CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
CUBITT, MAYOR—SECOND MAYORALTY.
NINTH SESSION, HELD JULY 7TH, 1862.
MINUTES OF EVIDENCE,
TAKEN IN SHORT-HAND BY
JAMES DROVER BARNETT
Short-hand Writers to the Court.
ROLLS CHAMBERS, No. 89, CHANCERY LANE.
THE POINTS OF LAW AND PRACTICE,
REVISED AND EDITED BY
ROBERT ORRIDGE, ESQ.
OF THE MIDDLE TEMPLE, BARRISTER-AT-LAW.
BUTTERWORTHS, 7, FLEET STREET,
Lam Publishers to the Queen's Most Excellent Majesty.
On the Queen's Commission of
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, July 7th, 1862, and following days.
BEFORE. the Right Hon. WILLIAM CUBITT, Lord Mayor of the City of London; Sir William Wightman, Knt.; and Sir Charles Crompton, Knt., two of the Justices of Her Majesty's Court of Queen's Bench; Sir James Duke, Bart., M.P.; Sir Francis Graham Moon, Bart, F.S.A.; Sir Robert Walter Carden, Knt.; and John Carter, Esq., Aldermen of the said City; Russell Gurney, Esq., Q.C. Recorder of the said City; William Anderson Rose, Esq.; Warren Stormes Hale, Esq.; William Ferneley Allen, Esq.; John Joseph Mechi, Esq.; Thomas Dakin, Esq.; and Robert Besley, Esq.; Aldermen of the said City; Thomas Chambers, Esq., Common Serjeant of the said City; and Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq., Judge of the Sheriff's Court of the said City; Her Majesty's Justices of Oyer and Terminer and General Gaol Delivery of Newgate, holden for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal Court.
GEORGE JOSEPH COOKERNELL, Esq.
WILLIAM HOLME TWENTYMAN, Esq.
FREDERICK FARRAR, Esq.
CHARLES GAMMON, Esq.
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
CUBITT, MAYOR SECOND MAYORALTY.
A star (*) denotes that prisoners have been previously in custody—two stars (**) that they have been more than once in custody—an oblisk†that they are known to be the associates of bad characters—the figures after the name in the indictment, denote the prisoner's age.
LONDON AND MIDDLESEX CASES.
OLD COURT.—Monday, July 7th, 1862.
PRESENT—The Right Hon. the LORD MAYOR; Sir FRANCIS GRAHAM MOON, Bart. Ald.; Sir ROBERT WALTER CARDEN, Knt. Ald.; Mr. RECORDER;
Mr. Ald. HALE; and Mr. Ald. BESLEY.
Before Mr. Recorder.
JAMES WILSON . I keep the Constitution public-house, in Drury-lane—a little after 7, on the evening of 26th May, I left my house and went into Tottenham-court-road—I had a pair of gold spectacles round my neck with a guard, and in my pocket—as I was going along Great Earl-street, I was suddenly tripped up, and fell down on my face, and hurt myself considerably—I was so stunned and insensible from loss of blood that I did not recover myself for some time; when I came to myself, the spectacles and guard were gone—they had pulled it over my head.
MARY FARLEY . I am a widow, living at 23, Great Earl-street—on the evening of 26th May, I was standing at my door, and saw the prosecutor bleeding very much from the nose—I advised him to be taken to the doctor's—when I got my hand on his shoulder, a young man, whose face I did not see, came up and said, "This is the way to the doctor's"—several came up then together, pushed him across the road, and tripped him up—I went across and said, "You ought to be ashamed of yourselves treating a gentleman in that manner; you are robbing of him"—I saw them lean over him, and take, as I thought, his watch from him; but it was his gold spectacles—Hoare is the one that received the spectacles and ran away; the other two men were leaning over him when I said they were robbing him and they all and I mentioned what I had seen.
PAUL LAFFIN . I keep a public-house in Seven Dials—on 26th May, was called up from my cellar, and saw Mr. Wilson at my door—I took charge of him—he was covered with blood, which was running into his mouth and on to his shirt—he appeared stunned but was perfectly sober.
MARGARET RUSSELL . I am the wife of Philip Russell, of 4, Little White Lion-street—between 7 and 8 o'clock, on 23th May, I was sweeping in front of my house, and saw several boys running away—Hoare is the one I saw first, with the spectacles in his hand, and the others were following him—I saw him pass them to a another boy who is not here.
WILLIAM ACKRILL (Policeman, F 48). On 27th May, I received information from Mrs. Farley and Mr. Laffin, in consequence of which I apprehended Barnett and Sweetlove in a coffee-house on that day—I told them I should take them into custody for robbing an old gentleman of his eye-glass—they said, "All right; it was not us that took it"—at the station they said, "You might as well have taken Curtis and Hagan"—on 3d June, I saw Hoare in Five Dials, and told him I should take him into custody for robbing an old gentleman of an eye-glass—he said, "They put it in my pocket and told me to run away; I gave it to Hagan, and he sold it for 8s. in King-street, and I only had 1s. 6d. out of it"—I know Hoare by the name of Curtis.
Hoare. I did not speak to the officer; I did not know what he was taking me for; I thought it was for fighting with some boys in the other street; I am innocent.
Sweetlove's Defence. I am working honestly for my living.
BARNETT.— GUILTY .†— Three Years' Penal Servitude.
HOARE.— GUILTY .**†— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
SWEETLOVE.— GUILTY .†— Four Years' Penal Servitude.
PLEADED GUILY .— Confined Nine Months.
PLEADED GUILTY .— Confined Six Months.
PLEADED GUILTY .— Confined Twelve Months.
PLEADED GUILTY .— Confined Nine Months.
722. EDWARD BENNETT (61) , Burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Robert Kitson, and stealing therein 2 silver cruet tops and other articles, having been previously convicted; to which he
PLEADED GUILTY .— Four Years' Penal Servitude.
two persons came up to me; the prisoner is one of them—he snatched my bag from me—I tried to keep it, struggled with him for a few minutes, and he broke the chain—I attempted to follow him, and ran down Porter-street after him, till some one behind me called me, stopped me, and thumped me in the chest—my bag contained a lace fall, a cap-front, a key, some elastic, and 9s. 9d. in money—I gave a description of the person who had taken it, to the constable—I saw him distinctly coming up to me, before he came to me—I did not see him again till Sunday night—this was on Saturday—I saw him at Bow-street police-court, with seven other persons, and picked him out.
Prisoner. I was not out after 8 o'clock.
RICHARD CROWTHER (Policeman, F 61). The last witness gave me a description, in consequence of which I apprehended the prisoner at half-past 3 in the afternoon on 29th—I told him he must come with me—I did not tell him what for—I had seen him on the Saturday night, about ten minutes to 9, in Drury-lane, about five or seven minutes before the robbery took place, before I received the information, with another man—that was about thirty yards from the spot where the prosecutrix was robbed, I should say.
GUILTY . (See page 284.)
EDWARD PERCY RICE . I am servant to Mr. Joseph Eglise, a silversmith, of Cornhill—on 20th June, about 10 in the morning, I heard our door-bell ring—I saw the prisoner in the act of taking an egg-frame off the counter at the back of the shop, and run out of the shop with it—I ran after him, found him in Change-alley, and gave him in custody.
Prisoner. Q. What do you suppose was the distance? A. Between twenty and thirty yards—the value of the article is 3l. 10s.
Prisoner. I shall not make any defence.
GUILTY .— Confined Twelve Months.
MR. WILLIAMS conducted the Prosecution.
EDMUND TULLY . I am a drover, and live at 16, Norfolk-terrace, Cubitt's-town, Poplar—on 26th May, I had 193 sheep at the New Metropolitan Market, all marked with my own mark—I saw them into the market—I counted them through—they were penned at 5 o'clock, and I missed three about thirty minutes past 5—I received information, and went to a butcher, named Sayers, in East-lane, Walworth, where I saw the two carcases of mutton; the right bind leg of each sheep had been broken—I afterwards went into the back premises, where I found the skins of two oat of the three sheep—I know them by the marks—they were worth 5l. 6s.—I had to pay for them—they were intrusted to me to keep—they belonged to Mr. Charles Christian, of Oldham, Hants—they could not by any means have got their legs broken in the pen—there are slaughter-houses at the market called casualty sheds—I have known the prisoner three or four years—he has had no dealings with me—there were several other carcases at Sayers' shop, but of an inferior description—I gave Sayers in custody on the Tuesday—the prisoner is a drover—he had no authority from me to dispose
of any of the sheep—I can swear to the carcases being mine—I compared the skins with the carcases—on the morning I missed the sheep I saw the prisoner in the market.
Cross-examined by MR. OPPENHEIM. Q. When did you compare the carcases with the skins? A. On Tuesday—I was before the Magistrate on the Wednesday—I would not then swear that they were my sheep, but an prepared to swear it now—the bruises were on the shanks of the skins where the knuckle was broken, inside the skin—I could not see the outside because of the wool, and one of the carcases was as though it had had a stroke from a stick—there was no probability of the legs being broken in the pens by fair means—a portion of the wool of one skin was pulled off, as if it was to rub the marks off that it should not be discovered—a leg broken above the knuckle does not diminish the value of the carcase above a farthing a pound—the bone was broken just below the knuckle, but barely below it—these are the two skins (produced)—when sheep meet with an injury they are taken to a slaughter-house connected with the market and killed, they are then purchased by a lower order of butchers—they would not fetch as much then as when sold alive in the market—they are not killed there unless they have something amiss with them—I have not found the other sheep.
MR. WILLIAMS. Q. Did you on any occasion give authority to the prisoner or any other person to take the sheep? A. No.
JOHN WHEELER . I am in the employment of Mr. Fairey, a master slaughterman—he has a slaughter-house in Old Smithfield, and one at the New Cattle-market—on 26th May, I saw the carcases of two sheep that had been dressed, hanging up in the slaughter-house—the prisoner came in there about half-past 9—I was having my breakfast, and he looked at the carcases—one of them had the appearance of having been dead eight or nine hours, I should say—one was a very nice sheep—they did not seem fellow sheep, but quite odd—the leg of one was broken, and the fellow leg on the other was very much bruised, as if it had been crushed under the cart—the leg of each sheep was broken; I think it was the right leg; but I know the left leg of one was very much bruised—I said to the prisoner, "Are those your two sheep?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "What do you ask for them?"—he said, "I have just sold them to Mr. Sayers"—he is a man about the market that purchases a great quantity of sheep—I did not see them taken away—I have seen the prisoner about the market as a drover—I have not seen him there since that—to the best of my belief; these (produced) are the skins of those sheep—they were the only two sheep at our slaughter-house that day—the prisoner has not brought sheep there before to my knowledge; but I am not always there—I have never seen him bring sheep when I have been there.
Cross-examined. Q. When sheep get injured or deteriorated and brought to market, they are brought to the slaughter-house, are they not? A. Yes, and then killed—some of them then sell for considerably less than if perfect—the drovers generally bring sheep to the slaughter-house; sometimes strangers bring them, whom we have never seen before and never see afterwards; that is mere chance work—when the sheep is brought there by the drover and then killed, the drover generally sells it, and has the management of that.
MR. WILLIAMS. Q. When injured sheep are brought to the slaughter-house, is it by the order of the master drover? A. That is the custom—we do not ask them those questions; they bring it in and say, "Here is a
sheep to dress," and sometimes they come and take it away themselves, and pay the expenses; and sometimes they sell it in the slaughter-house—sometimes the master drover, sometimes the journeyman drover, and sometimes the master of the sheep, comes and sells it—there is no established rule about that.
ROBERT GOULD (Police-sergeant, N 40). I saw the prisoner at Walworth police-station, and charged him with stealing the sheep from the Cattle-market—I cautioned him—he said that he had bought them of a man in the Cattle-market—I asked him the man's name—he said he did not know his name, he was a stranger, but that he should know him again if he saw him—he said he had sold the sheep to Mr. Sayers; but that they were not Mr. Tully's sheep—I am almost constantly on duty at the Cattle-market—I have known him as a drover there, and used to see him about the market almost every market-day, except sometimes in the summer—I have not seen him about there since this transaction.
COURT. Q. When was it that he was in custody? A. On 11th June—it was only from 26th May till 11th June that I did not see him.
MR. OPPENHEIM. Q. Do you know that he was in the habit of going round in the country with sheep at fairs? A. Yes; and he deals in this kind of thing.
THOMAS CORLEY (Policeman, L 169). I took the prisoner on 11th June—I found him in the Spread Eagle public-house, White Hart-street, Kennington-cross—I went in and said, "Hallo, Taylor"—he said, "What do you want me for?"—I said, "I suppose you know"—he said, "I don't know; I bought two sheep of a man at the Cattle-market; I sent them to another party and afterwards they said they, were stolen; I have been in the country ever since, and I thought it was all dropped," or "settled; and I am just come up by the train to Vauxhall"—I said, "You will have to come with me to the station, charged with stealing the sheep"—I took him in custody.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you know he had got the train from Vauxhall then? A. No, except from his own words—Sayers, the butcher, was charged before the Magistrate—I was present at the last hearing, but had nothing to do with the case against Sayers—he was discharged.
MR. WILLIAMS. Q. A reward was offered for the prisoner, was there not? A. Yes; I did not get it—I saw the bills posted—I knew the man that offered it.
JAMES GRAY . I live at 1, Rundle-street, Caledonian-road, and am employed at Fairey's slaughter-house as night watchman—early on this Monday morning, I heard a knock at the door, and after a minute I got up, went to the door, and found a sheep there with its throat out—no person was at the door—I pulled it inside—two of its legs were broken; the two hind ones, I believe—I lay down and afterwards awoke up and saw another sheep lying across the door alive, with its legs broken.
COURT. Q. What time was this? A. Between 2 and 3 in the morning when I received the first one—I did not look at any clock—I fancied that was the time—it was quite light; getting daylight—I do not exactly know how long the second was after the first—I have not seen the skins of these sheep since—I had to go to Tottenham after a bullock—I did not see them dressed.
JAMES FLETCHER . I live at York-road, Battersea, and am a master drover—I have known the prisoner five or six years—he has been a journeyman drover to me, but only for Sunday night work—it was not his duty, to my
knowledge, to buy or tell cattle—I have several times seen him in company with Sayers—I never knew him to buy cattle or carcases on his own account—I never authorized him to sell any for me—when sheep are maimed, they are taken to the slaughter-house and slaughtered; it is for the master drover to sell them, from the instructions from the salesmen—it is no part of a journeyman drover's business to do so.
COURT. Q. Was he employed by you on this Sunday night, 26th may? A. Yes, with another, to take a drove of sheep from Nine Elms to the New Cattle-market—it is usual for me to see him the following morning to pay him, and I never saw him until at Kennington-lane—he was not paid at all, but he ought to have been—when maimed sheep are sold at the slaughter-house the master drover or myself receive the money for them—the prisoner had no authority that evening to sell any of my sheep.
Cross-examined. Q. Were you at the market that day? A. Yes—if my drover found a sheep with a broken leg, he might take it to the slaughter-house—if it was sold there, and I not in the market, it would not be his duty to receive the money—he had no right to sell it unless I gave him authority—it would be his business to take it to the slaughter-house—the drovers do not, to my knowledge, sometimes sell the sheep, when the master drover is not there—I sell sometimes by instructions from the master.
COURT. Q. Are you responsible for the sheep? A. Yes; and if a sheep suffers any damage or is lost while under my authority, I have to make it good.
THOMAS SAYERS . I am a butcher at. 4, East-road, Walworth—on 26the May last, I was at the New Cattle-market, and saw the prisoner there against Mr. Russell's pen, at about half-past 8 o'clock in the morning—I had just bought forty-two sheep of Mr. Tulley's master—the prisoner came and said, "Mr. Sayers, will you go down to the slaughter-house and buy two damaged sheep?"—I said, "Yes"—I went with him, and asked what he wanted for them—I saw the two sheep hanging there—they each had a broken leg—one had been lying dead, I should say, three or four hours—it was all green from its kidneys, and quite soft—he asked me 3l. 10s. for them—I told him that was more than the value of them, and bid him 3l.—he said he gave the man 3l. 4s. for them himself—I did not ask him where he got them from; it is not a usual thing—I subsequently gave him 3l. 4s. for them—I did not pay for the dressing—I have known the prisoner about the market about six or seven years, buying things and selling them again and getting shillings by them—I was originally given into custody because they were found on my premises—I offered a reward of 20l.
Cross-examined. Q. What do you call "buying little things?" A. Well, I knew him to buy a cow at the Bricklayers' Arms station, that had died on the road, and get 6l. or 7l. by it—I have known him go into the country to market—I gave 3l. 5s. for them on the Monday, which was more than the value; they were sold on the Thursday, and I only got 16s. for them; it was good weather—a drover will sometimes buy a damaged sheep from his master if he has a little money of his own, and then of course he pays for the dressing if he sells it to a butcher.
COURT. Q. Did you pay him the 3l. 5s.? A. Yes.
The prisoners statement before the Magistrate was here read as follows:—"I work for Mr. Fletcher; went to the market with a drove, and helped to pen them; afterwards I was standing by the White Hart, a man drove up in a cart and said, 'Do you know where I can get two sheep dressed?' I said, 'Yes,' and directed him to the slaughter-house, and he asked me to
show him the way. I had sold a cow, and had got the money in my pocket, and I asked him if he would sell them; he said, 'Yes,' and said they were two sheep that he had run over, and the driver had made him take to them. He asked 3l. 10s.; I offered him 50s. and gave him 3l. I asked him to take them to Mr. Fairey's slaughter-house, which he did, and I left them there, and when I came back about 8 o'clock in the evening they were dressed. I saw Mr. Sayers about 9; asked him if he would buy two sheep, and he said, 'Yes,' and he went with me to the slaughter-house. I asked Sayers 3l. 10l. for them, and I sold them for 3l. 5s. I get my living by going about the country, from fair to fair, in the summer time, and that is the reason that I have been absent since I sold the sheep."
COURT to JAMES FLETCHER. Q. Did you see your sheep penned that morning? A. No; I was not there at that time—I am generally there between 5 and 6—my sheep were all penned and drawn then—they left Nine Elms about 10 o'clock on the Sunday evening; it might be a little after—it would take them about three hours, I should say, to get to market—they have two or three droves of sheep to draw during the night; as they come up from the country—the prisoner would not have to return to Nine Elms—he would have to meet me on the following morning—I cannot tell what time he arrived at the market.
COURT to THOMAS SAYERS. Q. Do you remember the skins that were found and taken away from your place? A. Yes, and the two carcases—I believe the skins belonged to those two carcases; there were no more sheep dressed in the slaughter-house that morning.
GUILTY .— Three Years' Penal Servitude.
PLEADED GUILTY .— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
PLEADED GUILTY .— Three Years' Penal Servitude.
PLEADED GUILTY *— Confined Eighteen Months.
PLEADED GUILTY .— Confined Nine Months.
MR. OPPENHEIM conducted the Prosecution.
HENRY WHITE (Policeman, P 111). I produce a certificate of the prisoner's conviction at the last Kingston Assizes—(Read: George Brunel, convicted at Kingston, March, 1862, of burglary, and sentenced to Six Years' Penal Servitude")—I was present—the prisoner is the person.
Prisoner. I do not deny it.
JOHN KEANE . I am clerk to the Governor of Horsemonger-lane Gaol—the prisoner was received into the gaol in March last, and remained till 13th June—I did not see him in the gaol after that until he was brought back.
WILLIAM CAPON (Police-sergeant, M 24). I and another constable watched for the prisoner after he escaped from gaol—we had been watching for several days and nights, and saw something which led us to keep close observation on a certain house, and about half-past 4 o'clock we saw him in the garden and pounced upon him; he resisted very violently—he had a sort of bludgeon or life-preserver in his hand, which he attempted to use, but we knocked it out of his hand—he said that had he been nearer the cottage he would have settled the pair of us—we were about ten yards from the cottage—we had the most desperate encounter I have ever had to take him to the gaol.
Prisoner. I wish to deny that statement. I never resisted you at all; I had nothing in my hand; and I can bring forward my wife, who was present, to prove that it is a base falsehood. Witness. The other officer was present.
Prisoner. Q. Did you go to a public-house as we came along? A. Yes—I got a white hat there, and I allowed you to have half a pint of porter, as you asked for some refreshment.
Prisoner's Defence. If you consider there is any offence in an innocent man breaking out of prison when he has an opportunity, then I am guilty; but as to what the policeman says it is perjury.
GUILTY .— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
LUCY LAMBERT . I am the wife of John Lambert, of 60, Great Queen-street—on Saturday, 28th June, I was walking along Druary-lane about half-past 4 o'clock, carrying a reticule in my left hand—I saw two persons at the corner of a court; they rushed at me and seized my bag—I held it as long as I could, but it was taken from me, and hurt my hand—I followed them till I saw a policeman—I cannot swear to the prisoners—my reticule contained a purse, two sovereigns, some silver, and several other articles.
Allen. Q. Did you see me there? A. I saw some one very much like you.
JANE WIGGINS . I am the wife of John Wiggins, of 16, Castle-street, Long-acre—I was in Drury-lane, and saw the prisoners rush from a court; Johnson seized the reticule, and Allen helped—they dragged her several yards and got it from her—I saw a constable with Allen in Queen-street soon afterwards—I did not see Johnson till to-day.
Allen. She saw me at the police-court. Witness. I saw him on Monday, when I went to the office.
WILLIAM FISH (Policeman.) I was on duty in Drury-lane, heard a cry of "Stop thief!" and saw the prisoners running down Wyatt Court, I pursued them into Mill-road, where Johnson dropped this bag from under his coat—I picked it up, pursued him, and he got away, but I took Allen, who said, "It is not me; I was running after him to try to stop the thief."
Johnson. I did not drop it. Witness. I am sure you are the man.
Allen's Defence. I work hard for my living. I was just going to a man who I had hired a barrow of, when the man tapped me on the shoulder.
ALLEN, GUILTY **— Three Years' Penal Servitude.
JOHNSON, GUILTY **— Six Years' Penal Servitude (See page 278).
NEW COURT.—Monday, July 7th, 1862.
PRESENT—Mr. Ald. MECHI; Mr. Ald. BESLEY; Mr. COMMON SERJEANT;
and ROBERT MALCOLM KERR, Esq.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
PLEADED GUILTY .— Confined Six Months.
PLEADED GUILTY .— Confined Six Months.
PLEADED GUILTY .— Four Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. PATER conducted the Prosecution.
THOMAS WILLIAM SCOTT . I reside at 82, Bishopsgate-street, and am a linen-draper—this print (produced) is my property—it was safe on 23d June about 8 o'clock, as near as I can recollect, and about five or ten minutes afterwards I saw it in the constable's possession—it waft brought back to me—I had seen the prisoners loitering about the outside of the shop about five minutes before I missed the print—I had occasion to go out merely across the road, and on my return the print was stolen.
Cross-examined by MR. COOPER. Q. Is your shop on a level with the pavement? A. Yes—the prisoners were in the street.
WILLIAM ROBINSON (City-policeman, 656). I was employed by the prosecutor, on 23d June, to watch the premises—about a quarter-past 8 I saw both the prisoners and another man pass by the shop—they came back again and passed the shop a second time, and went towards Spital-square—about a quarter to 9 the two prisoners came back and looked in the window for a short time, the male prisoner standing a few yards off—the woman went into the shop, where there was a shawl hanging about three yards in the shop—she held it out with her right hand, so as to hide the persons behind the counter—the man followed her, and lifted the right skirt of his coat and put it over a piece of print—he then ran across the road to Acorn-street, where he turned his head, and seeing me behind him he threw them down and run up Acorn-street very fast—I ran after him—be was about to turn into Skinner-street when I caught hold of him—he threw himself down, and when on the ground he caught hold of my right leg. and tried to bite it, and was very violent—I stooped down to relieve myself of him, and he said, "You b—, I will scratch your eyes out"—while I had him on the ground the female prisoner came up and called me everything she could lay her tongue to—she said, "You b—, you will kill the man"—she said, "I saw who took it; it was not him at all"—other constables then came up, and she made herself scarce
—I saw her on the following Saturday at the Spitalfields station, and charged her with it—she said she knew nothing about it—I saw her afterwards at Bishopsgate-street station, and she said, "I picked up the print and gave it to a woman"—I had seen the prisoners together about three-quarters of an hour before she entered the shop—I have no doubt about her being the woman—the print was about two or three feet in the shop on the left-hand side—there is a lobby somewhere about three yards long; a window turns round in the shop, and the shawl was hanging close inside the shop—the female held the shawl out, so that no person could see from the inside of the shop—the prisoner followed her in behind and lifted the tail of his coat.
Cross-examined. Q. When did you first mention about her having said she picked it up and gave it to a woman? A. At the Mansion-house—I am sure of that—I was the only person watching—I was in private clothes—it is a broad doorway—the gas was burning.
ASHMORE— GUILTY .†— Confined Twelve Months.
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, July 8th, 1862.
PRESENT—MR. RECORDER; Mr. Ald. MECHI; and Mr. Ald. BESLEY.
Before Mr. Recorder.
735. RICHARD FITZSIMMONS (19) , Burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Richard Berger, and stealing therein 20 brooches, 13 chains, 12 breast-pins, 1 ring, and 42l. in money, his property; and 1 pair of trousers, 1 coat, 1 handkerchief, and 1s. 9d. in money, the property of Edward Gatrell; having been before convicted, to which he
PLEADED GUILTY .— Four Years' Penal Servitude.
JOSEPH HAM (Policeman, X 492). On 9th March, I was called, with another constable, to take the prisoner—I found him at the Monster public-house, Fulham-road—I said nothing to him, but he turned round, came towards us, pulled out an iron screw-wrench, and said, "I will split the b—skull of the first b—man that comes up to me"—I went up to him, and he struck me across the forehead and knocked me down—I was disabled for nine days, and did not see any more of him till 14th June.
Prisoner. When he came up to me I told you you had no case against me. Witness. You did not—I was going to take you for an assault on Harman, whose face was cut and bleeding.
HENRY ROBINS (Policeman, F 410). On 9th March, I went with Ham to take the prisoner in custody—he said that he would split the b—skull of the first man whe came to him—he struck Ham a blow on the forehead, and struck me two very severe blows on the back of the head with an iron screw-wrench—I did not see him again till 14th June, when I apprehended him in Fulham-fields—he was exceedingly violent, and said that no two b—y policeman should take him; and he said, "You know I can do it, and I will."
