were going to Richmond—we had had no breakfast—we had been to the Fox, and had a pint of porter between us—I had nothing to eat, and did not see that Wardle ate anything—there was no one with us when we walked back—we went down the Back-road into the Commercial-road, and from there to Aldgate—it might be about
nine o'clock when we got to Aldgate—we had not sat down anywhere—we were standing at Aldgate looking at a horse which had fallen down, and the prisoner overtook us—he asked me how I did—I said better than I was thank him—he spoke to Wardle, and he asked us where we were going—we told him we were going to Richmond—he said, "I am going to Fenchurch-street (or Lombard-street) to buy a waistcoat"—he asked us to go and look at a pattern of the waistcoat—we agreed—it was all in our way to London-bridge, where the boats go from—I do not know that it would be the nearest to go along Gracechurch-street, but meeting with the prisoner he asked us to go with him—persons often go a little out of their way—we went to a tailor's shop in Lombard-street, kept by Hubbock or Hubbert—I think it is on the right hand side of the way in coming from Fenchurch-street—I saw the clothes there—we did not go into the shop—the prisoner proposed to go into the shop, but I advised him not to go in, and advised him to go to a shop in the Poultry, where I said I had bought waistcoats—we were all three going to the Poultry, and in going along we saw the two persons—I think we first saw them on the left hand side of the way, but I did not take particular notice of it—one was a tall man, and one a short one—the tall one had mustachios—I cannot tell whether he was fair or dark—they were talking to one another in broken English, and overtook us—they had hats on, and the tall one had a dark frock coat on—I cannot tell what they were muttering—they were very friendly from what I noticed of them—they were talking in a language I did not understand—I should imagine they were quarrelling—the little one had a paper in his hand, and the tall one asked for a bank or the Bank—the prisoner directed him to the Bank of England—he shook his head, and in broken English said that was not what he wanted—the short one presented a paper to the prisoner, and the prisoner said, "I will show you where the Bank is," and he said to us, "Walk on to the Poultry, I will overtake you"—that was the reason why I and Wardle walked on.
COURT. Q. Can you tell how far the steps which these two men went up were from where you first met them? A. No—I did not notice them on the steps—we were walking on the right hand side from Gracechurch-street, and they overtook us on the left hand—we crossed to the left hand, and they overtook us on the left, and they went up the steps on the left—it was in that part of Lombard-street nearest to the Mansion-house, not many doors from the end of the street—according to my knowledge we waited three or four minutes in the Poultry for the prisoner.
MR. BALLANTINE. Q. Is this the first time you have been examined as a witness? A. Yes—I never underwent a cross-examination before—I never was in any Court except the Thames Police-court—I was in the Old Court at Newgate to give a person a character seven years ago—I have lived at the east end of London all my life, and my wife is living with me—I have a family—I get my living by letting lodgings to sailors—that is a common thing at that end of the town—I do not receive any ticket from them, but they have their luggage or slops in my house, and I take my chance of getting paid—I have had no charge of a criminal nature made against me—the prisoner was well known nine or ten years ago in our neighbourhood—I saw Wardle at his own house that morning—I had not made an appointment with him—it is our habit every morning for me to call on him or he on me—if there are any ships unloading I have the chance of getting lodgers—I did not keep any note of the time I got up—the dock gates open at seven o'clock—we might have got there after the gates were open—I had no object in getting into the docks before the vessels got in, and we had something to drink at the Fox—I have not been charged with any dishonesty to these sailors—I have not seen
the prisoner, or had any communication with him since this transaction—this was not a matter that I noticed particularly at the time, but only after the prisoner sent to me—I have had no communication with him since, only the letter he sent me.
JURY. Q. If these sailors do not pay you, do you cash their advance notes? A. Yes, I cash their advance notes as well.
JAMES WARDLE . I live in St. John's-place, Back-road, Shadwell—I know James Winson. On the morning of the 16th of July he came, and called me up about a quarter before six o'clock—I dressed myself, and went out with him—we got to Lombard-street—I saw the prisoner there, whom I bad known previously—while we were in Lombard-street I saw some persons who by their dress and look appeared to be foreigners—they addressed us, and said something about money or bank—the prisoner was about directing them to the Bank of England, and the taller one shook his head, and said "No"—the shortest one had a paper in his hand, and the taller one said "Robert," as far as I could hear—the prisoner looked at the paper while it was in the short one's hand, and he went up the steps with him into the banking-house—I saw that—I and Winson went on—we were not joined by the prisoner—I went to London-bridge, and from there to Gravesend.
MR. DOANE. Q. What are you? A. I assist Mr. Winson in his business, in his boat, and sometimes I have jobs with a truck, or a cart—I have nothing to do with his house—I am not a partner with him—he always employs me—I do not carry on any business of my own—my wife sells fish—she does not keep any green-grocer's shop, or any shop—Mr. Winson knows very well where I live—he called me up that morning, about a quarter before six o'clock—I know it was before six, because Shadwell bell was ringing—he was in the habit of calling me, but not every morning—I was in bed when he called me—I asked him in, and he walked in, and I went up stairs and dressed myself—he sat down stairs—there are but two rooms, one up stairs, and one down—I did not shut the street door when I let him in—when I had finished dressing, I came down and found him still in the room—he got up from his seat, and accompanied me out of the house—we did not have any breakfast—we started and went direct to Shadwell-dock—we waited for vessels to come up—I cannot tell exactly how long we waited—I dare say it was an hour and a half, or two hours—we went to the entrance of the docks, went to the Fox, and had two pints of beer—I had one, and he had one—we had not anything to eat—we then came through the Commercial-road towards the City—the prisoner overtook us in Aldgate, where we were standing looking at a horse that had fallen down—he came up and said, "Good morning"—I knew him as a doctor—he attended me three months ago, and also eighteen months ago—three months ago he lived in York-street—I went and found him there—when he came up to us on the morning of the 16th, he asked us where we were going—we said to Richmond—he said he was going to buy a waistcoat in Lombard-street—he did not mention any shop—I did not say anything to it, but Mr. Winson did—we were about leaving him at the end of Fenchurch-street, and he requested us to accompany him as far the tailor's—I suppose it was to look at the patterns—we consented—we did not go into any tailor's, but went and looked in at a tailor's shop—Winson advised him to go to a shop in the Poultry, or Cheapside, and we were going on on the right hand side of the way—we saw the foreigners on the left hand side in Lombard-street, but we had crossed over before they overtook us—one of them was tall, and the other was about my size—the short one was fair—the tall one was dark, and had mustachois—they were talking, and appeared to be disputing among themselves—they turned round, and addressing Winson
and the prisoner, saying, "The bank, the bank"—I turned round at that and the tall one said, "Robart, bank, money"—I could not understand what he said, but I recollect those words—the prisoner said, "Round here, at the bottom"—the tall one shook his head, and said, "No, Robart's"—the short one had a paper in his hand—the prisoner had hold of one corner of it—that was at the end of a street—the prisoner and the short Frenchman went into the house with it—I do not know what became of the tall Frenchman for I did not stop—we went on to the Poultry—we did not wait at the door of the house—I have been in the passage while Winson was examined—I have not been spoken to by anybody.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. DOANE conducted the Prosecution.
EDWARD DEAR . I carry on business as a grocer and tea-dealer, at No. 52, Red Lion-street. About the middle of March last the prisoner waited on me—I showed him into my parlour, and he asked to see the accounts of a person named Kemp, with whom I had dealings—I refused at that time—he said he was building 80 houses at Dalston, where he had 120 men at work—he expressed himself fatigued, and said he had been buying a row of houses in the New-road, he was going to have shop fronts put in them, and said he had a freehold in Westmoreland, and a mill—he impressed me with the idea that he was a man of property—he came again the next day—I again showed him into the parlour, and while I was there with him my shopman, Hanson, came to the parlour and spoke to me, in consequence of which I came out of the parlour—the prisoner rose up, and said, as he saw I was busy, he would not detain me, but would take an early opportunity of calling upon me again, and he rose to go away—he went into the shop, as if to leave, and the other defendant, Atkins, was at the counter, where he had given an order—ai White passed into the shop, Atkins took off his hat to him in a very respectful manner, and White distantly returned it—in consequence of that I was induced to ask White to step back, and when I got him into the parlour again, I said, "Seeing you know the person in the shop, what do you know of him, as he wants credit"—(that was the result of what my shopman had told me)—White said he knew a little of him, that he had not seen him for some years, but he believed he was a very respectable man—that he had been a tenant of his formerly, and had paid his rent uncommonly well—the prisoner then went away, and after he had left, Atkins said, "Good God, is not that old White?"—I said, "Yes, his name is White "—Atkins said, "What an extraordinary thing that I should happen to meet him here, I have not seen him before for four years"—he said, "Nobody would take him to be a rich man, by the look of him"—I said he did not appear like that—Atkins said he was one of the richest men in London, and he had got houses all over London—Atkins said that he himself was going to open a grocer's shop at Fulham, and he gave this order (referring to the order he had given to my young man) to stock his shop—I told him, if he wanted credit, he must give some respectable references, or else I should require cash—he mentioned the name of Wilkins, in the City-road—I went, but did not find him, and wrote to Atkins, declining the order—I afterwards saw White again, and mentioned to him that I had declined Atkins's order—White said it was a pity he should go to ruin for such a trifle as 20l.; or 30l.; (which I had told him was the amount), and said he would be guarantee to the amount of 30l.; for him—it
was arranged that a guarantee should be drawn up for White to sign—Atkins's order was made up, and the goods sent to Fulham—White called again the same day, and pulled a letter out of his pocket—he said he had received that letter from his sister that morning, to send her down an order of groceries to Westmoreland, to the amount of 6l.; 5s.—he said he had such orders two or three times a-year, and he had been in the habit of dealing with Twinings', but he thought I should serve him as well—I executed that order, and sent it by his direction—after that he gave me another order, for his own use, to the amount of about 6l.;—I sent that to his own house, in Queen-street—he said he would call the next day, and give me a check for these orders, and sign the guarantee—I had seen the order delivered in Queen-street—I did not see White then, but the order was left—I afterwards went to Queen-street—I did not find White, the great builder, but a man was in possession—I afterwards went to Fulham—I found the shop—it was not closed, but Atkins was not there—I never received one farthing of money—I went with Inspector Penny to the Leaping-bar public-house, to take White—Penny went into the house—while he was in the house White came up, and was going in, but he saw me, and ran away down Old-street, and escaped.
Cross-examined by MR. PAYNE. Q. Is it by tea-dealing and grocery you get your living? A. Yes—I do not do anything in the E O line—I never played at that game in my life—I have known Mr. Kemp more than twenty years—I am not very intimate with him—I saw him last week—I have not seen him above twice since Christmas—I did not get into Kemp's debt—I swear I was not several hundred pounds in his debt—I did not borrow money of him to play at E O—I never got money by playing with persons whom I I had first made drunk—I know the Founders' Arms public-house, in Lothbury—I never was there but once in my life—I and Mr. Sharp, Mr. Williams, and Mr. Kemp, all went to Gravesend; and when we came back we all went to the Founders' Arms, for them to get into an omnibus—they did not get drunk, nor did we—I did not go, after Mr. Kemp's friend was drunk, to the west end of the town, and clean him out there—we did not go to play anywhere—I went home—I did not go further westward than Red Lion-street—Kemp, Williams, and I, did not play at any game—Kemp did not win any money of me on the races—I know Tom Spring's, in Holborn—I am not in the habit of frequenting his house—I have been there four or five times in my life—I do not go there every week—I heard of the Derby supper, but I did not bet at it, for I was not there—there is a house near me where they keep a billiard-table—I go there once or twice a week, and play at billiards—I have heard that at the time White came to me he was Kemp's assignee, under the Bankruptcy Act—White did not come to get an account of the money that I owed to Kemp's estate—he did not ask for an account on that ground—he did not come to demand an account of the money I owed to Kemp—he said he was going to lend Kemp money, and wanted to know how he stood—White said he was very much fatigued—I asked him if he would allow me to offer him a glass of wine, which he did—he did not say that he came to know how much I owed Kemp, as Kemp had said there was an account of between 300l.; and 400l.; due from me to his estate—I did not tell him that there was an account, but that Kemp owed me 70l.;—I told him I owed Kemp nothings-White did not say that that must be a mistake, and require me to furnish him with the account—I gave White one glass of wine—I will not swear that I might not have two decanters on the table—I did not promise him that the account should be ready the next day—he called next day to see the account of what Kemp owed me, as he was going to lend Kemp money—I
did not say that there was a good profit in the tea trade, and that if I had 600l.; or 700l.; I could do a great deal with it—he said he had not had his dinner, and I gave him a glass of wine and a sandwich—I did not want him to stop to tea—he came a third time, and on the third day I produced an account, saying Kemp owed me 70l.;—White did not say, "That is not the account I want, I want the account from the time of the fiat being opened"—he did not say that he wanted an account of the transaction from the time of the flat till the certificate—I am not positive whether Kemp had been a bankrupt before—I think it was superseded—when White had seen Atkins in the shop, I asked White if he knew him, and he said he did—he did not say that he knew him at Wandsworth some years ago, nor that he had lived as foreman at a brewery—just at that time 1 was in the habit of seeing Kemp almost every day, but that was only through White—I knew Kemp long before I saw White—when White called in the first instance to see the accounts, saying he was going to advance Kemp money, I refused to do it, without Kemp's permission, as I had not seen White before—he then asked me if I would meet him at Kemp's house, and I did so—I knew White was assignee the first time I saw him, but I understood Kemp had got his certificate—goods, to the amount of 6l.; 5s., were sent to Kemp's house, by the prisoner's order.
FREDERICK JOSEPH HANSON . I am shopman to Mr. Dear. The prisoner came to my master's shop in the middle of March last—on one occasion, when he was in my master's parlour, Atkins came into the shop, and told me he had taken a shop at Fulham, and he wanted some goods to stock his shop—he had a written order, and selected groceries to a large amount—I told him there must be some reference if he wanted credit; that Mr. Dear was engaged with a gentleman in the parlour—I went in, and asked him to step out—Mr. Dear came into the shop, and White followed him—Atkins rose, and touched his hat, and White distantly returned it—Mr. Dear called White back, and they spoke together—White then left the shop, and when he was gone, Atkins said, "Good God! is not that old White?"—he said, "What an extraordinary thing that I should meet him here! I have not seen him before for three or four years"—he said he was a very large builder, and nearly the richest man in London; that he was building a great many houses at Queen's-row, Dalston—Mr. Dear told Atkins that he would have no objection to supply him if he could give a reference, and he referred to a man named Wilkins—Wilkins afterwards called, but Mr. Dear declined the order—I saw White there again the following day—he and my master were in conversation—I heard White say he would be bound for Atkins for 20l.; or 30l.;, I cannot say which—upon that Mr. Dear ordered me to put up the goods, which I did, and they were sent the following day to Fulham, according to Atkins's order—I delivered them to Hunt, the carman—White called again the day after the goods were sent—he saw Mr. Dear, and I saw an order entered for about 6l.; worth of goods for Mr. White—White came again, and ordered some more goods, to nearly the same amount, to be sent to Queen-street, and said he would call and leave a check on the Saturday morning, when he would sign the guarantee—I never saw him afterwards.
Cross-examined. Q. Was Kemp in the habit of coming to your master's? A. I have not seen Mr. Kemp there for six or eight months—I am not always in the shop—he was not in the habit of coming there at the time that White came—I did not hear Mr. Dear say he should like to get Mr. White on his books as a customer.
Head—there was a cart-load of tea, coffee, and so on—on the 22nd I took a parcel to Albany-street, and on the 23rd I took one to Queen-street—Mr. Dear went with me there.
Cross-examined. Q. The delivery at Albany-street was at Kemp's? A. Yes—I found the name of White and Co., carpenters and builders up at Queen-street—I only found an old woman there.
ROBERT SIMPSON . I am nephew to Mr. Chasemore, a coal and timber-merchant, at Fulham—in March last a person named Atkins applied to take a shop at Fulham—I wrote, by his direction, to a person named White as a referee—this is the letter I received in answer—Atkins continued in the shop six or seven weeks—he then went off—I got no rent.
Cross-examined. Q. You never saw Mr. White at all? A. No.
JOHN HENNAM . I knew the prisoner as Mr. White for five or six months—he employed me to take possession of his house, in Queen-street, Cheapside—I lived there till he starved me—he used to send me to Mr. Thomas, who was tried here by the name of Atkins—Thomas lived in Golden-lane, and as I knew Mr. White used to stop at Thomas's, when there was a distraint put in his house, I used to go to Mr. Thomas's to see White—letters used to come to Queen-street, and I used to take them to Golden-lane—I used to see Mr. Thomas there—I left messages there for Mr. White—I was in Mr. White's service about six weeks—he paid me very little—the landlord put a distraint in while I was there—there was the outside of ladders, with no steps, a few bricks, and some chimney-pots on the premises, an old chest of drawers, and some "Bank of Elegance" notes—I have got two of the notes in my pocket now—I have seen White and Atkins at the Leaping-bar public-house together—I remember Mr. Dear coming to Queen-street after the groceries had been left—I told White, Dear had been—he taid, "D—him, so long as nobody else is there"—five officers came there after White for several days.
Cross-examined. Q. Were you ever in any prison? A. No—I was originally a sailor, and after that a carman—I lived with Mr. Cherry—I left him because I was afraid to stop in his service, for fear I should be transported—I cannot tell how many carts he had—one time he had only one cart—his place of business is in Middle-row, Goswell-street—he had three light carts, three brick carts, and three vans—I will swear he did not discharge me for embezzling some of his money—if he had had that chance he would have been here—he likes me well—when I was here last, I swore to Mr. White's handwriting—I could pick it out from a hundred—I know it in a moment if I see it—this letter is his handwriting—I can read this—here is "John White" at the top.
Q. Now it happens to be, "Sir, In reply;" can you read at all? A. That is no matter, Sir, I will swear that this is White's handwriting.
MR. DOANE. Q. Was Cherry a friend of White's? A. He was—I did not like to stay with him, for fear of getting transported, because if the swindlers get anything they send it off, and I might get into trouble with it—Cherry introduced me to Mr. White.
DAVID GRAHAM . I am a grocer and tea-dealer, and live in Newport-street. Atkins applied to me for goods—I required a reference, and he referred me to White and Wilkins—I called, but did not see White.
WILLIAM PENNY (police-inspector.) I took the prisoner into custody. I was with Mr. Dear when he went to the Leaping-bar, and the prisoner made his escape—I have seen the prisoner write, and I believe this letter to be his writing.
Cross-examined. Q. When did you see his writing? A. On the 16th of July—he wrote a paper which I have here—I took it off the table, and it compares well with this letter—they are the same writing.—(read)—"Sir, In reply to yours of this morning, respecting Mr. William Atkins, I can answer to say that you will be quite safe respecting your rent, I knowing him to be a respectable young man. Yours respectfully, J. WHITE."
GUILTY . Aged 40.— Confined Twelve Months.
CHARLES BILLITER HARRIS . I live in Maze-pond. On the night of the 8th of August, about twelve o'clock, I was in King William-street, going over London-bridge, the prisoner came up, took hold of me, and wished me to go with her—I told her no—she said, "Oh, very well," and turned round—I found my purse was gone from my trowsers pocket—she had been with me about two minutes—she left me and turned down Martin's-lane, and in two minutes after she left I missed my purse—I know I had it ten minutes before—it had in it a sovereign, a half-sovereign, a shilling, two sixpences, and a half-franc—I cannot exactly say whether there was any more silver in it—directly the prisoner saw I was in pursuit of her she ran, and when she came to a house she stumbled down to a grating and let some of the money fall down—I heard it rattle, but I did not see it—I have not seen the purse, but I can swear to this half-franc, and these are the rings of my purse.
JOHN HUMPHREY (City police-constable, No. 494.) I saw the prisoner running towards me—I saw her make a stoop over the area, and heard the money rattle—I took her, and Barrett found the money, which he has produced—I went back, and found a sixpence down the grating, where I saw the prisoner stumble, and these two purse rings on the pavement.
GUILTY . Aged 24.— Confined Three Months.
GUILTY . Aged 18.— Confined One Month.
NEW COURT, Thursday, August 22nd, 1844.
Sixth Jury, before Mr. Common Sergeant.
GUILTY . Aged 34.— Transported for Seven Years.
GUILTY . Aged 16.— Transported for Seven Years.
GUILTY . Aged 45.— Confined Three Months.
GUILTY . Aged 18.— Confined Six Months.
GUILTY . Aged 17.— Confined Four Days.
GUILTY . Aged 17.— Confined Six Months.