Prisoner. Q. Did not you tell me to come to the station-house to see my children, as some one wanted me? A. Yes; because we did not want
to use harsh measures—we were obliged to hit you to secure you, because of your violence.
Prisoner. You struck me and broke my arm in two places, and struck me on the ground. Witness. We were obliged to, because you were kicking so; you would have pulled us on the ground; you kicked me on the legs, and struck me two blows on the head.
JOHN SMITH (Policeman, E 346). I went with the last witness, and found the prisoner in Falham-fields, about half-past 2 o'clock—we asked if his name was Dannaher—he said, "Yes"—we told him he was wanted down at the station—he said that he would not go, and no two b—y policemen should take him—we were obliged to use our staves to secure him; he struck me several times on the chest and arm, and brought blood—I said that I had got a warrant to search him, and my brother constable has got it now.
Prisoner. They had not got the warrant with them. Witness. No; but we had it in our possession.
JOHN HENRAHAN . On 9th March, I met the prisoner in the Fulham-road—he told me that he had a good mind to let me have something—I said that it would be better for him to let me pass—he said that he would not, and he knocked me down and kicked me in the side—a young man named Conlan came up and took him from me, and I went to a policeman—the prisoner went in and fetched a screw-wrench—he followed me to the door of a house with it, and struck me on the back of the knee—I got into the house, and he stopped outside, swearing he would have my life.
Prisoner. It was not a screw-wrench; it was a small spanner. This man summoned me to the police-court some time before; there was 2s. 9 1/2 d., half a day's wages, coming to me. He did not like to pay me, and I got fighting with him. Witness. I was not fighting with him; I wanted to get away.
Prisoner's Defence. It was because I would not swear what he wanted that all this happened. He got me to go to the Court to prove damages between him and the landlord of two or three houses. He did not like me because I did not take a false oath, and that is the reason of this. We got boxing outside my door, and when I got the upper hand he went for the police. Two men came against me, and I took out this spanner to protect myself The police came out against me, and I went about three-quarters of a mile. I returned back when I saw the police, and said to them, "You have got no cause to take me; I have done nothing, only taken my own part." The policemen drew their staves. One of them hit me, and I hit him with the spanner. They both had their staves drawn before I raised my hand to them. As I could not go to the station on account of my five children, he hit me on the mouth and pulled me down. I have got six cuts on my head. He fractured my arm, and broke my finger in two places.
(The prisoner's arms were both in slings, and the Governor of the gaol stated that the prisoner was one mass of bruises when he came into the prison.)
GUILTY on the Second Count. The Jury expressed their regret that the police should have used their staves. George Fletcher, T 110, stated that the prisoner had been frequently in custody for assault, and had used a knife upon him, for which he had received nine months' imprisonment.
Three Years' Penal Servitude.
MESSRS. BEASLEY and BESLEY conducted the Prosecution.
DAVID PICKERING (Policman, K 230). On Monday evening, 16th June, about half-past 7, I was in the Brunswick-road, at the bottom of the East India Dock-road—Ralph, a policeman, was with me—we found people assembled, and a disturbance going on—Ralph took hold of a man named Richard Norman—a struggle took place, and I went to assist him—in crossing the yard I passed the prisoner with a pitchfork in his hand, and he said, "God strike me blind, rather than the police shall take Dick, they shall lose their lives; they shall not go out alive; I will smash their b—y brains out"—Dick is Richard Norman—I went to pull the man off Ralph, and while stooping to do so I received a heavy blow on the back of my head which stunned me, and caused a wound on the back of my head—I fell senseless, and when I came to my head was bleeding from a large place—I have been suffering from it since that time, and am not able to do duty yet—Ralph was underneath Norman—I have seen the prisoner before in the yard.
Cross-examined by MR. LEWIS. Q. Is the prisoner an ostler in the yard? A. Yes—Ralph went into the yard before me—there were five or six persons in the yard—the gates were open all the time, I saw them: but I cannot say what occurred after I was knocked down—the prisoner was on the left side of the yard—I saw horses, but did not see any one harnessing them—I saw no one but the prisoner with a pitchfork, but I will not undertake to say there was not—I saw no stones thrown by the mob—there was a large mob collected outside the gates—I did not see that man (Walker) in the yard to notice him, but he might have been there—I saw the two women there who appear on the part of the prosecution—they were looking at the disturbance just outside their houses, which are perhaps twenty yards from the opening of the gates—the scuffle in which Norman was engaged with Ralph was just at the corner of the bend—the gate is seven, eight, or ten yards from where the scuffle was—the scuffle took place here (pointing to the paln)—persons outside the gates could see the men on the ground.
MR. BEASLEY. Q. Could any person standing outside the yard gates, see the spot where the struggle took place? A. Not unless they stood at the opposite post—I received the blow almost immediately after I observed the man with the pitchfork—I passed within a very few feet of him; that was after the threat—I took no notice of the threat.
SIMON RALPH (Policeman, K 244). On the evening of 16th June, I was called to a disturbance in the Brunswick-road, and saw a man named Norman—Pickering came about a minute afterwards—he was near me—I fell down in the struggle, or rather was knocked down, and the prisoner came with a pitchfork and struck my brother constable on the head, saying, "You b—r, I will knock your b—y brains out;" and he ran over to the stable behind—I saw the blow distinctly; I was lying on my back—Norman was lying on my left, and Pickering pulling him—I had observed the prisoner before, and when Norman said God strike him dead, but he would have our b—y lives; we should not take him in custody, the prisoner went and fetched the fork from the stable, and was under my notice three or four minutes before I took him in custody—I had not known him before—Pickering was in the act of pulling Norman off me, when he was struck—this plan represents the place, but there is another little bit of a nook just here, and we laid here; the stables inside form a kind of a square—I am positive of the prisoner; he was the only one stripped—he had neither jacket nor waistcoat on.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you see anybody harnessing horses? A. I did not—I saw two grey horses come into the yard, and was afraid we should be under their hind beels—I first saw Norman at the side of the gateway—he dragged me in—he is a much bigger man than me—my body was under him, but not my head—Pickering was leaning over in a stooping position—I saw stones thrown by the mob from outside, and a brick hit me on the hat—I do not know whether the gates were dosed—I heard nothing about their being broken open by the mob—persons standing outside at the gate could see our legs, and that was where the prisoner made the blow just at my knees—I do not believe they could see the prisoner strike the blow from the outside—I saw no one with a pitchfork till after I got up with Norman in custody—I then saw a man they call Walker with one—I did not see the prisoner with a pitchfork at that time.
Q. I warn you that I am going to call many witnesses; had the prisoner a pitchfork in his hand at any time? A. He had one up to my taking Norman in custody, and I saw him strike the constable Pickering—I never saw Walker with a pitchfork till he went into the stable—I was then coming out of the yard, and had got Norman in custody—that was the first time I saw Walker at all—I had got about three yards, and then I saw him go in at the stable door with the pitchfork, right opposite where we were lying—I afterwards went into the stable to look for the prisoner, but did not find it—I did not look, but there are plenty of pitchforks then—I took Norman to the station.
MR. BEASLEY. Q. You did not look for Walker? A. No; but I saw him—the prisoner was not by when I saw Walker with the fitchfork—my legs lay in the direction of the stable door where he took the fork to—when I went back to search for him there were two men there, who said, "There is nobody here"—I said, "I did not say there was; I am only looking"—my legs would be more visible than my head to people outside—Pickering was struck from behind; his head was in the same direction as mine—he was stepping backwards towards the gateway—he was standing here, up against the stable.
SARAH BUTLER . I am single, and live with my father, at 2, Brunswick-road, Bromley—on Monday evening, 16th June, I saw Ralph and Pickering enter the yard—I was at Mrs. Sheehans' gate when they first came down, and Mr. Norman told the officers that if they went into the gate they would have their lives—Norman went in at the gate when he said that—the policemen then went inside, and Norman made a hit at one of the men—the constable then went to take him in charge, and Norman knocked Ralph down—the other constable went to help his brother constable, and the prisoner said God strike him dead, if Norman took Dick out he would have one of their b—y lives, and he went into the stable on the left and got the fork, ran over to the officers, and said, God strike him dead, he would have one of their lives before they went out of the buss yard, and directly hit the officer on the head with the fork—I was in the buss yard all the time—I ran in as the officers ran in; me and the other young girl—that was after Norman made his retreat from the gateway—I saw some bricks thrown—I did not see Walker; he was not there at the time the row began, but he came down the alley as the man was being taken in charge, and went into the yard as Norman was being taken to prison—Norman was then out of the yard—the prisoner ran away into Albert-street—the fork was taken away from him; I do not know who by; but I fancy it was my father who took it from him and threw it into the stable-yard—I know Bailey by sight, and have no doubt of his being the man.
Cross-examined. Q. Have you known him some time? A. Yes—we have never had any fall out—I am not a friend of Miss Sheehans; only going in and out of her house for wood—I am not on bad terms with the prisoner—Miss Sheehans has not spoken to me about the prisoner having broken off his engagement—the gates were closed directly the blow was struck, and I was put out; they were opened again directly to let the prisoner out—the gates were not closed directly the prisoner went into the yard; not till after the blow was struck—the prisoner's brother closed them, and another young man who works in the yard—I was at Mrs. Sheehans' when the policeman was brought down—I mean to represent that I was inside those gates before Norman was brought out—of course, anybody inside the gates could have seen me—I swear I was out of Mrs. Sheehans' garden.
MR. BEASLEY. Q. Is there any pretence for saying that you have any ill feeling towards the prisoner? A. No.
MARGARET MILLER . I live in the Brunswick-road—I saw the police going to the disturbance, and followed them into the stable-yard—I saw Norman knock Ralph down, and heard the prisoner say, "God strike me dead, if any of those policemen come near to take Norman in custody, I will knock their b—y brains out"—he went to assist Ralph, and the prisoner up with a pitchfork and struck him—I had seen him with the pitchfork in his hand before that—the gates were shut when the blow was given, and this happened about three minutes afterwards—they opened the gates to take Norman in custody—Walker came in after it was all over—I did not see him with the pitchfork; he never had anything—I saw the prisoner next day at the farrier's, opposite to where I live—he said, "Maggy Miller, you b—y w—e, if you go up as a witness against me, I will knock your b—y head off"—my life has been in danger ever since, and every time he passed me he jeered at me.
Cross-examined. Q. What are you? A. I live with my mother—I go out to work now and then, "when I have anything to do—I do not deserve the name he called me—I walked indoors after that, and my mother told me to shut the door—that was on Tuesday, and I went before the Magistrate on the following morning—I did not see Ralph on Tuesday; I did not see him come to our house—I did not tell him what I could prove—I was summoned before the Magistrate; the policemen took me there—they found out that I was a witness, because I was in the yard and they saw me—I had no communication with them before I was summoned as a witness—Ralph went into Court first, and I followed him—that was at Arbour-square—I was not in Court when he was giving his evidence, nor had I spoken to him about what evidence I could give—I had told my mother, and I went to the police-station—I had not mentioned a word of it to anybody before he called me the names—I was never in Mrs. Sheehan's garden, but I went there to tea after the row was over—I walked right through the gate into the house, but was not in the garden before I went into the cab-yard; I was standing in the middle of the road—the prisoner stood with the pitchfork in his hand on the left-hand side, agin his father's stables—he had the pitchfork before I saw Norman knock the policeman down—there were a good many persons inside the gates when they were closed—there were enough people to have seen that I was in the yard.
MR. BEASLEY. Q. Had you had any communication with the police before the prisoner used those words to you? A. No.
Providence-road—on 16th June I fetched the police—I saw Ralph come down there, take hold of Norman, and attempt to take him in custody—after that I saw the prisoner standing on the left-hand side of the gate—he had nothing in his hand the first time I saw him, but he went from the gate to the left side of the stable, fetched a pitchfork, and came hack with it in his hand—I saw Ralph run—Pickering ran to help him—Ralph was under Norman, but I could not see what occurred between them—the prisoner said, God strike him dead, before they should bring out Norman, he would have the constable's lives; and he ran into the stable with the fork pointed in this way; but somebody closed the gates so that I could not see the blow, and do not know what occurred inside—the mob outside forced the gates open, and I saw Ralph bring Norman out—I have known the prisoner by sight for six or seven years—I have seen Walker several times, but not to know him—I did not see him till the hearing at Arbour-square—the prisoner had not the pitchfork before he went into the stable; he went in and returned with it—I can scarcely say how far Pickering was from Ralph at that time, but I saw him running to his assistance.
Cross-examined. Q. Were the gates closed before any blows were struck at all? A. I believe so; they were closed before Norman was brought out—I and some more people called out that the constables would be killed, and some of the men returning from their work broke the gate open.
MATTHEW BROWNFIELD . I am a Member of the Royal College of Surgeons, of Montague-place, Poplar—on 16th June, between 7 and 8 o'clock, Pickering was brought to my surgery with a lacerated wound about an inch long on the back of his head, and going down to the bone—I dressed it for him—it was quite in the middle of the back of the head—it was such a wound as might be produced by a pitchfork—it was contused and lacerated—it would require a violent blow to produce it—it was not very dangerous—it has incapacitated him from duty up to the present time, but he will be fit for duty again shortly.
Cross-examined. Q. Was it such a wound as might be produced by a stone being thrown at the head? A. Yes; a small stone might produce it—whether the prisoner striking him with a pitchfork when stooping would produce it, would depend on the force of the blow and the thickness of the skull—that is the thickest part of the skull—pitchforks vary in size as much as stones do.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate was here read as follows: "I never had a fork in my hand all the time, and I never spoke to the constables; I had neither jacket, waistcoat, or braces on."
MR. LEWIS called the following witnesses for the Defence:
JAMES BROWN . I am in the employment of the Blackwall Railway Company, and have been so upwards of sixteen years—I repair their carriages—I remember the police being in the yard—I was not there at the commencement—I saw a great many persons about the gate—I walked down before Norman, walked inside the stable-yard, and watched the whole proceedings—I saw them come to close quartern; a scuffle ensued, and they all three fell together; the two prisoners and Norman the horsekeeper—they were down perhaps a minute—they got up, and the policemen took the man out of the yard; but while the three were down I saw some man throw a stone—I ran after him, but he went among the mob—the stone struck the policeman a violent blow on the head, and the blood came—I cannot say which policeman it was, as I do not know them—I was about as far from him as I am from you—I saw the prisoner there, inside the left-hand stable,
with a bridle, or something belonging to a horse, in his hand—he was about harnessing a horse—I did not see him with a pitchfork in his hand—there was no pitchfork used by any man in the yard—the policemen were more protected by the people in the yard than insulted—there was not a man in the yard who insulted them—I did not hear the prisoner use any violent expressions towards the police—there was bad language used by the man who has had fourteen days' imprisonment; the man who was taken by the constables—I have seen that man (Walker) in the yard frequently—I do not recollect whether I saw him there that night, because there were so many people there—I am prepared to say on my oath that no pitchfork was used to strike the policeman, and the prisoner neither threw a stone nor used pitchfork.
Cross-examined by MR. BEASLEY. Q. Had you any business in that yard? A. Alter the attack I walked in, and saw a good many men there—I knew some of the persons up the yard—I saw Norman brought out of the yard by the policemen—I did not come up first at that time—I must have been there before, because I saw them fell before that—they fell at the right-hand stable, and I stood at the left-hand stable, about fifteen yards from them—I saw them all three struggling together—I saw no pitchfork in the yard—the person who threw the stone came in at the right-hand stable, and I was at the left—the man came in, heaved the stone, and ran out into the road again—I caught hold of his coat; but he got among a great many others dressed like him—the gates were afterwards shut for a minute or two—the foreman pushed them all out, and he got the horsekeeper and took him out—I know the prisoner's brother; he is a tall young man—I cannot say whether he assisted the foreman in shutting the gates; it was after she stone was thrown that the gates were closed—I went out at the gate after the man, and after the stone was thrown—the gate was open at that time—I went back into the yard, and the man came and pushed the gates to, violently, so that persons should not interfere with the police and insult them any more.
JOHN MASON . I am a herbalist, of 1, Brunswick-road—I saw Norman taken in custody—he was between two constables—they went into the stable together—I then saw the shorter policeman of the two, when Norman was going quietly, draw his staff from his pocket: he wielded it right over his head, and struck Norman on the side, who fell, but not to the ground, as they had hold of hire by the collar—I halloed out of the window, "Young gentleman, you shall hear of using that staff unnecessarily hereafter"—he said, "You had better go up and state that to the Judge"—I said, "I shall, and you shall hear me"—after he struck Norman, and went by my window, the girls Butler and Miller, and Mrs. Bussey, went up the road—they were inside Mrs. Sheehan's railings before that, and never came out till after Norman was taken to the station-house, and then they rushed out and gave information; but they never were inside the gates—the gates were shut, and they were never opened till the man was brought out by the police—I was outside my window cleaning it, and I never left it—I cannot say what took place inside the gates.
Cross-examined. Q. Is your house nearly opposite the gate? A. Within thirty or forty yards of it—my attention was first called when the policeman came past my house—I saw a man with a white jacket—he whispered into the policeman's ear, who then went in at the gates, and he was not in two minutes before they were shut—that was the cause of Norman being taken—it seems he rushed out to challenge Norman to fight—the whole of it did
not take three minutes—the gates were closed the moment the police went in, and these two girls were inside the fence; even a bullock could not have got inside the fence, let alone two girls.
MR. LEWIS. Q. Did you see many others go in? A. Yes; some men belonging to the stable; but in the push at the moment I cannot swear whether they got in or not; but I will swear the girls did not—they are capable of swearing anything but the truth—I was not examined before the Magistrate.
ANN MCGREGOR . I am the wife of Robert McGregor, an engineer, of 10, Brunswick-road—I saw the two girls, Butler and Miller—I was standing at my door with my husband, and saw them inside Mrs. Sheehan's fence—there was a every large crowd—the gates were shut, and they stood there until these men passed up the street with the two policemen.
Cross-examined. Q. Did your husband see it? A. Yes—he is not here—he has had to go to Southampton to repair some engines—he was not before the Magistrate—Mrs. Sheehan's fence is in the front of the house—I was not in the yard—the girls were standing inside the fence at the time the policemen brought the prisoner out.
MR. LEWIS. Q. Did you see where the girls were standing when the policemen went in? A. Inside the fence—I remained at my door to see what they were going to do, and kept my eye on these girls, as they were the principal witnesses on a warrant, which had been on that day against a neighbour in the street, which had caused the mob to gather—I kept my eye on them the whole time.
SARAH PINKER . I live with my father and mother, at 16, Albert-street—my father is a shoemaker—I remember Norman being taken in custody—I saw the girls Miller and Butler inside Mrs. Sheehan's fence at that time, and they never stirred out till Norman was taken in custody.
Cross-examined. Q. Were you before the Magistrate? A. Yes—I said the same thing then—I was not examined at the police-court—I did nothing but look at these girls for about two hours—I mean to say that I stopped there two hours with them within my view—I had heard about a warrant.
COURT. Q. Where were you? A. Against a stable, and they were in the fence—I stood there because there were a great many other people there—I was with my mother and sister—they were standing about; I was not with them all the while.
ELIZABETH PINKER . I am the wife of William Pinker, and the mother of the last witness—I remember Norman being taken in custody, and can swear that those three females were inside Mrs. Sheehan's palings, and were never out till Norman was taken up the hill—I am quite certain of that.
Cross-examined. Q. Whereabouts is Mrs. Sheehan's house; is it exactly facing the gateway? A. Yes; it is a narrow road—they are small houses—I had a son out of the way, but it is all right now; it is all made up.
MR. LEWIS. Q. What was that about? A. Well; he only got a little drop of beer, and was regularly upset by a party who were false swearing—that had nothing to do with any of these witnesses.
COURT. Q. Where were you? A. Standing outside Mrs. Sheehan's palings—I was not having conversation with the three women that were inside the fence—I was not there many minutes—I was there about ten minutes, but it was not all that time about—I saw the girls come out of the fence after Norman was taken to the station—they went up Alber-street, and did not come back again to my knowledge.
that Norman was taken in custody—the girls Miller and Butler were at that time inside Sheehan's fence—they did not come out before Norman was taken.
Cross-examined. Q. What made you pay such particular attention to them that night? A. I do not know—I was looking at them all the time—I was with my sister some part of the time; more than half an hour—I did not look at them all the time; but I know they did not come out of the fence, because I stood nearly close to it for half an hour—they never came out till after Norman was taken, and then they came out and went up Albert-road—I was first asked about this last Friday—I had not given information about it which led to my being spoken to.
COURT. Q. Did you see Norman go into the yard? A. No; I saw him in the yard, and saw the policemen go in after him—there was a bit of a row with him and a man—I saw Norman go in and saw the policeman follow—I saw the girls inside the fence at that time.
The Jury declined hearing any more evidence, it being of so conflicting a nature.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. POLAND conducted the Prosecution.
JOHN LOVEL DENNING . I am one of the clerks of the Provident Institution for Savings, in St. Martin's-place, St. Martin's-lane—there was a depositor there named Jonas Dillett; the number of his book was 150, 534—I received two verbal notices of the withdrawal of some of his money and the book was brought as well—when I receive a notice, it is my duty to enter it in this book (produced)—this is a notice to withdraw money on 24th June, the first notice—the money must be applied for on a particular day or a fresh notice must be given.
WILLIAM HAM . I am one of the clerks of this Institution—on Friday, 27th June, the prisoner came there and brought this pass-book of Dillett's—he said that he wanted 10l.—I referred to the ledger and told him that the notice was posted for the 24th, which was the Tuesday preceding, and asked him when he gave notice; he said on the Wednesday—I explained to him that it would not be payable on that date, and a woman slipped forward and said, "It is all right; I have seen the secretary"—I returned the prisoner the deposit-book, and told him to speak to the secretary, Mr. Boodle, which he did, and the secretary told me to write off the 10l.—I then passed the book to Mr. Biggs, the cashier, which would be his authority for paying the money.
JOHN BIGGS . I am cashier at the Provident Institution—on 27th June I received this book from the last witness; I called out the name of Jonas Dillett in its turn, and the prisoner stepped forward—I filled up this receipt (produced) for 10l., placed it before the prisoner, and he signed it "Jonas Dillett" at my request—before I paid the money I compared the signature with the signature of Jonas Dillett in the signature-book and found that it did not correspond—I said nothing to the prisoner but took the signature-book and the signature to Mr. Boodle.
EDWARD BOODLE . I am secretary and comptroller of this Institution—on Friday, 27th June, the prisoner brought me this deposit-book, and said that he came to receive the sum of 10l.; he was in company with a woman whose face I had seen on the previous Wednesday, and who I had promised that her husband should receive the 10l. on attending on that day—I
said that his wife had come on the previous Wednesday, saying that he was not able to attend, he had been prevented by business, and in consequence of that I entered it into a book of "sums allowed without notice," and authorized the clerk to write off 10l., and gave the book to Mr. Ham—shortly afterwards Mr. Biggs brought me the receipt in the signature-book—I compared the signatures and said to the prisoner, "Are you the depositor?"—he said "No," but that the depositor was very busy and had authorized him to come and withdraw the money—the woman then stepped forward and said, "It is all right," and produced a marriage certificate—I knew that it was Mrs. Dillett, the depositor's wife—the prisoner was then given in custody.
JONAS DILLETT . I live at 8, Edward-street, York-road, and am a depositor in the Provident Institution Savings Bank—this is my deposit-book—I signed one of the books of the Institution when I deposited the money—I did not authorize the prisoner to receive any money for me; I never saw him before—I never gave any authority to my wife to draw out the money—I never told anybody to say that I was too busy to attend.
Prisoner's Defence. On or about 12th June, I became acquainted with a lady, whose name not having been mentioned it is scarcely worth while to bring forward, more especially as I do not know whether she is a party to the deception practised upon me; she, in a few days, introduced me to Mrs. Dillett, and I met her once or twice. Mrs. Dillett afterwards came to my place of business in a great hurry, and asked me if I had any objections to go to her husband's deposit bank and sign his name, and she gave me his book which she had had given to her for the express purpose of my copying it. She said he wanted the money so particularly and could not leave, and did not mind giving anybody a sovereign for it. I said that I could not think of taking a recompense for it, and I started off without any intention of going to the bank, but I led her to believe I had been, and when I returned, I gave her to understand that the bank had closed, and advised her to give me a written order to receive the money. I thought the matter had dropped; when, on the 26th June, I received a letter from the friend I have mentioned, in which she stated that Mrs. Dillett would be at St. Martin's Church at 2 o'clock; I went and waited for her till a quarter-past 2; she said that she had been waiting for a signal from her husband whether he could attend, that she could see his place of business from there, and that he appeared and gave her a negative signal, and would I sign her husband's name. I said I had no proof that she was the wife of Jonas Dillett, she produced her marriage certificate, and I accompanied her to the bank and signed the receipt. To prove that there was no premeditated act of forgery, I signed the surname incorrectly. I was not asked the question whether I was Jonas Dillett till after I had signed the receipt, when I said that I was not, and immediately despatched Mrs. Dillett, believing that her husband would appear and extricate me, and even if I had received the money I should have placed it all in her hands. It will be suspected that there was an improper intimacy subsisting between Mrs. Dillett and myself, such, however, was not the case, nor anything approaching the case, so that I had no inducement to act as I did. This it a truthful statement, and I trust, when you come to look at all the circumstances, you will believe that, however foolishly I may have acted, I was not intending to defraud either Jonas Dillett or the Provident Institution.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. POLAND offered no evidence.— NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, July 8th, 1862.
PRESENT—Mr. Ald. HALE; Mr. Ald. DAKIN; Mr. COMMON SERJEANT;
and ROBERT MALCOLM KERR, Esq.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. CRAWFORD and LLOYD conducted the Prosecution.
SUSAN CHARLOTTE TIPPETT . I am barmaid to Mr. Hammond, who keeps some refreshment-rooms at South Kensington—on 30th May the prisoner came and asked for a pint of ale, which was twopence—I served him, and he tendered a florin—I had not change in my till and went to the next one for change—I gave the florin to Charles Hewlett, the barman; he tried it with his teeth, bent it, and found it was bad—I told the prisoner it was bad; he said he did not know it, that he bad it in change for a half-sovereign—he gave me a good half-crown to take for the ale—I left the florin with Hewlett—I gave the prisoner 2s. 4d. change—he drank the ale and was going out, when he was given in charge by Mr. Hammond, I think—the florin was bent up with a hammer.
CHARLES HEWLETT . I was barman to Mr. Hammond on 30th May, and was a few yards from the last witness when she served the prisoner—she handed me a florin; I bent it, found it was bad, went to the prisoner and told him so—he said he hid no smaller change—I went down to the office and brought Mr. Hanmond back and the prisoner was given in custody—I gave Mr. Hammond the florin, and saw him give it to the policeman.
DANIEL CONDUIT (Policeman, X 407). I received the prisoner and this bad florin (produced) from Mr. Hammond—the prisoner said he had got no smaller change and was not aware it was a bad one; that he took it is change for a half-sovereign—I took him to Hammersmith police-court—he was remanded till 6th June, and then discharged.
JOHN ELLIOTT . I keep the Crown public-house in High Holborn—on Wednesday, 18th June, I was in the bar, and saw the prisoner come in—my barmaid served him with half a pint of beer, which came to 3d.—he put down a counterfeit 2s. piece, which was handed to me—I told him it was bad, and questioned him about it, and he said he was not aware it was bad—I sent for a constable and gave him in custody—he said he hoped I should not lock him up.
COURT to JOHN ELLIOTT. Q. Did you try the coin which the prisoner laid down? A. I took it in my hand—I have had so many of them that I can tell them—I also cut a piece out with a knife—I am certain it was bad—Adelaide Shaw was the person who served him—I saw the prisoner searched; 5 1/2 d. in coppers was found on him.
Prisoner's Defence. I had it given to me for good money.
GUILTY .**— Confined Nine Months.
MESSRS. CRAWFORD and WILLIAMS conducted the Prosecution.
—on Friday, 13th June, the prisoner came for half a pint of beer and a screw of tobacco, which came to 2d. and tendered a half-crown, which I found to be bad—I asked him if he had any other coin—he made no answer, and I walked round the bar, with the coin in my hand, called in the hackney carriage attendant, and gave him in custody, and after that he threw down a penny for the beer and I took back the tobaoco—the man took him to the station-house—I marked the half-crown and gave it to the inspector at the station.
Prisoner. Q. When and when did yon mark it? A. At the station, when the charge was given—I did not part with it, or lose sight of it, until I marked it, and then I gave it to the hackney carriage attendant—the policeman was not at my house—I did not put the half-crown in the till—I knew it was bad by the chink on the counter, before looking at it.
MR. CRAWFORD. Q. Did you give it to the inspector at the station? A. Yes, to look at; and he returned it to me to mark, and then I gave it to the hackney carriage attendant.
WILLIAM SIMPSON . I am the hackney carriage attendant at Burleigh-street cab-stand—I received the prisoner in custody from the last witness—the said that he called for a pint of beer and screw of tobacco and gave her a bad half-crown—the prisoner said nothing to that, bat threw down a penny—I took him to the station—this half-crown (produced) was given me by the last witness after she had milked it—she prisoner gave the name of John Barry—he was remanded till 16th June, and then discharged.
Prisoner. Q. Were you present when I paid the money? A. No; I cannot swear that this is the coin you paid for the beer and tobacco—she did not mark it in her house as far as I know.
JOSIAH LUCY . I am assistant to Mr. Dalton, bookseller, at 28, Cockspur-street—on Monday, 23d June, the prisoner came in between 6 and 7 in the evening for four shillings and a penny's worth of stamps—I put them on the counter, and he put down a half-crown, a shilling, a sixpence, and a penny—I suspected from the nature of the transaction that the half-crown was bad—I looked at it, and marked it immediately, telling him I thought it was bad—I looked the door, placed the half-crown in the scale against a good half-crown, and proving the marked one to be light, I sent for a policeman and gave him in custody—he said, before the policeman came, "I was not aware the half-crown was bad; you may as well give me two shillings worth of stamps and let me go"—I took no notice of that—I kept the half-crown—he took up the 1s. 7d.—I laid it on the counter with the stamps, and then I told him he had better put the money down again—the constable meanwhile arrived and I gave the prisoner in custody—I gave the half-crown, stamps, and the other money to the policeman.
WILLIAM TERRILL (Policeman, A 590). I took the prisoner in custody and received this half-crown (produced) from the last witness—the prisoner said he was not aware of its being bad—he thought he had taken it at Croydon, of a dealer in note-paper—I searched him and found fivepence worth of half-crown, a sixpence, and threepenny piece, good money; a comb, and a pencil.
Prisoner's Defence. I came to London for the first time on 4th June, and through destitution I was obliged to pawn a pair of boots, the ticket for which I sold, and amongest other money received the half-crown, and paid for the porter and tobacco, believing it to be good; the money which I
paid for the stamps I received at Croydon in change for a half-sovereign; I had not the slightest knowledge of its being bad.
GUILTY .— Confined Six Months.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
PLEADED GUILTY.— Recommended to mercy by the prosecutor. MR. RIGBY stated that there was reason to believe that the prisoner had been acting under the evil influences of others.—Judgment Respited.
MR. BESLEY conducted the Prosecution.
HERMAN MASSETT . I live at 4, Mercy-terrace, Shadwell—on the night of 16th June, I was in High-street, Shadwell, coming from my house—I had been making some rye bread, which I am obliged to make at night, and that was why I was out so late—I had drunk a pot of half-and-half, no more—I was not so drunk as I am now—I saw the two prisoners and another one together—they insulted me, and Winn took me by the throat and threw me down—then the policeman came up and they went away—the third one had a knife, and when the policeman was gone he said, "Keep the beggar down; if he don't give the money he has in his pocket, I shall cut his throat"—Patterson kept me down also—I was kept down about five or ten minutes perhaps, I cannot say—I hallooed for the police and they stopped my mouth—there were lamps in the street—I cannot tell how far it was from a lamppost—it was light enough for me to see the persons who were holding me down—I am quite sure that the prisoners are two of the three—I afterwards went to the station-house.
Cross-examined by MR. SLEIGH. (For Patterson). Q. Did you charge a person named Monk with this robbery, one of the witnesses? A. I do not know—(Monk was here brought into Court)—I did not charge that man with robbing me—I did not see a female there just before the policeman came—no woman was there, or spoke to me, while the matter was going on—I swear that no woman spoke to me at all—(Mary Brown was here brought into Court)—I did not see her there at all—she did not speak to me—I thought Monk was the man that had the knife—he was very much like him—I made a mistake—I did charge Monk, in error—I did not hear Patterson asked his name and address by the officer—I did give him in custody when I saw him at the police-station—I know perfectly well he was on the top of me—I do not know that Patterson was allowed by the inspector to walk away—he was holding me down as well as the others with his hand, and his knee was on my breast—he was not assisting me to get up—I could get up as well as I can to-day—I was not so drunk as I am to-day—I have had more that a pot of beer to-day—he was holding me down as much as he could—it is not the fact that he was holding me, but not attempting to keep me down.
Winn. Q. Did you see me before I was taken to the station? A. I saw you twice—I did not see you given in charge—I was in bed when you were given in charge—I swear you were on the top of me twice, once in Lime-house and once in Shadwell—when the policeman came the first time you got away, and when he was gone you insulted me again, and dragged me on the ground.
Winn. At the station he said he did not know Patterson; when the policeman asked me my address, I gave it him.
MR. BESLEY. Q. Was it the same night, that you thought Monk was the man who had the knife? A. Yes; at the spot where I was knocked down—he had clothes on like Mr. Monk's—as soon as I got up, I thought Monk was the man who had the knife.
ISAAC PAWSEY (Policeman, K 49). I was on duty in Shadwell on the night of 17th June, about a quarter past 12 o'clock—my attention was attracted by cries of "Police!" and "Murder!"—I went to the spot where there was a crowd, and found the two prisoners in custody of another constable and a sergeant—we could not find the prosecutor at that time; he had run away, frightened—we took the names and address of the prisoners, and they were let go—we afterwards went to the addresses and found them both in bed, and took them—that was after I had been to the prosecutor's house, and had seen him.
Cross-examined. Q. You found Patterson at the address he gave you? A. Yes; I found each at his residence—Patterson was residing with his parents—I have made inquiries since, and have ascertained him to be a lad of great respectability, and in respectable employment.
GEORGE MONK . I am a carman in Mr. Higgins' employment, Ratcliff-highway—I was in Shadwell on the night of 17th June—I saw the last witness and prosecutor there—there was not a crowd of persons there—I saw the prisoners standing in a doorway—after I had gone by about ten or fifteen yards, I heard something like a horse falling, and heard a man say, "Oh," and I went back and saw the prisoners on the top of the prosecutor—I said, "My good fellows, that is unfair play; let the man get up"—Winn jumped up and came on to the pavement where I stood; they were in the middle of the road—he said, "If you say anything, I will knock your b—head off" by that time Patterson got up and came to the pavement—the prosecutor then got up and sat on his backside and sung out, "Police!"—the policeman came, and I said, "Here is some unfair play here"—the prosecutor got up and said, "They have been trying to rob me"—Patterson turned round and said, "Do you mean to say I am a thief"—I said, "No, I don't say anything of the kind"—after a little while we walked along the street, and the policeman and another man brought the other man hack—I said directly, "That is the other man."
COURT. Q. Was there any third man? A. I did not see any third man—about three or four minutes elapsed between my seeing the prisoners in the doorway and seeing them on the top of the prosecutor—they had passed over about ten or twenty yards in that time—a third man could not have been there without my seeing him.
Cross-examined by MR. SLEIGH. Q. You were not charged, were you? A. No—the prosecutor did not say I was the man who had ventured to rob him—I have been a policeman, but am not now—I was in the Marlborough-street division sixteen years and three months—I did not leave of my own accord—Mr. Beadon told me he did net believe me on my oath—I was dismissed and had a month's imprisonment besides. (THE COURT considered that there was no reliable evidence upon which the Jury could convict.)
NOT GUILTY .
744. PHILIP OLIVER (28) , Burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of William Howchin, and stealing therein 1 dressing-case and other articles, value 100l., and 49l. in money, his property; to which he
PLEADED GUILTY.— Judgment Respited.
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, July 9th, 1862.
PRESENT—The Right Hon. the LORD MAYOR; Mr. JUSTICE WIGHTMAN; Mr. JUSTICE CROMPTON; Mr. Ald. HALE; Mr. Ald. ALLEN; and Mr. Ald. MECHI.
Before Mr. Justice Wightman.
JOHN LUNWICK TAYLOR . I am assistant to Mr. Keating, a chemist, of St. Paul's-churchyard—the prisoner was a customer of his, and I knew her as such—on Thursday, 22d May, she came there between 11 and 12 o'clock, and asked to be shown some perfumes—I showed her some, and she selected some extract of spring flowers—before leaving the shop she said that her house was much infested with rats and mice; that they had destroyed the shop ceiling, which had cost them 5l. to repair; that they also came into the bedroom and they could not sleep at night for them; that they even came up the bed curtains, and she was obliged to put out her hand and shake them off, and she heard them fall on the floor—she said, "Do you know, I am so afraid of them getting at my baby," and asked if she could have some prussic add or something to destroy them with—I told her we did not supply prussic acid for such a purpose, and recommended her Barber's poisoned wheat as the safest remeay—she said that they had tried that and found it of no use, and asked what other things we had for the purpose—I told her we had Butler's and Battle's vermin killer—she asked me which I could recommend—I told her I had heard Battle's very well spoken of, and she said that she would have a shilling packet of it—we had not one in stock, so she took two threepenny ones and one sixpenny one—I told her it was a dangerous poison, and she must be careful how she used it—I said, "I suppose the children are in the country?"—she said, "No, they are with me in town"—the officer has since shown me some pieces of paper—the threepenny packets were wrapped up in yellow, and the other one in blue—these papers (produced) are portions of the wrappers—we get these powders wholesale from Edwards', in St. Paul's-charchyard, or Barclay's.
Cross-examined by MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. (With MR. METCALFE). Q. Have you seen these poor children about with Mrs. Vyse? A. No; I do not know that I ever saw them; not to my knowledge.
MARY ANN MCSWEENEY . I was in the service of Mr. and Mrs. Vyse as housemaid—on 22d May I saw Mrs. Vyse with her bonnet on—I had seen the children that morning at 9 o'clock, the breakfast hour—they were in good health at that time—I took up the dinner about 2 o'clock in the dining-room, from the first-floor—the second-floor front is the dining-room—there are two dining-rooms—Mrs. Vyse was carving the dinner—there was cold roast beef for dinner, and rice pudding—the dining-room to which I took the dinner is on the first floor—some of the young ladies dined there, and Mrs. Vyse, who carved and helped, and she carved and helped the dinner that was for the children, and I took it up to the three children, who were on the second floor—the boy was there; his name is Charles Vyse; he is about ten years old, but I cannot state the age of any of the children—they had two girls and a boy; those were the three that were up stairs—Alice was one
of them; the other girl was Annie—they were both younger than the boy—I took them up some cold beef and rice padding—they had milk and water to drink with it—Master Charles, the boy, ate the rice pudding at well as his sisters—I took away the things after dinner; they had a table-cloth and everything laid for them there—I also took away the things from down below—Master Charles generally goes to school after dinner, and I think he went out—the two girls were in the dining-room when I took away the dinner things; that was half an hour or twenty minutes after I had brought the things into the room—Mrs. Vyse did not go up stain at all during the time the children were at dinner; she remained down at the other dinner table—the children dined in their own bedroom, and I saw them there about half an hour or twenty minutes after I had taken the things away from dinner—I saw the two girls playing about there; that was between 3 and 4 o'clock—shortly before 4 o'clock I saw Mrs. Vyse in her bedroom, which is on the same floor as the children's bedroom—it is divided from hers by a wall—there is no door in the wall so that you can go from the one to the other; you have to go out on the landing—Mrs. Vyse had not her bonnet on when I saw her in her bedroom—I went up stairs, and on my coming down ten minutes afterwards, she was coming up stairs with her bonnet and shawl on into her own bedroom—she went into her bedroom and said, "Elisa, go to Mr. Keating's for a packet of the same powders which I had in the morning; make haste, and look sharp"—I went to Keating's, that is a very short distance from the house, which is at the upper end of Ludgate-hill—I had to go through St. Paul's-churchyard—I had to wait a short time before I got the powder from Mr. Keating's, and having got it I returned to the house and went upstairs to Mrs. Vyse's bedroom—the door was shut; I knocked, but could get no answer—I knocked again, and the answer I got was, "Can't come in"—I then went up stairs—the cook was upstairs—I then went down by myself and knocked at Mrs. Vyse's door again—she said, "Who is there?"—I said, "Eliza"—she spoke in a low manner to me, and said a second time, "You can't come in"—I then went down stairs to the shop to Miss Saunders, her sister, who was there, and who went up stairs with me—Miss Saunders knocked at the door and called her by her Christian name, but she made no answer—I think Miss Saunders knocked twice, and after that she and I forced the door open, and I saw Mrs. Vyse standing over the marble wash hand-stand with a razor in her right hand—when the door was first opened she held her hand down in this way, and Miss Saunders said, "Pray God," or "Pray, what are you doing?" I cannot say which; "Let me die with you, dear; but the razor I cannot take in my hand"—I then said, "I shall go for a doctor"—Mrs. Vyse put her hand into her pocket and took a letter out—she said that she was mad and wished to die, and that her children were in heaven—I think she took out the letter after saying that she was mad and wished to die, and that her ohildren were in heaven; but I was so confused I cannot remember whether it was before or after when she took the letter out of her pocket—she said to Miss Saunders, "Take this"—that is all the said—Miss Saunders took it—before I left the room Mrs. Vyse asked me for the powder more than once, but I refused to give it to her—I afterwards went into the children's bedroom, and found the two little girls in bed with the clothes over them—they were dressed, but their shoes were off; they seemed to me as if they were asleep—I did not touch them or speak to them, but I put my hand on Alice's face, and it was warm—I did not know they were dead; I thought they were asleep—I then went to Mr. Keating's—there was a gentleman there—I have seen Dr. Payne since—I gave the powder which
I had brought from Mr. Keating's to another gentleman—the gentleman sitting by you (Mr. Wood) looks like him, but I cannot swear to him—the gentleman I saw at Mr. Keating's went back with me to Mrs. Vyse—I am the housemaid and attended to the bedroom in which the children slept—I found there two tumblers on the washhand-stand—there was usually only one tumbler there—I only left one there when I cleared the room that morning—the children had slept there the night before—Mr. and Mrs. Vyse have a country house at Surbiton, near Kingston—I cannot say whether the three children had been brought up that morning, or only two—I think the boy had been brought up that morning to go to school—the little girls had not been brought up the day before; they were brought up on the Wednesday—there were five children; there are three alive now—there is a baby about a year and a half old, and which was at Surbiton.
Cross-examined by MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. These two children were not at school, were they? A. No—the mother used to attend to them when they were in Ludgate-street—I have seen her there with them—she always appeared attentive to them, and very affectionate to all the children—she used, when they were at Ludgate-street, to undress them at night and drees them in the morning—she seemed very proud of their hair; it hung down their backs, and she took a great deal of pains with it—they were very fond of her—I did not see her kiss them after dinner.
JURY. Q. Do you know whether they drank any milk and water at their dinner? A. Yes; the boy drank some as well.
FREDERICK MARSHALL . I am assistant to Mr. Keating, the chemist, of St. Paul's-churchyard—the last witness came there on this afternoon, and asked for a packet of the same powders as Mrs. Vyse had purchased in the morning, "Battle's vermin powder"—I was present when Mrs. Vyse was there in the morning—I knew what she had had—I knew that we had not one in stock, and I sent out for one—I kept her waiting three or four minutes while I sent to Edwards' for it, the wholesale chemists in St. Paul's-churchyard; and when the messenger returned from there with the powder, I gave it to her—it was a white packet; a shilling packet.
SARAH SAUNDERS . I am the prisoner's sister—on the afternoon of 22d May, I went up to her door—I endeavoured to get in and then forced the door—I addressed the prisoner, and she made no answer; but made a motion to the wall when I spoke to her—she merely pointed with her hand and said, "There"—that was to the wall dividing the children's room from her's—she handed me a letter in a fastened envelope, but said nothing—it was directed to me—I opened it the same evening—I did not read it—I scanned and destroyed it two or three days afterwards—I cannot recollect anything that was in it—it was a short letter; merely a note—I do not remember one word that was in it—I merely looked at it—I never even saw how it was addressed to me—I was so ill that I was obliged to close it, and that it why I did not read it—I did not look how it was addressed—I saw the outside, but only at the time she gave it to me—I have not the least recollection of anything that was contained in it—I kept it in my pocket till I destroyed it—it was before I went to the Coroner's inquest that I destroyed it—I took three coloured papers oat of my sister's pocket that afternoon—they were papers that Battle's vermin powder had been wrapped in—there was nothing in them—these are them (produced)—I have not looked to see what is marked on them—my sister did not tell me at the time why she brought these two children up to town—I heard afterwards, but not from her—I did not know that they were coming to town before that time.
Cross-examined by MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. your sister was usually at the shop at Ludgate-hill, was she not? A. Yes; she superintended the business—she was forewoman of the business at the time Mr. Vyse married her, and she managed the business from that time; he attending to the out-door work principally—I was likewise in the establishment—my sister and I were on the most affectionate terms—I have seen a great deal of her, at her wish, since this event—she was a very found mother to those two children—I recollect the loss of one of the children; in November, 1860, I think it was—it was a year and ten months old; it died of diphtheria—it was taken ill at Surbiton, when she was in London, and the servants, not thinking the illness serious, omitted to inform her of it—she was present at its death, but always fancied that if she had been present earlier she could have saved its life—there was also an unfortunate circumstance about its burial: the vault got flooded, and the child remained unburied for some time—I have noticed a very marked difference in my sister's behaviour since that time—she has had fits of despondency at times, and was sometimes violent without any apparent cause—I believe that the last time my sister was unwell was the last week in April; I think the Sunday would be the period when she would be unwell again—I know, as a matter of fact, that she has not been unwell since the last week in April—I have always heard her speak of her children in terms of great affection, and she took very great pride in them—I know nothing about the shoes which were sent home for these two children—Mr. Vyse's duties took him out a great deal—he went to the manufacturers and places, and she superintended the in-door business.
MR. CHAMBERS. Q. Did she attend to the establishment on Ludgate-hill? A. Yes; she slept there, and went to Surbiton on Saturday evenings—she was always considered a good woman of business; that continued up to 22d May—the business hours were from 9 to 8 in the evening—there were twenty young ladies there, or more—my sister attended to the shop; serving ladies who came, and everything connected with the business.
SARAH JOHNSTON . I am in the service of Mr. and Mrs. Vyse, as cook—I prepared the dinner on 22d May; it consisted of cold beef and rice pudding—I made the rice pudding myself—I have never seen any of Battle's vermin powder in the kitchen—I put nothing in the rice pudding but the usual ingredients—the dinner was taken up by the housemaid—I saw the two girls about 2, or at the time they were having their dinner—they appeared in their usual state of health—I did not see the milk and water that they were having—the boy was there at the time—I saw them in the kitchen before dinner, about half-past 1—Mrs. Vyse came into the kitchen, and the youngest child asked her where she had been to—Mrs. Vyse said that she had been in St. Pal's-churchyard—she kissed one of them; the one, I think, who asked the question; but they were both together—she told them to go upstairs, and she left the kitchen telling me to send them upstairs as the five would make them ill—the family partook of the same dinner, and so did the young ladies and myself—I next saw Mrs. Vyse about a quarter to 2—I saw her at the time she was carving the dinner in the dining-room—I next saw the children, about a quarter to 4, in the front room, lying on the bed—I cannot say whether they were dead; I did not go near them—I know that there were a good many rats and mice in the house.
Cross-examined by MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. I believe the ceiling had to be taken down? A. Yes; it had to be repaired several times.
ELIZABETH HARRISSON . I am female searcher at the Fleet-street station—on 22d May, about twenty minutes to 10 at night, I went to attend on Mrs. Vyse at her place on Ludgate-hill—she was in bed; there were policemen in the adjoining room—I remained in her room till about 10 o'clock on the following day—she slept a little at times, and made a moaning noise during the night—I did not speak to her at all—on the next morning, Friday, she asked the housemaid to tell Smith that she wanted to speak to him—before Smith came in, Miss Saunders came in and asked her sister if she could not deliver the message to Smith—Mrs. Vyse replied, "No;" and Smith at that moment came in—Mrs. Vyse put her hand out of bed to shake hands with Smith, and Miss Saunders withdrew from the side of the bed to allow Smith to pass—Smith shook hands with Mrs. Vyse, and they both appeared very much grieved and excited—she said, "Smith, oh! Mary has been the whole cause of this here"—Smith said, "Keep yourself quiet, Mum, and if I could lay my life down, or five thousand lives, to recall what you done yesterday, I would do so"—Mrs. Vyse said, "It is done and it cannot be undone"—that was all—about half-past 4 that Friday morning, Mrs. Vyse asked if her children had been attended to—I was then sitting close by the bedside—I did not speak the first time, neither did the nurse; she asked a second time, and we said, "No"—she said, "Why?"—and we said that it was not usual until the Coroner's Inquest had sat upon them—there was a nurse there as well as me.
Cross-examined by MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. Do you mean that Mrs. Vyse spoke those words so distinctly that you could hear them? A. Yes; it was in Smith's presence; he had got hold of her hand—there was another nurse who sat up with her, but she had left the room—I am searcher at the police-station—I was close to the bedside and had no difficulty in hearing what Mrs. Vyse stated—I heard it quite plainly; but not so plainly as I am speaking—I do not know whether Mr. Smith is here—Miss Sannders was not there; she left the room.
MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE to MISS SAUNDERS. Q. Is there any person whatever in your establishment of the name of Mary? A. I know nobody of that name—I have never heard the servants complain or intimate anything about any Mary whatever; nor did I, while attending to my sister, hear her allude to any person named Mary.
MR. CHAMBERS. Q. What name used you to call the cook by? A. Mary—she is the only Mary; the person who has been examined to-day—she was called Mary, though her Christian name is a different one.
MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. Have you heard your sister blame the cook? A. No; never in my life—the female searcher was removed by order of the doctors.
WILLIAM SMITH . I am manager and porter in Mr. Vyse's service—I have been employed by his father and him for about twenty-eight years—on the Friday morning I was sent for by Mrs. Vyse; it was about 8 o'clock, I think—I went into her bedroom—I had been up the principal part of the night before—I do not live there, but I had remained there all night—I took hold of Mrs. Vyse's hand, and leant over her, and all that I heard her say was in a very inarticulate guttural way—all that I could distinguish was, "What will they do?" or, "What will he do?"—I cannot swear which it was—those were the only words—I did not say, "Do to whom?"—I heard no name—she did not say what will they do with anybody—I have no recollection of making any answer—I had been drinking during the night, and was very much excited and very much distressed—I cannot recollect who came and told me I was wanted, or what caused me to go into the room.
Cross-examined by MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. I suppose you have seen this poor woman on more occasions than one after the event? A. Never since—when she spoke those words, I was leaning over her—I do not know where the searcher was standing—I had drunk more than I am accustomed to, and was so distressed, and in such a state of excitement, that I can identify nothing.
GEORGE HOWARD (city police-inspector). I was present at the Inquest on the children—I produce these papers—I received them from the Coroner—I saw them given by him to Miss Saunders—I sent Mrs. Harrison to attend to the prisoner.
EDWIN PAYNE . I am a physician, and reside at 34, Artillery-place—on the afternoon of 22d May I was at Mr. Keating's, St Paul's-churchyard, and in consequence of being called upon, I went to Mr. Vyse's, on Ludgate-hill, and found Mrs. Vyse in her bedroom, dressed, and standing up, leaning over the wash hand-stand—I examined her throat before Mr. Savory came, and found some blood which was interfering with her breathing, and removed it—after about a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes Mr. Savory, a surgeon, of St. Bartholomew's-hospital, and myself, dressed the wound in her neck—it was an incised wound with a sharp instrument on the right side of the neck principally, but reaching to the middle—I saw the razor—it could have been inflicted with that, but it was not deep enough, nor in the right place to prove a fatal wound—it was on the right side, and through what we term the thyroid cartilage; the hard part here—there was blood on the razor, and in the basin, but I did not particularly notice the quantity—I did not go in and see the children before I spoke to her about them—I heard something about them, and asked Mrs. Vyse what it was that the children had had—she replied, with a good deal of difficulty, "Battle's vermin killer"—Mr. Savory had come then, but I do not know whether he was in the room at the time—the difficulty appeared to me to arise from the wound—Mr. Savory and myself attended her conjointly for three days—we deemed it desirable and safe that she should remain in her own house—Mrs. Harrison, the female searcher, was placed there by the direction of the police, but she was removed by my directions, as Mrs. Vyse seemed agitated about knowing that a person from the police-station was in the room, and we thought it necessary, in order to favour her cure, that her mind should be at test; that was our only reason, and we had an ordinary nurse from the hospital.