2003. OCTAVIUS CLARK was indicted for stealing 1 watch, value 4l.; also 18 plants, called geraniums, 4l.; 10s.; and 350 packets of garden-seeds, 1l.; 5s.; the goods of Alexander James Stewart; to which he pleaded
GUILTY . Aged 28— Transported for Ten Years.
(There was another indictment against the prisoner.)
2004. JAMES CRANE was indicted for stealing 1 piece of paper, called a pawnbroker's ticket, value 6s., the goods of John Day: and ALFRED EAMES , for feloniously receiving the same, well knowing it to have been stolen, &c.—(See page 517.)
JOHN DAY . About the 15th or 16th of July I had a pawnbroker's ticket in my coat pocket hanging up in the workshop, at Mr. King's, Goring-street, Hackney—I lost it—Crane worked there—he was the only one that had access to the house at that time—Eame had left the house—this it the ticket.
Cross-examined by MR. PRENDERGAST. Q. When did you see it safe in your coat pocket last? A. Two or three days before, I heard the watch was redeemed—there were but me, and Cfrane, and my mistress, in the workshop—nay master was confined to his bed, and therefore no workmen came—when the duplicate was gone, the coat was taken down from the nail and thrown down on the ground—Eamcs had been there three or four weeks before, and knew the premises—there were three servants there when we were all at work, and a servant girl.
JOSEPH JONES . I am assistant to a pawnbroker—the watch was pledged by a person who gave her name Ann Day—I got the duplicate from Mr. Jones—the watch was given back for the duplicate—it is dated the 19th of December.
EBENEZER CLARK . About five or six weeks ago I purchased the ticket of this watch for 1s. 6d. from Joseph Wright—it was pawned for 6s., and my expenses altogether came to about 9s—I am not in trade—I have a little property which my father left me.
NOT GUILTY .
LEWIS SEVENOAKS . I came out of the pit of the Olympic Theatre about twelve o'clock, on ths 3rd of July—I felt something, looked round, and saw the prisoner with my handkerchief in his hand, and putting it into his own pocket—I followed him—he crossed the road and came back as far as Newcastle-street—he saw I was going to follow him as he was going into a public-house, and he did not go in—he then said what did I want—I said, "Never mind," and seized him—he struggled, and just as a policeman was coming up he threw the handkerchief on the pavement, and a witness took it up.
Prisoner. Q. Can you swear to the handkerchief? A. Yes—it has no particular mark on it, but I know it is the handkerchief.
MARY ANN BUTCHER . I was with the prosecutor—I saw him lay hold of the prisoner by the arm—he said, "What do you want with me?"—the prosecutor said "Never mind," and took hold of his arm, and led him a little way—then he tried to struggle, and the prosecutor called the policeman, and then the prisoner threw the handkerchief down on the pavement behind him—I took it up.
Prisoner's Defence. When I walked from the Olympic Theatre, the prosecutor said, "You have got my property;" I said, "I have not:" I went across down Newcastle-street; the handkerchief was found down by five or six persons, and not in my possession.
(The prisoner received a good character.)
GUILTY . Aged 28— Confined Three Months.
JOSEPH SMITH . I was working there—I saw the prisoner, and suspecting him I watched him, I afterwards went into two pawnbrokers' shops—I saw Goodlake's waistcoat there—I went to the policeman, and took the prisoner—he was searched, and Goodlake's knife found on him.
Prisoner. I am very sorry, I was not aware of the consequences.
GUILTY . Aged 40— Confined One Month.
Cross-examined by MR. PAYNE. Q. Where was the shawl? A. Inside the shop—he had been in the habit of pawning at our shop.
Cross-examined. Q. How far is your shop from Mr. Cotton's? A. About ten minutes' walk.
(The prisoner received a good character.)
GUILTY. Aged 38—Recommended to mercy— Confined One Month.
RICHARD CHAINLEY . I work for Joseph Angell and Son, silversmiths—I marked 7 dwts. of silver, and put it into a little apron in a drawer attached to a bench, at six o'clock in the evening of the 10th of July, and missed it at twenty minutes to eight—this is it.
Cross-examined by MR. CHARNOCK. Q. What is the value of it? A. 1s. 9d—the prisoner had been in their employ between fifteen and sixteen months—the silver was in the shop down stairs—he went there occasionally to get hot water—there is a rack in the shop, but he had no occasion to go
there—little bits of silver fell at times—they are swept up every morning—the prisoner produced this bit—the policeman was in the counting-house at half-past eight o'clock—all the men were ordered down to be searched—the prisoner came down last—as he came down he was ordered into the counting-house—I saw him at the counting-house door, and stopped him—I ordered the policeman to search him, and, as he was going to search his trowsers, he took it out himself, and said "Here it is."
Cross-examined. Q. Did he not say "You need not search me, here it is?" A. I had pulled his coat and waistcoat off, and he pulled it out of his trowsers pocket, and said, "Here it is"—I had searched his coat pocket before—he did not tell me he had picked it up on the rack in the shop.
GUILTY . Aged 36— Confined Three Months.
JOHN PITCHER . I am an officer of Excise. On the 11th of July I was standing in a shop near Shoreditch, and felt a handkerchief drawn from my pocket—I turned, and saw the prisoner and another man behind me—the other one passed something to the prisoner, and they ran in different directions—I pursued, and took the prisoner—I found nothing on him, but on returning, this handkerchief was delivered to me—it is mine.
Prisoner. I was three yards from him. Witness. He was not three feet.
SUSAN DOUGLAS . I am servant to the prosecutor—I saw the other one give the prisoner a handkerchief by his side—the prisoner took it, held it in his hand, and when master turned round, be dropped it and ran away.
Prisoner. I did not see it at all—I was behind the gentleman, as he was wrestling with another man, who ran off, and I went in pursuit of him. Witness. They both ran in different directions.
(The prisoner received a good character.)
GUILTY . Aged 21— Confined Three Months.
EMILY WARD . I am the wife of Edwin Henry Ward, the prisoner was my servant. In June I left her while I went to Gravesend for a few days, and when I returned she was gone, with the things stated—the shawl and parasol were in a drawer in one room, and the other things in another room—this is my bonnet—the prisoner ought to have returned by the time I came back, but she did not.
MARTHA GRAY . The prisoner is my grand-daughter—she came to my house on the 22nd of June, with a bonnet, shawl, and parasol—she told me her mistress had lent them to her, but I found her mistress was in the country—I sent the bonnet back to her mistress—the shawl and parasol are gone—she said she had given them back to her mistress.
GUILTY . Aged 14—Recommended to mercy by the Jury.— Judgment Respited.
Prisoner. My master used to neglect me; he was addicted to drinking, and would go out and leave me without food.
GUILTY . Aged 41— Confined Six Months.
2012. THOMAS DUCKERING and ELIZABETH BAUGH were indicted for stealing 1 dead fowl, value 1s. 6d.; 1 loaf of bread, 3d.; 6lbs. weight of potatoes, 6d.; 2lbs. weight of dripping, 1s.; 1 yard of linen cloth, 6d.; and 1 yard of cotton cloth, 6d.; the goods of James Catlin, jun., their master: to which
DUCKERING pleaded GUILTY . Aged 26—Recommended to mercy by the Prosecutor— Confined Three Months.
JAMES CATLIN . I live at Southgate, and keep several servants—Duckering was my groom, and Baugh my cook—Duckering occupied a cottage about half a mile from my house—I had desired some one to watch my premises. On Saturday, the 10th of Aug., Duckering was brought back by the two policemen—Duckering said something to me—I sent for Baugh, and repeated to her that Duckering had said she had given him the things—I said, "John says you gave him these things (they were then on the table), you can do as you like about answering"—she hesitated, and said, "I did"—there was a loaf of bread, some dripping, two cloths, and some potatoes—Baugh was not justified in parting with any of these things, nor Duckering in receiving them.
Cross-examined by MR. DOANE. Q. These were all that she said she had given him? A. Yes—there were found on Duckering, afterwards, a fowl and a bottle of beer, in Baugh's presence—neither of them were produced before Baugh said this—there were about five or six pounds of potatoes found on him—Baugh said she had bought the bread of the baker—Saturday was the day for Duckering to go to his cottage.
BAUGH— NOT GUILTY .
JAMES SLOANE . I am in the service of John Howell, who keeps the Hand-in-Hand, in Holborn. I was in the kitchen, and saw the side door open, and a person enter the parlour, and immediately go out—I knew there was a pint pot there—I went, and missed the pot—I saw the prisoner put it down in Chancery-lane.
Cross-examined by MR. PRENDERGAST. Q. You are the only person that saw that? A. There were others round that saw it, but they are not here—he denied on the spot that he put any pot down—we only serve people next door in our pots, our other customers always bring their own jugs—I have heard that there is a reward for detecting a person stealing pots—I do not expect to get it—I have not had any conversation with the policeman about this—he did not say he supposed the reward would be divided between the two—he asked if my master belonged to the Licensed Victuallers—I said he did not—a person in the office said, if my master had belonged to them, there would have been a guinea reward.
Cross-examined. Q. He denied having been in the house? A. Yes, and said he had not taken the pot—I asked Sloane if his master belonged to the Licensed Victuallers' Society, because there is a reward of a sovereign given—I did not say there would be a guinea between the two—I said there would be a guinea for the man that apprehended him—I found 5s. 9d. on him.
(The prisoner received a good character.)
GUILTY . Aged 52.— Confined Three Months.
JOSEPH HORTON . I am a labourer. On the 22nd of July I had a jacket safe in a yard at Lower Clapton—I was at work at a quarter to twelve o'clock—I heard the gate-bell, and saw the prisoner running a distance off, with my jacket under his arm—I pursued him a long distance, and took him, but he had thrown my jacket away—he said he did not take it, and bit my hand to get away—this is my jacket.
Prisoner. I beg to express my sincere contrition for the offence.
GUILTY . Aged 26.— Transported for Seven Years.
JAMES HUDSON . I am in the service of John Tyeth Bounsall. On the 9th of June the prisoner came into our shop for some shirt-buttons—there were some scarfs and handkerchiefs on the counter—he said, "I can look at these while you are serving the customers"—he did so, and he took a handkerchief out of his hat, threw it over the things, and said, "I want one as good as that"—I said, "I have not one"—I saw his hand under the handkerchief, and took hold of him, and said, "You are robbing me"—he said, "Oh dear, it is quite a mistake"—I put the articles in a box—I then dismissed the customer, and in a minute or two I saw the lid was off the box, and nearly every thing was out of it—I saw him take these articles, and he was putting them into his hat—I had no one in the shop—the servant came in—I sent her to call my employer down—the prisoner had just said, "I will take this handkerchief"—I said it was 3s. 6d.—my employer came in—I put it into my employer's hand, and said, "Is this mark right?"—he said, "Yes"—the prisoner was trembling—I reached over, and seized him—he took these out of his hat, threw them down, and threw the one he had away.
Cross-examined by MR. BALLANTINE. Q. Had you any conversation with him in the shop? A. No, only as to the quality of the goods.
JOHN TYETH BOUNSALL . I was called, and came down—I saw the prisoner take these handkerchiefs out of his hat, and throw them into the box—Hudson caught him by the wrist—the prisoner made his escape—I ran round the counter, pursued him, and took him.
Cross-examined. Q. He threw his own down, did he not? A. Yes.
GUILTY . Aged 28.— Confined One Year.
RICHARD ADDISON . I am in the employ of John Boyd, of Skinner-street, Ludgate-hill. On the 17th of Aug. he had some woollen cloth within a foot of the door—I saw it safe about twelve o'clock, and missed it at a quarter past one—this is it.
GUILTY . Aged 19.— Confined One Year.
MAPP pleaded GUILTY , and received a good character. Aged 17.— Confined Two Months.
WILLIAM BLACKBORN , pawnbroker, Myddleton-street. On the 8th of July I was walking along the City-road—there was a procession—I received information from the policeman, and missed my handkerchief—I had used it two minutes before—this is it.
MICHAEL CONDON (police-constable H 138.) I saw the prisoners and another following the procession of Old Friends in Whitechapel—they went on to the Bank—then they were trying pockets—I then went on to the City, road—the other had then left them—I saw Mapp take the handkerchief from the prosecutor's pocket, and Sadgrove was standing behind him covering him—I took one, and another officer took the other—I found two more handkerchiefs on Mapp, and a key.
Sadgrove's Defence. I knew nothing of it till the officer took me.
SADGROVE— GUILTY .* Aged 15.— Confined Four Months.
JAMES BUDD . I am waiter at the Queen's Head, Queen's Head-court The prisoner used sometimes to go on errands for us—on the 27th of Jan. I gave him a sovereign, a half-sovereign, two half-crowns, and a shilling to take to the savings' bank—he took it, and said he would be back in half an hour—I did not see him again till the 10th of July—I asked if he was not ashamed of himself—he said he was very sorry.
Prisoner. He gave the money into my hand. Witness. No, he took it off the table.
Prisoner. I am guilty of having the money, but I did not steal it.
GUILTY . Aged 39.— Confined Three Months.
GUILTY . Aged 16.— Confined Six Months.
JONES pleaded GUILTY . Aged 17.— Confined Three Months.
SMITH pleaded GUILTY . Aged 20.— Confined One Year.
GUILTY . Aged 17— Confined One Year.
GUILTY . Aged 24.— Confined Three Months.
GUILTY . Aged 19.— Confined Six Months.
2024. CHARLES HENRY THOMAS was indicted for stealing 4 printed books, value 4l.; 1 telescope, 1l.; 10s.; 2 candlesticks, 1l.; 10s.; 1 pair of snuffers, 5s.; 1 snuffer-stand, 5s.; 1 toast-rack, 12.; 1 shawl, 15s.; and 1 scarf, 15s.; the goods of Richard Harris.—2nd COUNT, stating them to be the goods of Elizabeth Grimes; to which he pleaded
GUILTY . Aged 18.— Confined Three Months.
2025. MARIA PAGE was indicted for feloniously leading away Elizabeth Mead, a child four years old, with intent to deprive the parents of the possession of the Baid child.—2nd COUNT, stating it to be with intent to steal 1 frock, value 1s.; 1 petticoat, 6d.; and 1 pair of browsers, 6d.; the goods of Michael Mead, upon and about the person of said child.
ELIZABETH LEWIS . I am the wife of James Lewis, and life in Eagle-street, Red Lion-square, in the same house as Michael Mead. He is married to my sister—Elizabeth Mead is my sister's and Michael Mead's child—she is four years old—I saw her in the house about four o'clock in the afternoon of the 10th of June—I did not see her again till the morning of the 15th of June, when my husband brought her home—she had not the same clothes on that she had before—this is the child.
WILLIAM SCOTT . I keep a gingerbread stall in Chalk Farm-fields. On the 10th of June I saw the prisoner carrying this child up towards Primrose-hill—the child was crying—Emily Lewis was with the prisoner, who was tried here last Sessions (See Ninth Session, page 398)—I thought nothing of it, and did nothing—the next morning, at half-past five o'clock, I saw the prisoner again under the hedge in an adjoining field—she had the child, and the other girl was with her—I saw the prisoner several times in the course of that day—about two o'clock I saw the prisoner—she said the child belonged to her, and that she was seduced by a gentleman who lived in Berkeley-square—the prisoner went away in the evening, and left the child with the other girl—she said she was going down to her aunt's to get some money—I did not see her again till I saw her in custody.
Prisoner. It was not me mentioned to you about the gentleman, it was the other girl. Witness. No, it was you.
Marylebone. On the 11th of June I saw the prisoner and another girl—the prisoner had the child—she said she had been seduced by a gentleman living in Berkeley-square, and she was the mother of the child—she went away, and left the child with the other girl, saying she was going to her aunt to get some money.
WILLIAM HUMPHRIES , pawnbroker, Ebury-street, Regent's-park. I produce a frock, petticoat, and trowsers, which were pawned by the prisoner, on the evening of the 10th of June—I am sure she is the person.
(Property produced and sworn to.)
RICHARD ETHERIGE (policeman.) I know the prisoner—I saw her on Saturday evening, the 6th of July—I told her I thought she was wanted at the station—she said, "What for?"—I said I believed the robbery of a child—I said I was not certain—I took her to George-street station, and from there to Albany-street—Mr. Humphries saw her there, and identified her as pledging the things—I told the prosecutor, in the prisoner's presence, that the pawnbroker had been, and identified the prisoner as pawning the things—the prisoner said the other girl gave them her to pledge.
Prisoner. I am guilty of pawning the things, but I did not take the child.
(The prisoner received a good character.)
GUILTY . Aged 17.— Confined Twelve Months.
PEARCE pleaded GUILTY . Aged 19.— Confined Three Month.
WILLIAM BEARD . I am a jeweller, and live in Great Smith-street, Westminster. Between one and two o'clock in the afternoon of the 8th of July I was in Finsbury-square, looking at the procession of Old Friends—I heard a struggle behind me—I turned round, and saw three or four men, and in one of their hands was a handkerchief, which looked like mine—I felt in my pocket, and found I had lost my handkerchief—I had had it safe about half an hour before—both the prisoners were together—they were taken into custody—I followed them to the station, and saw my handkerchief produced—this is it.
Cross-examined by MR. PAYNE. Q. When you turned round you saw the two prisoners and some other person! there? A. Yes—I will not swear whose hand my handkerchief was in—there were a good many persons about there—my name is sometimes William Henry, but I only sign by the name of William.
JOHN JENKINSON (police-constable G 53.) On this Monday I was in company with Kemp when the Old Friends were going along—I saw the two prisoners attempting to pick several gentlemen's pockets—at last I saw Pearce take a white handkerchief from the prosecutor's pocket with his right hand—I instantly seized him by the wrist, and called to Kemp to secure the other prisoner, and to assist me—Kemp caught the handkerchief from the prisoner's hand, as it was in the act of falling from his hand—the prosecutor saw it at the police-court, and identified it.
Cross-examined by MR. DOANE. Q. Are you quite sure that you saw Pearce's hand go into the pocket? A. I saw the hand come out of his pocket—Bowden was behind him, covering him.
Cross-examined by MR. PAYNE. Q. How long have you been in
the police? A. Upwards of four years—when Pearce took this handkerchief Bowden was standing close up to him—he did not receive the handkerchief, but he had been in his company, and had attempted to pick pockets, but at that time he was only screening Pearce from view.
GEORGE KEMP (police-constable N 82.) I was in Finsbnry-square about two o'clock, on the day when the Old Friends went by—I saw Bowden try a lady's pocket—I saw Pearce covering him—I then saw Pearce take the handkerchief from the prosecutor's pocket—I took it from his hand.
Cross-examined by MR. PAYNE. Q. Was Bowden doing anything more than standing close to him? A. Yes—he had been attempting other pockets, but at the time this handkerchief was taken he was covering Pearce.
(Bowden received a good character.)
BOWDEN— GUILTY . Aged 21.— Confined Six Months.
FREDERICK BIRD . I lodge in Grafton-street. This gold pin is mine—I missed it on Friday evening, the 5th of July, out of the box in my bed-room—the prisoner lodged in the same house—I left the room door unlocked—I saw the pin safe in the box on the day before—in consequence of inquiries, the prisoner said where he had sold it, and that he would get the pin if we would give him some money to get it back—he then left the house, and I did not see him again till the Saturday night following, when I gave him in charge.
Cross-examined by MR. CROUCH. Q. How long have you known the prisoner? A. About nine months—we had been very intimate, and used to go out together—I am a tailor—sometimes we have lent one another things—I never borrowed any of his clothes—he used occasionally to be in my room.
GUILTY. Aged 17.—Recommended to mercy.— Confined Three Months.
EMMA ANDERSON . I live at Brentford. On Saturday night, the 6th of July, the prisoner came to my house, about nine o'clock—he opened the door and came in, and sat down in a chair—I said I was going out—I asked him to go away several times, and he refused—I told him a young man I live with, named George Bowley, was coming—I went out to seek for Bowley, and left the prisoner there—I left a basket and two handkerchiefs in the house belonging to George Bowley when I came back I missed the basket and handkerchiefs—the prisoner was then gone—I was not out of the house a quarter of an hour.
Cross-examined by MR. PAYNE. Q. You get your living by seeing men? A. Yes—Bowley does not live on what I get—when he can get work he does it, and when he cannot he lives on what I get by seeing men—I am seventeen years old—I cannot say whether the prisoner had been drinking—when he came in he was sensible—he wanted to be intimate with me—he said he would give me (id.—I said, "George, I do not want it"—there vrere things of greater value in the room—the prisoner did not give me 6d.—the basket and handkerchiefs were found in his room—he had not sold them.
Cross-examined. Q. You live upon what Anderson can get from men? A. No—I work for Mr. Pearce and another person.