Cross-examined by MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. I believe, even at the present time, she is very inarticulate in her speech? A. When I last saw her she could not speak in an equable tone of voice loud, and the day following the event I had considerable difficulty in understanding what she said, and was sometimes obliged, not withstanding the attention I paid, to get her to repeat things over and over again before I could understand; and even with all my attention I was constantly mistaken as to what she meant, and had to ask her again for a reply that might have been made—I had no acquaintance with Mr. or Mrs. Vyse until this matter occurred—I saw the children before they were moved; one child was on one side of the bed, and the other on the other, and the impression on my mind was that they had been placed after death, and had not died there—supposing she had poisoned the children, and then laid them out, I should consider it to be a morbid condition, or morbid dwelling on a deed—I mean to convey that the person who did it was not in her right senses—supposing a woman to conceive, the period at which the menstruation ceases is always a critical period; and I
have known it very seriously to affect the brain of women, and have known them to be exceedingly excitable at those periods—supposing a morbid condition, produced on the brain either by that or by other causes, the quantity of blood the prisoner lost would, I think, have relieved it, to that her state after the event would not have enabled me to come to a conclusion of what state her mind was in at the time she did it—she was prostrated on the succeeding day—her nervous system was in a terrible state.
MR. CHAMBERS. Q. I am anxious to have a little further explanation about what you said about the morbid dwelling on a deed; a bad deed or a good one do you mean? A. I should consider the deed accomplished to furnish such a repulsive spectacle that a sane person could scarcely behold it—a sane person would rush away from such a deed as this—I should consider it a morbid dwelling on a deed, to place the children in bed after they were poisoned; an unhealthy condition of mind—I have not met with instances in which persons have killed others, they have then laid out their bodies—I have not specially given my attention to matters of sanity and insanity.
WILLIAM SCOBELL SAVORY . I live at 13, Charterhouse-square, and am one of the assistant surgeons at St. Bartholomew's hospital—on 22d May Dr. Payne fetched me to Mrs. Vyse about 5 o'clock, and I suppose we got there a little after 5—I saw the two children, but only looked at their bodies externally at that time—they were little girls, and were lying on the bed both dead, one on her side and the other on her back—the elder was the one lying on her side; her body was quite warm, but mottled over, of a dark blue colour, livid, and the muscles of the tipper part of the body generally, especially those about the jaws, were rigid, so that those parts were stiff—the legs were drawn up towards the body, and the fingers slightly bent in to the palms—there was rigidity about the younger child, but more generally—there were similar marks on the surface, and similar symptoms, but the rigidity was more general—I made a post-mortem examination next day, and, on removing the skull-cap, the vessels of the brain were very full of blood; congested we call it—it was congested through its substance—I took out the stomach, and Mr. Hatfield had the contents to analyse—I observed the symptoms that would arise from death by strychnine—the quantity of strychnine which would cause death in a young person like this would depend upon whether it was in solution or in a solid form—I should think that in a child of the age of these a quarter of a grain would be sufficient.
COURT. Q. Which would be the most rapidly effectual? A. The solution, by far—about a quarter of a grain in solid would kill such a child as either of these, speaking generally, and something less than that in solution, I should think—I believe that a quarter of a grain in solution, would certainly kill; it would be more certain in solution.
MR. CHAMBERS. Q. How soon after strychnine is administered does it product its deadly effects? A. That depends on how it is given; two grains of it solid made up into a pill would take effect in from a quarter to half an hour; it would vary; it might begin in a quarter of an hour, and it might not begin for an hour, if given in the form of a pill; but if in solution, the effect may begin in three or four minutes, and would kill in a few minutes more if a full dose—it would kill in ten minutes or less—a grain or a couple of grains is a full dose, which would take effect in from four or five minutes to eighteen or twenty; of course I am speaking generally; but such a dose might kill in a few minutes if in solution—I did
not analyse any of the contents, but I made some experiments with a portion of the contents of the stomach—I took about a sixth part of the contents of the stomach of the eldest child, boiled it with distilled water acidulated with a few drops of acid to make it soluble, filtered the solution thus obtained, evaporated it to concentrate it, and gave it to a cat, and that cat had spasms—spasmodic attacks usually attend the administration of strychnine.
Cross-examined by MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. Do you concur with Dr. Payne, in saying that it is very difficult to understand what Mrs. Vyse said? A. Yes—if an opening is made in the part where she made the opening, a person can only speak in a whisper—I never heard her speak above a whisper—I cannot speak with certainty whether the children appeared to have been laid out; there was less disorder about the bed than I might have expected to see under the circumstances, but I did not make any special remark.
COURT. Q. You made no special remark? A. They were on the bed, not in it—if the person who took the children's lives, laid the bodies out as bodies are usually laid out, that would be a most extraordinary circumstance, and I should think the person's mind was not healthy, unless it was done for some object, such as concealment; it would depend upon that, otherwise it would indicate, in my opinion, an extraordinary state; it would in anybody's opinion.
MR. CHAMBERS. Q. What do you mean by the expression "As bodies an ordinarily laid out?" A. Put perfectly in order, and laid out as bodies usually are—if a person, after killing another, laid the body out without any apparent motive of concealment, I should regard it as showing a strange state of mind—a packet of Battle's powder was given to me when I went into the room, and I handed it to Mr. Hatfield.
JOHN HATFIELD . I am Demonstrator of Practical Chemistry at St. Thomas' Hospital—on 28th May I received from Mr. Savory the contents of the stomachs of two children—they were labelled, by which I knew to which child each referred—I analyzed the stomach of the eldest child, and found strychnine in it—I cannot tell you in what quantity, being the residue after some had been absorbed into the system; that which had been absorbed destroyed life—I also found strychnine in the liter—I also found strychnine in the stomach of the youngest child—I have received a packet of Battle's vermin killer from Mr. Savory, and I have purchased some of Messrs. Edwards and Co.—I analyzed the packet Mr. Savory gave me—it was a shilling packet—it is composed of starch, sugar, Prussian blue, and strychnine—the percentage of strychnine to the whole quantity of powder is 10 per cent.—there were fifty-three grains of powder in the packet when I received it—I found twenty-five grains of powder in the sixpenny packet, and the same proportion of strychnine; 10 per cent.—the third packet weighed fifteen grains, and there was the same proportion of strychnine—the quantity of strychnine in the sixpenny and the two threepenny packets would, I should say, from what I have heard from Mr. Savory, be sufficient to destroy life in two children.
MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE to DR. PAYNE. Q. I believe, when you were first called in, there were three or four persons round the prisoner? A. Yes—while her wound was being dressed she said, "You are all looking very sober," or "What are you looking so sober about? you look as if you were at a funeral or a laying out"—it was either "sober" or "sedate."
Witnesses forthe Defence.
RICHARD VINE . I am a retired chemist and druggist, of 112, Westbourne-park-road, Bayswater—I am the prisoner's uncle, the brother of her mother, who is still alive—I had a brother, named Peter Vine, who committed suicide—he felt melancholy and depressed for a considerable time, and he took prussic acid under a fit of insanity—he was about fifty-four years of age at that time—he was certainly not in his sound mind; he was in good circumstances; there was no motive to which I could assign it—he was my brother and the uncle of the prisoner—my mother lost a son about twenty-four years of age—he died at Manchester, and she took it so much to heart that she became depressed, and would frequently walk about the fields and lanes and cry for hours; it did not become necesssary to watch her movements at all, but she was oppressed with grief—on my father's side there was also a relation who was affected, a young man named James Haynes Heard—he was a son of my first cousin—he was confined in an asylum on two occasions—he was in Bethlehem—there was another cousin of mine, named Elizabeth Dennis—she was not confined, but then had been restraint put upon her in the house—she has been in that state for thirty years, and is so now—she is my first cousin—her mother and Mrs. Vyse are first cousins—Margaret Ross Heard is a first cousin of mine, on my father's side—the is also a relation to Mrs. Vyse—my father was Mrs. Vyse's grandfather on the maternal side—I have heard of Margaret Ross Heard being affected in her mind—Dorothy Heard was also, a relative—she was affected also, but I do not know it of my own knowledge.
Cross-examined by MR. CHAMBERS. Q. Was it your brother that committed suicide? A. Yes—he was not married; he had been a chemist and druggist—he had retired when he committed suicide—he was far from inclining to indulge in intoxicating liquors—he lived in my house, and it was in my house that he committed suicide—he had not met with misfortunes or disappointments in life or marriage—he took prussic acid—I observed that he was in a depressed state about a fortnight or three weeks before that—he sat down in his chair and would not speak to any one—I had no notion that he was likely to commit an act of that description; but about a week before he committed the act he was quite in spirits again—the depression went on for about a fortnight or three weeks, but during his whole life he was never right—he was able to carry on his business—he was assistant to me—he was rather weak in his intellect.
DR. HOOD. I have been a physician of St. Bartholomew's hospital for ten years—I kepi a record of the names of all the patients in the hospital—I have one book here; it is not in my writing, but I have the original document if the book is not satisfactory—the book is what we always look to—I know the writing of the medical officer who signed the book—I find that a person named James Haynes Heard was admitted there in 185l—the books describe what state he was in—it was mental emotion, and the supposed cause was the death of his father—he was perfectly temperate, but evidently suffering from deep-seated disease—the cause of insanity was supposed to be the death of his father—his habits are described as temperate—here is a history of his case—he was discharged uncured—I find that the complaint was what we term paroxysmal—during those times he was quite beyond reason, and at other times quite docile and sane, as stated in the books—there are in my experience many instances of that kind—the book occasionally describes the acts of violence—each case is particularised—such a state leads either to suicide or homicide—the description I find here would
be the description of such patients—this patient did not commit an y act of homicide, but I should not have been surprised to hear that he had—he was out of his reason—I have been desired to attend on the part of the prosecution, to let you have the entries in the book—we recognise insanity as a matter which continues from generation to generation; that is, all kinds of insanity—it may be dormant, and show itself by paroxysms without any apparently exciting cause at all; but I should consider that an exciting cause on a patient of this description would be likely to bring on a paroxysm.
Cross-examined by MR. CHAMBERS. Q. Will you allow me to see that book? A. Here is the book, and here ia the original document. (THE COURT considered that it was not necessary to read the description of the case, as all it amounted to was that the patient was in a morbid state of mind.)
ELIZABETH FRAMPTON . I am the wife of Henry Frampton, formerly of Bideford, Devonshire, and now residing at Oxford—I knew Mr. Saumders, Mrs. Vyse's grandfather—he was the master of a vessel—he was a very excitable man; his actions were very violent at times—he kept a large quantity of cats confined in a room, seven or eight, and sometimes more, and called it his menagerie—he used to invite people to see it—I have been invited in to see it—I remember his coming into church, and calling out aloud for Mrs. Saunders—he brought a dog into church at the same time—he was a very old man when he died, about eighty; but this was twenty years ago—he kept a coffin under his bed—I considered him a very eccentric man, but most kind-hearted—he was generally called "Mad Saunders."
Cross-examined by MR. CHAMBERS. Q. Were they common cats or foreign cats? A. Cats of this country—they were very fine cats.
ANN TRICK . I am seventy-three years of age, and live at Bideford when I am at home—I was acquainted with Mrs. Sarah Vyse, Mrs. Vyse's maternal grandmother—I know that she on one occasion attempted to strangle herself, after a good deal of despondency, having lost a daughter—I knew her sister—she was the wife of a Mr. James Haynes Hartland—she was not in a lunatic asylum, but she was in her own house from twenty to thirty years.
Cross-examined by MR. CHAMBERS. Q. You say that the grandmother attempted to strangle herself; how soon after she had lost this son was it? A. Perhaps six months afterwards—she was then about thirty years of age, I suppose, and she lived till she was eighty-seven, but did not attempt to strangle herself again—she attended to her household affairs up to the time of her death.
WILLIAM DENNIS . I am a general warehouseman, of Aldermanbury—Mrs. Elizabeth Dennis was an aunt of mine, and was lightly related to the prisoner, a first cousin once removed—she was insane for many years, and was confined in an asylum at Exeter—she was sane and reasonable at times, and under paroxysms at other times.
WILLIAM EDNEY . I am a boot and shoe maker, of 33, Ludgate-street—I have known Mrs. Vyse some years, and have been doing business with her for three years—I had made a pair of boots for each of these two children—she was very much interested in their dress and appearance; I never saw any person so much so—I thought her a very affectionate mother—on the Monday before the Thursday when I heard of this event she came to my shop—she was very excited, and brought the two pairs of boots back—she said they were not elegant boots, which she had ordered—she stamped her
feet on the floor in a very excited manner, and said that I was not to answer her—I had not served her before, so as to observe anything of the kind, but my foreman had—I had not observed anything much; but I did a little the week before, when she came in and said she wanted two pairs of boots made exactly like what she had on—she said that she bought them at Radley's, in St. Paul's-churchyard—I said, "No, you did not, ma'am, you bought them here;" but she would not give way, though I knew my own work—while speaking about them she lifted her dress quite as high as her knees, which is quite unusual for ladies to do, and said that there was a difference in the toes of her boots, and that a gentleman had told her so—she was very excited when I said that I could not see any difference—she seemed to look and stare very much on that occasion, and she opened her eyes in a very mad state, and jumped about the shop—I said that I could not get the men to work, and she stamped her feet, and said that if she were me she would horsewhip them—I expressed at the time to my foreman and shopman that I thought she was out of her mind, and that is my opinion now.
Cross-examined by MR. CHAMBERS. Q. You mean on the Monday? A. Yes—she left one pair of boots, and they were to be sent in again; nothing was to be done to them—the fault she found was that the toes were not alike—they were not like a pair which she had bought in Paris—it was on the Monday that she complained of her owl boots, and said that a gentleman had said that the toes were not alike, that one was not like the other, and I looked at them and replied that I saw nothing the matter with them.
MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. Did you observe a staring look in her? A. She was more passionate with me than I had ever seen her before—she stood looking me in the face, and she looked wild—the impression left on my mind was that she was insane then, and I expressed myself so to my two men.
JAMES SPENCE . I am a draper, of St. Paul's-churchyard—I have known the prisoner and her husband for several years—I have been in the habit of doing business with them, and going in there from time to time—on 22d May, between 1 and 2 in the afternoon, I accompanied my wife to Mrs. Vyse's to get a bonnet—it was on the day in question—Mrs. Vyse had always been in the habit of attending to my wife personally—she was upstairs—I sent for her, and one of the assistants said that I and Mrs. Spence were downstairs waiting to see her, and she came down—I discovered that she was in a peculiar state—she endeavoured to put off the business—she did not seem willing to attend to business—my wife first of all wanted some children's bonnets, but Mrs. Vyse seemed to say she had not got them—that struck my attention; and seeing the state she was in, I said, "Never mind, I will leave it with you, and see you again about it;" and I said to Mrs. Spence, "While you are in town, if you think of going up to the Exhibition, perhaps you had better get a bonnet for yourself"—Mrs. Vyse brought out a bonnet in a very abrupt manner, and showed it to Mrs. Spence, who made some observation about the bonnet, when the prisoner snatched it from her hand, tore out the flowers, and threw it on the ground—Mrs. Spence had made some remark about a flower on the inside, and she tore out that in the same way—all this was done in a way to attract my attention very much—her appearance differed from her ordinary appearance—I looked at her a second and a third time, and tried to discover the meaning of it—she used to have a youthful, fresh appearance, but she appeared then to have a smouldering fire within, ready to burst out—she had a very staring look—I said immediately on passing out that I was very much astonished at her manner and style, so
different to what they used to be; and I formed the opinion after I went home that she was not in a proper state of mind—I expressed that opinion before I heard of the event, and I not only expressed it on leaving the shop, but I returned to the subject.
Cross-examined by MR. CHAMBERS. Q. Had your wife found fault with the flowers? A. She said she did not like that part of the bonnet, and Mrs. Vyse snatched the bonnet and tore out the flowers in this way.
ELIZA BURKITT . I have been servant with Mrs. Vyse three years—I used to live at Surbiton—I remember the death of the daughter Florence—it was on 27th November, 1860—she was taken ill on Tuesday, and the mother was not informed of it till the Saturday—she came down as usual on the Saturday, and then I informed her that the child was ill—she knew nothing of it till she came in at the door—she remained with it night and day, till the Tuesday, when it died—it was ten days ill—she was a most affectionate mother to all her children—after the child's death I noticed that her manner and demeanour changed very much—I recollect her coming down one day in February last, while I was preparing tea—she did not appear in good spirits, she was very excited—she put the baby on the floor—she had him in her arms when she came in—she was absent for a few minutes—she came down, and without any cause that I could make out, she cleared the tea-tray fall of things and threw them into the fire-place, cups and saucers, and egg cups—she seemed very excited, but next morning she seemed quite sorry and surprised, and could not believe that she had done so—she did not remember that she had done so—she seemed to have no idea that she had done such a thing—I think she weaned the child last February—I am not quite sure if it was weaned in London after this occurrence.
Cross-examined by MR. CHAMBERS. Q. Were you with Mrs. Vyse at this time? A. Yes; but at Surbiton—I saw no manifestation of passion before she threw the tea-things into the fire—she had just come in from her journey from London—she brought her baby with her—I cannot tell why she was in a passion, I am sure it was not intoxication—she could not take ale—the only thing she could take was milk and water, while she was suckling her baby—she said her head would not allow her—she took no porter daring the time I lived with her—I never saw her take a pint a day.
AUGUSTUS GEORGE MERRITT . I am a doctor of medicine and examining surgeon to the Council of India—I was surgeon to the Indian invalid troops—soon after the death of Mrs. Vyse's child, I was called to attend the other children and to attend her—I became their regular medical attendant—the death of the child seemed to prey upon Mrs. Vyse, she was the subject of a morbid melancholy on the subject, and of an idea that if she had been present she might have saved the life of the child—in addition to morbid melancholy I have also seen her subject to sudden irrational impulses; but except at those times her demeanour was quiet and ladylike, very much so—she was not remarkably quiet, she was animated and very ladylike—she was very particular about her dress and person, she always exhibited great taste—she has manifested to me almost an undue anxiety, great solicitude, about her children's and her husband's health—she was nursing her child when I was consulted on the last occasion about her—that was at the beginning of this year; she was so much deteriorated in health and strength that I recommended her to wean the child, and to partially relieve herself from the duties of her business—I considered at that time that she was the subject of so much melancholy that she ought to go out of town but I was
afraid that the melancholy would be increased by the want of occupation, and so I recommended that she should partially follow her business—I entertain an opinion that she is from two to three months pregnant now, there are all the usual signs—I cannot attribute the event that has occurred to anything else than the signs I have mentioned before—I believe she was in a state of mania at the time.
Cross-examined by MR. CHAMBERS. Q. You say that you cannot attribute it to anything else, have you endeavoured to discover whether there might not be some anger or motive? A. I have heard nothing to lead me to such a conclusion—my opinion is based on a number of circumstances placed together, those circumstances are, the hereditary taint, irregularity of her impulses from time to time, the deterioration of her general health from over anxiety and fatigue, and her conduct throughout the affair—I did not attend her between February and 22d May, when this occurred—I saw her once only and not medically.
Q. You have used the expression "There was an irregularity of impuse," what would she do that you call irregularity of impulse? A. She would rush away in the middle of a conversation, leave me in the most abrupt manner and come back and be perfectly unconscious of her want of good taste and decorum, but she was ladylike in other ways—she would come back and enter into conversation again—there were sudden expressions of excitability, not of anger, that was not in her conversations with me—I noticed excitability in her speech—what I want to convey is, that in moderate temperate conversation with me, other people being in the room, she would suddenly conceive some thought and express herself excitably to those people—that was before I ceased to attend her in February.
DR. FORBES WINSLOW . I am a physician—my attention has been directed to this subject for twenty years—I have written works upon it and made it a matter of study—I have been in Court during the whole of the day—I consider that the suppression of menstruation, either from the natural cause of conception, or from other causes, may under certain conditions of bodily predisposition, affect the brain—hereditary matters are of very great importance, indeed, in the consideration.
Q. Assuming a person, up to the period of the loss of a child, to have been healthful, and then to have exhibited fits of despondency and impulsive madness, should you consider that evidence of unsoundness of mind, or of a predisposition to it? A. They are undoubted symptoms entitled to grave consideration—if I knew also that there was hereditary madness in the family, that would excite my suspicions—the system would be weakened by conception immediately after cessation from suckling a child; any marked deviation from the usual habits of body or mind would undoubtedly awaken grave suspicion as to the mental condition of the party, although the evidence taken by itself would not be very conclusive, yet it would be very important combined with other facts—there is a form of madness termed paroxysmal madness, recognized by all writers; that very frequently takes a suicidal form, and very frequently the homicidal, connected with acts of violence, either on the patient himself or others—the patient would undoubtedly be incapable of distinguishing right from wrong, he is apparently sane and tranquil, ths insanity coming on in paroxysms from some exciting cause, and the patient often committing some serious overt act, either on himself or on others—such a state is not inconsistent with the general management of the affairs of life.
Cross-examined by MR. CHAMBERS. Q. These paroxysmal attacks are very
nearly allied sometimes to fits of ordinary passion, are they not? A. They may be so—taking the paroxysm by itself, it may be difficult to distinguish a burst of passion from a bunt of insanity.
MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. But for the purpose of coming to a conclusion would you look at the preceding acts, and the health of the family? A. Yes; and if I found no ground for passion I should come to the conclusion that the mind was off its balance, and that there was insanity of the kind I describe.
DR. COPLAND. I am a physician of very long standing—I am the author of Copland's Medical Dictionary—I have had very considerable experience in all kinds of disease—I have heard Dr. Winslow express certain opinions, and I concur with them entirely.
NOT GUILTY , being Insane.
NOT GUILTY .— To be detained during Her Majesty's pleasure.
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, July 9th, 1862.
PRESENT—Mr. JUSTICE CROMPTON; Sir JAMES DUKE, Bart, M.P., Ald.;
Mr. Ald. ROSE; Mr. Ald. MECHI; and Mr. Ald. DAKIN.
Before Mr. Justice Crompton.
MR. GIFFARD conducted the Prosecution.
ANN BETTLE . The deceased young woman was my daughter—she was twenty-five years old last February, and lived at home with me, at Hendon—her name was Ann Sarah Cox—she was commonly called Annie—I have known the prisoner a long time—he used to come into our house of an evening, and of a morning—he slept there from the Wednesday week until the Saturday morning when this happened—he had been courting my daughter for about eight months; since August—on that Saturday morning, while I was lying in bed, I heard a noise—I do not remember the day of the month—it was at the end of March—the prisoner said, "Good morning"—that was before I heard the noise—I cannot say what time it was when I heard that, because I was in bed and roused from sleep—it was in the morning—I heard nothing, only James Lawrence say good morning to me, and I said, "Good morning" again—I knew his voice—I heard nothing more until I heard the noise—he said nothing that I heard but, "Good morning"—I did not hear him say anything to my daughter—I was in bed—he said, "Are you going to lie a-bed all day?"
COURT. Q. Was that said to you? A. It was said to my daughter, and she said, "All right, Jem"—that was the same morning, the same time that he said, "Good morning" to me—he always called her up of a morning—he called her on that Saturday, before he said, "Good morning" to me—my daughter said, "All right, Jem" to him, so that he could hear it—this was before the noise.
MR. GIFFARD. Q. Did you hear anything more until you heard the noise? A. No—I cannot say how long afterwards I heard the noise—I dozed between—it was a great noise—it awoke me, and I called out,
"What's that, what's that?"—I had no answer—then I heard a second noise like the other, and I said, "Good God, what's that?"—it was like the noise of a gun discharged—I have heard guns discharged—it was something of that kind—I ran down stairs—I could not get out at my staircase door, because somebody had fallen against it—I felt there was something against it on the other side—I ran up stairs again, opened the window, and called out—I slipped on some of my clothes, and then went down again—the staircase door was opened for me then—I do not know who opened it, it was open—I did not see the prisoner when I got into the lower room—I saw him afterwards—I did not see him in the lower room—I saw my daughter—she lay with her head against my copper—I never saw her move—I afterwards saw the prisoner at his mother's back door, all covered with blood—he had slept at my house the night before this.
WILLIAM SHAYLOR . I live at Mill-hill, Hendon—I know the house in which Mrs. Bettle lives—I was passing that house on the morning of Saturday, 29th March, about a quarter or twenty minutes to 6 o'clock—I was going to my work—as I went by I heard a great noise, as though something were falling from a shelf—I could not judge from where it came—I was thinking more about my work than anything else, and did not take particular notice—I could judge of the direction from which it came—as I was going to work it was on the left-hand side, the same side that the cottages were on—I went on after that noise for about thirty, or from that to forty yards—I then heard a female calling very loudly from a window—I believe that was the mother of the deceased, Ann Bettle.
COURT. Q. You only heard a noise? A. A kind of rumbling altogether, as though some things were falling down—the noises were very momentary—it was like two things together, but was very quick, whatever it was—it seemed like two noises—there did not seem to be much interval between the two—I cannot tell whether it was one or two noises—the noise was momentary—I did not hear two distinct noises at two distinct times.
MR. GIFFARD. Q. In consequence of what the woman, whom you supposed to be the mother of the deceased, called out to you, did you go back? A. I did—I went through Mrs. Lawrence's house to the back door—that house is next door to Bettle's house—I first saw a little boy, the son of Mrs. Lawrence—after that I went to the back door of Mrs. Bettle's house, some distance from where I saw the boy, and saw the prisoner just inside Mrs. Bettle's back door, in a stooping position—he was not against the back door at all—his right hand was to the right side of his face—the outside door could not be opened from the inside, from the position he was in—there are two doors close together—the staircase door might have been opened, no doubt, if he had continued in that position—the staircase door opens into the wash-house, and the door in the wash-house swings against the staircase door, so that when the street door is opened you cannot open the staircase door—the street door goes into the wash-house—by the street door I do not mean the door that opens into the road where I first was—it opens into the back premises.
COURT. Q. What is at the back? A. Little gardens—the street door opens into the road, but the door which when open, prevents the staircase door from being opened, that is the back door—as you go into the wash-house that door goes from you—there is a door in the middle of the wash-house that opens into a front parlour; it is like a passage through, and there is another door which takes you into the parlour—the door which prevented the staircase door from opening, is a door which goes outside into
the yard—when that is open I should say you cannot open the staircase door.
MR. GIFFARD. Q. Did you observe what condition the prisoner was in? A. I did—his face was terribly lacerated—I then went into the house, and found the deceased Ann Bettle lying on her back on the brick floor, with her head inclining to the left—I cannot say where her head was with reference to the copper, for I did not take particular notice—while I was there, Mrs. Barnes, the next-door neighbour, on the other side to Bettle's, came in—there are four cottages, I believe; I would not say for a certainty—Bettle's is in the middle, Barnes' on one side, and Lawrence's on the other—Mrs. Barnes fetched a pillow, which one of us put under the head of the young woman who was lying on the floor—I cannot say which of us put it under her head, we were in such a hurry at the moment—there was a hole through the right side of the neck—there was no mark at well—the hole was blackened round—I cannot say whether that was produced by some external blackening, or from discoloration of the skin—I cannot say whether it was some sort of dirt—I saw blood on the floor by the side of the deceased's head—I afterwards put the body on the sofa, and then went for the policeman—before going I observed a gun close to the wash-house door—I cannot say whether I saw it in the same position when I returned—when I left it was standing muzzle upwards, close against the back of the wash-house window; I do not know whether that is a wall or partition—it might be perhaps four or five feet from the body, as near as I can judge—I had been there but a very little while when I observed it—I cannot say as to time, or how it came to attract my attention—I happened to see it stand there—it was close to where I saw James Lawrence leaning.
COURT. Q. Did you notice whether it was a single or double gun, or what? A. Double-barrelled—I noticed that at the time—I am almost sure that I came back with the policeman; I could not say exactly—I did not examine the gun at all—I had it in my hand, but not to examine it—I certainly looked at it, both before I went for the policeman and after I came back.
MR. GIFFARD. Q. Did you observe the condition of the cocks? A. I did—the first time I saw the gun I looked at the hammers—one was on the nipple, and the other was back in this position. (Bending his finger back)—it was right back—I am unacquainted with guns—I cannot say whether it was full back or half-back; they are things I do not understand—I never meddled with the locks—I will not be certain as to whether I left the gun in the same position, or whether I put it on the table—I left it as it was, as to the locks.
Cross-examined by MR. SLEIGH. Q. You have known the prisoner for years, I believe? A. I have—he has always borne the character of a quiet, inoffensive, peaceable, sober, steady, hard-working man.
MR. GIFFARD. Q. I did not quite catch how long you have known him? A. I have been in the village about twenty-two years, and have known him all that time, from his childhood—I lodged with his mother in 1840 or 1841, I think—I have known him upwards of twenty years, and continually met him going to and from work, both morning and evening.
SARAH BARNES . I live next door to Mrs. Bettle—I went into her house on the morning of 29th March, and found Shaylor there when I got in—I attended Ann Cox until she died—it was about half an hour before she died—she never spoke—I observed the gun in the wash-house—Lawrence, I believe, had the care of it.
COURT. Q. Had you seen him with it before? A. Not at that time but I had seen him with it several weeks before—I cannot exactly say how often I had seen him with it: several times—he did not tell me anything about it—it was a double-barrelled gun—I have seen him clean it out in his mother's back kitchen yard.
Cross-examined. Q. Have you known him for many years too? A. Yes, from his birth—I never knew him to be anything else but a kind, amiable, good-hearted man—my son married the deceased Ann Cox's sister—I am no relation of the prisoner's at all—my grandchild is not in any way connected with him.
MR. GIFFARD. Q. As I understand, you have known the prisoner all his life, from his birth? A. Yes; and can speak from my intimacy and knowledge of him, to the character I have given him.
MR. SLEIGH. Q. Have you seen him with this unfortunate girl whom he was courting? A. Yes; and they were always, to the last time I saw of them, on terms of the greatest affection and intimacy.
JOHN GROWSE . I am a surgeon, practising at Hendon—on Saturday morning, 29th March, I was sent for, about twenty minutes past 6, to Mrs. Bettle's cottage, and got there about forty minutes past 6—I found Ann Cox lying on the sofa, dead—I found on the right side of her neck a hole about the size of a shilling—the skin was blackened round the hole about an inch in circumference—I mean a black ring extended about an inch from the hole, all round—the wound did not injure any of the arteries on that side—on the left side of the neck I found a severe lacerated wound—it was the same wound coming out—the hole was as large as the palm of my hand nearly—it had severed all the great vessels, and also the swallow—that would be quite sufficient to account for death—I made a post-mortem examination of the body—that would be four days after, because the Inquest was held, and they had to adjourn it—I found three shots and a piece of a yellow colander together in the wound—the piece of colander was quite close to the shot—when I went in the morning to see the body, I observed the fragments of a shattered colander against the wall, about five feet seven, or five feet six from the floor—it was hanging from a nail by a piece of thread—I had not the least doubt that the piece of colander was sent into the wound by the rebound; because it was not very deep—it was just on the external surface, where the wound came out, where it was as large as the palm of my hand—I did not see how near the deceased was to the wall—the fragment of the colander was about a yard from the copper—the copper was in a different position—I examined the rest of the body in the post-mortem examination—I found nothing else to account for death—after I had examined the deceased on the morning, I went into the next cottage, the prisoner's father's cottage, and there found the prisoner walking about the front-room, with his hand to his face—on the left side of his face I found a very severe lacerated wound, which had fractured the lower jaw, and destroyed nearly the whole of the left cheek—a gun-shot would be the only thing to produce it—I bandaged the wound there, and sent him to the hospital—I said to him, "Lawrence; you did this yourself?"—he said, "Yes, Sir"—I said, "And you have killed that poor girl too?"—he made no answer to that
COURT. Q. Did he give you the answer directly you asked the question? A. Yes; he seemed to understand me—he was in great suffering at the time.
gun (produced)—inspector made this little sketch of the place—I went straight through Mrs. Bettle's house to the house of the prisoner's father, where I saw the prisoner walking about—I said, "Jem, what have you been up to?"—he made me no answer at the time, but in about ten minutes, is he was walking past me, he said, "I could not help it"—that was all that passed between us—I tried the condition of the gun when I first took it—I put my fingers into each barrel as soon as I got it, and found they were very dirty; very black, as though from powder, as if they had been recently discharged—when I found it, the left-hand barrel was at full cock, as it is now—the right-hand one had an exploded cap on the nipple—I put the ram-rod down—both barrels were unloaded then—there was nothing on the left-hand nipple—I afterwards took the prisoner to the Middlesex Hospital, by direction of the surgeon—I assisted in taking his clothes off, and afterwards took them back to Mill-bill, examined them in the presence of the inspector, and found three gun-wads and two gun-caps—the caps fit the nipple of the gun, and the wads also fit—I afterwards went, on 1st of April, to Mrs. Bettle's house and extracted ten shots from the wall.
Cross-examined. Q. Do you happen to know that he had had that gun occasionally from Mr. Pellet to clean? A. I have heard so from Mr. Petlet—it was not the prisoner's own.
REV. BARTHOLOMEW NICOLS . I am the incumbent of St. Paul's, Mill-hill, Hendon—on 31st March, I went to Mrs. Bettle's house, and in a work-box there I found this letter an envelope—I gave it to Inspector Lindsay, at the inquest, by the Coroner's direction.
Cross-examined. Q. Was this unfortunate man a parishioner of yours? A. He was; and also the girl who is dead—I have known his family, and him, almost from his infancy.
Q. Has he uniformly borne the character of an amiable, good-hearted, honest poor fellow? A. Well, as much as general—his character was generally good I should say.
MR. GIFFARD. Q. You have known him, I suppose, during the whole period of your being there, have you? A. I have known him from time to time—he was a boy in our school—I may say I have known him all his life—his employments have been, I believe, almost entirely in my parish—he has not, to my knowledge, left the parish.
MR. SLEIGH. Q. How long is it since you saw write? A. It is a long time—I have seen him write not only once, but several times.
MR. GIFFARD. Q. Take that letter and envelope in your hand, have you seen them before? A. Yes—I could not swear whose handwriting it is—I did believe it was the prisoner's; but I should be sorry to say so—I believed that at the time from looking at the character of the writing.
Cross-examined. Q. He did not live in the same house with you, did he? A. Not at that time—I should say it was a great many years since I saw him write, seven or eight years—I am sure it is seven years since I saw him write at all—I was shown this at the Inquest, and it was then that I believed it to be his writing—I cannot swear that it is his writing.
COURT. Q. Looking at the character of the writing, do you belive it
to be his? A. I cannot say whether it is or not—I did believe it was his, but I have seen so much writing with other boys, that I really cannot say.
MR. SLEIGH. Q. Am I to understand that although when you first saw it you did believe it to be his writing, you cannot say now that you do believe it? A. No, I cannot say it is his—it appears like his—I believe it to be his—(Letter read: "March 21st, J. Lawrence. Dear Ann,—I right these few lines to your friends, letting them know how this happened like this: I should have thought anything about this if you had told me that you did not intend to marry me, but it was not your doings. I know very well all about it; when your mother and Harry was laying their heads together, how things was to be planned. Dear Ann, your mother, Mrs. Bettle, has persuaded you this, and you recollected the words your mother asked you that night; the night that little Billy went to have his lipdone the words your mother asked you, whether you was going to sleep with Jem Mann, and you told her yes, and I heard her tell Harry that he was to come and sleep with her. Mrs. Bettle this is all your fault about this, for trying to keep this so sly from me, but I have seen this a good while, and things begin to prove true about it, as she is in the family way by Jem Mann, for she told me she was going to try what he had got; so that is the truth, and this is the cause of me doing what I have done, so tell Mr. J. Mann he is disappointed as well as me, so let your dear Ann be buried along with me. So good bye all, and bless you, dear friends, I must conclude with my own best love to all, and you are the cause of this Mrs. Bettle, and you will find it out. Good bye all in this world, good bye, this has disturbed my mind.")
CHARLES EDE . I live at Mill-hill, Hendon, and am a working gardener—I have known the prisoner ten years—he and I were working for the same employer since Christmas last, up to the 28th March—I knew from him that he had been courting Ann Cox—some short time before 29th March I had a conversation with him on the subject of Ann Cox—I could not say exactly how long before, but between a fortnight and three weeks—he told me that he heard Mrs. Bettle say she was going to sleep with Harry, and she asked her daughter who she was going to sleep with, and she said Jem—I asked him what Jem, and he mentioned the man's name, but I do not remember it—I did not know the man—the prisoner said he was a lodger and an out-policeman—it was since that time, and before the occurrence, that he told me he was a policeman; before the 29th—he told me that he was in his father's bedroom, and the partition being thin he heard it—I have heard him talk about Ann Cox very often, but I did not take any notice of what he said; I thought he was joking—I saw him on 28th March, and the first words I heard him say about it then were, "My Nancy's in the Strand, buying a bun"—I asked him if she was gone to London, and he told me, "Yes, gone to be married"—some time afterwards he asked me what time it was—I told him it wanted ten minutes to 12—he said, "My Nancy's married by this time"—I asked him who he thought she was married to, and he told me the policeman; he said his name, but I do not know it—it was the name that he had mentioned before as being the policeman—I asked him whether he meant the man that lodged there, and he said, "Yes"—I said, "What makes you talk so silly as that, when you know better than that yourself?"—he told me she was; he meant gone to be married—he made no other answer than that at that time—in the afternoon he began to talk about it again, and said, "My Nancy's in the Strand, buying a bun"—he continually kept saying so—I said that I should have to take him to Colney Hatch, or somewhere else, if he talked like that—he said no he should not; meaning he should not go—he said,
when he went home at night he should ask the old woman what she had done with his Nancy, he should hear what she had got to say, and that he should say to her, "We had better have a quart on the strength of it"—I said, "On the strength of what?"—and he said "On the strength of the wedding"—I was going to leave him then, and I said, "Bring the other tools up what I left"—he said, "All right," and that he should not bring up the edging-knife—that was what we were using—I told him to put it somewhere where we should know where to find it—he said he would put it under the rose-tree—he said nothing more upon this matter—I bade him "Good night," and did not see him any more.
Cross-examined. Q. He said he would be at work first next morning, did not he? A. He said, "I'll take care I can't behind to-morrow morning, I will be first."
ANN BETTLE (cross-examined). Q. Is there any truth at all in the statement that you said to your daughter that you were going to sleep with Harry and she was going to sleep with Jem? A. No, not a word of truth in it.
COURT. Q. You did not ask her who she would sleep with? A. No; nor did she say she would sleep with Jem.
MR. SLEIGH. Q. Nor anything of the kind? A. No; never anything of the kind—my daughter was not away from home on the 28th, the day before this matter happened—she was at home all day, and I saw the prisoner with her in the evening.
COURT. Q. Had she been in London at all about that time? A. No.
MR. GIFFARD. Q. Was there any person whom you knew, named Harry? A. He lodged in my house—a person, named James Mann, used to lodge in my house, but he is gone away—Harry was not lodging there then; he had gone home that Wednesday to bury his mother in the country—Jem Mann had become a policeman—I and my daughter always slept in the same bed.
COURT. Q. And did so that night, I suppose? A. Yes—my house adjoins both Lawrence's and Barnes' houses—there is only one room, and it is next to both their front rooms—the head of my bed was to Lawrence's wall.
MR. SLEIGH. Q. You never observed any levity or anything on the part of your daughter with either of the persons named, to excite his suspicions, or anybody else's? A. Never.
COURT. Q. Do you remember your daughter going down when he called? A. No; I do not know—I went to sleep and did not perceive whether she did or not—she was in bed with me when he called—when I awoke with the noise she was not there—I am sure there were two noises—there was not long between them.
Jury. Q. Was it the noise that awoke you? A. The noise I heard at first—she was in bed with me when he called and asked if she was going to lie in bed all day—he called from down stairs.
MR. SLEIGH. Q. Used he to come in and light the fire and do little offices for you like that? A. Yes—the second noise was very shortly after the first, not many minutes.
COURT. Q. Could you hear that they were two distinct noises? A. Yes—the prisoner had been sleeping at our house from the Wednesday week before—he had come there to oblige us—my daughter said, "Jem, may as well sleep in the house for company, we shall be dull"—that was because the lodger was away.
GUILTY.—Very strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury, in the belief that although at the time responsible for his actions, he was labouring under great excitement, and also on account of his previous good character; the Jury were unanimously of opinion that he had a belief that there was something improper between the deceased and some one in the house, and that though responsible for his actions, yet he was under a delusion about the young woman.
Sentence— DEATH .
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, July 9th, 1862.
PRESENT—Mr. RECORDER; Mr. Ald. MECHI; Mr. Ald. BESLEY; and
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. LEWIS conducted the Prosecution.
JOHN FRUIN . I am a grocer at Acton, and deal with Mr. Betts—on 23d June, I was indebted to him in the sum of 30l.—I saw the prisoner that day, and paid him 30l.; with three 10l. Bank of England notes—they were endorsed with my name, and the parties I took them of—I am prepared to swear that—I did not give him this one, marked "Forged" (produced), nor this one which has no endorsement on it—I gave the third; it is signed with my initials "J. F. and Mrs. Phillips, June 20th, 1862," is written upon it—that is one of the three that I gave; these other two are not mine—I saw the prisoner again on 30th—I then owed Mr. Betts 31l. 7s. 3d.—I paid that sum to the prisoner in cheques and a 5l. note; before I paid it, I asked him if he had placed the other money to my credit, to Mr. Beets, and he said, "Yes, all right."
Cross-examined by MR. METCALFE. Q. Where are the cheques? A. I have not got them—I have the receipt for the money; they are pieces of blank paper with a stamp—I gave a 5l. note on the last instalment—I have not got that—I put my name on that note when I received it from the party I gave change to—I received it on the 20th; it is marked under the "ten"—this is the one (pointing it out), it is "Mrs. Phillips, June 20th, 1862, J.F."—I always take the name of the person, and endorse my notes—I cannot swear that I never took a note without endorsing it; it is always my rule to endorse them—I can't swear whether I endorsed the 5l. note or not—I have not seen it since—I saw these at the bank—I did not ask to look at the 5l. note—I cannot swear whether I endorsed that, but I san swear I endorsesed the other two 10l. noses—I did not re-endorse it on the 23d—I had taken it on the 20th and kept it in my cash-box—I took the other two notes from the cash-box as well; they were endorsed—I can't swear who I took them from; it is my practice to mark every note—I can swear I marked the three 10l. notes I gave to the prisoner—the reason I say this one is not mine, is because I don't find my writing on it; it is my practice to endorse every 10l. note—I cannot say that I always do—I do not make any entry of the notes, either when I take them or when I pass them on—I make no entry of the person from whom I receive them—I receive notes across the counter and place them all in my cash-box after they come in, when I have endorsed them—I cannot tell at all from whom I had taken notes a few days previous to this—I did not endorse this note, 2lst June—I did not notice the endorsement, somebody Franks—I do not know such a name.
MR. LEWIS. Q. Before giving the three notes to the prisoner, did you endorse them all? A. Yes; they were endorsed at the time; I observed that.
WILLIAM WOOLLAM . I am clerk to Mr. Betts; the prisoner was in his service as carman, and had been, I suppose, about two years—on Monday, 30th June, the prisoner paid me 68l. odd—he produced this book at the time—there is no entry in it, on 23d, of the receipt of a sum of money from Mr. Fruin—the 68l. he paid me on the 30th, was composed of three 10l. notes, one 5l. note, a cheque for 10l., a cheque for 16l. 17s. 3d., and the rest in gold, silver, and a few coppers—these are the three 10l. notes he gave me—I called his attention to this one marked "Forged"—I said it looked different to the others—I was not aware that it was bad—I had never seen a bad one before—he said, "Oh, it is good enough"—I asked him who he look it of—he said he had taken them all of Mr. Fruin, of Acton—he did got say when—I showed the note to Mr. Betts a few minutes afterwards—I took it to the Bank of England the next morning—I put the name of "Fruin, Acton," on that note myself.
Cross-examined. Q. He accounted to you for the 60l. odd, on 30th? A. 68l. 17s. 3d. from Mr. Furin; that is the correct amount, supposing the notes to be good, received from Mr. Fruin on the two days, 23d and 30th—he did not mention to me, on the 24th, that he had received those notes on 23d—I was not present when he mentioned it—I have not heard him mention it to any one—I have made no inquiries myself; but I have heard that he mentioned it to one or two men—I do not know that he carries a pocket-book about with him—in this book his duty is to put down amounts as he receives them—if he had cash he would take it from his pocket—I do not know, for a fact, that he keeps the notes in a pocket-book—I have not heard him say that he put these notes in his pocket book, and forget them on 23d, and he did not like to be rebuked for his carelessness—if he did not pay the whole over at the time, I should tell him he ought to have done so—if he had paid the cash on 23d, and not paid the notes till the next day, I should have found fault with him—we have a person in our employment named George, a carman, who goes out in the wholesale cart—I have not seen him here—there is a parcel-book in which the prisoner would make entries; this "Fruin's plus," on 24th, is in the prisoner's writing—he did not mention that to me in any way on 24th—he came home later than usual on 23d—he has to take his horse to the stable when he comes home, I believe—there is that entry on 24th, and on 30th the whole money is paid over; the 5l. note was paid into our banker's—I did not see if at the Bank of England—I inquired for it yesterday morning—I have not seen it since.
JOHN DICKINSON BETTS . I am a tea dealer, residing in Oxford-street, and an the prosecutor of this Indictment—the prisoner has been in my service about two years; his salary was 23s. per week, and commission—his duties were to go out with the horse and cart, collect orders, and deliver goods, receive any bills that were paid to him, and any money that was paid for the parcels he took out on the same day, which would be entered in the parcel-book; and any money taken previously would be entered in the credit-book, and the total amount received in the parcel-book—when he received a sum of money he was to pay it the same evening, directly he got in; if he came in too late in the evening, it was his duty to hand the cash in an account for it the next morning; but that is a thing which hardly ever occurred—if he had an overplus of money, he should make an entry at the bottom of the page at the time his money is made up; but then it is presuming he does not know where it comes from—putting down "Fruin's plus" is an absurdity—he did not pay me a sum of 30l.—I received a 10l. note which
has been produced—I asked the prisoner where he had taken it—he told me of Mr. Fruin—I asked him why he did not put the name on it; there was no endorsement—he said he was not in the habit of doing so—I told him I had no doubt it was bad.
Cross-examined. Q. Have you heard the prisoner say that the reason he did not pay those notes till the 30th, was that he put them into his pocket-book and forgot to hand them over? A. Yes; he said he did not like to be scolded, and therefore handed them all in together on 30th—that was at the time he was given into custody—he would have been found fault with if he had forgotten to hand in the notes.
MR. LEWIS. Q. When you first spoke to him about the 10l. did he make any suggestion of that kind? A. No—I first learnt that he had received any money on 23d, on the day the note was sent to the bank—that would be the 1st of July, the day after the money was paid over.
WILLIAM GORDON (Policeman, A 336). I took the prisoner into custody, and told him he was charged with uttering this 10l. note—he said he got it from Mr. Fruin's—I asked him why he kept the note so long in his possession, and he made no reply.
Cross-examined. Q. No reply at all? A. Not in my presence.
The prisoner received a good character.
GUILTY .—The prosecutor stated that the prisoner had got into bad company, and that a man named Herman, who had been taken up for passing forged notes, had induced him to do what he otherwise would not have done.— Four Years' Penal Servitude.
749. WILLIAM WILSON (26) , Feloniously cutting and wounds Henry Hughes, with intent to murder him; Second Count, with intent to maim and disable him; Third Count, with intent to do him some grievous bodily harm.
MR. POLAND conducted the Prosecution.
HENRY HUGHES . I am a sub-warder at the Middlesex House of Correction, Coldbath-fields—the prisoner was undergoing a sentence of two years' imprisonment with hard labour there—on Tuesday, 2d July, I noticed that he had not picked his quantity of oakum—it was my duty to take it from him, and it was three-quarters of a pound short of his weight—it would be my duty to report him on the following day—I did not my anything to him; I only took a brass number off his breast—on the following morning I was in the yard with six prisoners—I cannot say whether I was sitting at the time; I had been—the prisoner was going through the yard, with some others, to the report-office, to answer the report I had made against him—my back was towards the treadmill-yard, where he came from—he seized me by one of my arms, and struck me three violent blows on the neck, saying, "You b—r"—I looked round and saw this weapon in his hand (a staple)—one of the blows made a wound at the back of my neck, and another went through my coat collar—I have got the coat on now (showing the hole to the Jury)—one of the other warders and some of the prisoners then came to the rescue, and the prisoner was secured and taken away.
was, to the report-office—Wilson was one of those—I had occasion to speak to some of the prisoners behind, to tell them to close up, when I heard a scuffle, and saw the prisoner strike Hughes at the back of the neck—I assisted in taking him—he was passing close to Hughes—I should imagine he was in a sitting or stooping position.
WILLIAM FISHER . I am a prisoner in the House of Correction—on the morning of 2d July I was passing through the yard, and saw the prisoner rush at Mr. Hughes and strike three or four blows about his head—Mr. Bolton instantly rushed at him and pulled him away, bringing him towards the side of the yard—the prisoner held his hand in this manner, and threw something on the ground—I saw it on the ground, and saw it afterwards; on the day he was examined.
DR. WILLIAM SMILES . I am surgeon at the House of Correction—I examined Hughes—I found a slight wound, about an inch and a half, behind the ear; not a dangerous wound at all—it was such a wound as may have been inflicted by this instrument—if it had been a little further forward it might have injured the jugular vein or the carotid artery; an inch further, and it might have killed him—I saw the prisoner on the following day, and he said he was sorry he had not murdered him.
The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate was here read as follows: "I have nothing to say, only I am guilty of it; I intended to do what I did do."
Prisoner's Defence. I did do it, but not with intent to murder him.
GUILTY on the third Count. — Six Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. LEWIS conducted the Prosecution.
ROBERT SLATER . I am a partner in the house of Morrison, Dillon, & Co., warehousemen, of 104, Fore-street—on 26th June I received this order (produced) purporting to come from Messrs. Cocks and Co.—the envelope that enclosed it, was produced before the Magistrate; it ought to be here—it bore the London post-mark.
CHARLES BAKER . I am a detective police-officer—I saw the envelope produced, in which that letter purported to have come—it was handed to the Magistrate, Alderman Hale—at the conclusion of the case a search was made for the envelope, round the Magistrate and round about the Court, and it was not found.
Cross-examined by MR. HILL. Q. In whose hands did you see it last? A. Alderman Hale's; while the case was being heard.
ROBERT SLATER (continued). The order was headed "Hertford"—Messrs. Cocks and Co. had been customers of our's some years ago—the latest order they had given to us was between six and seven years ago—in consequence of that and other matters I communicated with Messrs. Cocks and Co.—I made up the order, and sent it to the Eastern Counties Railway Company—partly in accordance with the order, instead of two pieces, I ordered one to be put up—I do not know the prisoner.
TIMOTHY SHEPHARD . I live at 31, Milton-street, and am in the employment of Messrs. Morrison, Dillon, and Co., in the silk department—the letter that has been produced was put into my hands on the morning of 26th June—I executed one piece of black glace, at 3s. 9d.—this is the parcel (produced)—I did not address it or see it addressed—I know it is the parcel by the name (opening it)—this is the piece—I did not put it into the outside paper.
GEORGE DAY . I reside at 3, Flying Horse-yard, Milton-street, and am in the employ of Messrs. Morrison, Dillon, and Co.—on 26th June I took a parcel with this endorsement upon it to the Shorediteh station, and delivered it at the cloak-room to one of the porters.
Cross-examined. Q. What o'clock was that? A. From twenty to twenty-five minutes past 12—I did not see a soul about the cloak-room when I was there—there were very few people on the platform—I simply looked in and delivered the parcel.
WILLIAM REDDALL . I reside at 14, New Charles-street, Hackney-road, and am a porter in the service of the Eastern Counties' Railway Company—I recollect, on the 26th June, receiving a parcel from the last witness—this is it—about ten minutes after I saw the prisoner—he asked me for a parcel for Messrs. Cocks and Co., of Hertford—I handed this one to him, and asked him if that was it—he said "Yes," and took it from me.