EDWARD TALBOT (police-constable F 30.) I found this basket and handkerchief in the room where the prisoner lodged and slept—it was a lodging-house—I have known him some time, and have seen him going in there—I said, "You must go with me for stealing these baskets and these two hand. kerchiefs "—he said, "I suspected so."
Cross-examined. Q. You fonnd them in the room 1 A. found them between two bedsteads—there were four or five bedsteads in the room.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Friday, August 23rd, 1844.
Fifth Jury, before Mr. Common Sergeant.
2029. ALFRED MENZIE was indicted for stealing 8 yards of worsted and cotton cloth, called mousseline-de-laine, value 6s. 6d., the goods of Edward Williams; and that he had been before convicted of felony; to which he pleaded
GUILTY . Aged 22.— Confined Eight Months.
GUILTY . Aged 19.— Confined Three Months.
2031. FREDERICK GREEN was indicted for stealing on the 26th of July, at St. George's, Hanover-square, 1 cash-box, value 7s.; 8 sovereigns, 5 half-sovereigns, 4 shillings, 1 sixpence, 6 pence, and 1 £20 bank-note, the property of Thomas Paget, his master, in his dwelling-house; to which he be pleaded
GUILTY . Aged 14.— Confined Ten Days and Whipped.
2032. PETER LAWLESS was indicted for stealing 1 jacket, value 5s.; 1 pair of trowsers, 8s.; 1 handkerchief, 1s. 6d.; one waistcoat, 12s. 6d.; 1 handkerchief, 3d.; 2 half-crowns, 2 shillings, and 1 sixpence, the property of John Boast; to which he pleaded
GUILTY . Aged 27.— Confined Three Months.
GUILTY . Aged 19.— Confined Three Months.
2034. JEREMIAH WHELAN was indicted for stealing 4 shillings, 4 pence, and 1 halfpenny, the monies of Thomas Whelan, from the person of Honora Whelan; and that he had been before convicted of felony; to which he pleaded
GUILTY . Aged 17.— Confined Eight Months.
MESSRS. ESPINASSE and DOANE conducted the Prosecution.
prisoner came for a small quantity of tobacco—he gave me a bad shilling—I took it to my husband—he said it was bad—I returned to the shop, and the prisoner was gone—I had given him the change—I am sure he is the man—I gave the shilling to the policeman.
SARAH INGOLD . I am the wife of James Ingold, and keep a shop at Edgeware. On the night of the 7th of August, the prisoner came to our shop about five minutes before ten o'clock—he bought one ounce of tobacco, and gave me a half-crown—I sent it out by my sister Ann Gregory—I found it was bad—I kept it in my hand till my sister fetched a policeman—the prisoner wanted me to give it him, but I would not—he went away, and was afterwards taken—I am sure he is the man.
ANN GREGORY . I am Ingold's sister. I was in the shop when the prisoner came in to pass this bad money—he is the man, I am sure—I received the half-crown from my sister—I took it to a person to ask if it was good—he gave it me back again—I came back—the prisoner said it was a good one, and wished for it back—I would not let him have it—my sister took it from me—I saw her give it to Fuzzens.
Prisoner's Defence. I was never in Ingold's shop till the policeman took me and two more young men in; the shilling I own to, but I know nothing of the half-crown.
GUILTY . Aged 20.— Confined Six Months.
MESSRS. ESPINASSE and ROBINSON conducted the Prosecution.
THOMAS ARTHUR FINNIMORE . I am pupil to Mr. Harley, a surgeon in Cambridge-terrace. On the 6th of July the prisoner came to the shop, and asked for a black draught to be sent to No. 25, Cambridge-square, with change for a half-sovereign—I sent it by Warden, with 9s. change—he took it, came hack, and brought me a half-sovereign piece—I thought it was bad, and sent him with it to a shop to see if it was so—it was returned to me—I put it in a box—I showed it to Mr. Hewlett—it was out of my sight—I had not marked it.
JAMES LEWIS HARRYMAN . I am assistant to Mr. Laws, a chemist in Church-street, Edgware-road. About nine o'clock in the evening of the 15th of July, a person, who I believe to be the prisoner, came to our shop, and asked for a black draught, to be sent to No. 16, Paddington-green, with change for a half-sovereign—I made it up, and sent it by Glenister, with 9s. 4d. change—he afterwards returned, and gave me a very bad half-sovereign—I bent it on the counter, put it in a small box, and kept it by itself—I made Glenister mark it in my presence, and give it to the policemen.
Prisoner. He said at High-street that he could not swear to me. Witness. I would not swear to you, but you answered the description—I had two customers in the shop, and he was scarcely two seconds there.
CHARLES GLENISTER . I am errand-boy to Mr. Laws. I was in his shop about nine o'clock in the evening, on the 15th of July, I saw the prisoner there—I am sure he is the man—he ordered a blaek draught to be sent to No. 16, Paddington-green, with change for a half-sovereign—I took them—I met the prisoner just before I came to the gate in Old Church-street—he
asked if I was going to Mr. Reddings—I said, "Yes"—he asked if I had got the change, I said, "Yes"—he said, "Give me the change, and go back for a blue pill, and bring the pill and the black draught to Mr. Reddings, 16, Paddington-green"—he gave me a half-sovereign—I went back to my master's shop and gave the half-sovereign to Mr. Harryman—I afterwards saw the half-sovereign with him, and gave it to the policeman.
Prisoner. Q. What do you swear to me by? A. By your face—I said at the station that you had not the same dress on.
GEORGE DORAN , chinaman, Edgware-road. On the 15th of July, the prisoner came and purchased a jug of me, which came to sixpence—he gave me a bad half-sovereign—I told him it was bad directly—he demanded his change or the money—I said I should give him nothing of the kind—I gave him in charge of the police with the half-sovereign—the prisoner said he worked two days at Smithfield, and a man gave him that for two days'work.
JOHN TURNER . I received one half-sovereign from Harryman, and another from Doran—I took the prisoner into custody—I said, "I suppose you are aware how you became possessed of this half-sovereign"—he said, "Yes, I took it of a man in Smithfield," but said he should not know him—I found a good sixpence on the prisoner.
Prisoner's Defence. I was not aware that it was a bad one, as to the other two I know nothing about them.
GUILTY . Aged 23.— Confined One Year.
ELIZABETH HAREWOOD . I am the wife of John Harewood, and live in Pool-street, New North-road. About half-past one o'clock, on the 12th of July, the prisoner came, and purchased a pennyworth of pudding—he gave me half-a-crown—I was not able to give him change—I gave the half-crown to John Haynes, and sent him out for change—John Foster, after that, brought me a bad half-crown—I kept it till the next day, when the prisoner came again, and bought a quarter of a pound of pork—I recollected him—he gave me a half-crown—I gave it to the boy to go and get change, and after the boy was gone I said to the prisoner, "I think you were here yesterday"—he said, "I am quite sure I was not, I was ill in bed"—he ran away before the boy came back with the half-crown.
JOHN HAYNES . I am nephew of Mrs. Harewood. On the 12th of July she gave me a half-crown to get change—I took it to John Foster, left it with him, and took the change back to my aunt—I saw the prisoner in my aunt's shop—the change was given to him—I am certain he is the man—I saw him on the 13th—he bought a quarter of a pound of pork—he gave my aunt half-a-crown—I went to Mr. Dornford's for change—he looked at it, and said it was bad—I took it back to my aunt, and at last I gave it to the policeman—Mr. Foster gave my aunt a half-crown, and she gave it to a policeman.
JOHN FOSTER , grocer, Francis-place, New North-road. Haynes came to my shop for change for a half-crown—he gave me a half-crown—I put it into the till—there was no other in the till—in about ten minutes or a quarter of
an hour I found it was bad—my brother took it out, and gave it to Mrs. Harewood—I am sure it was the same.
WILLIAM FOSTER . On the 12th oi July I went to the till, and fonnd a bad half-crown—there were no more there—I took it back to Mrs. Harewood—she said she was very sorry—I laid it on the counter—she said she could not do any thing in it—I took it back, and gave it to my brother.
RICHARD TAYLOR (police-constable N 62.) On the 13th of July I heard a cry of "Stop thief"—I came out of doors, and saw the prisoner running—I took him—I received a half-crown from Haynes on the road—I took the prisoner back to the shop, and got another from Mrs. Hare wood.
Prisoner's Defence. I know nothing of the first; I went into the shop on the following day.
GUILTY . Aged 17.— Confined Six Months
2038. ANN PAGE was indicted for stealing 2 pairs of shoes, value 8s.; 1 bed-gown, 2s.; 1 breast-pin, 5s.; 1 knife, 1s.; 1 pinafore, 1s.; 8 yards of galoon, 1s.; 8 boot-laces, 1s.; and 1 purse, 1s.; the goods of William Manly John Curwood Curwen, her master.
WILLIAM MANLY JOHN CURWOOD CURWEN . I keep A. shop in King-street, Lower-road, Islington. The prisoner was in my service—I missed a variety of things—my wife searched her box, and found these things—the policeman found the breast-pin on her at the station—it is mine.
Prisoner's Defence. I found the knife in the yard; the boot laces belong to me.
GUILTY . Aged 19.— Confined Four Months.
Prisoner's Defence. I was taken ill; I expected a remittance from my wife, who has deserted me and left me destitute of everything.
GUILTY .* Aged 41.— Transported for Seven Years.
(There were two other indictments against the prisoner.)
GUILTY . Aged 21.— Confined Nine Months.
(There was another indictment against the prisoner.)
ELIZABETH PAXTON . I am a widow, and am a baker. Between six and seven o'clock in the evening of the 18th of July I heard a knock at the till,—I came into the shop, and saw the prisoner coming from behind the till, which was open, and the bowl containing the money gone—there was from 26s. to 30s. gone—I am quite certain the prisoner is the person—he was overtaken, and 2d. found on him—this is the bowl.
JOHN SIMMONS . I live with my mother, in King-street, Kensington. I was playing in Kensington, and heard a cry of "Stop thief"—I saw the prisoner throw the bowl down just by Mr. James—I did not lose sight of him till he was taken.
Prisoners Defence. I heard a cry of "Stop thief;" I was standing down at the bottom of the square; the boy came, and said, "You are the person who stole Mrs. Paxton's book;" I said I had stolen no book.
GUILTY . Aged 20.— Confined Nine Months.
WILLIAM FIELD . I left my desk on the card-table in my room on the morning of the 22nd of July, and on my return I missed it—it has not been found, but the policeman has some papers which were in the desk when I left it—these are them.
MARY ANN JOHNSON . The prosecutor has chambers in my house—the prisoner called that day—I showed him into Mr. Field's room—he was there a quarter of an hour—there was a writing-desk on the card-table—I went into the room, and the prisoner was gone and the desk too.
Prisoner. Q. What time did you see the desk there? A. When you came there—the door was open.
JAMES LEWIS ASHMAN (police-constable F 119.) I apprehended the prisoner on another charge in Drary-lane—I found these papers tucked inside bis trowsers—his father lives in the Strand, but he had not been home for a fortnight.
Prisoner's Defence. I went on the 18th of July to receive some money for my father; I came out of Mr. Field's chambers, and found these papers tied up.
(The prisoner received a good character.)
GUILTY . Aged 17.— Confined Nine Months.
WILLIAM ADAMS . I walked from Reading about the 19th or 20th of Aug. About twelve o'clock at night I put my bundle down, and went to sleep in the road on the other side of Hounslow—I met the prisoner—I thought he laid down with me—when 1 awoke I missed my bundle—I laid down, and went to sleep again—a man came by, and said, "Have you lost any thing?"—I said, "Yes, a bundle"—he said, "A man is taken with a bundle in Hounslow"—this is my bundle, and these things were in it—I had some money in my pocket—I did not lose that.
JAMES HUDSON (police-constable T 206.) I stopped the prisoner with this bundle in the Bath-road, in the parish of Heston—I asked what he had—he said, "A coat and two or three other artides"—I asked the description of the coat—he said it was a frock coat with pockets in the side—I found it had pockets in the front—I took him into custody.
Prisoner's Defence. I was coming from Hounslow; the bundle was lying on the side of the road; the prosecutor gave me a pint of beer, and changed half-a-crown; he came along; I bad a deal of trouble with him; he was very much intoxicated; he laid down twice; he took the bundle out of the basket and made a pillow of it; he gave me the basket, and then gave me the bundle, and told me to go to the public-house.
GUILTY . Aged 27.— Confined Six Months.
ELIZABETH BUTCHER . I am a widow, and keep a tobacconist'-shop in Hampstead. On the 30th of July a man came for a halfpenny-worth of tobacco-dust—I said I did not sell it—he said, "Not sell it?"—I said, "No"—he turned immediately, put his hand over the counter, took a box of cheroots, and ran away—I should not know him again, he was too quick—this is my box that he ran away with.
JAMES GILL . I saw the prisoner come out of the prosecutors shop—I heard a cry of "Stop thief," followed him, and stopped him—he had nothing with him—I did not see him throw anything away—I did not swear that he threw the box down, that it split, and that the cigars fell into the road—this is my mark to this deposition—I saw the box drop, but I could not see who dropped it—there was no one else near the prisoner that could have dropped it—there was no one within ten yards of him.
JURY. Q. How far were you from the shop? A. About four yards—I followed him a quarter of a mile—no one was running besides him—I followed him to Mr. Hambleton's harness-room at Hampstead—I brought him out, and gave him to the policeman.
JAMES BACK . I keep a shop at Hampstead. I was standing in my shop at a quarter past two o'clock that day—I ran to my door, and saw some one running—I saw a box drop from him—I took it up, and found it contained cheroots—the person was brought back by Gill—I could not identify him—he ran by too quick.
Prisoner's Defence. I went to deliver a message, and could not find the place; some one ran out against me; I asked him what he ran for; he turned and took me.
(The prisoner received a good character.)
GUILTY. Aged 17.—Recommended to mercy.— Confined Three Months.
JOHN HELME . I am a solicitor. A little after nine o'clock, in the evening of the 24th of June, I was walking up Holborn-hill, and just as I stepped off the curb to cross Hatton-garden, I felt a pull, and missed my handkerchief—I saw the prisoner pass up Hatton-garden, with both his hands in front, which excited my suspicion—in less than two seconds I saw him put my handkerchief into his pocket—I tapped him on the shoulder, and said he had something that did not belong to him—he ran away up Hatton-garden—he was pursued by a policeman in plain clothes, and was taken, just entering Charles-street, to go to Saffron-hill—he begged my pardon.
HENRY THOMAS JACKSON (police-constable G 192.) I saw the prisoner running, and I pursued him—I saw him throw the handkerchief from him—I still followed, and took him—he wanted to get down to Saffron-hill—the prosecutor came up and identified him.
Prisoner's Defence. I was at work that evening; I was only liberated from prison on the 17th of June.
GUILTY . Aged 19.— Transported for Ten Years.
JAMES SUMMERS (Bristol police, No. 41.) I took the prisoner into custody on the 3rd of July, at Montague-terrace, Bristol—I told him it was for obtaining two gold watches from Mr. Singleton, under false pretences—he said, "Oh," and smiled, "it must be a mistake; I know no such person"—I took him to the Magistrate, and then took him to the station—he then said, "I certainly did have two watches of Mr. Singleton, on sale or return; one at 11l.;, the other at 12l.; I had an execution in the house at the time, and was obliged to raise money on them; but I never intended to defraud Mr. Singleton of the money."
Prisoner. Q. Did you ask me if I knew Mr. Singleton, or Mr. Slingsby? A. When you said you did not know Mr. Singleton, I said, it might be Mr. Slingsby, and referred to a letter I had in my pocket.
THOMAS SINGLETON , watchmaker, Myddleton-sireet, Clerkenwell. In the beginning of Feb. the prisoner called on me, and said he was recommended to me by Mr. Goran, of Kensington (a gentleman I had worked for about twelve years)—he said he had seen some of my work, he liked it pretty well, and should like to have some of it, that he had two ladies he wished to show some watches to—I said, I did not profess manufacturing watches, I sold some to shops—I showed him what I had—he called on the 9th of Feb., and they were not ready—he came on the 10th, and said the ladies, no doubt, would take one of them—he gave me his card, "Francis Abbott, watch and clock maker, No. 6, Queen's-terrace, Fulham-road, Chelsea"—I let him have the watches—he told me he wished to take and show them to two ladies, and one of them he had no doubt would be purchased, and the other I should have back, along with the money for the other—it was agreed then that he should not keep them any longer than Monday—I called on Monday at his place, where I found he was a watch and clock maker—I told him I wanted my watches—he said he had not got them, he had left them at the ladies', that their mother had gone a little distance out of town, but the moment she came back one would be chosen—and he promised, the moment he received the money to pay for one, I should have the other—I told him that was not definite, I should call again in a day or two—I called on the Friday, and he showed me some pamphlets he had published, and kept from the subject of the watches—he told me they were still at the ladies'—on the Friday week he had left his residence—I went to the pawnbroker's, and found the watches, one at Page's, in Sloane-street, and the other was found by the officer at a pawnbroker's near the place—these are my watches—there was no execution in his house the day he had my watches—not till the 17th.
Prisoner. Q. Was that the only transaction I had with you? A. You took a silver movement unfinished—you returned an unfinished watch, which I understood was for a gentleman—one of these was pawned on the 10th, the day you had them—I have an entry of them in a book—I did not say that before the Magistrate—he did not ask me that question.
Prisoner's Defence. I did not obtain the watches under any false pretence; the prosecutor trusted me with them, and he did not contemplate this proceeding
till he found an execution was in my house; I had two customers for the watches, who, after consideration, determined to have a silveir one, which the prosecutor promised to have ready in a month; it was to be four guineas; my customer was in the country; and having affliction in my house, it caused me to lose much time; I was offered a situation in Bristol, and was endeavouring to obtain money to restore the watches.
GUILTY . Aged 42.— Transported for Seven Years.
(There have been thirteen charges against the prisoner.)
JAMES ECCLES . I am in the service of Charles Underwood, of James-street, Covent-garden. About half-past eight o'clock in the morning, on the 7th of Aug., I was employed at the bottom of the shop—I saw the prisoner walk into the shop, and take 15s. in copper off the desk, in three papers—I ran after him—he threw one paper away—I did not overtake him—I am sure he is the person—he was brought back about eleveu o'clock the same evening—these are my master's coppers.
WILLIAM HUGO . I live in Rose-street, Long-acre. On the morning of the 17th of Aug. I was in the shop, buying some tea and sugar—I saw the prisoner standing at the end of the counter—he took something off the counter—I could not see what it was—he put it into his coat-tail pocket, and off he ran—I saw nothing of him till about eleven o'clock at night, when I stood by a scaffold, and saw him come up—I told the policeman, who took him.
Prisoner. I was not in the shop; I was very bad in bed; I had been run over a day or two before.
Witness for the Defence.
BRIDGET DONALLY . I live in Drury-lane. At the time they say this robbery was committed, the prisoner was lying on his mother's bed in my room—they say this robbery was committed at half-past eight o'clock in the morning—I cannot say what day—I think it was on a Thursday—he was lying in his mother's bed in my room at ten minutes to nine—his mother and him, and four children, were all in one bed—they have lodged with me twelve months—the eldest of the children is about nineteen—that is the prisoner—the next is a daughter, about'sixteen—her name is Bridget Shay—I am no relation—the reason the prisoner was so long in bed, was, he had been run over by a gentleman's carriage in Long-acre, and he was lying in bed with a lump on his shoulder—I think it was on Saturday he was run over—I heard of his being taken on the night following—he did not come home on the Thursday evening—his mother told me, about eight o'clock on the Friday morning, that he had been taken about half-past nine at night—I was not called before the Magistrate—his mother told me to come here to-day—I cannot tell whether she went to Bow-street to state that he was ill in bed—it was on Thursday morning, to the best of my recollection, that I saw him in bed—I cannot tell what day of the month it was—I got up about eight that morning, and his mother got up shortly after I got up—we were at breakfast when they came in, about a quarter of an hour or ten minutes to nine—the prisoner was able to be up and out in ten minutes—his mother was waiting for him to have breakfast—he had breakfast before he went out—he had left the house when the officer came.
at Bow-street, between twelve and one o'clock, I think—I do not know whether the prisoner's mother knew that he was taken—I knew where the prisoner lodged—I went with a constable to his lodging, about nine o'clock, on the Wednesday morning, when he stole the coppers—his mother was there but he was out—I believe Bridget Donally was there, but there was no girl there—there was a bed there, but it was folded up—nobody came before the Magistrate to prove that the prisoner was at home that morning.
JURY. Q. Had you heard about any lad being run over? A. No.
GUILTY . Aged 18.— Confined Three Months.
HENRY SAMUEL BARNES . On Sunday morning, the 18th of August, about one o'clock, 1 met the prisoner—I had been out in (he evening, and had left a friend of mine, who was a fellow-workman—the prisoner came to me, and asked me the way to London-bridge—I said she was going the wrong way—she then said which was the Monument—I said she was going the wrong way for that—she then said she wanted Fishergate-street—I said it must be Bishopsgate-street, and she was going the wrong way—she said she had not been long from the country—I asked what part she had been at—she said Leeds, Hull, Birmingham, and other parts—I got asking her questions, and walked about 300 yards with her—she then said she wanted the Curtain-road—I said it was on the other side of the way, down Bateman's-row, or any other turning—I went down Bateman's-row with her, and when I got halfway, or more, all at once she began shuffling to go away—I had no idea that I was robbed, or anything of the kind—a man came up, with a black coat on, and she said, "It is all right"—she was then about five yards from me, going away—I put my hand into my pocket, and missed all my money—I had had a George III. sovereign, three shillings, a sixpence, and eight halfpence, in my waistcoat pocket—I do not know how the prisoner's hand got into my pocket, but such was the case—I turned round, and attempted to run after her—the man with the black coat went to stop me—I shoved him away—I had a stick in my hand, and flourished it about—I turned the corner, and saw the prisoner running away—I seized her, and pulled her down—the man came up—I kept him off with my stick—I detained her—the officer came up, and the man in the black coat ran away.
Cross-examined by MR. PARRY. Q. Were you sober? A. Perfectly sober—I had seen my money about an hour and a half before, when I was in a public-house, in Paul-street, Finsbury, and a friend of mine was with me—I had received the money in wages—I remained in the parlour of that public-house about half an hour—I had one glass of gin and water—that was all—when I left the public-house I went home as far as Shoreditch—I did not go direct from Paul-street to Shoreditch—I had walked about, talking to my friend—we walked round Finsbury-square and Worship-street, and got round to Shoreditch, half a dozen times, and round about the main streets, and got to the terminus at Shoreditch at near one o'clock—we had come out of the public-house about twelve o'clock—I am certain I did not speak to the prisoner first—Bateman's-row is rather a wide street, and it is lighted by gas—I asked the prisoner to have some coffee at the top of Bateman's-row—I suppose I stood talking with her three or four minutes—my only object in going down the turning was to point out her way home—I had not the least idea she was a woman of the description I hear—I am twenty-five years old—I took no indecent liberties with her—she put her hand round my waist,
and on my shoulder, and so on—I had one halfpenny marked, and know it again—this is a halfpenny that I lost that evening—I mentioned to the policeman that she had robbed me of one sovereign, some silver, and some halfpence—I was not present when any money was taken from her—I described it before I saw it—I am a cabinet carver—I had a good stout stick.
JOSEPH WAYMAN (police-constable G 147.) I heard the prosecutor say that evening to a man who ran away, "I will be d—d if you shall; if you don't keep off I will knock you down"—the prisoner was lying on the pavement, and the prosecutor gave charge of her—he described the money he had lost—the prisoner said she had 6s.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you ask her before you searched her, how much money she had? A. No—she said she had between 5s. and 6s.—I found this halfpenny among the rest of the copper on her.
GUILTY .— Confined Four Months.
EDWARD CARTY . I am a costermonger. On the 14th of July I was in company with the prisoner—I had the box and silver in my jacket pocket—I was walking and talking with him in the street, and when he left me I missed the box and silver—I am sure I had not given it to him to take care of—I was sober—the prisoner is a friend of mine—I never knew any harm of him.
WILLIAM JAMES (police-constable E 146.) I took the prisoner on the 16th, two days after the robbery—he said, "I know; I took the money and the box, and if he had waited I would have given it him back"—this is the box—I found it in his pocket—he said on his way to the station that he had swallowed two sixpences.
Prisoner's Defence. The prosecutor was drunk; he had been in a public-house drinking gin and cloves with a potato-man and me; he gave me 5s. 6d. in his box; next morning I had three sixpences in my mouth; a carriage came up as I was crossing the street, and 1 swallowed two of them.
NOT GUILTY .
2050. HENRY TURNER was indicted for stealing 2 cisterns, value 4l.; 10s.; 20 feet of leaden pipe, 1l.; 1 metal cock, 3s.; 1 range, 20l.; and 1 fly-jack and wheel, with case, 2l.; 10s.; the goods of Benjamin Ambler, being fixed to a certain building.
MR. DOANE conducted the Prosecution.
BENJAMIN AMBLER . I reside in West-street, Hackney. The house, No. 26, Paternoster-row, belongs to me—Mr. Scriven, of Barbican, was my agent the house was let by my consent and authority to the prisoner, when he entered into this agreement, which I hold in my hand—I did not go near the premises myself till I received a letter about a fortnight ago—I then found the premises terribly broken about—the floors are cut through—the top is so open that the rain comes in—the lead is taken from the gutter, three cisterns are gone, a kitchen-range, and jack and wheel, and three steam-pans, a steam closet, a deal cistern lined with lead, a branch of lead-pipe, and brass-cock—one of the cisterns was a copper one, which supplied the boiler in the range—I suppose the range cost 50l.; with fitting it up—it had been there some years, but it was a useful range, and answered the purpose of a range while we lived there—the leaden cisterns were not worn out, they were quite useful—if I had continued in the house, I should not have thought it
necessary to get rid of them, and get new ones—the original staircase had been taken away, and if I had not known where I was going, I should scarcely have known the house—some of the wainscotting was gone—I did not give the prisoner any authority to sell the gutters and cisterns—he was to have the use of them, and keep them in repair—I never saw him from the time he took the premises till he was taken into custody.
Prisoner. Q. How many years was the house shut up after you left it, before I took it? A. One or two years—I cannot tell exactly—it might be three—I cannot say how long it was since the range was used.
HAMPDEN SCRIVEN . I live in Barbican. I was engaged as agent for Mr. Ambler to let this house to the prisoner—I am subscribing witness to this agreement—I have a schedule of the fixtures that the house contained—amongst them there was a deal cistern lined with lead—that was outside the window—I saw it there when the premises were let—there was a branch of lead pipe and a brass cock—there was in the kitchen a Cook's patent range, and a jack, and fly-wheel, and a case—there was a cistern to supply a range in the scullery—I gave the prisoner a list of the fixtures which he was to keep good—I have been there since, and these articles are all gone which I have enumerated—there has been no new range or new cistern—none of these things have been replaced by new ones—there have been carpenters and bricklayers in the place, for the purpose of altering the premises, but he has made them much worse than they were—he has cut through two or three floors, cut away the gutter, and left it open to the sky with the exception of a skylight, which he moved from another place—I really do not think the alterations he has made would amount to 60l.;, but the premises are really not better—I have made no estimate—he has very much altered the premises—one alteration is that the rain comes in, that certainly would not improve the premises—he has placed a lot of new boards there, inclosing various rooms, but they were inclosed before in a much more efficient way than they are now—some of them are inclosed with mere canvas—I should think the value of the fixtures missing would be 24l.; or 25l.;—there is certainly nothing equivalent to that value on the premises.
COURT. Q. What money has he spent in bond fide repairing? A. If he has spent 50l.; in placing materials there, it is the utmost extent.
MR. DOANE. Q. If what you saw there had been paid for, and the labour paid for, would it amount to that sum? A. Yes—the alteration I have spoken of might have amounted to that sum, but there was no occasion whatever to have taken away those fixtures—the kitchen-range and cisterns, and brass cock, had nothing to do with it—I saw the premises before they were let and since—they are deteriorated—the landlord could not let them at the same rent—it would take 150l.; or 250l.; to put them in repair to let them at the same rent.
Prisoner. Q. Are the repairs finished? A. I should apprehend not—you stated you intended to make butchers'-shops in the passage—I am not aware that there are fixtures on the premises—I have not seen a desk and iron rails and gas fittings there—I have not seen 60l.; worth of fixtures on the premises, which you have not touched—there are portions of fixtures there which are not removed—there were two leaden cisterns when you took the premises, and the largest one is left—I cannot say whether you have repaired it, nor whether it was out of repair when you took the premises.
COURT. Q. As far as you can judge, do you think there appears an intention to make butchers'-shops, and do you think that was the object? A. Yes—there has been no new cistern substituted for either of those that have been taken away.
MR. DOANE. Q. Alf the cisterns have not been stolen? A. No, the copper one is gone—that was not more valuable than the one that is left—a cistern is gone that was outside the window and two others—one is left, and three are gone, worth 6l.; or 7l.;—the prisoner did not communicate with me at all, to get my approbation of what he was doing—when I went theme the first time I did not find him on the premises, and I left word I should like to see him—that is about six weeks ago—he came to my office within two or three days after—I spoke to him about payment of the rent, and told him I had an order to put in a distress—he said he was not in a position to pay it—I said I was sorry for it, he had had the premises, and the rent must be paid—I heard from Mr. Ambler, and did not proceed further with the distress.
GEORGE LAWSON . I am a carpenter, and live in George-street, Bermondsey. The prisoner came to me last January, and took me to No. 26, Paternoster-row—I removed some fixtures for him—there was a deal cistern outside the window—I removed it, by his order—there was a metal pump and a lead sink, and they were removed—I took it to Pontifex and Wood's, in Shoe-lane, with a branch-pipe, and a cock, and leaden tank—the prisoner went there with me three times—there was a Cook's patent range in the kitchen, and a fly-jack and wheel—I went with them to Mr. Joyce—he bought the stove for old iron, and the lead for old lead—when we came to remove the range, it came to pieces, it was so old—I saw the prisoner with the money which he got from Mr. Pontifex—I went to Mr. May's cook's-shop in Newgate-street—I took three small kettles there, which were part of the steam apparatus—they were sold to Mr. May for 6s.—they did not tumble to pieces because they were so old—I did not get any new kettles between Jan. and Aug.—the prisoner got 10s. of Mr. Joyce for the old stove, and 8s. for the jack.
Prisoner. Q. Did you do nothing but remove the fixtures? A. Yes—I did work—you made an alteration in order to admit light down—it was your intention to put a skylight there—I worked in the Kent-road nine months for you—you had eighteen houses there.
COURT. Q. You know that he has houses? A. Yes, he has 100 altogether.
MR. DOANE. Q. Did he pay you all that was due to you for those eighteen houses? A. Yes, he paid me about half of what was due to me for working at Paternoster-row—he paid me about 5l.;—I believe he has not paid any rent for those houses in the Kent-road.
THOMAS MAY . I live in Newgate-street, and am a bricklayer. I kept a cook's shop—I bought three old kettles of the prisoner for use, but they were in a very bad plight—they had been lying by a long time—they were of no manner of use—when I came to try them they ran—I bought some old firewood of him—there might be pieces of wainscot amongst it—they were useless except to burn—I bought an old stair-case, and there is a new one replaced in lieu of it, up to the one pair, and a very good one it is—it is put at another place instead of the old one—I think I gave about 1l.; for the old wood.
Prisoner. Q. You have repaired some houses for me under the Bridge-house estate? A. I repaired the house I live in—it was done to the satisfaction of the surveyor—there was no complaint—the range was very much burnt—it could not be much worse.
JAMES WOOD . I am principal clerk to Pontifex and Co., coppersmiths and lead merchants. I do not remember the prisoner coming with lead and copper, but I have tickets of three payments, on the 13th of Jan., 1l.; 4s. 9d. for old lead and some copper; on the 22nd of March, 2l.; 4s. 7d. for old lead,
and 14s. 11d. for some lead and potmetal, in the name of Turner, Paternoster-row.
PAUL JOYCE . I live at Cow-cross, and am a dealer in marine stores. About six months ago, Lawson, the witness, came to me to ask what I gave for old iron—I told him it depended on what it was—I went to Paternoster-row, and saw the prisoner, and three or four hundredweight of iron in parcels—it appeared to have been something of an old range, but it was broken up—it did not require much breaking, it was so burnt, and in such a corroded state—there was an old jack—I do not understand about a fly-jack—I gave him half-a-sovereign for the old iron, and 5s. for the jack.
FRANCIS JAMES MALPAS . I am a lodger in the house No. 26, Paternoster-row. I went there on the 17th of Jan.—when I went in, the house was in a pretty good state, and a stair-case all the way up, and it was closed at top against the wind and rain—I had the care of the house before the prisoner came—when he came he began making alterations—the house is No. 18, Newgate-market, and No. 26, Paternoster-row—the entrance is now altered from Newgate-market to Paternoster-row, and he removed the stairs—the house is not as good as it was before—the roof is not closed—it is open, and the rain comes in—the first and second story were a sort of passage, and over that was a room, which is cut through, and the leads above—it was done to give light, I presume—he was about to put in a skylight, but it has been open five months—there has been no range put in since January—there is a cart-load of rubbish there—I do not think there has been a man at work for more than three months—I owed the prisoner three weeks' rent, and he said he would put a broker in—I was ordered by Mr. Scriven not to pay—the premises are in a most dilapidated state, and, I should think, worth 200l.; less than they were.
Prisoner. Q. Did I threaten to put a distress in? A. Yes—the water comes into the house, and into our room—you cut over our room.
Prisoner. I have been in the habit of taking old houses on repairing leases; I repaired some in Newgate-street, under the Bridge-house estate; a friend pointed out these premises in Paternoster-row, saying it would answer my purpose to take them, and make them into butchers'-shops; his idea was to make them into six shops, but he said, "It won't answer your purpose, unless you throw light down;" I went on with the houses in Newgate-street, and finished them, and then I looked at this one; I wrote to Mr. Scriven; he said Mr. Ambler wanted 170l.;, and 70l.; for fixtures; I said I would give 150l.;, which was agreed to, and I have been going on repairing the premises; I told him what I meant to do; he said, "I think it will answer your purpose, I wish you success;" I paid for 50l.; worth of timber; I employed a carpenter, and his contract was 24l.; for labour, and 10l.; I laid out in ironmongery, and 10l.; in iron-foundery, to make gratings to each of the shops; there are six shops now; I made the passage wider, and altered the roof to throw down light; there was then nothing to hold the pipe, and it was forced to be taken up; I made a new staircase, and it was put up before the old one was removed, which Mr. May can prove, and the man says the old ones were good for nothing but firewood; I had seven men at work; I have been repairing ever since I took the premises; I repaired the large cistern, and put a brass ball cock to it; I repaired the pipe, and had the water put on, at my own expense; there was no water to the house when I took it; the shops are nearly finished; I have let three of them, and they would have been finished had I not been arrested.
COURT to FRANCIS JAMES MALPAS. Q. Are there gratings to each of the cellars and staircases to go down to the cellars? A. Yes—there were
three carpenters at work, and Mr. Granby, a boy, two other men, and the prisoner
NOT GUILTY .
RICHARD ROUSE . I keep the White Conduit tavern, at Islington. On the 31st of July I had a dinner, and the prisoner was employed to assist—I missed two towels and some sugar—these are the towels—they are marked in two separate places—I do not pretend to swear to the sugar.
Cross-examined by MR. BALLANTINE. Q. If a person were regularly engaged, there would be no harm in his taking these towels, and returning them? A. They might be returned—there has been instances of it—the prisoner is a most respectable man—he was found drunk, and I think he might have taken these things accidentally.
NOT GUILTY .
LEAMINGTON WARD . I am a butcher, and live in St. Pancras. The prisoner was a journeyman in my employ—I keep a lad beside—on the 31st of July I got up to watch—the prisoner was in the shop, and about half-past six o'clock he was cutting up the meat—about seven I went out to Seymour-street, and came back about eight o'clock—I then looked at the prisoner's coat, which was hanging up in the kitchen, and found in it two pieces of mutton and one piece of beef—it was my meat, and was wrapped up in paper—I called a constable, and directed his attention to it—the prisoner was sent to Seymour-street on an errand—he changed the meat from his great coat to the coat he has on now, and his great coat was taken up stairs to the bed-room—he went to Seymour-street—I went and apprehended him there—the policeman said he wanted him—he said, "What for?"—I said, "For robbing me"—he pulled me on one side, and said he wanted to speak to me—I said I had nothing to do with him—the meat was found on him—he said he had paid for it.
Cross-examined by MR. BALLANTINE. Q. Was any one present when he said he had paid for it? A. Yes, the policeman.
(The prisoner received a good character.)
GUILTY . Aged 20.— Confined Three Months.
2053. MARY ANN HARDIMAN was indicted for stealing 1 pelisse, value 10s.; 6 night-gowns, 16s. 6d.; 2 pinafores, 3s.; 1 shift, 2s.; 1 apron, 6d.; and 1 pair of sheets, 8s.; the goods of John Charles Batterbee.
CHARLOTTE BATTERBEE . I am the wife of John Charles Batterbee. The prisoner was my servant—I was confined, and soon afterwards I missed the pelisse, the night-gowns, and other things stated—I have only found the shift and the apron—the shift she had on on the 6th of June, when she was taken—this is my shift and apron.
Cross-examined by MR. BALLANTINE. Q. What do you know the shift by? A. By the name marked on it—the prisoner was with me nearly two months—she never slept in my house.
GUILTY . Aged 29.— Confined Three Months.
MR. HORNE conducted the Prosecution.
THOMAS BURNAN . I keep the Chancellor's Head public-house, in Carey-street, Lincoln's Inn-fields. On the 23rd of July I took four shillings out of my pocket, and placed it on the table early in the morning—I missed the money for a time, and then found it secreted under a china ornament on the same dressing-table or chest of drawers—I marked the shillings on the head and left them where I had found them—the next day I missed them—I made a communication to Hopper—I then called up the prisoner, who was my servant, and asked if she knew about 4s. that I had left on my table—she said, "Yes, I saw them there to-day or yesterday"—I said, "Will you accompany me up stairs?"—she said "Yes"—she went up with me and the policeman—she went to the ornament, and said she would swear that they were there—I said, "I know they were, but I want to know where they are"—she said, "I know nothing about them, I am innocent"—I had her searched, and nothing was found—I searched the kitchen, and between a partition and the dresser there was a chopping-board—I pulled it out, and a roll of brown paper, folded up, came out with it—I found in it some cigars, some sugar, four shillings, three of which were those I had marked, and sixpennyworth of halfpence—she said, "I am innocent"—the policeman said, "Who do the halfpence belong to?"—she said, "To me"—he said, "How many are there?"—she said, "6d. worth"—with respect to the other money, she said, "I brought them down, and intended to give them over the counter to Miss Catharine, but I forgot it."
Cross-examined by MR. PAYNE Q. What is the prisoner? A. A servant of all work—she is married—I sometimes leave my money about carelessly—on one occasion she brought down a bag of sovereigns, which she found under the pillow, and gave them to me—a few days after that she found a pile of sovereigns and some silver, and told me I was careless to leave my money about, as the bed-room was so near to the billiard-room door—I said to the person who is employed in the bar, "Catharine, that is your d—d carelessness"—and I have heard that she told the prisoner not to bring any money to me, but to take it to her—the marked shilling that was gone was found at a baker's shop—I made application to the bar, and found that one shilling had been given to the prisoner to buy a loaf—I went to the baker's shop, and found the marked shilling that was missing there—the person who is employed in my bar has passed as my sister.
JURY. Q. Did not your young woman give the prisoner a shilling to fetch a loaf? A. She did, and I found the marked shilling at the baker's shop.
NOT GUILTY .
GUILTY . Aged 18.— Confined One Month.
GUILTY . Aged 18.— Confined Three Months.
GUILTY . Aged 28.— Confined Fourteen Days.
GUILTY — Confined One Month
2059. CHARLES MANNING was indicted for breaking and entering a building within the curtilage of the dwelling-house of Hannibal de Waits, at St. Luke, Chelsea, and stealing therein 1 clock, value 1l.; 3 sovereigns, and 2 shillings; the property of Hannibal de Waits:—also, for stealing 1 brush, 2s.; 2 tame fowls, 3s.; and 1 ass, price 3l.; the property of Hannibal de Waits; to both of which he pleaded
GUILTY . Aged 16.— Transported for Ten Years ,
JAMES WILSON . I am a builder, and live in Susannah-street, Poplar, Between four and five o'clock in the afternoon of the 15th of July, I was in Mr. James's shop, in Whitechapel-road—I saw the prisoner remove the curtain, take some boots out of the window, and put them in a handkerchief, in which was something else—I told the shopman—the prisoner took them out of his handkerchief again, and put them on the counter in the shop—they were Blucher boots—the curtains were drawn across the window, and the sun shining in attracted my attention—he then went out of the shop, and a witness followed him—there were two females and a child with him.