Cross-examined. Q. Were there any other persons about the office at the time? A. My fellowservant was there; his name is Curtis—there were very few persons about the platform at the time I received the parcel, or when the prisoner came—it was twenty-five minutes to I when the prisoner came for the parcel—it was in my possession about ten minutes—we go through a door from the platform, and through the lost property office, into the cloak room—it adjoins the cloak-room—there is a window to the cloak-room—we receive more parcels after than before that time—the shop parcels begin to come in after 1 o'clock—we receive them all day; from 6 in the morning till 10 at night.
COURT. Q. Did you remain in the office from the time you received that parcel? A. I did—Mr. Baker, the detective officer, and Mr. Kent, came into the office.
MR. HILL. Q. How long would it take you to get to the other platform where people wait for trains? A. About two minutes—you can go there and back in four minutes easily.
JAMES DAWE . I am a draper, of Windsor—the prisoner was in my employment fourteen months, from September, 1858, to November, 1859—I had opportunities of judging of his writing almost daily—I believe this order to be in his writing—I have not the slightest doubt about it.
Cross-examined. Q. How do you know that writing? A. Partly by the shape of the letters—I recognised it before the prisoner was apprehended or thought of—I had not seen him write between November, 1859, and the time I was shown the letter—he had a considerable deal of writing to do while he was with me, daily—up to the time of our discharging him we looked upon him as a respectable young man—I have no doubt he came to us with a respectable character, or else we should not have engaged him—I have been looking at some writing of his since his apprehension, with a view to comparing it—I only did that out of curiosity, not at all to strengthen my belief—my conclusion was arrived at before his apprehension—it was merely out of curiosity.
COURT. Q. What did you discharge him for? A. Merely because he was quarrelsome—nothing else.
ROBERT COCKS . I am a draper, carrying on business at Hertford under the name Cocks and Co.—I have a person in my employment named Eastwood—I do not know the prisoner—this note was not written by me, or by my authority.
Cross-examined. Q. How many men have you in your employment? A. Three at the present time—I have not discharged any recently—the last
person who left in the early part of the year; February, I think—I gave no authority whatever for this to be written.
CHARLES BAKER . From Information I received I went on 26th June to the Shoreditch station, at twenty minutes past 12—I was there when the parcel now produced was left by Messrs. Morrison's clerk—about ten minutes afterwards I saw the prisoner go to the cloak-room window and ask for a parcel for Messrs. Cocks and Co., Hertford—the parcel was delivered by the railway porter to the prisoner—he left the cloak-room, and was going down he steps to Shoreditch—when he got on the last step, I tapped him on the shoulder, told him I was a detective officer, and asked him what he was going to do with the parcel he had in his possession—he said a gentleman had tent him from the other side of the railway station, on the other platform, for a parcel for Messrs. Cocks and Co.—I then said to him, "You must accompany me there and show me the gentleman who sent you for that parcel"—I then took him round to the platform, into the waiting-room, and also into the refreshment-room, to see if we could find this gentleman—he said, "I can't see him"—I then said to him, "I will give you another chance; these is another train on the other side, going to start for Woolwich, I will take you there to see if the gentleman is there"—I took him there, and he said he could not see the gentleman—I then said he must accompany me into a private room—I told him I was going to ask him very important questions, he was not obliged to answer them, as they might be given in evidence against him elsewhere—I then asked him how he came to be in Shoreditch station—he said, "I came there to go to the water-closet"—I then asked him how he came to be in the waiting-room—he said that he went there to rest—I then said to him, "Do you not think it very strange for a gentleman to come and ask a person of your appearance to go across to the cloak-room for a parcel when there are porters to do that?"—he said, "No, I do not think anything of that"—I asked him his name—he said, "Henry Tolhurst"—I asked him where he lived—he said, "No, 1, St. Andrew's-hill, Doctor-commons"—I asked him what his profession was—he stated he was a linendraper's assistant—I asked him whether he was in employ or out—he said that he had been out of employ two months—this is the parcel he had—I put my initials on it—he gave a correct address—I took him to the station.
Cross-examined. Q. Were there many persons about? A. Only me, the superintendent, and the prisoner—there were no trains going off at that time—I do not know whether a train had gone off just before I came up—no trains went off while I was there—I cannot speak as to whether they went off on the other side.
GUILTY .— Four Years' Penal Servitude.
There were four other indictments against the prisoner.
MR. LEWIS conducted the Prosecution; Mr. Taylor defended the prisoner.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr.
MR. SLEIGH and MR. LILLEY conducted the Prosecution.
WILLIAM WILD . I am one of the inspectors of meat to the City of London—on 16th April, about 7 o'clock in the morning, I was in Whitechapel market in pursuance of my duty—Mr. Scales is a meet salesman
there—there was a cart at his door—I saw tome quarters of beef taken out and hung upon a hook in front; in the usual war, for sale—I afterwards inquired who had charge of the cart, and found it was the defendant's servant—I examined the beef—the flesh of it was very red—it was what we term in the trade a croaker, that is, an animal that dies without being butchered—it was dressed in the usual way; as well as any butcher would dress it for the meat market—the kidney fat was green, showing that it had been dead some time before it was dressed—in my judgment it was decidedly unfit for human food—I saw the defendant there—he said something to Mr. Scales in answer to something he said, "That is the inspector; his decision is final"—I had condemned it—I subsequently took it to the Mansion-house—Dr. Letheby did not see it there—the Lord Mayor condemned it—anyone having a knowledge of meat could have told directly that it was not good, and a person having no knowledge could have seen there was something the matter with the meat—the flesh smelt very strong indeed of physic.
Cross-examined by MR. H. GIFFARD. Q. Where was the meat when you first saw it? A. Being taken out of the cart—it was not hung up—I waited until it was hung up—it was after I had made my objection to it that I heard the words, "That is the inspector; his decision is final"—I marked the meat, that condemned it, they understood that—I know now that the prisoner is a harness-maker and knacker—I did not know him before this occurrence.
MR. LILLEY. Q. Have you personally been down to Woodford? A. Yes; I do not know whether the defendant has a slaughterhouse there.
WILLIAM DAVIDSON . I live at Albion-terrace, Stoke Newington, and have been an inspector of meat twenty-two years—I saw the meat in question on 16th April, somewhere about 11 o'clock, at Leadenhall-matket—it was brought there from Whitechael, in a cart—I think Mr. Wild was present—it was brought by the carrier—I don't know his name—I know it is the same meat, because the inspector has told me—the meat comes from Whitechapel to Leadenhall-market for inspection—it is brought in a cart, which always carries meat from Whitechapel to Leadenhall—Wild drew my attention to it.
WILLIAM WILD . (re-examined) A man contracts to take all our meat away—he brought this meat to the market for Mr. Davidson to look at, previous to going to the Mansion-house—I went with the cart first to Leadenhall-market, and then to the Mansion-house—the meat I saw at Leadenhall-market was the same I saw at Whitechapel, and I pointed it out to Mr. Davidson.
WILLIAM DAVIDSON (continued). The meat was the carcase of a croaler cow, that had been physicked, a cow that had died of disease, not been killed—it had lain some hours after it was dead, before it was dressed—I teased the kidney by a skewer, and a sort of humoury liquor flowed freely from it—the flesh smelt of physic—I cannot tell you what it was—in my judgment it was decidedly unfit for human food.
JOHN GOUGH . I am gardener to Lady Morrison, at the Hermitage, Snaresbrook, Essex—on 14th April, a cow, belonging to Lady Morrison, calved, and became ill afterwards—I sent for a veterinary surgeon, and he gave her some physic—she lingered six hours before she died—she was taken ill in the morning, about 7 o'clock, and died the next morning, between 8 and 9—on Monday morning, the 14th, I saw the prisoner, he then saw the cow that was ill—he said she would not die at present, that she would last till morning—he had on other occasions taken several animals away, that
had died—he is a jobbing butcher, at Woodford, and takes away dead cattle—he also carried on the business of a knacker, I know that—I do not know whether he had a slaughter-house or net—after the cow died I went to his house, and told him to come and fetch it away, it was dead—he fetched it stay in the evening—nothing was said about the price—he generally allowed 1l. or 15s.—we were to deduct it from the bill—he is a harness-maker, and makes Lady Morrison's harness—physic was given to the cow about three times before she died.
THOMAS EASTON . I am a veterinary surgeon at Woodford, of fifty years' experience—my professional services were called for upon 14th April, to tend a cow of Lady Morrison's which had lately calved—I found her suffering from apoplexy; produced by parturition—parturition apoplexy we call it—I administered medicine to her three or four times—she died on 15th—I should say such an animal would net be fit for human food—the defendant is a knacker and harness-maker, not a jobbing butcher—he has not a slaughter-house that I am aware of.
Cross-examined. Q. What medicine did you give the cow? A. We only give them a little cooling medicine, because we have no chance when the brain becomes so depressed; to relieve the pressure on the brain—that destroys life very much as mechanical pressure would—I should say that a cow dying in that state, and attacked in that way, would necessarily be too bad for anybody to eat, if the blood was not drawn out—I saw it the same morning after it died—it had not been dressed then.
COURT. Q. Supposing this animal had been bled shortly before its death, would it have been eatable? A. I have seen them perfectly healthy a few hours before death—they sometimes die in four or five hours—if this cow had been bled before death, the meat would have been wholesome.
MR. LILLEY. Q. Would a cow that has had physic be fit to eat? A. No; that enters into the circulation—I say, that if the cow had been bled immediately it was taken ill, it would not have been unfit for human food—if she had been mine I should have killed her directly.
COURT. Q. You would have kilted her before giving her any physic, and sent her to market? A. Very likely I should.
DR. HENRY LETHEBY . I am the medical officer of health to the City of London, residing in Finsbury-square—I have heard the evidence which has been given about the meat and the death of the cow—I am of opinion that the cow was suffering from what is called parturition fever, one kind of which is apoplexy, and under these circumstances I do not think the flesh under any circumstances is fit for human food, either killed or not—the whole system would be in a state of inflammation.
EDWARD HEMMINGS . I am a harness-maker and horse-slaughterer, at Walthamstow—a horse-slaughterer is the same as a knacker—I succeeded the defendant in business, on the same premises, last April twelvemonths—there is a licensed slaughter-house there, for killing anything—I have seen the defendant using it—on Tuesday evening, 15th April, he came to me and asked me whether I would allow him to put a cow in the shed—there was a dead cow on his cart at the time: he placed it in the shed—he was by himself when I saw him—I did not see Joseph Davison with him that evening—I have seen the defendant dress cows for market—the cow was whole—I do not know whether it had died or had been killed—it was stuck when I saw it—I did not see it taken away—I was in the shed about 12 o' clock the next day, I think, and it was gone then—the defendant has sent beef to the London market before, when he has slaughtered it—I had not
seen him send any before that for six months, should say—I should say he has sent meat to the London market, it might be, five or six times altogether, but then it has been such meat as I should not mind eating myself.
JOSEPH DAVISON . I am servant to Mrs. Speller, not to the defendant—they live at Woodford—on Tuesday, 15th April, I went with the defendant in one of his carts to Lady Morrison's, at Snaresbrook—we there saw a dead cow, and put it in the cart—it was lying dead in a shad—we took it to Mr. Hemming's, at Walthamstow—the defendant there skinned and dressed it for market—I was with him at the time—it was cut into four quarters, in the usual way, by the defendant, assisted by me—we went to the slaughter-house again the next morning, put the meat into the cart, and took it to Mr. Scales, of Whitechapel.
GEORGE RUSSELL . I am one of the detectives, of the City of London—I went down, by order of the Commissioners, on 5th June, and served the defendant with a summons—I told him he need not say anything unless he chose, or it might be used against him—he then said he believed the cow was fit for human food—that he had taken it to Mr. Scales, and if Mr. Scales had said it was not fit for human food, there would have been an end of the matter—he also said he had not taken meat to Mr. Scales for two years before that.
Cross-examined. Q. Do you know whether Mr. Scales was subpoenaed for the prosecution? A. I believe he was.
WILLIAM SCALES . I am a meat-salesman in the Whitechapel-market—I remember this meat being brought to my place by the defendant on the morning in question—the moment I saw it, I saw that it was unfit—any inexperienced person would have said directly it was unfit—it was in a high state of inflammation—unless a person was very inexperienced he would have seen directly that it was unfit—it was a fat cow, and had been a good cow two or three days before, worth 15l. or 16l.—I have done scarcely anything for the prisoner—I have for his father, but he never sent me anything like this before, and I blamed him for it.
COURT. Q. Did you refuse to take it before it was condemned or after? A. I should not have sold it—I believe the inspector saw it before I did—I quite concurred in his condemnation.
MR. SLEIGH. Q. If there had been no inspector at all, would you have allowed that meat to be in your place a moment? A. Certainly not—on the inspector coming up, I said to the prisoner, "Why do you bring me a thing like this?"—I was displeased with him, and he said, "Well, if it is not fit," or something to that effect, "there is an end of it"—he made some reply which I did not pay much heed to—the inspector said the meat was out of my care—about 11 o'clock the defendant called at my house, and then he complained of what he called a hardship, for having the carcase of a good cow seized—he argued the point with me, and I was a little displeased—I told him he ought to know better, and that he must have known it was unfit—I know that his father was a harness-maker—I have no recollection of selling any meat before for the defendant—at all events it was not meat like this.
Cross-examined. Q. He persisted in defending himself till you get heated, and spoke angrily to him? A. Yes; he appeared thoroughly impressed with the idea that it was a good article, and fit for human food—I have been in the business very many years—I have done business for the defendant's father on several occasions, for eight or ten years—he carried on business at
Woodford—the prisoner must have known that I had been in business for some time, in common with all the world.
GUILTY.—Recommended to mercy on account of his youth. — Confined Six Months.
FOURTH COURT.—Wednesday, July 9th, 1862.
PRESENT—Mr. ALDERMAN DAKIN; and Mr. COMMON SERJEANT.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
JULIUS HOMAN . I am a wholesale clothier, living in Little George-street, Minories—the prisoner was employed in my service to receive ready-money payments, and deliver goods—when he received money he had immediately to pay it over to me—I mean by "immediately" as soon as he returned from a journey—his journeys were all in London—about the end of June I found certain irregularities in the payments, customers who had been in the habit of paying ready money, prompt cash, became irregular—I asked him to explain—he said the customers had not paid the whole amounts, but on account only—he specified some particular amounts when he handed the accounts in—I then intimated my intention of calling on those parties for the purpose of balancing those accounts—he then replied that it was no use; that the accounts were all paid; that he had lost a sum of money out of his pocket; that he did not think I should believe that if he told me, and that he thought he might make up the amount somehow or other, that of the amount deficient he had appropriated to his own use, but 2l. 18s. 9d.—the deficiency is about 10l. on the accounts in question—we took merely the one account—the name of the customer is, "Moses, Son, and Davis."
MORRIS HARRIS . I am cashier to Messrs. Davis, of High-street, Aldgate—Mr. Homan supplied that firm with goods—I pay them—I paid 11l. 15s. 10d. on account of Mr. Homan on 9th June—we do not take receipts—I paid it to the prisoner personally—on 19th June I paid him 13l. 14s. 7d., and on 27th June 7l. 15s. 2d.
JULIUS HOMAN (re-examined). On 9th June the prisoner handed over 8l. 15s. 8d. as received from Messrs. Davis—on 19th June he accounted for 13l. and on 28th June for 7l. 10s.—he paid over those sums as the total amounts received on those several days from Messrs. Davis.
GUILTY.—Recommended to mercy by the prosecutor. — Confined Three Months
MR. ORRIDGE conducted the Prosecution.
ELIZABETH BENNETT . I reside at Bridge-street, Worksop—I have been staying for a few days at the Vine Hotel, Bishopsgate-street—on the night of 22d June I went to bed soon after 12 o'clock—the number of the room was 11—after I had been asleep some time I was awoke by a footstep passing the door, which opens upon a gallery—I saw the door open, and the upper part of a man's face—I had looked the door, and left the key in it—afterwards I saw Mr. Attwell, the landlord—I was too frightened to call out—in consequence of something Mr. Attwell said I examined my dress pocket, and missed from it this purse (produced) and contents, which I have had back, five postage-stamps, and 4l. 1s. 6d. in money.
Cross-examined by MR. TAYLOR. Q. You did not see the face of the
person so as to recognise him? A. No—I cannot identify him at all—when I heard my door open it was between 2 and 3 o'clock—it was about twenty minutes to 3 o'clock when Mr. Attwell came to me—I should think it would be about half an hour after I heard my door open—I laid awake during that time—when I saw the face put in at my door I did not say anything—he did not shut the door—the face withdrew, and left the door partly open—I am sure I locked my door—I had not been sound asleep.
MR. ORRIDGE. Q. When you saw the door open did you hide yourself? A. No; I lay still—I could not tell whether he came past the door or not, I was too frightened.
MR. TAYLOR. Q. You saw the face come into the room and withdraw again? A. I did not know whether he was coming in or going out—I saw the upper part of his face—he was merely peeping into the room—he had the door open, and had his face turned, so that I could see him—after I had seen his face he could not have come in and taken the purse out of my pocket.
WILLIAM ATTWELL . I am the landlord of the Vine Hotel, Bishopsgate-street—it is in the parish of St. Ethelburga—my bedroom is No. 9—this (produced) is a correct plan of the premises—I had it made—I did not know which room Miss Bennett was in, but I went there and found it was a lady's room—the prisoner came to my house on the night of 22d June, about 11 o'clock—he did not see me to speak to—he saw my wife—I may have seen him, but I cannot say—he went to bed a little before 12 o'clock in No. 6—I went to bed about a quarter-past 12—the first I knew of anything that occurred it that about 2 o'clock my wife aroused me and said there was a man in the room—I got out of bed, and scarcely believed her at first—I listened for a time to satisfy her, and after a short time I heard something moving—I looked through the two windows shown in the plan in No, 9—this part marked in the plan as the "corridor" is a gallery—I stood at the window and saw a person pass—I opened the door and asked him what he was looking for—he made no reply, but rushed up those small stairs you see on the plan—you can get round the place by means of those stairs—I still watched and listened for about twenty minutes—as the man passed that way up I thought he might come the same way back—I heard a snap once or twice as if of a lock—in about twenty minutes I saw the same person come back—I fancied it was the same, because of the colour of his shirt—when he came back it was quite daylight, and I could see distinctly his figure—I could not see his face—I called out, "What are you up to, poking about the house?"—he ran into No. 7 room—that was an empty room—I said, "I have got you, No. 7"—at that moment he came out of No. 7 and rushed into No. 6—I then stood in the passage—no one could come past me oat of No. 6 again—I called up my wife—she called the porter, and sent boots for a police constable—I watched the door of No. 6 till he came, and no one went out till he came—when he came I went in and found the prisoner there in bed—he feigned sleep—he was curled up—I had difficulty in awaking him—he wanted to know what I wanted by disturbing him, or something to that effect—I said I wanted to know what he had been at, poking about the house for the last hour—he said, "I have not been out of the room"—I told him I was certain he had, because I could swear no one else had been in the room, or had been there—I said to the policeman, in the prisoner's presence, "I will swear that is the man; to show I am right he has got a red shirt on; you pull down the clothes"—he did so, and the prisoner had a red shirt on—I left him in bed, left the
policeman outside, and walked round the rooms to see if he had opened other doors—in going round I saw No. 11 door a little ajar—that in the room occupied by Miss Bennett—I saw it was a lady's room, and gently withdrew—I sent my wife there, and came back with her and tapped—Miss Bennett said she had been disturbed—I observed her watch on the table, partly covered by a handkerchief—in consequence of what she said I went to the police office, and got the assistance of a detective—he came back with me—we then had information, from Miss Bennett that she had lost her purse—I then said to the prisoner, "I shall give you in charge," and I did so—after he was locked up we came back, went into No. 7 room, and found between the bed and the mattress this, purse and these nippers (produced)—in the morning I ascertained that other doors had been tried besides Miss Bennett's; I found that the key of Miss Bennett's room-door could be turned from the outside with nippers like these—I opened two or three other doors with them myself.
Cross-examined. Q. Have you seen the shirt the prisoner has on now? A. No—the shirt he had on was red or very dark brown, or something of that sort—when I went into No. 6 bedroom to the prisoner, I said he had a red skirt and white drawers on—the white drawers laid on the floor, which circumstance I remarked—they were not quite white—I may have said to the policeman, "You will find he has a red shirt and white drawers on"—I recollect now that I said he had a red shirt and white drawers on when he was passing my window—I did not say to the officer that if he pulled down the clothes he would find the prisoner had on a red shirt and white drawers—I should think it was over an hour from the time I first saw him to the time I gave him into custody—he opened my door at 2 o'clock, and was asked up at 4 o'clock—my porter was fetched—we call him "Henry"—he is not here—he did not go into the bedroom with the constable; I only went in with him—when the prisoner passed my window I did not see his face—I never saw him in my room at all—it was my wife who did—she awoke me—it was about ten minutes from the time I had been awoke that I saw him in the gallery—I did not then see his face; he was then passing from No. 6 up the passage, past my window, towards the water-closet—I saw him come back again about twenty minutes afterwards—he was then passing my window towards No. 6 again, from the direction of the water-closet—I saw him rush into the room when I saw him the second time—I watched him, and sent my wife to get a policeman—I was standing in the corridor then—I came out of my room and stood in the balcony, while the boots went and fetched the policeman—the boots was down directly, and it was altogether about eight or tea minutes—the policeman did not appear to know what to do, and I wont to the police-station close by; Obee was there, and the inspector sent him with me—I was gone about four or five minutes only—when I first went out I had no trousers on—I watched at my window till he passed the second time—after the detective was there we heard that the purse was lost—that was about ten minutes or a quarter of an hour after I came back—during that time I was talking with the detective in the balcony so that no one could pass—Room No. 8 was occupied by a servant-maid of mine, with a child—she is not here.
MR. ORRIDGE. Q. You said something about a white shirt over a red one? A. No; I said something about white drawers—when I saw him running he had a red shirt and white drawers on—when I saw him in bed he had a red shirt on, and the white drawers were lying down by the side of the bed.
ANN SEWILL ATTWELL . I am the wife of Mr. William Attwell, who keeps the Vine Hotel in Bishopsgate-street—on the night of 22d June, the prisoner came to me about 11 o'clock, and asked if he could have a room—I said, "Yes, No. 6"—he said he should like a sandwich—he went into the coffee-room and had it, and after about half-an-hour he came out and asked what time we closed—I said about 12 o'clock, and that after that time he must ring the bell for the porter—he then went out—I went to bed about half-past 12 o'clock—after I was in bed I was disturbed by hearing a noise at the door—I laid and listened, and heard the noise, and then I heard footsteps move—in three or four minutes afterwards I heard a slight noise, and then the door opened, and I saw a man walk into the room—I screamed out and saw the man go back again—the door gently closed—my husband then jumped out of bed, and we both watched at the window—in about twenty minutes, we heard a slight noise again, and saw a man pass the window—my husband called out and asked him where he was going to—the person went towards No. 11 stairs—he had a red shirt and white drawers on—we saw him about a quarter of an hour afterwards come back again—I did not see where he went when he came back—as soon as he passed the second window, my husband came out and said, "You are No. 7, are you?"—I said, "No, he is No. 6, for there is no one in No, 7"—I did not see him when he went into No. 7, because I ran up stairs to the boots then.
Cross-examined. Q. You saw a man with a white shirt on and a beard, is your bedroom? A. Yes; I saw his face, because we burn the gas of a night—some twenty minutes or so afterwards, I saw a man come by the window in the balcony—I cannot tell whether that was the same man—I could see the side face of the man, but it was not light enough to see it distinctly—when he came back, I saw him rush into No. 7—I then ran up stairs to the boots, and then went and called two of the other waiters—that is a long distance to go—there was not sufficient light to see him as he was going, but I saw him when he came back—there was not sufficient light for me to see hts face—if you look at the position of the window as shown in the plan, you will observe that I could not see his face—it was not light when he went up the stairs, but it was when he came back—I said, "Here he comes"—it was getting daylight when I saw him coming back—I then saw his front face in some degree—I did not then think anything at all about whether he was the same man whom I had seen in my room—the man that came to my room had a white shirt on; this man had a coloured one on—I should think it was about half-past 2 when my husband went into Miss. Bennett's room—he was apprehended about a quarter to 4.
MR. ORRIDGE. Q. Was a white shirt found in his room as well as a red one? A. Yes; I was present when it was found—the windows are "frosted," but the bottom pane has been broken, and that was clear glass then, so that I could only see a person's legs, without stooping down.
SAMUEL OBEE (City-policeman, 649). I am a detective—on the morning of 23d June, I was called to the Vine Hotel, Bishopsgate-street—I and Mr. Attwell went into No. 6 room—we found the prisoner there with the clothes over him—when I first spoke to him he seemed to be asleep—I spoke to him again and told him he was charged with stealing a purse from a lady's room, and I had come to take him in custody—he said, "I have not been out of the room since I came in last night"—I told him he must get up and come with me—he put on a white shirt over a red one—the drawers laid down beside his bed on a chair—I said, "How much money have you got about you?"—he said, "I have 5l. 10s. and a 5l. note"—I said, "Where is it?"
—he said, "Under my pillow"—I saw him move the pillow and this purse lay there—I opened it and found 4l. and a 5l. note—I searched him and found some lucifers, a piece of bee's-wax, five keys, a penknife, a cigar holder, and a watch—I said, "Where do you live?"—he said, "I come from Norwich"—I said, "What are you?" he said, "I am a commercial traveller"—I said, "Who do you travel for?"—he said, "No one in London"—I said, "What is the name of the firm you travel for?"—he said, "Never mind now, I will tell you by and by"—he gave me no further information.
Cross-examined. Q. What time was it? A. About 4 o'clock when I took him to the station.
COURT. Q. Did you go back afterwards to the hotel? A. Yes; and in No. 7 room, between the mattress and the bed, I found that purse and these pilers—I examined several keys belonging to other rooms, and found they had been tried by these sort of pliers—I found this pair between the bed and the mattress in the room No. 7 next to No. 6, the prisoner's room, also this purse, containing the misting money, which was given up by order of the Magistrate; it contains 4l. 1s. 6d., five postage stamps, and a tooth-pick.
JURY to MRS. ATTWELL. Q. Was the bed where the pincers were found made the day previously? A. The chambermaid was away ill, and I assisted, the woman to make it on the Monday morning, as this happened at night—there were no pincers there then—I was at that side of the bed where they were found.