WILLIAM CRESSWELL . I am shopman to Charles James. Wilson gave me some notice—the prisoner was in my master's shop—there was a woman with him, with a girl and child, and a female was trying on a pair of boots—the prisoner was standing by the window—I looked, and saw him take two boots out of his bundle, and place them on the counter—he then went out of the shop—I followed, and asked if he wished for a pair for himself—he said no, his wife was in there buying a pair—I asked him to walk inside, and accused him of taking the boots—he said he did not take them, he was only looking at them—he went out again—I followed, and gave him in charge, but he gave us a long chase first—these are the boots he took out of the bundle—they are my master's.
Prisoner's Defence. I tried these, and put them across my bundle; I went out; the man pushed me in
NOT GUILTY .
WILLIAM CUTHBERT BROWN . I am a tailor, and live in Earl-street, Finsbury. At twelve o'clock on Saturday night, the 27th of July, I was in Smithfield-market—I felt something touch my coat-pocket—I had a handkerchief there a few minutes before—I turned round to the light, and perceived the prisoner—there was no other person near—I saw other persons standing at a door in front—the prisoner was busy putting my handkerchief into his pocket—I caught hold of him, kept hold of him, and picked the handkerchief up, which he dropped—this is my handkerchief.
Cross-examined by MR. HORRY. Q. Did you not see persons passing you? A. No—there was a boy some paces behind me—I did not see him and the prisoner scuffling, nor see the other boy running away—I saw two boys as I turned, and then the other ran away—I saw the handkerchief in the prisoner's hand first, and he dropped it as soon as I caught hold of him.
(The prisoner received a good character.)
GUILTY .* Aged 17.— Confined Six Months.
HENRY GOULD (police-constable K 79.) On Sunday morning, the 6th of July, about six o'clock, I was on duty in Broad-street, Ratcliffe—I saw the prisoner and one Donovan standing at the corner of School-house-lane—they had a wash-tub—one held one part, and the other the other—a cab came along—the prisoner hailed the cab, and, assisted by Donovan, he put the tub with its contents on the top of the cab—the prisoner got up, and rode by the side of the driver, and Donovan made his escape—the cab stopped opposite Old Gravel-lane, and when it stopped the prisoner got down, took the tub on his shoulder, and went off—when I overtook the cab he was gone with the property—I overtook him, and asked what he had got there—he said he did not know—I asked if he did not see what it was when he took it on his shoulder—he said, "No," that a woman gave it to him in Ratcliffe-highway, and gave him 1s. to take it to the Thames Tunnel—I said, "Don't you know what it is? what do you think it is?"—he said, "I think it is crockery by the rattle of it"—the tub was covered over with a clean table-cloth, and contained seven sheets of copper rolled up, weighing 591bs.—I took the copper and the prisoner to the station—Mr. Ward's counting-house is about a hundred yards from where I first saw the prisoner.
Cross-examined by MR. PRENDERGAST Q. Did you tell the other man to walk beside you? A. Yes—I did not collar him—he walked before me—I knew him very well—I said, "I want you"—he said, "Very well, come on, I will walk with you"—he walked a little way—I then made an attempt to lay hold of his collar to take him, and he drew a knife at me—when I was making an attempt to lay hold of him he struck at me, and my foot slipped off the curb, and I fell on my back, and he escaped—I did not say a word of this at the office—I was never asked the question—I made a report of it to my inspector.
JOHN HIGGINS . I am foreman to Mr. Thomas Ward, a ship-owner, at Ratcliffe—I live on the premises. On Monday morning, the 7th of July, this copper was shown me by a policeman, and I missed seven sheets of copper—there are two small cellars in which we keep the copper and the yellow metal, and this being copper was kept in a little cellar—I saw it safe at five o'clock on Saturday evening, the 5th of July—I locked the door of this little cellar, and kept the key—the sheets of copper were all lying flat—I had had them under my care about three years and a half—I have had them through my hand in clearing up the place many times—as we do not use copper we use yellow metal—we used to employ the prisoner as a labourer about two years and a half ago, on the premises, and on board the ships—the cellar where we keep the copper is on Mr. Ward's premises—I believe this copper to be the same, I have had it through my hands so often, but being rolled up now it alters the folds of it—the stains that are on it are familiar to me—I see enough to know that it is the same copper.
Cross-examined. Q. Copper always gets stained if it lays by? A. Yes—I have moved this about three or four times a year—I believe it to be Mr. Ward's—I have not got it down in any book—when we have copper in I put the quantity down, but this was in a separate place, and there it laid—it was there before I came to the premises, and the mark on it is the mark of the manufacturer—I know nothing of Donovan.
ELIZABETH THOMPSON . I am the wife of John Thompson, and live in School-house-lane, Ratcliffe. The prisoner lived near me—I lent this tub to the prisoner's wife on the Thursday previous to his being taken.
Cross-examined. Q. How long have you known him? A. About three years and a half—he has always borne a good character—he was in the habit of fetching grains for the pigs.
(The prisoner received a good character.)
GUILTY . Aged 35.— Confined Six Months.
NORTH pleaded GUILTY . Aged 12.— Confined Eight Days.
JAMES JUDE . I am ten years old, and live with my father. On the evening of the 22nd of July I was going to my grandmother's—I had 2s. in my right hand waistcoat pocket—it was given me by John Graham to give to my grandmother, Susan Jandrell, who is a widow—I went round the corner of Charles-street into Nassau-street, Middlesex Hospital—I saw the prisoners—I am sure they are the three—they came up to me—North said, "Is not that the boy that has been fighting?"—I said, "No"—Thomas said, "Yes, that is the boy"—then Thomas and Dodson took hold of my shoulder, and North took one shilling out of my pocket—I saw it between his thumb and finger—I said, "Drop that shilling," and then he ran away—he said he had thrown it into the Castle mews—I followed, and told an officer, and we went after them.
JOSEPH SMITH (police-constable E 136.) I was on duty, and met the three prisoners running down Well-street—Jude came running up, and said that one of them had taken 1s. from him—I pursued, and caught Thomas and North in Great Marlborough-street—I took them to the station—I went out, and in the mob found Dodson—I took him—Jude, when he came, was a little agitated, and through his evidence the inspector did not detain Thomas and Dodson, but before the Magistrate he swore to them, and we had orders to take them again—Jude never denied a knowledge of the two boys.
Dodson's Defence. I came from St. James's Park—North went up to the boy, and said, "This is the boy that was fighting"—I went on, and North came up with 1s.—he threw it back at the boy.
(Thomas received a good character.)
THOMAS— GUILTY . Aged 12.
DODSON— GUILTY . Aged 11.
Confined Eight Days.
JONES pleaded GUILTY . Aged 19.— Confined Twelve Months.
THOMAS NEAVE . I am sixteen years old, and live with my father, Benjamin Neave, in Whitecross-street—these four pairs of shoes are his property—about seven o'clock in the evening of the 14th of Aug., I saw them on a brass hook inside the doorpost—about nine I heard a window smash—I went out, and met Mr. Bell and another gentleman, bringing the two prisoners in, and a gentleman had the shoes.
JOHN BELL . I am a corn-dealer, and live opposite the prosecutor. I was standing at my door a quarter before nine o'clock that evening, and saw Carroll watching through the prosecutor's window, and Jones by his side—then Carroll stood on the step, and took the four pairs of shoes, and gave them to Jones—I walked over and collared Jones with the shoes—that was how the
window got broken—I took Jones into a shop, and a friend of mine took Carroll.
(Carroll received a good character.)
CARROLL— GUILTY . Aged 22.— Confined Two Months.
FRANCES CORBETT . I live with Edward Harris, tobacconist, in Ray-street, At a quarter past six o'clock, in the evening of the 24th of July, I was sitting within the inner door of the shop—I saw the prisoner standing with his hand on the counter, in the front shop—I had just before dusted the counter, and put the weights together—I asked what he wanted, and he asked if we sold brass tobacco-boxes—I said, "No"—he went away—I looked on the counter, and the weights were gone—I pursued, and stopped him on Clerkeswell-green—I saw a little boy pick up the 1/4 lb. weight, and give it to my brother on Clerkenwell-green—these are the weights—I bought them myself, and know them well.
Prisoner's Defence. I was standing in the shop; the girl came and asked what I wanted; I went out, and I was taken; the big weight was given to the policeman; the other weights I had bought down in Petticoat-lane.
GUILTY . Aged 19.— Confined Four Months.
JAMES BENNING WHITFIELD . I live in Old Bond-street. On the afternoon of the 6th of Aug., I was walking near the top of Drury-lane, I felt something at my coat pocket, where I had my handkerchief—I turned round, and observed the prisoner immediately commence running—I pursued him, and fell in with a policeman, and told him—he and I pursued down Drury-lane—he stopped at a public-house, and put his hand inside the door—he did not go in—the policeman took him—my handkerchief was found behind the door—it was safe in my pocket five or ten minutes before.
WILLIAM LEE (police-constable K 268.) I met the prosecutor, and saw the prisoner running down Drury-lane—I pursued—he saw that I was getting up with him, and ran towards the door of the Marquis of Granby public-house, pushed the door open, and put his hand behind the door—he then put his hand into his pocket—I seized him, and found this handkerchief behind the door.
Prisoner. Q. Did you see it in my possession? A. No, but I saw you throw your hand out as though you threw something from it.
Prisoner's Defence. I did not have anything at all to do with the handkerchief.
GUILTY . Aged 18.— Confined Six Months.
2067. RASBERRY HALL was indicted for stealing 1 jacket, value 8s.; 3 shirts, 6s.; and 4 oz. weight of tobacco, 1s.; the goods of William Prith: and 2 pairs of drawers, 5s.; 1 pair of trowsers, 6s.; 2 shirts, 2s.; and three pairs of stockings, 4s. 6d., the goods of Michael Shoton, in a certain vessel on the Regent's canal; to which he pleaded
GUILTY . Aged 18.— Confined Six Months.
JOHN SIMS HANCOCK (police-sergeant E 12.) At a quarter to twelve o'clock on Saturday night, the 20th of July, I was on duty in Titchfield-street, and saw the prisoner with a parcel under his arm—I asked what he had got—he said, a pair of boots, they were his brother's; he was going to pawn them—I told him to take me to his brother—he then, in going, said they were his sister's—he did not know what number she lived at, but she lived in Titchfield-street—I said I would take him to the station—he said he would not go—I took him there—he said, in going, that a man gave them to him in the street—I asked if it was a man named Snob—he said, "Yes"—I had seen Snob on the opposite side of the street.
GEORGE BRYANT . I am shopman to Ralph Wilcoxon, a shoemaker, in Tottenham-court-road. These are my master's boots—they were outside his shop, hanging on the window-blind on that Saturday—I saw them safe about four—I can swear that they were not sold.
Prisoner's Defence. I was standing at the corner of Well-street; a man asked me to buy a pair of boots; I said I would ask my sister to lend me the money; I took them to her; she said I had better not have anything to do with them; I was taking them back when the policeman took me.
GUILTY . Aged 18.— Confined One Month.
SIDNEY POWELL . I keep a shop in Gray's-inn-lane, and make drawing-instruments. On the 31st of July, about five o'clock in the afternoon, I was in the back of my passage, which is in a line with my street-door—I saw the prisoner leaving the shop by the street door—I was suspicious, and looked round the shop—I missed three drawing-pens which were in an unfinished state, and had been placed on a small ledge within the counter—I went to the shop-door, but the prisoner was out of sight—in about two hours an officer brought the prisoner past my shop—there was a pawnbroker's lad with him, who produced one pen, and asked me if it was one I had lost—I said yes—I then asked the prisoner about the other two—he said, "What other two?"—I said, "You took three off there (pointing where they had been)—he said he had not been in the shop—he was taken to the station, and these other two pens found in the sleeve of his coat—I can swear to them.
Prisoner. Q. Did you not say before the Magistrate that you had no marks on them, and you could not swear to them? A. I said I had no marks on them, but I could swear to them as they were my own making.
CHARLES BAKER . I am assistant to a pawnbroker, in Holborn. On the evening of the 31st of July, about seven o'clock, the prisoner brought one of these pens, and asked if I had one like it—I afterwards delivered it to the prosecutor.
(The prisoner put in a written defence, stating that he had purchased the pens of a hawker.)
GUILTY. Aged 32.—Recommended to mercy.— Confined Three Months.
NEW COURT.—Saturday, August 24th, 1844.
Sixth Jury, before Mr. Common Sergeant.
GUILTY . Aged 20.— Confined Three Months.
GUILTY . Aged 16.— Confined Four Months.
GUILTY .— Confined Six Months.
GUILTY . Aged 50.— Confined Seven Days.
GUILTY .— Confined One Year.
GUILTY . Aged 29.— Confined Three Months.
GUILTY . Aged 16.— Confined Six Months.
2077. MARY EYRE was indicted for stealing 1 gown, value 1s.; and 1 apron, value 6d.; the goods of Elizabeth Stonebridge: also 1 shawl, 5s.; the goods of John Shapley; also 4 shirts, 12s.; 2 table-cloths, 3s.: 1 frock, 1s.; and 1 petticoat, 1s.; the goods of William Ward Miles; to which she pleaded
GUILTY . Aged 46.— Confined Nine Months.
GUILTY . Aged 23.— Confined Nine Months.
GUILTY . Aged 40.— Confined Three Months.
2080. BENJAMIN SCULTHORPE was indicted for stealing 1 handkerchief, value 1s., the goods of Thomas Creason Killock, from his person; and that he had been before convicted of felony; to which he pleaded
GUILTY .— Aged 25.— Transported for Ten Years.
2081. WILLIAM DUNN was indicted for stealing 2 coats, value 10l.; 1 waistcoat, 1l.; 4 shirts, 4l.; 1 breast-pin, 5l.; and 2 pairs of boots, 2l.; the goods of John Nelson Bonitto, his master; to which he pleaded
GUILTY . Aged 30.— Confined Four Months.
GUILTY .— Confined Three Months.
GUILTY . Aged 19.— Confined Three Months.
GUILTY .— Confined Three Months.
ROBERT JAMES LESLIE . I am foreman to Charles Morris Hullah, a biscuit baker, at Wapping. I delivered some bags of biscuits safely into the lighter last Thursday morning—it was moored under the warehouse—shortly afterwards a person told me something, and I found the bags had been cut—some biscuits were produced to me—I compared them with those which were in the bags, and I believe they were my master's.
WILLIAM EDWARD JENKINS . I caught the prisoner with these biscuits in hit possession—he dropped them—he said he was not the boy who cut the bags, but he had some of the biscuits—there were several boys at the boat.
Prisoner. There was only 1 1/2 lb. found.
NOT GUILTY .
ROBERT SOUTER (police-constable D 212.) I saw the prisoner take her left hand from the prosecutor's left-hand pocket, and put something into her right hand—I went and asked the prosecutor if he knew her—he said, "No"—I asked if he had lost anything—he said, "No"—I went and asked the prisoner what she had got in her hand—she said, "Nothing but my pocket-handkerchief"—I said, "Open it, and let me see"—she opened part of her hand—I took her hand, and found this case in her handkerchief—I had seen her five minutes before, and put her off my beat.
Prisoner's Defence. I was in the prosecutor's company; he was quite intoxicated; he had hold of my arm, and put his hand into his left coat pocket to take out his gloves; he stooped to pick up one of them which dropped down; the case fell out and I took it up; I had it in my hand for ten minutes.
GUILTY . Aged 25.— Confined Three Months.
WILLIAM CHAPPY . I was at the Running Horse, Old Brentford, on the 21st of August—I began to toss, and then fell asleep—I had a half-crown, a fourpenny-piece, and some halfpence—when I awoke they were gone—I cannot say what I had lost in tossing—I suppose I was drunk.
Cross-examined by MR. HORRY. Q. Have you any knowledge how long
you were asleep? A. No—I had had my money out—whether I had shown it all to the witness I do not know.
CHARLES WAKELY . I was at the public-house—I saw five half-crowns one shilling, and a sixpence, in the prosecutor's hand—the prisoner then came in, and said a friend wanted to see the prosecutor—he took us into a private house—we there got drinking and tossing—the prosecutor laid his head on the table, and went to sleep—the prisoner came and sat on the left side of him, and put his hand across into his brace pocket, and when he took it out it was closed—I cannot say what he took out, but I know that before the prosecutor went to sleep he had put a half-crown, a fourpenny-piece, and some halfpence, into his pocket—I did not say anything till I got outside the door—directly I got out I told the prosecutor—he felt in his pocket, and his money was gone—he went for a policeman, but could not see one—I got one from the station—there were five or six other persons in the room when we first went in.
Cross-examined. Q. Where was this private house? A. Next door to the public-house—there were two other persons there when the prosecator's money was gone—I was not tossing with the prosecutor—I was drinking with him—the policeman took the prisoner at the public-house—he had gone back there—the prosecutor was asleep an hour or more—about half an how after he went to sleep the prisoner put his hand into his pocket—I was in the room all the time—I left the prisoner and the prosecutor, while I went for the policeman—I did not say anything before, because I was in a strange place with people there, and I was liable to get my head knocked off—I knew the people who were there by sight, but nothing more—one was asleep, and the others were very tipsy—I was not tipsy—the prosecutor had his money in his hand—he did not altogether show it to me.
NOT GUILTY .
ANN SEAGROTT . I keep a baker's shop in Westminster. The prisoner was in my employ—he received money for me, which it was his duty to pay the day he received it—if he received 2l.; 18s. of Mrs. Peterson, he has not paid it—he absconded the same day, the 8th of June—I asked him for Mrs. Peterson's money the last thing—he said she would pay to-morrow morning.
GUILTY . Aged 17.— Confined Six Months.
THOMAS KAIN . I live in Greenhills-rents, Smithfield. The prisoner lodged in the same room—I had a pair of trowsers and a waistcoat there—I missed them on the 23rd of May—I have never found them—I saw Mr. Alderman Johnson sign this examination—(read)—"The prisoner says, 'I took the trowsers and waistcoat, and pawned them, but I do not know where I was; I was in liquor at the time."
Prisoner. I said that under a promise from the prosecutor's brother; I had paid all but 2s.
GEORGE KAIN . I am the prosecutor's brother. I spoke to the prisoner very freely when I found him at the King of Denmark—I said, "I don't wish to harm you; all I want is to restore my brother's things."
NOT GUILTY .
SAMUEL STYLE . I was walking home from Pimlico, about one o'clock in the morning, on the 30th of July, through St. James's-park—the prisoner stopped me, and wanted me to go with her—I said I was tired, and I was going home—she got before me, and I found her hand in my trowsers pocket—I had a purse there, containing two half-crowns, ten shillings, and a half-sovereign, and some other silver—I took her hand out, took my money away from that pocket, and put it into my coat pocket—I then went to button my coat up, and the money and purse were missing—my coat pocket was not buttoned—the pocket was in front—it was a Chesterfield coat—I felt for my money, and it was gone—the prisoner saw the constable coming up—she sat down, and the money was found under the seat where she was sitting—I was not sitting with her—in a minute or so, two or three other girls came up—the prisoner could get her hand into my pocket without my seeing it—it was rather dark—this is my purse.
Cross-examined by MR. PRENDERGAST. Q. Were you standing in front of the seat? A. Yes—I had ten shillings and two half-crowns in my purse—the policeman picked the purse up, but all the contents of one side of it were missing—there were a great number of girls about—I had just left my brother-in-law's, and was coming home—the prisoner was the first girl who stopped me—I said she had got my purse, and she said she had not—she sat down, and I stood up, feeling for my money.
EDWARD CASTLE (police-constable A 97.) I saw the prosecutor and prisoner standing together for about a minute—the prosecutor then complained—I saw another female about twenty yards off, and, knowing her to be an associate of the prisoner, I went across to the prisoner, and she sat down on the seat—I said to the prosecutor, "You had better be very careful, the sooner you leave the better"—he felt his pocket, and said he had lost his purse—the prisoner was sitting on the seat—I made her get up—she said, "I have not got it"—I felt again under the seat, and found the purse—the prosecutor said, "If it is mine there is a little key attached to it, and there is money in each end"—I picked it up, and there was only money in one end, which was two half-crowns and three shillings—in her way to the station she made a pretence to throw money away, but I only found one sixpence—some of her companions came up.
GUILTY . Aged 21.— Confined Six Months.
ROBERT MILWARD . I had some oysters on the 22nd of August, which I left in a bag at the corner of William-street, Shoreditch—I missed them, and found them on the prisoner's cart—I said, "Where are you going with these oysters? they are mine"—he said, "You be d----"—I went for a constable, but I kept my eye on the cart, and, when he saw the constable coming, I saw him take the oysters out of the cart, and drop them where the officer found them—they were mine.
JOHN FULLER . I saw the prisoner and another man coming down the street—the other man lifted the sack four or five times—the prisoner then put the cart back—the other man put them into the cart, and the prisoner drove down the street with them.
Prisoner. I went to market, and bought two bushels of apples; a man stood there with some oysters, and asked me if I was going to Newington; I
said, "No;" I had to put back for a wagon to pass, and the man put them up into my cart; I saw them, and chucked them off before I got three yards with them.
GUILTY . Aged 22.— Confined Two Months.
2092. JOSEPH PENTELOW was indicted for stealing 1 chest of drawers, value 1l.; 1 sofa, 9s.; 2 tables, 10s.; 1 bedstead, 9s.; 6 chairs, 8s.; 1 mattrass, 6s.; 1 bed, 10s.; 1 blanket, 2s.; 1 sheet, 1s.; 1 quilt, 1s.; 2 looking-glasses, 3s.; 2 china ornaments, 1s.; 1 fender, 1s.; 3 glass tumblers, 1s.; 3 wine-glasses, 1s.; 2 wooden boxes, 2s.; 1 tea-tray, 6d. 6 knives, 9d.; and 6 forks, 9d.; the goods of Edward Nathan.
MR. ROBINSON conducted the Prosecution.
EDWARD NATHAN . I live in Orchard-row, Commercial-road, Stepney, and am a fish salesman. On the 30th of July I and my wife left the prisoner in charge of my house—he was a lodger—we returned at half-past ten o'clock at night—our things were all gone—some of them were pawned, and some were conveyed to Brand-street, Holloway, where the prisoner had taken a house—here is a tea-tray which I can swear to.
Prisoner. They are all my goods; I have had them in my possession eleven years; after robbing me all that he could, he swore that the goods were his; I bought the tray and the water bottle. Witness. It is false—I have witnesses to prove that it is wrong—there were two things that I bought of him—I had his receipt for them—he broke open the place, and stole the receipt, and destroyed it—here is one receipt, the only one I could find when I got home.
SOPHIA NATHAN . I am mother of Edward Nathan, and live in White Horse-street, Stepney. On the 30th of July, between five and six o'clock, I went to my son's house—I knocked, and the prisoner opened the door, and said to me, "Have you seen my little girl?"—I said, "No"—he said, "You have got to go to Mr. Elliott's, in Broad-row, Ratcliffe, at eight o'clock tonight"—he gave me 6d. which he said my daughter had left—I however went into the house, and saw all the place in confusion, the chairs and the drawers were pulled about—I said, "What are you doing?"—he said, "I am going to clear out the place"—I said, "It is cleared"—he said, "It is no use going to deceive you, we are going to move, as we have got in arrears with the landlord"—my son had taken the prisoner in with his five children, as he had lost his wife—the chest of drawers was the prisoner's, and my son purchased them of him for 2l.; 10s.—the sofa and bedstead he bought of Mr. Solomons—they were never the prisoner's—the glasses my son bought—they never were the prisoner's—this tray is my son's, and has been in his house these three years—the prisoner has only been there twelve months—I went to Mr. Elliott's, and I had not been sent for.
Prisoner. You know that tray is mine; I have had it eleven years I bought the tray and bottle at Mr. Thomas's, in Judd-street.
ALICE PAGE . I am a widow, and live in Brand-street, Holloway, next door to where the prisoner lodged. He brought the goods to that house, and when he took them all in I was standing at my window—he asked me where the pawnbroker's was—I told him I would show him—he brought out the tray and two bottles, and carried them to the pawnbroker's—I told him he might go in—he said, "No, I would rather you would go in, and pawn them for me"—he said, "Get 3s., or what you can"—I pawned them for 1s. 9d.
Prisoner. They were all my own things; I have had them eleven years; I lost my wife, and went and lived at Nathan's; he had only a mattrass, two
chairs, a few cups and saucers, ard plates; after that he brought home six chairs, he pawned three of them, and I pawned three; he broke open my boxes, and robbed me of everything; I have not a thing for my children to wear; he said he would swear anything to beat me, and if I came into Billingsgate-market again he would kick me out; I lost one child under him; it was taken ill, and died in twelve hours; he shut her up, and gave her nothing to eat for days; I took my children away from his house—he has sworn falsely that these goods are his; I never sold them, nor put a hand to paper.
NOT GUILTY .
EDME ALEXANDER . I live in Addington-place, King's-cross. The prisoner was in my service—he was employed to receive money for me on Saturdays, but not in the middle of the week—if he received 4l.; 1s. on the 10th of Aug. he has not paid it to me, nor the 14s.—he ought to have paid it to me.
Cross-examined by MR. PRENDERGAST. Q. Did you give him a book? A. Yes, and the money he received the customers ought to put down in the book—he brought the book to me—the 14s. was down in it on the Friday, and the 4l.; 11s. was down on the Saturday—I questioned him on the subject of this money, and he said he met with a misfortune, that he put some money into his waistcoat pocket, and lost it.
NOT GUILTY .
HENRY BENJAMIN TILT . I live in York-street, Westminster, On the 8th of Aug. I lost two geese—I saw them safe on the 7th of Aug., about the middle of the day, and missed them the next morning—I saw two at the station, which I have no doubt were mine, but geese are so much alike I did not swear to them.
Cross-examined by MR. PRENDERGAST. Q. Where were they? A. Running about the yard—I had nine geese—they are generally much alike.
THOMAS TUNSTALL (police-constable B 96.) Between one and two o'clock on the morning of the 8th of August, I saw the prisoner come out of the prosecutor's yard with two geese wrapped up in a top coat—they were quite warm, and had just been killed—I took him and them to the station.
Cross-examined. Q. What did you say? A. I first inquired what he had got—he said, "Geese"—I swear I saw him come out of the premises—I was waiting twenty minutes for him, because I had heard the geese moving behind the gates—he said the reason he was taking them at that hour was, he wished to make a present to a friend, and he did not want his wife to know about it—he must have got in at the rear of the premises—there is a wall at the back of the prisoner's house that he might have got over.
GUILTY . Aged 37.— Transported for Seven Years
Westminster. On the night of the 16th of August I saw the prisoner take a dish of pork from my shop—I followed, and the policeman had him when I came up.
Prisoner. Q. Did you say anything to me? A. I did not—I had left customers in my shop.
Prisoner's Defence. I was drunk; I have no recollection of what took place.
NOT GUILTY .
THOMAS DAY . I live with Mr. Wadsworth. On the 2nd of August, before six o'clock in the morning, the prisoner came to my master's house, and said he was sent there to work—I let him in—he went into the yard, and was there ten minutes or a quarter of an hour—he then came out, said it was not six o'clock, and went into the street—while he had been in the yard he had opened the side door of the next house—I had seen the copper safe a short time before, and soon after the prisoner was gone the copper was missing, and the next house was open—the prisoner said he had come to work for Mr. Brown, who was repairing the house.
GUILTY . Aged 46.— Confined Six Months.
JAMES DOW . I live in Pereival-street, Clerkenwell, and am a watch-case-maker; the prisoner was in my service. I received information on the 17th of August, and asked if he had any wire—he denied it—I saw my man take this wire out of the prisoner's pocket—he had no business with it—it was taken out of the workman's drawer.
SAMUEL PRITCHARD . I work for Mr. Dow. I had several pieces of wire in my drawer—I missed one, and found it in the prisoner's pocket—he was the errand-boy—the loss of this wire would have fallen on me.
(The prisoner received a good character.)
GUILTY. Aged 14.—Recommended to mercy.— Confined Ten Days
WILLIAM BROWN FORDHAM . I am the son of Isaac Fordham-Conyer was in his warehouse for eight years—it was his duty to sell things during my absence, and to put them down on the slate, but he had particular orders not to serve Hatwell at dinner-time, when I was not there—Hatwell is a hawker, and frequently came to buy goods—on the 23rd of July, Hatwell came a few minutes before one o'clock, and bought goods which came to 11d.—I saw him and Conyer motion to each other while I was turning to reach the goods—when I hud served Hatwell he went
away—I went to an opposite house, where I could see all that took place—in about five minutes I saw Hatwell come to the shop, and give in a cloth with the quire of paper in it which I had sold him—he then went to the corner of Cross-street, and waited a few minutes—Conyer then came to the door, and beckoned him—Hatwell then went into the shop, and came out in a few minutes with this parcel of goods—he went up Cross-street—I followed him to Baldwin's-gardens—he went into a house, stayed a few minutes, and came out—I followed him till I saw a policeman, and gave him in charge—I said, "You have been stealing that from our warehouse"—he said no, he bought it of George, and paid him 7s. 6d. for it—I went back to our warehouse about a quarter past two, which is my usual time of returning from dinner, and saw Conyer—I looked on the slate, and saw there was nothing down—I asked him if he had sold anything—he said no, and nobody had been except one gentleman.
Cross-examined by MR. PAYNE. Q. How far is your warehouse from Baldwin's-gardens? A. About two minutes' walk—a person might have gone to Baldwins-gardens between my serving Hatwell and his coming back—it was about five minutes after one when he came back with the cloth—I could not see that he gave the cloth to Conyer—I judge so from his going in, and coming out without it.
Cross-examined by MR. ROBINSON. Q. I believe a policeman was there when Conyer said nobody had been there? A. No, I had not then given him in charge, nor threatened that I would do so—Conyer had a very excellent character.
SUSANNAH BARRY . I live in Baldwin's-gardens. On the 23rd of July, Hatwell came to me, and I ordered of him two quires of paper—he returned with the bundle, and gave me two quires out of it, which I paid for.
SAMUEL DOYLE (police-constable G 197.) I took the prisoners—Conyer had only 1d. on him—he said he had not seen Hatwell—Hatwell had this bundle—he said he had not stolen it, he had paid Conyer 7s. for it.
WILLIAM BROWN FORDHAM re-examined. These are my father's, and are worth 14s. 8d.—the reason I had told Conyer not to serve Hatwell at dinnertime was, because I am seldom away except at that time—if he came at another time, and I did not happen to be in the way, he might serve him.
(The prisoners received good characters.)
HATWELL— GUILTY . Aged 34.— Confined One Year.
CONYER— GUILTY. Aged 18.—Recommended to mercy by the Prosecutor.— Confined Three Months
GUILTY , and received a good character. Aged 42.— Confined Nine Months.
GUILTY . Aged 18.— Confined Six Months.
(The prisoner received a good character.)
MR. PRENDERGAST conducted the Prosecution.
employ about fourteen months—on the 15th of Aug., between nine and ten o'clock in the morning, I received information from Clark—I went to where Gilbert works, in Scotland-yard, and I received from him four dozen pairs of leather top-pieces, and five dozen and seven pairs of welts—the top pieces are mine, and the welts resemble mine, but I could not swear positively to them—boots were given to the prisoner to mend for us, and top-pieces for the purpose of mending them when they required it, and in no other case—he brought the boots back to our house, mended with the top-pieces—entries were made of them, in the books which are here—I do not often give them out myself—persons in my employ give them out—I went to the prisoner's premises and found there seven pairs of top-pieces, and three single ones—he had two pairs of boots of ours in hand, and he had stuff for them besides—I never sell top-pieces to other persons in the trade, and they never leave my premises in any other way than for the purpose of mending boots—I never authorized the prisoner or any other person to take top-pieces away, or to part with them—these top-pieces are marked.
Cross-examined by MR. PAYNE. Q. It is quite impossible that all these top-pieces could have been taken at one time? A. I cannot account for how they went—it would not be possible for me to miss them—I cannot swear to the welts at all—the whole of this property is worth about 24s.—if any cuttings remain from the leather given to a man to work on at his own place, they are his perquisites, supposing him to work fairly: but he is to keep nothing but the cuttings—none of these are cuttings—they are entire pieces of leather as they leave my shop—the prisoner has mended several hundred pairs of boots since he worked for me—these pieces are used for the tops of heels—they are cut into two pieces.
THOMAS ROYAL CLARK . I live in Northumberland-passage. The prisoner came to me on a Wednesday morning, a little before dinner-time—he said he had got some cabbage to sell, and would bring it down—he brought it at nearly nine o'clock in the evening, in a hat-box in a bag—he put it over my window at my shop, and I looked at it—I pulled out a dozen top-pieces, which had Mr. Stunt's mark on them—I put my hand into the bag again, and pulled out another dozen—I asked what he wanted for them—he said a sovereign—he said there were nine dozen heel-pieces, and nine dozen welts—I declined purchasing them—he said if I did not like to buy them, Mr. Gilbert would—he said would I buy one dozen—I said no, I had no money, and if I had I could buy better leather for my use for a sovereign—he then drew the strings of the bag, and took it on his shoulder—a young man by his side said he never saw such cabbage as that, and I said so too—I never saw such cabbage, nor anybody else.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you know the mark on the top-pieces directly? A. Yes—the mark was generally known as Mr. Stunt's—I have known it for thirty years—the heels of some boots are much smaller than others—it is not possible to get three small top pieces out of one that is generally intended for two, because the pieces are given out according to the size of the boots—some are larger than others.
WILLIAM GILBERT . I make and mend boots and shoes. Mr. Stunt came to me with the policeman and one of his own men—I gave him this leather, which I had purchased of the prisoner—he brought it in a hat box, in a bag—I bought four dozen pairs of top pieces, and five dozen and seven pairs of welts.
GEORGE SEYMOUR . I am in the employ of Mr. Stunt. I have known the prisoner have top-pieces delivered to him to mend boots—I have never given him more than were sufficient for the boots which were given out to him—he has brought back the boots correct according to the top-pieces given out.
Cross-examined. Q. Then he has always brought back the work correctly? A. As far as I know—the boots are given to him, and the toppieces too—he is not allowed to go into the place and take them himself—he has no access to the place where the leather is kept—the tops are brought and given to him—I never saw him there—several persons have access to these heel-tops.
NOT GUILTY .
GEORGE WITHERS . I am foreman to Mr. Robt. Garrard and two partners. The prisoner was their journeyman—I had occasionally missed some cuttings—on Tuesday evening, July 30th, I marked some cuttings with a sort of notch, and weighed them—the next morning I received information from Stedman about half-past seven o'clock—I then weighed them again, and missed loz. and 10dwts.—it was the prisoner's business to leave the premises to go to breakfast at half-past eight o'clock—I placed myself in the hall, but he did not come down till ten minutes to nine—he then came running down with a hurried step, and as he got to the door—I said, "Hodges, you must come back; you have been in my weighing-room this morning"—he said "I have not"—I said, "You have got property of your employers"—he said, "I have not"—he appeared agitated, down went his hand, and down went the silver on the stone floor—I saw it fall at his feet—I took it up and showed it to him—it has the mark that I put on it the night before—this is it—it does not precisely correspond with the weight I missed.
Cross-examined by MR. CLARKSON. Q. How do you know this piece? A. By finding the mark on it—I could not be friends with the prisoner, as I knew well that he was doing wrong—he had been in the habit of coming late at times, and I told him he should smart for it some day—I did not say on this occasion, "You rascal, you have dropped it, and I have got the rope round your neck now"—I said, "You deserve to have the rope round your neck."—Pearce is our time-keeper—the prisoner was just out of his apprenticeship, about seven or eight months—he had been married about three weeks before this—I might have said to him that some day or other I would have him.
THOMAS PEARCE . I am the prosecutor's porter—the prisoner was going out that morning—Withers called him back, and accused him of having some silver on his person—I saw the prisoner throw his hand out, and saw the silver drop—Withers picked it up, and said, "There it is."
THOMAS STEDMAN . I was at work near the prisoner on that morning—I know the weighing-room where the cuttings are kept—I saw the prisoner there, and I gave information when Mr. Withers put the question to me—the prisoner had no business in that room.
(The prisoner received a good character.)
GUILTY . Aged 26.— Confined Six Months.
GEORGE CHRISTINE . I live in Old Burlington-street. On the 23rd of July there was a quarrel in Charlotte-street, Bloomsbury—I was near there, and felt a pressure—I turned round, and my handkerchief was gone—there were three parties behind me, and I saw one of them pass my handkerchief to the
prisoner—I went up to him, and he dropped it the minute I took him—I had not seen the persons together before—I do not know that the prisoner dropped the handkerchief the moment he received it, but I saw him drop it.
Prisoner's Defence. The row was over; I was going away, and this gentleman caught me, and said I had dropped the handkerchief; I said he was wrong.
NOT GUILTY .
SAMUEL HARMAN . I am shopman to William Goodburn and others, of Gray's Inn-lane—they had a pair of trowsers on the 7th of Aug.—I missed them—I ran out and overtook the prisoner—he dropped the trowsers in Doughty-street—he said he hoped my masters would forgive him—his hair was cut short as it is now.
GUILTY . Aged 20.— Confined Nine Months.
MARY SAVILLE pleaded GUILTY . Aged 16.— Confined Two Months
SOPHIA GREEN . I live in High-street, Islington. The two prisoners came to my shop on the 9th of Aug.—they looked over some things, and then left—directly they were gone I missed a shawl—Mary Saville had been nearest to where the shawls were—I ran to my door, and saw Mary Saville pass something to Louisa Saville—I gave the alarm—this is the shawl.
JAMES WARD (police-constable N 20.) I heard the alarm, and ran after the prisoners—I followed Louisa Saville down a court, and saw her throw something over a doorway—I opened the door, and found this shawl.
LOUISA SAVILLE— GUILTY . Aged 17.— Judgment Respited.
MR. BALLANTINE conducted the Prosecution.
HARRISON BONE . On the 12th of Aug. I was at the Stepney station of the Blackwall Railway. I saw the prisoner come there, and bring a bag in his hand—he took six balls of spun-yarn out of the place—he had no business there then—he used to be in the Company's employ.
Prisoner. He said, "What do you do here?" I said I heard there were boys discharged, and Mr. Brown said he would give me work.
Prisoner's Defence. A man told me I was wanted at the London Dock; when I got to Stepney I called in at the station; I went up stairs to the porter, and said, "I shall be obliged if you will tell me where Mr. Brown is;" he said he was not there. I went home, and then the boy and the policeman came to me—I had no bag.
GUILTY . Aged 17.— Confined Three Months.
2107. ANN WILSON was indicted for stealing 1 shawl, value 5s.; 3 gowns, 24s.; 2 handkerchiefs, 1s.; 4 bedgowns, 7s.; 2 petticoats, 6s. 6d.; 4 aprons, 3s.; 2 shifts, 3s.; 16 napkins, 4s.; 1 towel, 6d.; 2 frocks, 2s. 6d.; 1 spencer, 1s.; 1 pinafore, 6d.; 1 pair of stays, 2s. 6d.; 16 yards of lace, 3s.; 1 yard of muslin, 2s.; 6 yards of ribbon, 1s.; 1 gown-skirt, 1s.; 1 tippet, 1s. 4d.; and 11 caps, 7s.; the goods of William Wiltshire; to which she pleaded
GUILTY . Aged 20.— Confined Six Months.
GUILTY . Aged 22.— Confined Three Months.
GUILTY . Aged 15.— Transported for Seven Years.
GUILTY . Aged 20.— Confined Six Months.
GUILTY . Aged 21.— Confined Four Months.
GUILTY .— Confined Six Months.
GUILTY . Aged 16.— Confined Four Months.
GUILTY . Aged 19.— Confined One Month.
THOMAS WATKINS (police-constable K 310.) On the evening of the 24th of July I was on duty at Blackwall—I observed the prisoners together for about twenty minutes—they followed the prosecutor, and I saw Watson put something into his own pocket—I spoke to another officer—I then caught hold of Watson, and asked Mr. Smith if he had lost anything—he said, "Yes, a handkerchief"—I searched Watson, and found the handkerchief in his left-hand
pocket—I asked how he came to do it—he said he did not know—Fricker was close behind Watson when he took the handkerchief.
Cross-examined by MR. PAYNE. Q. There was a regatta there? A. Yes, and a good many people looking at it.
CHARLES WHITE (police-constable K 259.) About eight o'clock in the evening, on the 24th of July, I was at Blackwall, where there was a rowing-match—I saw the prisoners follow the prosecutor across Mr. Ashton's wharf—I saw Fricker take the handkerchief from the prosecutor, and give it to Watson—I took hold of Fricker, and Watkins took Watson—I saw this handkerchief taken from Watson—I found these scissors on Fricker.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you find a duplicate of a violin on him? A. Yes, and a knife.
RICHARD SMITH . I was at Blackwall on the evening of the 24th of July—Watkins asked me if I had lost anything—I felt, and said I had lost my handkerchief—this is it—I had had it in my pocket when I went out, and I had used it—it has my initials on it.
Watson. I picked it up, and had it for five minutes; I asked several people if it was theirs; they said no.
FRICKER— GUILTY . Aged 20.
WATSON— GUILTY . Aged 21.
Confined Three Months
MIDGLEY pleaded GUILTY . Aged 53.— Confined Four Months.