He was further charged with having been before convicted.
WILLIAM SMITH . I was formerly a detective officer, but I am now retired—I produce a certificate—(Read; "Central Criminal Court, July, 1856; Oscar Kingston convicted of burglary and stealing 566l. 6s. 8d.—Sentence, Five Years' Penal Servitude.")—The prisoner is the man there described as Oscar Kingston—that was a robbery at the Great Northern Hotel—I had the conduct of the case.
GUILTY.—Several persons identified the prisoner as having stayed at their hotels, on certain nights when robberies had been committed.
Ten Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. DICKIE conducted the Prosecution.
GEORGE NEWMAN . I am a leather seller of 30, North-Street, Chelsea—on June 30th, between 1 and 2 in the morning, I was called up by hearing my door-bell ring—I went to the door—I saw the two prisoners run down a court next to my door—the female prisoners ran into a doorway at the end of the court; the other prisoner ran into a wash-house—when I saw where they went to, I turned back, knowing there was no other entrance, and went to the top of the court—I called a policeman, and took him down to the end of the court—as I turned to look for the policeman the male prisoner shifted his place from the wash-house to the closet—they are both in one yard—we found Hooper there in the privy and these boot-tops with him (produced)—they are all my own hand making—I know my own work—they were safe on my premises the night before—I had shut up my premises safely—they were properly fastened—there was a bell to the door, but the could be opened without ringing it if it were opened carefully—Eager was at the end of the court—Hooper did not give my account of himself
when we found him—the policeman took the boot-tops out of the hole—I said, "They are my boot-tops," and gave the prisoner into custody—afterwards the policeman and I came from the station to look for the woman—about 6 o'clock in the morning I got the landlord to knock at the door and ask to see the landlady of the room—the door was opened by the female prisoner—she was up and dressed—I ordered the policeman to take her into custody, and charged her with being in connexion with the man is stealing my property—she said she could prove she was in bed at 12 o'clock, and said, "You did not find any leather in my room"—it was not two minutes from the time I saw the man run into the wash-house until the female prisoner was taken—nobody else had gone up the court in the meantime.
Cross-examined by MR. LLOYD (for Hooper). Q. Where do you say Hooper was found? A. In the water-closet—he did not say that he her knew nothing about the boot-tope, and never put them there—the front door of my house was locked—I cannot tell how many people live in the house; I have only got the shop, parlour, and back-kitchen—I should say there are eight or ten people living there—they come in and go out through a door up the court which is close to my door—they do not go in and out of my shop; nobody does but myself and customers—they cannot go that way if they like—they might come without my knowing it, but I always fasten the back door as well as the front when I have done business—the back-door was not disturbed that night—they cannot unlock that door from the inside of the house—they might get through when I was asleep if they made no noise and took off the look—one part of the house is excluded altogether from the other—it was about half-past 10 when I closed my door—I always make it a practice, as soon as I shut up to lock the door—I have been once roused up by the policeman because the door was open—I will swear I was not roused the next night because the door was then open—I think the one occasion was about six months before this—I have never expressed any doubts whatever as to my having fastened the door.
COURT. Q. Have you ever had a doubt whether you closed the door or left it open when you went to bed? A. I might have a little doubt, but I am positive I shut it—it was my general habit to shut it—I am positive I shut it that night.
Cross-examined by MR. ORRIDGE (for Eager). Q. You said before you would not swear these were the people, what makes you say they are, to-day? A. I swear to both of them, because I know them both—I have said before, I would not swear these were the two people that ran down the court.
COURT. Q. Are you sure these are the persons or not? A. The pair of them ran down the court, and when I went to get a policeman that man ran to the place where he was taken—I did not see his face, but he ran from the one place in to the other—this was as near 2 o'clock as possible—it was not dark; it was extremely light—I knew Eager some little time—she was not a regular inhabitant of the place—her sister lives there—there are a great many lodgers there—I found her at 6 in the morning at her sister's.
MR. DICKIE. Q. Was she then dressed? A. Yes—it was rather light that night; quite a fine night—there was a lamp in the court—I noticed Hooper's clothes—he had on the same coloured coat as he has on now—the two persons who ran away from me were about the size and appearance of the prisoners.
communication to me, in consequence of which I went up the court which is called Sloane-place—I could only find one outlet from it—I found Hooper in the water-closet at the end of the yard, with the door bolted inside—I asked him to let me in; he said he would not; at last I told him if he did not I would break the door open—I do not know that I said I was a policeman—then he opened the door and I took him into custody—I found these boot-tops in the water-closet—I found some also in the dusthole and in the wash-house—anyone could go from the wash-house to the water-closet—they are both in the same yard—the prisoner did not account for having the boot-tops—he said he did not know anything of them—he could not have been off seeing them in the water-closet—it is a closet common to the houses.
Cross-examined by MR. LLOYD. Q. Did he say anything about the tops? A. He said, "I know nothing of it"—the prosecutor said when I ran up the court, "The man is inside."
MARY ANN DAVEY . I life at 18, Upper North-street, Chelsea—on the morning of 26th June I was sitting up at my window, about half-past 12 o'clock; I had the toothache, and I could not sleep—something attracted my attention about half-past 1—a noise of the prisoners playing about outside the shop-door of the prosecutor—I saw them go up to the door, open it, and go in—in about ten minutes or a quarter of an hour they came out—they had some boots, I could see the white linings—they appeared like those produced—I live exactly opposite—they then went down the court together—I am quite sure the two prisoners are the persons—I knew them before, for about six months, and I noticed their dress—it was a very light night—there is a lamp in the court, and one close by my house—before knowing the prisoners were in custody I mentioned the names of some persons to the prosecutor—I know Eager's sister by sight—I am quite sure it was not her I saw.
Cross-examined by MR. LLOYD. Q. Did you not think that Hooper was Mr. Newman? A. At first I did, when I saw him outside—I knew who it was when he went in—I sat there watching until about 2 o'clock—I saw them the moment they went in—they went in quite rapidly—there was nothing extraordinary in the way in which they went in.
Cross-examined by MR. ORRIDGE. Q. Have you seen Eager about there? A. Yes—her family do not live in the court; they live in the New-road close by—I do not know where the prisoner lives—I know by what I have heard that she has a sister—I do not know whether the prisoner lives in the court—I believe she and her sister were lodging together—that house is a lodging-house—I told the prosecutor the woman was living there.
JURY. Q. Did they open the door with a key? A. I do not know how they opened it—they were not long in doing it.
MR. ORRIDGE. Q. I suppose the man went in first, whoever he was? A. No; the woman went in first—she opened the door—she had her back to me at the time—I saw the prosecutor come out afterwards—I heard the bell ring—I had my window up.
WILLIAM KEMP (Policeman, B 238). I was called by the prosecutor on the morning of 26th June, at about half-past 6—I then went to the house, there I found Eager, and charged her with being concerned in stealing boot-tops from the shop—she said she knew nothing about it—on the way to the station she said, "They found no leather in the place where I was "—she did not account for being up and dressed.
The prisoners received good characters.
HOOPER— GUILTY .— Confined Nine Months.
EAGER— GUILTY .— Confined Four Months.
MR. SLEIGH conducted the Prosecution; the prisoner was undefended.
NOT GUILTY .
NOT GUILTY .
MR. SLEIGH conducted the Prosecution.
ELIZA SMITH . I am single, and live at 2, Back-road, Kingsland—I have been stopping in the same lodgings with the prisoner, and slept in the same bed—she had a little boy, about a year and six months old—upon the 17th June, in the middle of the night, she took up a small white-handled cheese-knife, and said she would cut her throat—there was a candle burning in the room—I took it out of her hand—she was raving mad all that night—I had heard her say about a week previously that her husband had died—she had had a letter on the Thursday, announcing his death—he was in Canada—that appeared to affect her mind—on the next morning, Tuesday, I was out of the room for a few minutes—on my return she was putting this string (produced) round the neck of the child—I took it out of her hand—she did not say anything—I told her I knew what she was going to do—I left the room soon after, as she asked me to go, and shut the door—when I came back she had this shawl (produced) round the child's neck four or five times—I took that away from her—she was in the same state of excitement as on the night before—she said she was going to choke herself—she also told me she had taken some oxalic acid—that was the same week, just after she had drunk her tea, and it made her very sick.
NOT GUILTY, being insane. — To be detained during Her Majesty's pleasure.
OLD COURT.—Thursday, July 10th, 1862.
PRESENT—Mr. JUSTICE WIGHTMAN; and Mr. Ald. DAKIN.
Before Mr. Justice Wightman.
MR. ORRIDGE conducted the Prosecution.
ELIZABETH BRYANT . I live at 4, Risby's Rope-walk, Limehouse—the prisoner lodged in the house—on Tuesday morning, 10th June, between 12 and 1 o'clock, I saw the prisoner come home, carrying her child on her right arm—she was tipsy, and went up stairs—I said, "Shall I open the door?" she said, "No, thank you, I am able to open it myself"—I lit a candle for her, and she sat on a chair in her own room, with the child in her arms—I took away my candle, and left the room—I went up at 2 o'clock, as I was frightened of the light, and found her fast asleep in the chair, and the infant quite secure in her arms—I went down stairs and went to bed—Conolly, the father of the child, called me about 5 o'clock—I ran up stairs and said, "Dear me, what is this?"—he said that she had fallen on the child—she was then
sitting on the floor crying—the said, "Oh, Mrs. Bryant, is my child dead?" I said, "I cannot say"—she ran off to the doctor, and I saw no more of her.
THE COURT considered that there was no culpable neglect on the part of the prisoner.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. ORRIDGE conducted the Prosecution.
TIMOTHY COX (Policeman, K 45). About 10 o'clock on the night of 16th June I was in High-street, Shadwell, opposite the prisoner's house, No. 153—I smelt something burning as I passed the house—I looked about, and saw smoke coming out of the shutters—there were two holes in the shutters—I looked through, and saw the prisoner with this box of iucifers in his left hand—I saw him take out three lucifers, strike them, light them, and put them to the bed-clothes—the bed was burning then—I did not hear him say anything—I burst in the front door, went into the back room to him, and asked him what he was about, setting the bed on fire—he said, "I am going to have a b—y lark"—I immediately took hold of him by the shoulder and pulled him back—the bed was very much burning, and I turned the clothes over, as the flames almost reached the ceiling—I smothered them. with one hand, and held the prisoner wish the other—he said, "I have got a bucket of water, and I will soon put that out;" but instead of throwing the water over the bed, he threw it all over me—the house is in the parish of St. Paul, Shadwell.
Cross-examined by MR. RIBTON. Q. Were you smoking? A. No; there must have been something on fire before I went near, as I smelt something burning, but I saw him still light three lucifers—before I saw him do anything at all, the clothes must have been set on fire, when I looked through the shutters I saw them burning, the sheets and counterpane were in a blaze; he was not sitting on the bed, but standing by the side of it—he was not smoking, nor had he been smoking, I searched, but could not find any pipe—I searched his pockets—he said at the police-court that it might have been done with a pipe for he was smoking—he did not seem to have been drinking, he knew perfectly well what he was about, but he appeared as if he had been drinking in the fore part of the day—I gathered that from his appearance, he looked rather heavy-headed—I cannot tell you the number of hours that had elapsed since he had been drinking—this was that ground-floor back-room—there were two places cut out of each shutter about the size of my finger, to let the light in, and I could fully see through; it was nearly an inch wide and four inches long, each hole—it was a good sized room—the shop is in the front and the bed is in the back-room—I had to traverse, with my eye, the whole shop—the door was no doubt put open for my special convenience—I do not suppose he knew I was coming—it is a fair sized shop for a small trade—there was no light in the shop, except from the fire—the head of the bed in the back-room lies up towards the shop, towards the shutters, and the foot towards the window—the door leads from the shop into the bed-room—the bed is on the left side of the door as you go in—the space on the left, where the bed is, from the door to the partition wall, is about two yards—the bed was not quite up to the partition wall, it might be half a foot from it; I examined it—it was a good four-post bedstead, about six feet long and five feet wide, it was a very large bed—the head was about half a foot from the wall—the pillow cases were not on fire—I saw no fire in the grate, but, the sheets were blazing up
to the ceiling—I mean deliberately to swear that he took up the matches and struck a light; I saw him strike three, one after the other, and at that very time the flame was nearly up to the ceiling—there was no one in the room but himself—there was not a great deal of furniture—he is not insured, but the house is—he did not say, going along, that he had been smoking, and the ashes of the pipe must have set it on fire, but at the police-court he said that it might be a pipe, as he was smoking.
MR. ORRIDGE. Q. Was there a pipe? A. No; I went back and searched the place.
GEOERGE BRENNAN . I live at 153, High-street, Shadwell—I was living there on the night of 16th June—the prisoner also lived in the house—Henry Skinner, James Butler, and James Foulham, were also living in the same house—about 9 o'clock this night the prisoner knocked at the wains-coting, and asked me what o'clock it was—the clock was stopped, and I said, "Well, as near as I can tell, about 9, or it may be a little later"—it is a shop divided into two, and he knocked at the panel of the door—I occupy one side and the prisoner the other—this was before the policeman had been—the prisoner said that he had had a narrow escape for his life, he had fallen asleep and his pipe caught light to the bed—I asked him if it was out, he said, Yes, and I was not to make a noise—it might perhaps be that ten minutes after that, I sent my wife out for supper, and when she came in I smelt it stronger, and I said I would go in and see if it was out, and when I went in Sergeant Cox was there.
COURT. Q. What did you see? A. I saw the bed-tick and the sheets on fire, not blazing, but in a red light, it would not flame—they had been trying to put it out I believe before I went in, and the sergeant sent me for the fire-engine and the fire was put out—the prisoner said nothing—I saw no pipe there.
Cross-examined. Q. Had he told you before about the pipe? A. Yes; between the wainscoting, but I could not see—I have seen him smoke in the day time—I am a lodger there, the house is let off in different tenements—the prisoner had nothing to do with any other part of the house.
The prisoners statement before the Magistrate was here read at follows: "I laid down on the bed drunk, and I believe it was done with the pipe."
MR. RIBTON called
ROBERT LEWIS . I am a boot and shoe maker of 7, White-street, Spital-fields—the prisoner has worked for me twenty years, and is a hardworking honest man; I never heard anything against him; on the day this happened he called at my place very much the worse for liquor.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Recorder.
PLEADED GUILTY .— Confined Twelve Months.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. PHILLIPS conducted the Prosecution.
West Ham—he is a coachman—my mother keeps a grocer's shop—somewhere about 2d June last, I saw a set of harness safe in a shed in an enclosed yard of my father's—on the following Thursday I missed the gig-saddle and reins—I next saw them on the following Saturday at Mr. Harris's house, Vicarage-lane, West Ham—he is a beer-shop keeper—I should reckon the value of them to be 15s.—in consequence of what passed between me and the prisoner, I gave him in custody—this (produced) is the harness.
COURT. Q. How far is Harris's from your premises? A. About 300 yards.
WILLIAM HARRIS . I am a beer-shop keeper, and live at Vicarge-lane, West Ham—on a Tuesday evening at the beginning of June, I was standing at my door about 6 o'clock, and saw the prisoner opposite, offering this pad and reins for tale, for half a crown, to a rag-merchant, who wanted me to lend him half a crown to purchase them—I sent the witness Rose after the prisoner with half a crown as the rag-merchant could not purchase it—a constable was coming down thelane, and I showed it to him hanging up in my place, and then Lamb came and identified it, and I gave it to him.
COURT. Q. Did you think it had been stolen? A. Yes; he was gone some distance up the lane, and I tent Rose after it—Rose was standing by my side—the prisoner did not come across the road to me—I heard him offer it for half a crown to the rag-merchant, who wanted to borrow a half-crown of me to purchase it with, and I would not do anything of the kind—I knew the rag-merchant.
WILLIAM BROOKS (Police-sergeant, K 44). In consequence of information, I apprehended the prisoner on 20th June—I believe it was on the 10th June that Harris spoke to me about having bought the harness—I told the prisoner he was charged with stealing the harness—he said he bought it of a man in the lane, and gave 1s. 6d. for it—I asked him whether he knew the man, and he said "No."
WILLIAM ROSE . I live at Vicarage-lane—on Tuesday, 10th June, I was standing with Mr. Harris, at his door, and saw the prisoner offering the harness for sale, for half a crown, to a rag-merchant, who had not got the money, but wanted Mr. Harris to lend it, but Mr. Harris would not—when the prisoner had gone about 100 yards, Mr. Harris sent me with a half-crown, and I said, "Mr. Harris will buy it," and I bought it—I was not there when the policeman came.
Prisoner's Defence. The rag-merchant asked me whether I would sell the harness, and I said "Yes;" he said, "How much do you want for it?" I said, "3s. 6d." I did not know the value of it, or I should not have bought it.
GUILTY .—He was further charged with having been before convicted at this Court, in August, 1859, of larceny, when he was sentenced to Two Months' imprisonment; to which he
PLEADED GUILTY, and a police-constable stated that he had known the prisoner to be at work since then.
Confined One Month.
Before Mr. Recorder.
ROSE LAMBERT PRICE . I am first-lieutenant of the Woolwich division of Royal Marines—the prisoner is a private in the Deptford detachment of marines—he could have gone to my room if he chose, but he had no business there—he had access to the rooms from the kitchen—on 17th June I missed a gold pin, and afterwards some gold studs, and made a communication to the sergeant-major—I had not used them for three or four weeks—these are them (produced).
MARY COWELL . I live at 3, Lamb-lane, Greenwich—on 14th June, between 11 and 12 o'clock, I was in a pawnbroker's shop, in Church-street, Greenwich, and saw the prisoner pledging a pin—I went with him to a public-house, and drank with him there—I met him again in the course of the day, and he asked me if I would go into a beer-shop and have a glass of ale with him—I did so, at Mr. Allen's, and he asked me to go with him to pledge some studs—I asked him if they were his own property—he said, Yes; he bought them some time back—I asked him what name I should pledge them in—he said Mr. Brown, and I pledged them for 6s. at Mr. Nash's, in London-street, Greenwich—these are them—I pointed out somebody else as the prisoner, in mistake, a fortnight afterwards, and saw the prisoner the day after that—I made a mistake in the first person; they were very much alike—I am sure I am not making a mistake now.
Prisoner. Q. When I was brought from Maidstone on remand, you commenced abusing me and calling me names? A. No—you looked at me and shook your head, as much as to tell me to say nothing—the other man was discharged—I did not see you when I pointed out the first man.
ELIZABETH ANN CULLEN . I am the wife of George Cullen, who keeps the Nile beer-shop, Church-street, Greenwich—on 14th June I saw the last witness and the prisoner there—they drank some ale, and he asked her if she would go on an errand for him—she said, yes—they went into the passage, and I saw him give her something, but cannot say what it was—she went out, and returned in a quarter of an hour and gave him some money—I have seen the prisoner several times at the house.
COURT to MRS. CULLEN. Q. Was there any other female with the prisoner besides Cowell? A. Yes.
Prisoner's Defence. I know no more of it than a child. I was not out of Deptford that morning.
GUILTY .—He was further charged with having been before convicted at this Court, in April, 1861; to which he
PLEADED GUILTY.— Confined Twelve Months.
BETTS— PLEADED GUILTY .— Confined Nine Months.
JAMES KING . My wife keep a haberdasher's shop, at 13, Plumpstead-place—between 3 and 4 o'clock, on the morning of 15th June, I was awoke by one of my lodgers—I looked out of my bed-room window, and saw the two prisoners running down the garden with their boots in their hands—they got over the wall at the bottom of the garden, and I saw them well
then—I raised a cry of "Step thief!"—I afterwards went down stairs, and found a panel of my door broken and taken out—it was all safe the previous night—I fastened it myself when I went to bed, just before 12—the kitchen window was open, and the fastening broken—it had been safe the previous night—I saw nothing taken away, only removed out of the drawers and laid on the top of the table.
WILLIAM HALL . I lodge at Mr. King's house—I was awoke on this Sunday morning, 15th June, by a noise—my wife heard it first—I looked out of the back window, and saw the prisoners come out of the wash-house door, which opened towards the workshop and the yard—they picked up their boots, made their way to the end of the wall, and I saw nothing more of them after that till I overtook them in the Plumstead-road—I caught Betts, and saw the policeman catch the other.
JOHN SAUNDERS (Policeman, 157). I was on duty at the Arsenal-gate on Sunday morning, 15th June, and heard a cry of "Stop thief" and "Police"—I went towards the part from which the cry came, and met the two prisoners coming towards me—I stopped Cook, and the last witness stopped Betts—Cook asked me what was the matter—I took him to the station—I then went to Mr. King's house, and found the kitchen window had been prised up; the fastening was broken off—I found a box of lucifer matches, a harpoon, and an old case knife—the harpoon was not an instrument by which the window might be prised up—there was a mortice chisel, which was identified by the landlord, and that corresponded with the marks on the window eill—it was one that the prisoners had found in the outhouse and made use of.
Cook. Q. Was I in company with this man? A. Yes—when I took you, you were about at far from him as you are from me now—it was quite daylight.
GUILTY .— Confined Twelve Months.
ALFRED LANGFORD . I am a fishmonger, at Plumstead—on 10th May, I turned a pony out to grass, on the common, at 8 o'clock—next morning, at 7 o'clock, I missed it—I saw nothing more of it till the 26th of May, when I saw it in a cart belonging to Mr. Read.
ROBERT READ . I live at Salisbury-place, Wands Worth—on 12th May I saw a pony straying about; about 5 in the morning—I tied it up, and about 9 o'clock a man came, and afterwards brought the prisoner with him, who claimed the pony—I asked if he would sell it—he said he would, for 3l., as things were very queer with him, and he could not got enough to support it—I gave him 50s. for it—Mr. Sayers afterwards came and claimed it, and took it away.
JOHN HOUGHTON . I am a painter—I was with Read when a man named Riley came, and afterwards brought the prisoner—the prisoner asked 3l. for the pony—he said things were very bad with him, and he had been getting drunk all the week—I said the pony looked very bad, and he ought to be ashamed of himself to keep it in that state—he said he had been thirty miles with it on the Sunday, to Kingston and back, and it had had nothing to eat—he stood out for some time for the money, but ultimately took 50s. for it.
GEORGE HULL (Policeman, P 32). I apprehended the prisoner, and told him the charge—he said, "I know nothing at all about it;" and turning to a friend, said, "Here is a fine go; I am charged with stealing a pony; I
know I am innocent of it; I know nothing at all about a pony"—shortly afterwards, at the railway-station, he said, "I do not see why I should suffer for other people; I recollect now, I did have a pony; I sold it to Mr. Read, of Lock's-fields; I bought it of a man, named Mark Harris, at Plumstead late in the night of 10th May"—he gave me his address—he said he led the pony to Walworth, where he saw a man named Riley, and they went out with it—Mark Harris was apprehended, but was discharged, there being no evidence against him.
The prisoner put in a written defence, stating that he had bought the pony of Mark Harris, a donkey-driver, of Nightingale-street, for 2l.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. LLOYD conducted the Prosecution.
SARAH BAILEY . I am the wife of Samuel Bailey, who keeps the Fox and Hounds public-house, at Sydenham—on 13th June the prisoner and another man came, about half-past 11 in the evening—the prisoner called for pint of beer, which was twopence—I served him—he tendered a shilling, which I put in the till, and gave him a sixpence and fourpenny worth of halfpence in change—there was a sixpence, a fourpenny-piece, and threepence in the till at that time, but no other shilling—after drinking the beer they went away, and in about five minutes they both returned, and the prisoner called for a half-quartern of gin, which was twopence-halfpenny, tendered a shilling, which I examined and found to be bad—I marked it with my teeth at once—I told him it was bad—he seemed surprised, and spoke to his friend—I put it on the counter, and he took it up—I then went to the till—no one had been to it, or had tendered any money, between that time and the time when I put the first shilling in—I found the shilling he had given for the pint of beer was bad, and said to him, "This is a bad one too"—he appeared surprised, but said nothing—I called my husband, told him, and he went round, detained him, and sent for a policeman—I gave my husband the shilling I took from the till, and he kept it in his hand till the policeman came—I did not see him hand it to anybody—the man who was with the prisoner went off as quickly as possible—I marked the shilling I took from the till—this (produced) is it; I am sure of it.
Prisoner. Q. What time did I first come into your house? A. Between half-past 11 and a quarter to 12—you were in there several times before—I saw the other one—my husband was in the bar when I draw the pint of beer—I did not mark that shilling before I put it in the till—I had nothing in my mouth when you gave me the shilling for the gin—the other man was standing at your side—I said nothing to him—I do not remember your sounding the second shilling on the counter, and saying, "It is good silver, only it might be cracked"—the door was open for you to have run away too.
THOMAS CHURCHER . I live at Sydenham, and am a shoemaker—about half-past 11 on 13th June, I saw the prisoner opposite the Fox and Hounds, and heard Mrs. Bailey say to the prisoner, that she had a bad shilling—that attracted my attention—the prisoner seemed very much surprised, and said, "Is it?"—he took it off the counter, turned round to the gentleman, in appearance, and said, "This is a bad one;" and the gentleman took the
shilling, put his hand in his pocket, and gave the prisoner something; I cannot say what—Mrs. Bailey spoke to her husband, and he came round—before he got to the prisoner, the gentleman shot out of doors, and the prisoner could have got away easily, only he was rather the worse for liquor—Mr. Bailey detained him, and sent for a policeman.
Prisoner. Q. What did I give the other man? A. I do not know; I believe it was the bad shilling which you took off the counter—I was some distance from you—there were three or four others between us—you never spoke to me—the other man was respectable in appearance—he had one black glove on—I believe I mentioned about your giving him something the first time you were before the Magistrate—you said, when you were searched, that you could make a dollar before breakfast sooner than the policeman—I did not stand between you and the door, to prevent you from running away.
JOHN HUNTER (Policeman, B 262). On 13th June I took the prisoner, and told him it was for uttering a bad shilling—he said it was no use his saying anything, for what he could say would go up in one corner—Mrs. Bailey gave me this bad shilling at the time—I took the prisoner to the station, and found on him a shilling, a sixpence, a fourpenny-piece, and twopence-halfpenny in copper; all good—he refused his address—he said he came from Brighton, and then from Guildford, and then from Deptford—he said those all at one time—I found this piece of paper (produced) on him.
WILLIAM WEBSTER . This is a bad shilling—this piece of paper is the kind used to wrap bad money in; on it I see the impression, at least, just the size of a shilling—I have no doubt it has been used for wrapping them up one over the other.