JAMES GIDDINGS . I am a labourer, and live in Acton-place. On the 12th of Aug., about five o'clock in the afternoon, I met the prisoners at a public-house—they asked me for something to drink, and we went and had a quartern of gin—I took one glass, and then went to sleep—Thew was on my left side, and Midgley on my right—I slept about a quarter of an hour, and when I awoke, Thew was sitting on my left hand, and Midgley on my back—I missed my purse, containing four half-crowns and 6s. or 7s. in silver, from my left-hand pocket—I sent for a policeman, and charged the prisoners with it—they denied it.
Thew. It was between twelve and one o'clock that I met you; you asked me and two more females if we had seen a policeman go by; I went with the females to have a pot of porter; you came in, and drank out of our porter, and asked some boys to drive your cart about while you were drinking. Witness. No, you asked me, about five o'clock, for a quartern of gin—I called for a quartern, and you took share of it.
JOSEPH WEBB . I was potboy at the Yorkshire Grey. I saw the prosecutor and the prisoners and another woman—the prisoners were very busy about the prosecutor, and pushed him into the parlour—he called for a quartern of gin, and they shared it—he then sat down, and the prisoners sat one on each side of him—he went to sleep—I saw Thew was busy about his waistcoat—he had a cape on, which covered his shoulders—I saw Thew put her hand into his left trowsers pocket, she took a parcel out, but I could not see what it was—she dropped it—I was then sent out, and when I returned I saw the prisoners standing outside the door, talking together and watching the prosecutor—Thew gave Midgley something, but I could not see what—Midgley then crossed the road, and went down George-street—she came back in two or three minutes.
prisoners—I received from Midgley the key of her room—I searched her room, and found this bag and money.
Thew. Midgley took the money, and I did not know she had it.
THEW— GUILTY . Aged 37.— Confined Four Months.
GUILTY . Aged 32.— Judgment Respited.
2118. WILLIAM DAY was indicted for stealing, at St. Martin-in-the-Fields, 1 scarf, value 4l.; 10s.; 1 gown, 2l.; 1 night-gown, 4s.; and 2 shifts, 10s.; the goods of Clara Harriet Brown: also 2 sheets, 12s.; and 2 table napkins, 7s.; the goods of Mary Ann M'Gagan: and 1 petticoat, 2s., the goods of Olive Mary Wilson; in the dwelling-house of James M'Kean.
OLIVE MARY WILSON . I am servant to Mr. James M'Kean, who keeps the Belgrave Head, in Spur-street. On the evening of the 4th of Aug. I was standing at the bar, and saw the prisoner come down stairs from the ale-room—he went quickly out at the street door with a bundle in a table-cloth under his arm—I had never seen him before—I went up to the second floor front room, and missed the property stated—(the ale-room is on the first floor)—I found all the linen turned out of the washing basket, and lying about—the velvet scarf had been lying on the bed five minutes before, and that was gone—it was Clara Harriet Brown's, my master's niece—the table-cloth was Mrs. Mary Ann M'Gagan's, the shirts James Duell's, and the petticoat was mine—it was all in the house of Mr. James M'Kean—the whole of it was worth 9l.; 5s.—I had been in the room ten minutes before, and it was all perfectly safe—I afterwards went to Vine-street station, and saw the prisoner—I swear positively to him, though I never saw him before, as we have the gas in our passage, which gives such a light.
Cross-examined by MR. ROBINSON. Q. Many people go up to this ale-room on the first floor? A. Yes—there are not many persons go up that I do not take notice of, because we have our regular customers—I did not see the prisoner go up—I saw him with a bundle, and I thought it very singular, being on Sunday—I had not the presence of mind to lay hold of him—I was standing at the bar door, and the light is on the landing just at the foot of the stairs—I have no hesitation in saying the prisoner is the man—he passed about two yards from me—he was obliged to pass me to go out—I spoke to my master's nephew—he looked at him but did not go after him—it was about nine o'clock.
JAMES DUELL . I am the prosecutor's nephew; his house is in the parish of St. Ann, Soho. About a quarter before nine o'clock that night I saw the prisoner go up stairs—he said, "How do you do, Sir?"—I said, "How do you do?"—we have customers go up stairs to the ale-room—he had no bundle when he went up—in about a quarter of an hour he came down with a bundle wrapped in a table-cloth—he wished me good night, and went out.
Cross-examined. Q. Were you the person that the last witness spoke to? A. Yes—she said, "There is a man gone out with a bundle"—she ran down stairs to my sister, then ran up stairs, and then I went out—I saw the prisoner before Wilson did—he went through the passage—I was close against the bar door—Wilson was just coming from up stairs, standing close against the gas-light—the bar door does not face the stairs—you have to turn to the left to go up stairs, under the light—I saw the prisoner go up and come down.
Cross-examined. Q. He told you at once that he was not there? A. Yes—I did not find anything on him—his landlady told me he had borrowed 6d. to buy something to eat the morning after this robbery.
MR. ROBINSON called
JOHN DAY . I am the prisoner's brother—I am a gentleman's coachman, but am out of a situation—I live at No. 8, Sneed's-gardens, Piccadilly—I did live with Mr. Bond. I recollect Sunday, the 4th of Aug. perfectly well—I met my brother that day about twelve o'clock—he went and took dinner with me, and alter that we went to Mr. Gee's, No. 152, Regent-street, Lambeth, and stopped there till eleven o'clock—Mr. Gee and Mr. Armstrong were there—the prisoner was there from six o'clock till nearly eleven—I was never out of his company at all—I do not know of his being apprehended the next morning—I was at Brighton—I went down to Brighton on the Tuesday before.
Q. You were in London on the 4th of Aug.? A. Yes—I did not go down to Brighton after that—I returned on the Tuesday before the 4th of Aug.—I was not in Brighton after the 4th of Aug.—I did not know of my brother being apprehended till I returned, in three or four days—I came from Brighton on the Friday, and my brother was apprehended on the Tuesday before.
Q. Were you in London on the 4th of Aug.? A. Decidedly, on the Sunday—I went down to Brighton before that—I cannot say what day I went down the last time—I was at Brighton at the time my brother was apprehended—I returned to town on Friday, about the 7th or 8th of Aug., and he was apprehended on the following Tuesday—I know he was apprehended on the Tuesday—I believe I was out of town—that was before the 4th of Aug.; no, after, of course it was.
Q. After you dined with your brother on the 4th, did you go to Brighton? A. Yes, on the Tuesday after—I returned on the Friday, and then heard of my brother being apprehended—that fixed this Sunday in my memory, because I met my brother at the corner of Piccadilly, and asked him to go and dine with me, and he said he would.
MR. RYLAND. Q. How do you get your living? A. By gentlemen's service, when I am in a situation—when I am out of one, I travel about the country for gentlemen with horses—I have been at the races at Brighton and at Goodwood—I went with gentlemen—Mr. Henry Wilson was one—he lives at No. 59, Covent-garden, not in the market, but round about the market—I cannot give you the exact account—I travel about, and if a gentleman says, "Take my horse here," or "Take it there," I do—I do not attend to the gentleman distinctly—I cannot tell you distinctly where he lives—Mr. Wilson lives at No. 59, Covent-garden—he has no stable there—I have not been to his house—I saw him at the races, and he gave me an order to take care of his horses—if a gentleman brings horses down there, I take them—I had the care of Lochabar and another horse—I had two horses for Mr. Wilson, just by the Albion—I cannot give the name of the place—I promiscuously met him coming to Brighton, and he said, "Day, I want you to take care of these horses"—his lads were leading a couple of horses—it was about five o'clock in the evening—I am well known amongst gentlemen—he did not exactly hand over the horses to me—we went to the Bristol Tap, near Kemp Town—I think that is nearly a mile from the Albion—the horses were put up at Mr. Matthews', at the Bristol Tap—on the day my brother dined with me I was living at No. 8, Sueed's-gardens, Engine-street, Piccadilly,
with my wife—it was about twelve o'clock that day that I met my brother—he was living at that time at No. 29, or 30, Bedfordbury—I believe it is at-the Cock and Bottle—that is a very short distance from Leicester-square—I went right home with him on the 4th of Aug.—we stopped at the corner of Engine-street, had a little refreshment, and then went home, between one and two o'clock, and dined directly—there was I, my brother, my wife, and children—we had no visitors—the prisoner was not out of my sight till eleven that night—we stopped at my house, and then went over the water, through the Park, and over Westminster-bridge, and arrived at Regent-street, Lambeth, between five and six, or nearly six—I, and my wife, and my brother, went there—we left the children at home with my wife's mother—she dropped in that day, between three and four, while we were smoking our pipes—we might start about four—Mr. Armstrong was at Mr. Gee's—Mr. Gee is single—we had cigars and tobacco, and gin and water, and ale—my brother was not out of my sight—we left at half-past ten, or nearly eleven—I walked back towards home, and left him near St. Martin's church—I and my wife went home—I left Mr. Armstrong at Gee's—we did not have any tea—my wife does without tea sometimes, and she does with a little beer and tobacco—I heard of my brother's apprehension on this charge when I arrived in town from Brighton—I suppose it was about the latter end of July—then I heard he was locked up on suspicion, but for what I do not kuow.
Q. You arrived at the latter end of July? A. I cannot say exactly what day it was—I do not think I came back from Brighton in July, but when I came back I heard he was locked up, but I heard of his apprehension on the Friday on which I arrived from Brighton—I cannot recollect whether it was in July or August.
Q. How do you know your brother dined with you on the 4th of Aug.?
A. Upon my word I cannot recollect what day I returned, but I can positively recollect my brother dined with me on the 4th of Aug., but I cannot recollect whether I left Brighton for London in July or Aug.—I do not know how the days go—all we have to do is to go with the horses—I left Brighton on Friday, about six o'clock, and got to town that night before the 4th of Aug.—it must be the Friday after, decidedly—you are askinig me questions that I cannot answer.
COURT. Q. Your brother dined with you on some Sunday? A. Yes, it was on the 4th of Aug.—it must have been before that that I came from Brighton, decidedly.
THOMAS GEE . I am a shoemaker, in business for myself, at No. 152, Regent-street, Lambeth; I know the prisoner. The last time I saw him was at my house on the evening of Sunday, the 4th of Aug.—he came near six o'clock in the evening, with his brother—they remained with me till half-past ten, as near as I can possibly say—Armstrong, an acquaintance of mine, was in company with us—no one else—the prisoner might have gone out for five minutes, but not more.
MR. RYLAND. Q. What were you doing during the time? A. Nothing particular—we had a drop of half-and-half, and a pipe, and were talking of different things—we had had tea before they came, and did not make any fresh for them—I believe we all smoked pipes.
MR. ROBINSON. Q. Did you have any cigars? A. I believe there were some on the table—I know there were some—we had no spirits.
HENRY ARMSTRONG . I am a shoemaker, and live in George-street, Walworth. I know the prisoner—I saw him on Sunday, the 4th of Aug., at Mr. Gee's, in Regent-street, Lambeth—Mr. Gee was there, the prisoner, and his brother, and I—that was all—we remained till half-past ten or a quarter
to eleven—I got there at half-past five or a quarter to six—the prisoner and his brother were there then.
MR. RYLAND. Q. What were you doing? A. Smoking and talking—there was part of a pot of porter—I tasted it, and have no doubt that it was porter—there was another pot had, which I believe was half-and-half—the prisoner and his brother went away alone.
MR. ROBINSON. Q. Did you see any wife there? A. Gee's wife—no other.
GUILTY of stealing only. Aged 32.— Transported for Seven Years.
JOSEPH WILLIAM WOOLEY , ironmonger, Apollo-buildings, Old Kent-wood I was going to move to Foley-place, on the 15th of Aug., I took ten bolts and staples, and left them at Great Portland-place, at the corner of Foley-place—I believe these to be the same, but I cannot swear positively—I delivered some of this description.
JOHN BARLEY , carpenter, Newman-street. On the morning of the 15th of Aug. I was working at the house in Foley-place—the prosecutor left the bolts and staples with me—I carried them inside the house, and put them in the keeping-room first, and after dinner removed them to the shop—the prisoner came there about two, and asked if I could give him a job—I asked what he was—he said, "A locksmith and bellhanger"—he turned out of the keeping-room, and went to the back place—I went down into the kitchen—the plasterer said something to me—I looked into the shop, and the bolts were gone—I saw the prisoner going up the street—I saw a constable, and gave him in charge—he had these bolts in his pocket—when he came to the front of the house he began to haul them out of his pocket, and swore he would not carry them any further—he said some one put them into his pocket.
DANIEL BROWN (police-constable E 67.) I took the prisoner with these bolts in his pocket—he said some one put them into his pocket, he did not know how they came there, and he began to throw them out.
Prisoner. I had been out of work a long while, and some one must have put them into my pocket.
GUILTY . Aged 45.— Confined Two Months.
HENRY LAXON . I live in Brook-street, New-road, St. Pancras. On Friday morning, the 9th of Aug., I got up, and missed my bag, two half-crowns, and three pence, from my trowsers pocket, and my cap—the prisoner had lived in the same house as me, but did not then—this is my cap and bag.
JOHN GIFFORD (police-constable S 159.) At half-past five o'clock that morning I was on duty in Brook-street—I saw the prosecutor's door open—I went in, and roused the inmates—I found some things lying on the seat of the water-closet—the prosecutor said he had been robbed of the cap, bag, and money—about a quarter before one, on Saturday morning, the 10th, I saw the prisoner in Brook-street—I asked him his name—he said, "Stanley"—he had this cap on his head—I took and showed him to the prosecutor—as George was coming back from the station, the bag was lying on the step of the door, and it was given to me.
ANN GEORGE . I am the wife of Thomas George, and live in Brook-street. The officer brought the prisoner to our house—I went to the station, and when I returned I found the bag lying on the step of the door, just where the prisoner had stood.
Prisoner's Defence. I was going by the house; I went in, and found the cap on the second floor.
GUILTY. Aged 15.—Recommended to mercy by the Jury.— Confined One Month.
MR. RYLAND conducted the Prosecution.
WILLIAM SPRINGS . I am groom and valet to Mr. Lawrence, and live at his stables, in Oxford-street. About five o'clock on Thursday morning, the 25th of July, I was going into the country with two horses—I took a cab to go to the stables—the cab man drove some distance, then the prisoner and Mr. Shaw got up and rode with the driver—I went to sleep, and the cab man and the other two went into the Marquis of Anglesea public-house, at the corner of William-street, Devonshire-street—when I awoke I got out, and went into the public-house—I met Shaw at the door—he asked if that watch-key, which he had in his hand, belonged to me—I had a watch-key when I went into the cab, and 3s. or 4s.—I looked to see if my money was safe, and it was gone—the others heard Shaw ask if it was my key—I sent for an officer, and gave the prisoner in charge—I had been fast asleep till I got to the Marquis of Anglesea—I had never seen the prisoner before—I felt some one where my watch was, and that awoke me—I cannot tell who it was—this is the key—I cannot swear to it—they found 4s. on the prisoner—I cannot swear to any of them.
Cross-examined by MR. BALLANTINE. Q. You were very drank? A. No—I was sick out of the window—I had been drinking at several different places—I had started with about 8s. or 10s., I do not know which—I had been drinking at two or three places—I had some dice about me—I was not going to do anything with them—they were given to me by a servant of Mr. Crockford's, three months ago.
WILLIAM FULCHER , carman, Salisbury-mews, Quebec-street, I was at the Marquis of Anglesea—the prisoner, Mr. Shaw, and a driver, were on the outside, the cab and the prosecutor was inside—I saw the prisoner and Shaw go into the house—the cab man was in the house before—I saw the prisoner go out of the door—he was away five or ten minutes—he came back, and walked with his back towards the counter, towards Shaw, and took the key out of his pocket—I did not see it enough to know it again—it was such a one as this—he dropped it into Shaw's hat, and said, "It is all right"—Shaw rose directly, and went towards the door, he met the prosecutor, and said, "Have you lost anything?"—he said, "Yes, a key, and I have been robbed of 3s. or 4s."
THOMAS SHAW . I am a footman, and live in Upper Harley-street On the morning of the 25th of June, between four and five o'clock, I was in Oxford-street—I saw the prisoner, and went with him to the Plough public-House, and then we went to the Marquis of Anglesea—I called for half a pint of beer and a pennyworth of gin—I saw the prisoner go towards the cab at the door—in a few minutes he returned, dropped something into my hat, and said, "It is all right"—I said, "I don't know about it's being all right"—I put my hand into my hat, and found this key—I went towards the door, and met the prosecutor, and said, "Have you lost anything?"—he said, "Yes, a gold key, and 3s. or 4s., I was robbed by a man in a blouse"—no one wore a blouse but the prisoner—I told the prisoner he must consider himself in custody—I gave him in charge.
Cross-examined. Q. What time in the night did you meet the prisoner? A. It was not in the night—I went out to bathe unknown to my master, for
Which I have been dismissed—I saw the prisoner in Oxford-street first—I went with him to a public-house—I saw the cab man at the public-house, and asked him if he would let me ride as far as Tyburn—he said yes, and the prisoner got up too—I was in the police twelve months ago—I made application to get in again about eight months ago—I have since made application to Major Shaw, to be appointed in the City Police—I left the Metropolitan Police for getting drunk—I did not charge any one with committing a theft—I was not dismissed for making a false charge, it was for being the worse for liquor—I did not shout out "We have caught the man."
CHARLES HASELDINE (police-constable D 104.) I was called to this public-house on the morning of the 25th of June—I found the prisoner, Shaw, and the prosecutor—the prisoner was given into my charge for picking the prosecutor's pocket of this key, and 3s. or 4s.—I found 4s. on him, and the blade of a penknife—the prosecutor appeared to have been drinking, but was not drunk—the prisoner appeared sober, as though he had not been drinking—he denied the charge.
JOHN WARD . I drove the cab, with Shaw, the prisoner, and the prosecutor, to the Marquis of Anglesea—I took up Shaw—I had been driving the prosecutor—we stopped at the Feathers—the prosecutor said, "Drive me about till it is time to go to my yard"—Shaw offered me 1s. to go to the Yorkshire Stingo—I then got to Oxford-street—he asked me to take up the prisoner—when we got to the Marquis of Anglesea, we all went into the house except the prosecutor, who was asleep in the cab—as we were going along, Shaw kept calling to all the policemen, "We have got a good Old Bailey case now, we have got him at last."
NOT GUILTY .
2122. ALICE HARVEY was indicted for stealing 1 brooch, value 18s.; one night-gown, 6d.; 2 pairs of stockings, 2s. 10d.; 1 3/4 of a yard of dimity, 4d.; 3/4 of a yard of muslin, 4d.; 1/2 a yard of linen, 6d.; 1 3/4 yards of net, 2s.; 4 yards of lace, 1s. 6d.; 1 pair of gloves, 1s. 6d.; 1 pair of gloves, 1s.; 2 bottles of ink, 6d.; 3 combs, 1s.; 3/4 of a yard of ribbon, 1s.; 4 reels of cotton, 2d.; and 1 pair of ear-rings, 8s.; the goods of Margaret Wyke: 1 shawl, 1s.; one handkerchief, 6d.; 1 veil, 6d.; and 3/4 of a yard of lace, 6d.; the goods of Ann Dally: also 4 1/2 yards of lace, 2s.; 1 pair of gloves, 3d.; 1 pair of stockings, 2s.; 1 waist-buckle, 1s.; the goods of Grace Miles: also 1 blanket, 2s.; 1 pair of stays, 6s.; 2 napkins, 2s.; 2 pairs of gloves, 1s.; 1 handkerchief, 6d.; 3/4 of a yard of velvet, 4s.; 9 yards of ribbon, 2s.; 3 lbs. weight of soap, 1s. 6d.; 3/4 of a pound weight of lard, 6d.; 1 jar, 2s.; 1 1/2 pint of wine, 8s.; 1 bottle, 3d.; 1 yard of lace, 10d.; 1 1/2 pound weight of sugar, 1s.; 4 oz. weight of cinnamon, 6d.; 1 bead necklace, 2s.; and 3/4 of a yard of cambric, 2s.; the goods of Richard Hodgson, her master.
MARGARET WYKE . I am housekeeper to Richard Hodgson, of Upper Brook-street. The prisoner lived there as kitchen-maid for six months—she left on the 8th of Aug.—she left her boxes behind her—they were both locked, and one was corded—we were to send them that day or the following, which day the carrier called—when the boxes were being brought down, the handle was at the top, and on taking hold of that, the weight of the box broke it open—I observed a blanket of my master's in it—I searched the box further—I found a pair of stays of Mrs. Hodgson's, a night-gown of my own, 3/4 of a yard of Irish linen, 3/4 of a yard of dimity, and 3/4 of a yard of muslin, which were my own—after the prisoner was taken the policeman opened the other box in my presence with a key which he got from her—I found in it a bottle of champagne, a bar of soap, a quantity of sugar, a red shawl of the housemaid's,
Ann Dally, a ribbon, a white neck-handkerchief, and a veil, a pair of gloves of my master's, a pair of stockings of the nurse's, several yards of ribbon, 3 pieces of velvet, and a common necklace of Mrs. Hodgson's.
Cross-examined by MR. DOANE. Q. You had not seen the contents of the second box till the officer opened it with a key? A. No—the prisoner was only engaged for a certain time, and was to have gone at the expiration of that time, which would have been on the 10th, but telling me she had got a situation, she asked me to let her go two days before the time—there is a butler and a footman in the family—I do not know of any love-making between the footman and the prisoner.
Cross-examined. Q. Was it a common key? A. Yes—I nave seen the prisoner's father—he is a respectable man—I have seen the prisoner and the footman together several times.
JURY. Q. Did the prisoner at all hesitate to give you the key? A. No—she made no observation.
NOT GUILTY .
JAMES LEWIS ASHMAN (police-constable F 119.) On the 16th of Aug. I saw the prisoner and another in the Strand, a little after eight o'clock, close behind two gentlemen—the prisoner lifted up the outside gentleman's pocket, and then he went to the inside gentleman's pocket, and drew this handkerchief out—he crossed the Strand—I followed and collared him—he took this handkerchief out of his clothes and threw it down—I took it—he commenced a struggle, and in holding him I lost sight of the gentleman—I do not know who he was—I was in plain clothes.
Prisoner's Defence. He shook me in a brutal manner; he threw me on my back; while I was getting up some gentleman picked up this handkerchief. I kept on resisting, not knowing he was an officer. This is nothing but a trumped-up charge.
GUILTY . Aged 23.— Confined Four Months.
JOHN BROWN . I am a seaman, and live at Hudson's, in Ratcliffe-highway. On the night of the 20th of Aug. I went home with Lyons, and went to sleep with her—I paid her 4s.—when I awoke in the morning I missed my trowsers and waistcoat—Lyons was there—I asked her about them—she said they were up stairs—Longquest came into the room—she went out and fetched some gin—then Lyons got up, and went up stairs—after I had stopped there about an hour, I went up, and found another girl in bed in another room—I inquired for Lyons, and she was gone—she came back with a pair of my shipmate's trowsers—at last she gave the duplicate of my trowsers to me.
Lyons. You told me to get them pawned, and go to your boarding-house, and get a pair of trowsers. Witness. No, I did not.
pawned by Longquest, in her own name—she said she was sent by Browik—I knew her before.
Lyons' Defence, The prosecutor told me to take the clothes to pawn, and to pay myself.
Longquest. He said he could not settle till the morning, and Lyons sent me with the things.
LYONS— GUILTY .— Confined Two Months.
LONGQUEST— NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Monday, August 26th, 1844.
Fifth Jury, before Mr. Recorder.
GUILTY .— Confined Three Months.
2126. LOUISA BRIDGEN was indicted for stealing, at St. James's, Westminster, 3 coats, value 7l.; and 1 pair of trowsers, 1l.; the goods of Henry Parker, her master, in the dwelling-house of William Desborough; to which she pleaded
GUILTY . Aged 25.—Recommended to mercy.— Confined Two Month.
GUILTY . Aged 24.— Confined Six Months.
GUILTY . Aged 40.— Confined One Year.
2129. WILLIAM BOUTLE was indicted for stealing 16 razors, value 1l.; 10s.; 6 hair-brushes, 12s.; 6 pairs of scissors, 5s.; 1 hone, 1s.; and 2 bugs, 2s.; the goods of Ann Taylor, his mistress; and that he had been before convicted of felony; to which he pleaded
GUILTY .* Aged 26.— Transported for Ten Years.
2130. WILLIAM FISHER was indicted for breaking and entering the warehouse of John Wright, at St. Martin's in the Fields, and stealing therein, 1 pipe, value 12s.; and 2 hogsheads of wine, 80l.; the goods of John Wright.
MESSRS. CLARKSON and CHARNOCK conducted the Prosecution.
JOHN WRIGHT . I am a wine-merchant, and live at Wright's Hotel, in the Strand. The prisoner was formerly my wine-cooper—he left my service last September, not of his own accord—I have a cellar in Hungerford-market—I had thirty-five pipes of wine there in Dec, but there were four pipes of port which had come in a day or two previously—they were placed close by the door—I saw them safe on the 18th of December, and missed one on the 23rd, which was placed close to the door—I had a person in my employ named Hubbard—I had the key of the vault in my possession—it was part of Hubbard's duty to go there—when I missed the pipe of wine, on the 23rd of Dec., the door was mutilated, as if with a crow-bar, or something of that kind—the door-posts and door were a good deal jagged—the lock was not taken off, but forced back—I first discovered it about twelve o'clock in the day—the value
of the pipe was 80 1/2.—the duty was all paid—I advertised for it—I have a crane there with which I raise my pipes of wine—it was my own wine.
Cross-examined by MR. DOANE. Q. When did you part with the prisoner? A. In September—the cellar is under the great hall of Hungerford-market—it is a floor between the market and the lower cellar—the floor of my cellar is on a level with the street—a friend went in, and saw the door in that state, and told me—I went with Hubbard—that is not in that part of the market where the trade is going on—it is in a private street, called Hungerford-street—there is a foot-pavement—there is a passage which leads to the cellar—the wine would have to be rolled from the cellar to the door of the cellar, and outside the door is the foot-pavement, but the crane is attached to the door—the wine would have to be raised by the crane, and put into the cart.
COURT. Q. Would a person have to roll the pipe? A. Yes, from the cellar to the street—it would require more than one person for the purpose of using the crane—it is easily rolled when put in motion—the crane is immediately over the cellar door—I should think it was from ten to twelve yards from the mouth of the cellar to where this wine was—my warehouse is in the parish of St. Martin in the Fields.
WILLIAM HUBBARD . I live in Baldwin's-place, and was clerk to Mr. Wright in Dec. last. I had the care of the cellar in Hungerford-market-—there were four pipes of wine there belonging to him, one lying nearly across the door—I saw them safe between four and five o'clock in the afternoon of the 20th of Dec.—when I left that day I secured the door—I went next on the 23rd with Mr. Wright and Mr. Tattersall, and found the cellar-door broken open—the lock had not been injured—I met the prisoner at the latter end of May, or the beginning of June, at the Hope Inn, Blackwall-street—I had never seen him before—I asked him how he was, and then if he had heard about the pipe of wine being stolen from the cellar—he laughed, and said it had never done him any good—I did not make any observation on it—I did not think that he had stolen it.
HENRY HOLMES . I am a corn-dealer, and live in Theobald's-road. I have known the prisoner as a wine-cooper—he applied to me one day in Dec. last to lend my horse and cart to move a pipe of wine—I am not certain that he told me where it was—it was in the afternoon, about three o'clock—it was light—a man named Goddin, who was in my service, then put the horse into the cart immediately, and it went away about half an hour afterwards—I can swear it went out before it was dark—I do not know what time it came home—he afterwards paid me half-a-crown.
ISAAC GODDIN . I live in Crown-court In Dec. last I was carman to Mr. Holmes—I had seen the prisoner a day or two before I went with him and Mr. Holmes's cart—I think it was in the week before Christmas—I cannot tell the day—I went some time in the evening—I think it was after five o'clock—we went to Hungerford-street, to those vaults which have been since pointed out to me by Mr. Wright—I have worked there one day since—I went with the prisoner to Hungerford-market—he told me to wait a bit, and he went away—I do not know where—he was absent about a quarter of an hour—he then came and told me to back the cart against the crane at this vault—there was nothing under the crane then—the prisoner then left me again—I did not see where he went—I did not look after him—when he came back a cask came out of the door against the crane, and two men craned it up into the cart—I had not seen those men with the prisoner, and I do not know what he was doing when they craned up the wine into the cart—the prisoner told me to go with it to the Dog and Duck yard—neither of us got into the cart—we walked—he was sometimes before the cart, and sometimes
behind—when we got to the Dog and Duck yard in Prince's-street, Red Lion-square, I drove into the yard—(it is about 400 yards from Theobald's-road)—the wine was then taken out of the cart, and I put the tail-board up and went home—I got half a pint of beer, or a pennyworth of gin, I am not sure which.
COURT. Q. Is the Dog and Duck yard inclosed? A. No, it is an open yard—ever so many belong to it—I left the prisoner there—I do not knot whether he stopped with the wine.
Cross-examined. Q. Was not there somebody else to receive the wine there? A. Yes, there was a brewer's man, or some wine-porter—he had a brewer's jacket—he and the prisoner assisted in taking the wine out of the cart—I got into the cart and left it with the brewer's man—I cannot give the day nor the time accurately, nor swear whether it was before or after tea that I took this cart—I think it was just getting dusk—when I got to Hungerford-street, I drew up opposite to a bottle-merchant's, about twenty yards from the cellar at first.
COURT. Q. What time did you get to Prince's-street, Red Lion-square? A. I do not know—I took no notice of the time—it took me about a quarter of an hour to go from my master's to Hungerford-market—I waited a quarter of an hour while the prisoner went away—he was absent a second time for about ten minutes—it was about an hour from the time I went out till I came back.
GUILTY . Aged 25.— Transported for Fifteen Years.
2131. JOHN NEWMAN was indicted for feloniously assaulting Catharine Lancaster, and taking from her person, and against her will, 1 purse, value 2d.; 1 handkerchief, 3d.; 14 shillings, and 3 sixpences; the property of George Lancaster, and heating, striking, and using other personal violence to her.
CATHERINE LANCASTER . I lived at Ealing, but have now removed to Hanwell—it does not matter whose wife I am—I live with Lancaster as his wife—I have been married—the name of my husband is Hawkins, I think—I live with the person I am with, and he keeps me—the policeman asked me, and I said I was the wife of George Lancaster—the man I married was named Hawkins, but we never cohabited—I was in service then—I was married in the parish church of Hammersmith, and was of full age—I do not know whether it was by banns—there was one person of the name of Guy there—I do not know the name of the other—I do not know whether I was married in 1840—I never saw the certificate—my father was a farmer—I do not know what Hawkins' father was—I have lived with George Lancaster three yean—I am usually known by his name—on Saturday night, the 3rd of Aug., he gave me 1l.; 5s., and on Monday, the 5th of Aug. I came to Hammersmith, to buy a cover for my table—I went to the Old Ship, where I waited, on account of the rain—I had two glasses of ale there—I took my purse out from my breast, and the prisoner saw me—when I went out, he followed me—I went down the Broadway 50 or 100 yards—I had before that taken my handkerchief out of my pocket, and put it over the purse in my breast—I heard a person come quickly behind me, and I was struck between the shoulders with a hand—I was knocked down—the prisoner put his hand in my bosom and took the purse and money and handkerchief out of my bosom—I saw him directly I got up, and I followed him—the policeman said to me, "I thought you were gone home"—he took the prisoner into custody—the man who knocked me down ran in the direction where the prisoner was taken—I lost a handkerchief, which was found on the prisoner—this is it.
Cross-examined by MR. PATNE. Q. Had you anything to drink at the Old Ship? A. Yes, two glasses of ale—I was there from between six and seven o'clock till about half-past ten—I was drinking with Knight and his wife—I bad no more than two glasses of ale—I had been in no other public-house that day—I just looked into the Hop Pole, where I had lived servant, to see my old mistress, but I might be in public-houses without drinking—I was not at the Cock and Magpie—Lancaster keeps me—Hawkins is a fool, and is in the workhouse—he was not there when he was married—my mistress turned me down stairs one Sunday morning, and my fellow-servants said, "You are not going to be married to such a fool?"—I said, "I am not"—they got me into the church, but I never bedded with him—he was no husband of mine.
Q. Do you mean that because your mistress told you, you went through the solemn service of marriage in Hammersmith church with a fool? A. If I bad known him I should not—I never spoke ten words to him in my life till that time—I am wholly supported by Lancaster—I have no children by him—I do not get part of my living by seeing other men—when Lancaster is out of work I make caps and gowns—I am not almost always tipsy—I have not been tipsy the last five days.
Q. Were you not going over the suspension bridge to drown yourself?
A. No—I went to get rid of company I did not like—I could go that way home to Ealing—it was not seven miles round—I went to get out of their company, and said I was going that way—when I paid the toll I did not take the halfpenny out of my bag—I had it in my glove—I saw the prisoner directly after I had been knocked down—he got away from me and nobody else—I had seen the prisoner come into the Old Ship, and he was standing at the door of the Old Ship when he was taken—I had not been dancing in the tap-room—I never danced in my life—I did not offer-to treat a man named Walpole with a cigar—I did not speak to anybody but Knight and his wife—I did not offer to treat the prisoner—Mrs. Knight came after me on to the bridge—she did not say she came to prevent me from drowning myself—I was not going to drown myself in a drunken fit—I do not want for anything—I will swear that when I paid the toll-keeper I had my money about me—I was not very much the worse for liquor when I paid—the toll-keeper did not allow the policeman and me to pass without paying the toll because I was in custody for having attempted to drown myself—I paid the toll to come back—the policeman came on the bridge and took me down the Broadway to get the purse—I swear I paid the toll twice—I paid for what I had to drink.
WILLIAM TRIGG (police-constable T 96.) I was on duty in the Bridge-road, Hammersmith. At half-past nine o'clock that evening I saw the prisoner talking to a female at the door of the Old Ship public-house, and heard him say twice to the female, "Go and fetch her back"—the prosecutrix was then going towards the bridge, and the woman the prisoner had addressed went and spoke to the prosecutrix—I noticed that the prosecutrix was the worse for liquor, and I tried to induce her to come back to an omnibus—I then went round my beat till a quarter past ten, and noticed the prisoner running from the direction of the Broadway to the Ship public-house—the prosecutrix came up to me in the same direction that the prisoner had been running—she complained of having been robbed, and said she should know the man if she could see him—I took her over to the Ship—the prisoner was at the door, and the prosecutrix pointed him out—she said she had lost amongst other things a handkerchief—I found on the prisoner at the station two handkerchiefs, one of which she claimed—I have no doubt that the prisoner is the roan who was running, and the prosecutrix after him—there was no other
person ran in that direction or entered the public-house—there was a lamp over the door, and I could see him by that light—no one but my brother officer passed between the time of his running to the Ship and the prosecutrix coming up to me.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you know her before? A. No—I did not understand that a drunken woman was going on the bridge to destroy herself, but I knew the party and heard the conversation—I went on the bridge and brought the prosecutrix back to the Broadway, and persuaded her to wait for the omnibus—I saw her again in about three-quarters of an hour—I did not pay any toll in going on or coming off the bridge—I do not know whether she paid—it was not more than three minutes after I saw the prisoner running to the public-house that I saw the prosecutrix—the prisoner was standing at the door of the public-house when I got up there—I had been standing about three yards from the Ship, opposite to it—the prosecutrix had been drinking, but she had her common senses about her—she said she had been robbed of her purse by a man who she should know again if she could see him—I knew the prisoner before—he did not bear a good character—he lived at the Ship about twelve months, and had left it aboot three months—I did not find the purse or money.
(Witnesses for the Defence.)
JOHN KNIGHT . I am a carpenter, and live in Cromwell's-buildings, Hammersmith. I know the prosecutrix by the name of Mrs. Hawkins, but not by the name of Lancaster—I saw her on the evening of the 5th of Aug., at the Ship, about half-past five, standing at the bar, and she had a quartern of gin—I was standing at the door—she asked me to go into the tap-room with her, and have a drop of beer—I went in with her, and had a drop of beer—she ordered six or seven pots, altogether—when she was pouring out the second glass of gin, the glass was broken—I think she stopped there till about ten at night—I was there all the time, drinking some of the beer which she had furnished—I and my wife went with her to the Angel, which is in the middle of Hammersmith town—we had a pot of beer there, and she had 3d. worth of oysters—we came back to the Ship again, and the prisoner was in the tap-room—the prosecutrix told me to order a pot of beer—she then went out, and came back in about two minutes, and drank part of the beer—the prisoner was there then.
JURY. Q. Who paid for this beer and liquor? A. She did, except for the last pot—there were seven or eight people in the tap-room—she went round and treated them all.
MR. PAYNE. Q. Did you see what money she had? A. She emptied it out of a leathern bag into her left hand, in the beginning of the evening—there was a half-crown, two shillings, a sixpence, and some halfpence—it was about half-past ten o'clock when she came back to the Ship—I went with her into the town, and she had the oysters—we left the prisoner in the Ship—he had not been taken then—a person came to the door, and said a woman was gone over the bridge to drown herself—I and Cook went after her—when we got over the first pier, I saw the prosecutrix, the policeman, and my mistress—the policeman and prosecutrix came over the bridge together—I and my mistress left them—we went to the Ship again, and the prisoner was there—I saw a handkerchief something like this one, chucking about there—I believe it was this—it was blue, and had white diamonds on it—it
was thrown up against the prisoner, when he was standing by the fire to dry his feet—he had a pipe in his mouth—I threw the handkerchief at him—I remember the policeman eoming and taking the prisoner at the door—he had not been out of the tap-room from the time that I went in, after I had come off the bridge, till the officer took him, except to go to the door—I have known him fourteen or fifteen years—he has an honest character—I know Hawkins—I saw him yesterday in the Bridge-road.
COURT. Q. What induced the prosecutrix to give you and seven or eight other people beer? A. She was dancing with the prisoner in the tap-room—she paid for six or seven pots—she did not pay for the last—I saw her pay for all but that—she paid for the last pot with 4d. in halfpence—I did not see her come up and complain that she had been robbed—I came to the door, and saw the officer collar the prisoner—the prosecutrix was standing at the back of the officer, saying the prisoner was the man that robbed her.
JURY. Q. Was she sober enough to distinguish between two persons? A. No—she paid the toll for the bridge.
COURT. Q. Have you always called her so? A. Yes—I knew her before she was married—I was present when she was married at Hammersmith church—Hawkins is a bricklayer's labourer—I do not know that he is weak in his intellect—he works at Notting-hill—I saw him last night—Hawkins and she lived together—I have been to their house when they lived in Angel-lane, three or four years ago—she had lived at the Hop Pole when she was married—they were living as man and wife in Angel-lane, and she was servant at the Hop Pole.
MR. PAYNE. Q. Occasionally they were living at the lodging? A. Yes, and she lived at the Hop Pole—she did something there, and must not go there—she then lived with Hawkins, and after that she left her husband—I saw her about six o'clock in the evening on the 5th of Aug.—she asked if I would have something to drink—I hardly knew her, but she explained who she was—we went and had some—I did not know she had been drinking till she got into the house—she called for a quartern of gin, and thought she had halfpence enough for it, but she had not—she pulled out a leathern bag from her bosom and took out a shilling, and in so doing she broke the glass—she had then two shillings, a half-crown-piece, a sixpence and twopence, after she had paid for the glass—we went into the tap-room—several other persons came in—the prisoner came in, and began to dry his stockings—my husband asked where he had been—he said, "Looking for work"—he asked my husband if he would give him some tobacco—he said he had none to give him—the prosecutrix ordered a cigar for him, and paid for it—she was after that dancing in the tap-room with several men, one man named Cook—we remained at the Old Ship till nearly nine o'clock; then the prosecutrix, my husband, and I went to the Angel—we there had a pot of beer and threepenny worth of oysters—we left the prisoner and others at the Old Ship—we went back to the Old Ship—she ordered my husband to call for a pot of beer—she then went out, and the landlady said, "There is a woman gone on the bridge, follow her"—I went out after her—the toll-keeper told me to go up to her—I went up and said, "Mrs. Hawkins, what are you going to do?"—she said, "When I get home Lancaster will kill me"—as soon as I got to her the policeman came up, and we went off the bridge—my husband had come up while we were there—the policeman and the prosecutrix went off the bridge straight up the Bridge-road, towards the Broadway—I and my husband went back to the Ship—the prisoner was in the tap-room when we got there—the policeman afterwards came
and took him—he had not gone out of the tap-room from the time we went back till the policeman came—when the prosecutrix gave the prisoner in charge, I said, "Mrs. Hawkins, you are not going to say anything against him?"—she said, "Yes, I am; I shall be killed when I get home"—I saw a handkerchief kicking about the tap-room before we went to the Angel—it was a blue handkerchief, and like this one.
COURT. Q. What makes you say the prisoner did not go out? A. I am sure he did not—we went straight in to him at the Ship, and as we were coming out to go home, the policeman and the prosecutrix ran across—the policeman said, "Is this the man"—she said, "Yes," and he collared him—my husband and I had not been in the tap-room—when we went back, we stood in front of the bar—the landlady was cross because the last pot of beer was not paid for—the prisoner was in the tap-room—the door was open, and we could see through—there were several men there.