Prisoner's Defence. The shilling I offered was good silver, only it was cracked, and I told the woman that.
GUILTY .— Confined Nine Months.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. LAXTON conducted the Prosecution.
JOSEPH LOVIBOND . I am a brewer, in partnership with my brother and father, at Greenwich—the prisoner had been in our service nearly two years, as watchman—there was one tap, about the middle of the brewery, on purpose for the men to take ale from—it was not near the store-cellar—I personally gave the prisoner instructions that that tap was put up for their purposes, and that they were not to touch anything else—I gave the prisoner in custody on 21st June.
Cross-examined by MR. DICKIE. Q. In whose service was he before he came to you? A. I do not know—he was recommended by his brother-in-law, who was also in our employ—I do not know about his character—the principal employed him—I can swear that I was present when the principal gave him the instructions—the words were, "To touch no beer besides what is put up, nor to be drunk on any consideration; you may drink as much as you like, but you are not to get drunk"—they were to use their own discretion—I do not expect any of our servants to get drunk—their regular cask wan not empty on the occasion when we allege the prisoner took the ale, because the beer is always replaced when it is empty—I cannot swear that I tried it—I saw men drinking from the tap a very short time before.
MR. LAXTON. Q. Do you know whether he had had any from that tap? A. He told the Magistrate he had had three or four pints from the tap in the night—I heard the instructions given to him—he was told that he was to get the beer from the tap put up for the purpose; for him and every other man in the brewery, and that he was not to touch anything else—I am quite sure those were the instructions.
EDWARD LOVIBOND . I am one of the partners in this firm—in consequence of something I had heard, I went, on 20th June, about half-past 9 at night, into the cellar where the stock ale was kept, to watch—that is some little distance from where the tap is—I saw the prisoner pass with a light through the store-cellar, in which I was; he went out, and then returned with a can and siphon; he drew the bung; put his light out, and I heard him suck the siphon, and heard the ale run out—I heard him knock the bung in, and saw him retire with the can and the ale in it.
COURT. Q. Did you see him put the light out? A. No; I saw the total darkness in a moment—when he was out of the cellar I saw him pour the ale into a glass, drink some himself, and give some to a woman, a man, and a boy—I cannot say whether the woman was his wife, or who she was—I believe he has a wife, but I do not know—I do not know whether she brought anything with her for him to eat—I believe there was something to eat there—I do not know who had brought it.
MR. LAXTON. Q. Was he afterwards given in custody by your brother? A. The following morning—I was not present when the instructions were given to the prisoner about drinking beer—the stock ale was better than what was supplied at the tap—he went to the best tap—he had no authority that I am aware of to go to this store cellar—the ale, that he took was about 1s. 8d. a gallon, and he took about a gallon.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you interrupt them while they were enjoying the ale? A. No; I never said a word to them—I have not got either the woman, or boy, or the other man, who were drinking the ale—I will swear the can holds more than half a gallon—it holds between half a gallon and a gallon—it is not a can used in measuring—I will not swear that the candle did not fall from the man's hand.
COURT. Q. Were those whom you saw drinking the ale, persons employed on the premises? A. The man was—he is still in the prosecutor's employ. The Jury declined to hear any more evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
PLEADED GUILTY .**— Confined Eight Months.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. SLEIGH conducted the Prosecution.
HENRY SMITH (Policeman, V 333). On 13th May I was on duty at Richmond—I was in George-street, between 2 and 3 in the morning—King-street runs into George-street—I heard somebody hallooing, shouting, and making a great noise at the other end of the street—I went there, and saw several
persons going down Brewer's-lane—I walked down, and saw the prisoner—he stepped on a door step—I turned my light on to him, and he said, "What do you want to turn your light on me for?"—I said, "To see who you are"—he said, "You go away from me, or I will report you, and get your coat off your back"—I walked away, and he followed me, hallooing after me "Come here," he said, "I will fight you for what you like"—he then said, "I will go to the station and report you"—he turned off towards the station, and I turned in a different direction—I walked round my beat, and saw no more of him for half an hour, and when I was near the baths, about two minutes walk from the police-station, I saw him coming towards me—he came close up to me, put his foot against mine, and tripped my feet from under me on to the ground—I was not near enough to strike him before that—he struck me with his left hand on the right eye, and closed it up immediately—when on the ground he kicked me on the nose, and laid my nose right open—as soon as he saw me getting up, he struck me with both fists right and left on each side of the jaw; and as I lay on the ground he kicked me on my mouth, loosened ell my front teeth, and turned one tooth light round—I became not quite insensible, and felt two dreadful blows on my left side, either from a kick or a hit; I cannot say which—I was covered with blood from the blow on the nose—I then heard him run away, and became insensible—I afterwards roused up, and found myself lying in a pool of blood—I got hold of the wall to crawl to the station—I met another constable, Redfern, who accompanied me to the prisoner's house—we knocked at the door—the prisoner came, and Redfern said to me, "Is that the man?"—I said, "Yes, that is the man who assaulted me"—we took him in custody—he said to Redfern, "I will go quietly with you"—there is no truth in the statement that I challenged the prisoner to fight—I am still suffering—I have been vomiting blood and large pieces of flesh this length.
Prisoner. Q. Where did you go to? A. The constable took hold of me and led me to your house—I did not go to the station, but I was very near it—I went from there to Hamblin's, the greengrocer's—I thought you lodged there—that is at one end of the street, and the house you live in is at the other—I admit that I saw you at your door, but I did not know it was your door—I thought you were a militiaman at first—I only went inside Hamblin's door—I did not go up stairs—I cannot say whether the constable went up and searched; he might—I then went to your house, as No. 213 said, "He lives down here," and took me to your house, and three or four constables with me—I did not see anybody belonging to the house at Hamblin's—I could scarcely see; my eyes were full of blood—I was in the house, and I suppose somebody opened the door—I was hardly sensible then—we were delayed there nearly half an hour—the constable may have knocked three or four times at your house—I was there when you opened the door—I did not pass you and Ireland in George-street, or see you both stop at his door—I have had no conversation with Ireland about this affair—I did not hear you say to Ireland, "Bill, you go in-doors"—I did not follow you to your house, but there were some persons in front of me in Brewer's-lane, and I might have come behind you—I did not see you unlock the door and go into your house—when you threatened to report me, I turned to the right, and you to the left—I went towards King-street; not down King-street—the baths are about thirty yards from the station—this was in the main street—I had not time to make any alarm—there was a sergeant on duty at the station, and a constable, but I could not make them hear at that distance—you did not give me time to call out, but hit me and kicked me
—it was all done like lightning—it was not a voluntary act between the two of us—you did not lay, "Smith, I have reported you for this assault"—you never mentioned any word except, "Now I will give it you"—you did not say, "Do you consider yourself a man to strike me without provocation at my own door?" or, "I do not like to report you, but if you will fight me like a man, I will fight you and forgive you"—you have not submittted to my violence on several occasion—I never interfered with you in my life—I have not struck you dozens of times in George-street, and pushed you; never in my life—I never spoke to you but once, and that was at the police-court, when I said, "The Court is not open; you cannot come in"—you did not report me on this morning—between seven and eight months ago you stopped me, and asked me what time the court opened—I never in my life said to you, "You have reported one of our fellows, have you not?"—I said to you at the court, when you were coming in, "The Court is not open yet; the Magistrate has not come"—I do not know that you were there to report a constable for striking you—you went out at my bidding and I said that I would call you when the Court was opened—I do not know whether anybody called you, but you came in—you reported nobody—you gave evidence in favour of a drunken man—when we knocked at your door, you did not say, "Smith, what do you want to follow me here for?"—you might have said a great deal, but I only heard what I have said—I did not strike you; I was not near enough, except at the time you tripped me up—I did not know that that was your house, or I should not have gone to Hamblin's for you—there were three policemen besides me to apprehend you—I swear that you said you would go with us—I saw nobody collar you.
THOMAS REDFERN (Policeman, V 213). On 13th May, about half-past 2 in the morning, I met Smith in Brewer's-lane, covered with blood, his eyes closed, and his nose broken—I went with him and another constable, No. 360, to the prisoner's house—I knocked at the door, and he came down and said, "I know what you have come for; I will go back"—Smith said, "That is the man who assaulted me"—I took the prisoner—he had been drinking, but he knew perfectly well what was going on.
Prisoner. Q. How many constables had you to apprehend me? A. Four, with Sergeant Boyle—I knew you by the description Smith gave of you—he did not know your name, but he said that it was Garibaldi—that is what they call you—I went to Hamblin's house, and Mr. Hamblin let me in—I had no warrant—I went up stairs and searched for you—Smith was in the shop—I was told where you lived, and went there and knocked at your door—you came down and said, "I know what you are come for, and will go quiet"—Smith followed me from your house to the charge-room—I did not hear you say to him, "Whatever you have suffered, it is your own fault;" nor did I hear Smith say, "You would not have bested me if there had not been three or four of you"—I must have heard it if it was said—you reported me nine or ten months ago at the police-court—I have not forgotten it—I remember you being remanded from Horsemonger-lane Gaol three or four times on this case, and I paraded you down the town from the police-court to the station-house—when you were first taken before the Magistrate, you were locked up on my evidence—I was at Epsom races four days while you were detained in Horsemonger-lane—the inspector did not tell me I must be off from Richmond to Croydon that morning when you wanted me to be present.
MR. SLEIGH. Q. Was the reason that the prisoner was brought up so often that the prosecutor was too ill to attend? A. Yes; he calls that
parading him from the station to the Court—it was not my charge—I took him on the charge of my brother constable, who was too ill to attend.
JOHN COOPER GARMAN , M.R.C.S. I am in practice at Richmond—on the morning of 13th May, the prosecutor was brought to my surgery, suffering from dreadful contusions on the head and face—there was a great deal of blood about his face, which came from his nose—his right eye was completely closed; his head was in a dreadful state; he was hardly recognisable—he was sent home, and on examining him I found he had other injuries—he had difficulty of breathing, and incipient cough, which led to a further examination, and we found that he was suffering from injury to the lungs, no doubt brought about by some immediate cause—he lay in danger, on and off, for four or five weeks, and my opinion was that it would terminate very badly—I continued to attend him up to the present time, and he has still consolidation of the right lung, and there is a cicatrix, an adhesion of the lung to the pleura—it seemed to me to have been caused by a kick or compression—there was great disturbance of the circulation, and I have no doubt that the heart suffered as well—he may be fit for duty in some months, but that is a question—he has lost flesh considerably.
Prisoner. Q. There were no external marks on the lower part of the body? A. No; he recovered from the external injuries in about ten days—it would depend on the size of the instrument, whether a blow or a kick would produce external marks—if the knee, or elbow, or foot were used, or if he was stamped upon, there might be bruises; but from the elasticity of the ribs giving way, there might be no bruises, but the lungs would have the direct force of the blow.
The prisoner, in his defence, stated, that like the Italians, the people of Richmond were groaning under the tyranny of the police, who made a point of hunting him down, and endeavouring to drive him from the town, where he earned his living as a shoemaker; that the policeman accepted his challenge to fight, but not knowing how to protect his face, got the worst of it.
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. — Confined Twelve Months
PLEADED GUILTY.— Judgment Respited.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
THOMAS JENNINGS . I live at 6, New York-road, Lambeth—on Saturday night, 21st June, about 10 o'clock, I was in my office, at the end of a passage in my house—I heard a key put in the lock of my front door—thinking it was some member of my family, I took no notice; but as I came out of the office towards the back parlour, I saw some one standing inside the front door, which was closed—I had come from the dark into the passage, where there was a gas-lamp—immediately upon seeing me the party pulled the door a little way open, and ran out—it was the prisoner—I rushed after him immediately, and caught him within a few feet of the door—I brought him in, sent for a policeman, and gave him in charge—he asked me what I had taken him for—I told him I would tell him that when the policeman came—I heard a clink as I went out after him, as if he had thrown away a key or something—I had heard the lock turn, and thought the prisoner was a long time about it, but did not think there was anything wrong—there
was a lot of gravel in front of my house—the policeman searched, but could not find anything.
ROBERT HARDING (Policeman, L 163). I was called by Mr. Jennings and found the prisoner in his custody—he told me that he charged him with entering the house—the prisoner said that he was only against the door, and did not go into the house—I searched him, but found nothing on him but 2s. and some lucifer matches—he told me he lived at Warwick-street, Westminster, but there is no such street there—I went to Warwick-street, Pimlico, but no such person lived there—he told me he worked at 7, Hatton-garden—I went there, but could not learn anything of him—the house is in Lambeth parish.
Prisoner's Defence. I was walking by the house, and the gentleman rushed out and caught hold of me; I asked him what he had hold of me for, and he would not tell me.
GUILTY .— Confined Nine Months.
MESSRS. CRAWFORD and UNDERDOWN conducted the Prosecution.
JAMES RUMBOLD . I am the landlord of the White Hart, Hickman's folly, Dockhead—on Friday evening, 20th June, about a quarter to 8, the prisoner came and called for a pint of beer, bringing a white jug—the beer was three half-pence—she gave a counterfeit half-crown—I was very busy, and I took it up and laid it by the side of the till, till I served her—she went away, and as soon at I had served the others, which was not a minute, I detected it was bad—I had given her change—I never keep half-crowns in the till—I went to put it behind and discovered it was bad—I went after her, but could not see her—I marked it and put it by itself—on Tuesday, 24th June, she came again, about the same time in the evening, and asked for a pint of beer, but knowing her I did not serve her till I had served every one else—she brought a different jug—she offered a half-crown—I told her it was bad, sent a boy fox a policeman, and gave her in charge, with the two half-crowns—she told me she lived at the bottom of London-street, but after she got to she station she said at Bow somewhere—I heard her mention both those places—these (produced) are the two half-crowns she gave me—this is the first one.
JOHN WILLIAMS (Policeman, N 154). I took the prisoner, and received the two half-crowns from the last witness—I told the prisoner the charge—the began crying, and said it was her first time, and it should be the last—she would not have cried only her brother was coming home from sea—three half-pence and a key were found on her—she gave a false address.
GUILTY .— Confined Nine Months.
MESSRS. CRAWFORD and UNDERDOWN conducted the Prosecution.
ELIZABETH AUSTIN . I am the wife of Peter Austin, a butcher, of 4, Commercial-place, Rotherhithe—on Saturday night, 21st June, the prisoner came about 12 o'clock, purchased a piece of mutton, which came to 1s. 0 1/2 d. and put down a two-shilling piece—I saw it was bad, and said, "This is a bad one"—I called my husband and gave it to him—the shop was fall of people—my husband gave him in charge, but I did not hear anything more.
whom she had received it—I put it between my teeth, found it bad, and gave it back to the prisoner, saying, "This is a bad two-shilling piece"—he did not say a word—I went for a policeman—the prisoner tried to get away, but my man kept him back—I gave him in charge, and walked behind him to the station—it was within a few minutes of 12 o'clock—we had not gone many yards before the policeman said, "Wait, there is money fallen from this man"—I did not hear it fall—I stopped—the policeman turned the lantern on, and I saw him pick up a florin—I could not say whether I had seen it before—I was certain the one I gave back to the prisoner was bad.
CHARLES KILLINGBACK (Policeman, M 263). Austin gave the prisoner in my charge for uttering a bad two-shilling piece—I asked the prisoner where the two-shilling piece was—he told me the lady had got it—she said, "No, I have not; you have got it in your pocket"—on taking him to the station I saw his hand move to throw it away, and I said, "Hold on, Mr. Austin, the money is gone"—we stopped and picked it up, and I said to the prisoner, "This is the two-shilling piece you have now thrown away"—he made no reply—I searched him at the station, and found on him a half-crown, a shilling, two sixpences, and 10 1/2 d. in copper, all good—he gave the name of Charles Smith the night he was taken, and next morning he gave the name of Charles Hughes—he said he came from King-street, Borough.
THOMAS GRAY . I picked up a bag on Sunday morning, 22d June, in the gutter, about thirty yards from the butcher's shop—I opened it and found in it two two—shilling pieces and four shillings, bad coin—I gave it to the constable, M 90—the place where I found it was between the station and the shop.
WILLIAM FEARN (Policeman M 90). On 22d June, the last witness gave me this bag (produced) containing two florins and four shillings—a spot was pointed out to me as the spot where it was picked up—it was about thirty yards from Mr. Austin's shop, between that and the station-house—I produce the florin.
GUILTY .— Confined Twelve Months.
MR. CRAWFORD conducted the Prosecution.
MARY GLIDE . I live with my mother, who keeps a grocer's shop at Wands-worth-plain—on Friday evening, 13th June, about twenty minutes past 9, Roote came and asked for half an ounce of tobacco, which came to 1 1/2 d. and gave a half-crown—I was about to give change, when I, found it was bad, and put it between my teeth—I do not think I should know it again—I told the prisoner he had better go and get it changed—I gave it him back—he said he got it from Westminster—he then asked for a quarter of an ounce, gave me a penny, and I served him—he went away with the bad half-crown—a person named Wingrove came in while he was there.
ALFRED WINGROVE . I am a shoemaker, living at 2, Armoury-road, Wandsworth, near Mrs. Glide's shop—on 13th June, at 9 o'clock, I was at the bottom of the yard, and saw Roote in the shop with a bad half-crown in his hand—I saw Crawford standing outside the shop—I heard Miss Glide say it was a bad half-crown—I went into the shop and saw the half-crown—Roote came out and joined his companion, and they went away together, about thirty yards, over to the next prosecutor's shop, and I saw Roote give
Crawford something out of his coat pocket, and Crawford went into Evershed's shop—Roote stood outside—I got the assistance of a potman, and watched them—I went into High-street, and then came back and saw them in the same place—I followed Crawford into the shop—he asked for some tobacco, and gave a half-crown—I said that he knew it was bad; and I should give him in custody—he said he did not know it was, that he got it from a butcher's shop—Roote stood looking in at the window, at the corner, and the prisoner fetched him in, and I told him I should keep him till the police came—he did not lay any thing—they were, both taken in custody there.
EDWIN EVERSHED . I am a carpenter, and have a shop within sight of Mrs. Glide's—on 13th June, Crawford came a little after half-past 9, and asked for half an ounce of tobacco—my wife served him, and he gave a half-crown—she called my attention to it, and I found it was bad—I said, "Young fellow, this is a bad half-crown"—I cannot say what answer be gave—the last witness just then came in and said, "You know it is a bad one; we have been watching you"—I said, "I will fetch a policeman"—I went out and saw Roote outside—I said, "I want you"—he said, "What do you want?"—I said, "Oh, don't be so green; you know"—he said, "No, I do not"—I said, "Come and see your mate"—he said, "I have no mate"—I caught hold of his arm and said, "Come on"—as he was coming he forced his hand into his coat pocket, and down fell some money—I picked it up; it was 2d.—I took him into the shop, and gave him in custody.
JAMES THOMAS COLE (Policeman, V 239). I received the prisoners at Mr. Evershed's shop—Wingrove was there—they were charged with attempting to pass the bad half-crown—this half-crown (produced) was handed to me by Mr. Evershed after he had marked it—I searched the prisoners at the station—on Crawford I found a penny, and 2 1/4 d. on Roote, with a black tobacco-box and a little tobacco in it—I believe it was the same that had been passed to Mr. Evershed.
Crawford's Defence. A gentleman gave me the half-crown, and told me to make the best use I could of it.
Roote's Defence. This man told me that a gentleman gave him a half-crown; I have been in the Army this four years.
GUILTY .— Confined Nine Months each.
775. JAMES GREENHEAD (38) , Burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Stenton Eardley, and stealing therein 7 ladles, 10 spoons, 4 forks, and a fish knife, his property; having been before convicted, to which he
PLEADED GUILTY .— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. CRAWFORD conducted the Prosecution.
ROSA HUNNEX . I am the wife of Frederick Hunnex, of 30, Thornton-street, Dockhead—on 28th May, the prisoner came to our shop and asked for a brooch, which was 8d. and put down a bad half-crown—she said, "I had it in change at a butter shop; here's the butter in my basket"—my husband said he would go with her to the butter-shop, and she said that she had changed it on Saturday—I gave the half-crown to my husband, and we gave her in charge.
brooch, and put the coin down—my wife immediately said, "This is bad," and gave it to me—I said, "This is a very bad one; where did you get this?"—she said, "Oh, it is of no consequence, I changed it just now for some butter at a neighbour's—I said, "Very well, I will go with you and see where it is"—she then said she did not know the name of the butter-shop; but knew the shop—when we got outside the shop, she said it was not to-day, it was last Saturday, in the Bermondsey New-road—I then said, "I shall give you in custody for passing a bad half-crown"—I marked it and gave it to the constable—she has been at my shop several times, and I knew her.
Prisoner. He would not go to the butter shop with me.
EDWARD HAMMOND (Policeman, M 67). On 28th May, I received the prisoner, and this piece of money (produced)—I asked her if she went into Mr. Hunnex's, and she said, Yes; and that she got the half-crown at a butter-shop in Dockhead, and then she said, "I don't mean to-day; it was on Saturday, in Bermondsey New-road"—she gave the name of Mary Ann O'Donnell—this butter (produced) was found on her.
MARY ANN STANTON . I am shopwoman to Mr. Barker, a draper of High-street, Borough—in April last, the prisoner came and asked for a brooch, value 6 3/4 d. and gave me a bad half-crown—I bit it; it was soft—I gave it to Mr. Portch, who serves for Mr. Barker.
ALFRED PERCIVAL (Policeman, M 100). On 12th April, I took the prisoner in custody, and received this coin (produced) from Mr. Portch—the prisoner gave the name of Ann Kelly, but no address—she was charged on the 12th; remanded till the 16th, again remanded till the 23d, and then discharged.
GUILTY .—She was further charged with having been before convicted at this Court in June, 1861, of unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin, when she was sentenced to Nine Months' imprisonment, to which she PLEADED GUILTY.
Three Years' Penal Servitude.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. LILLEY conducted the Prosecution.
VALENTINE HOLZBACHER . I am a baker, of 131, New Church-street, Bermondsey—about eighteen months ago, the prisoner was recommended to me as a painter, and I employed him to paint a barrow for me—he has been in my shop four or five times since then, as a customer—on 18th June, I received this letter (produced) by post; this is the envelope in which it was enclosed, and which also enclosed this other envelope; this is what I sent—I received it by post—in consequence of receiving that letter I communicated with the police directly—I caused this IOU for 10l. to be drawn up, and authorized the police-officer to put my signature—he wrote the whole of it, my name included, by my authority, and posted it—I have had opportunities of seeing the prisoner write—I have only seen him write once—I have not received any letters from him—I have a bill for work done by him for me—I discharged that bill, and he received the money—he receipted the bill in my presence—I believe this letter to be in the prisoner's writing—(read): "17th June. Sir, I beg to say a few words to you on the
policy of your selling flour short weight, of which I have four samples, all notoriously short, from four respectable witnesses, all resident in the neighbourhood, of the purchases at your shop, and I mean to acquaint the proper legal authorities, that you may be prosecuted for the robbery upon the poor inhabitants of your neighbourhood, and I shall also proceed to give out hand-bills to let the public know, after the conviction at the sessions, of the practice, which I know has been going on for a long time. The only remedy left open to you is this, that you sell full weight in future, and enclose in this directed envelope, two 5l. Bank of England notes, without any question, before 4 o'clock to-morrow, as after that time I shall proceed to fulfil that which I say; the least attempt at inquiry will secure an application for a summons to appear. I am unknown at this address, there fore they know nothing of this; send the notes, and secrecy may be relied upon, fail to do so and summonses will be directly applied for, to prosecute It is simply the sacrifice of 10l. or the ruin of your business for ever; no question needed, as none will be answered, A lawyer."—Envelope enclosed, "Mr. Pickard, care of Mrs. Marks, Stationer, 8, Broadway, Ludgate-hill"—it was in consequence of that letter that I gave authority to the police to do what was done.
Cross-examined by MR. DICKIE. Q. You were not unfriendly with the prisoner, were you? A. No, on good terms—I believe this letter to be in his writing because it exactly corresponds with this I have here; the same letters, the same writing—it was about thirteen months ago, that the prisoner wrote this on the bill I have—it was not eighteen months ago; thirteen or fourteen I should say—I never saw him write before that—I never saw so much of his writing before I received this letter—I was in my shop when the postman brought it.
JOHN TIMOTHY HUGHES (Policeman, M 249). In consequence of instructions I received from the prosecutor I wrote on this piece of paper, "I O U 10l. V. Holzbacher"—I put that in this envelope, addressed to "Mr. Pickard, Mrs. Mark's, Stationer, 8, Broadway, Ludgate-hill," and posted it myself on Thursday, 19th June—I afterwards went to that address—I watched the place until Saturday—on that day he came into the shop and asked if there were any letters for him—Mrs. Marks asked him what name—he said, "Pickard,"—she said, "Is that your name?" he said, "Yes"—she then gave him the letters—during the time this was going on, I was in the shop behind a small partition behind the counter—as soon as the letter was delivered I came forward; and as I showed myself the prisoner said to me, "You were kind enough to allow me to leave my letters here"—he thought I belonged to the shop—I said, "I belong to the police, and I charge you with sending a threatening letter, with intent to extort money"—I took the letters from his hand—there were three letters for him, that which I posted being one of them—I produced that letter at the police-court.
Cross-examined. Q. Did he not say something about his being an agent? A. Yes; he said, when I took him, "I am only an agent for another person"—I was in a room when the prisoner first came in—it is quite close to the shop—there as a thin wooden partition, and a large window—I could both see and hear him—he did not open the letters—I took them from him directly—I was not there when he came in first, and was told to call again—it was the second time that he came in when I saw him, within about ten minutes or a quarter of an hour from the time he first came.
MR. LILLEY. Q. Were you able to hear all that passed between Mrs. Marks and the prisoner? A. Yes, perfectly—he had no time to open the
letters—this other envelope he took from his pocket, and wrote the address of his wife on it in my presence—it is exactly the same sort as that enclosed in the letter, and which I posted.
JANK MARKS . I am the wife of Frederick James Marks, of 8, Broadway, Ludgate-hill—on Saturday, 21st June, at half-past 12, the prisoner came to my shop—I was in my parlour, and saw him come in—I had not seen him before—I went out and said, "What do you please to want?" he said, "Have you any letters for me?"—I said, "What from?" he said, "From an advertisement"—I said, "What is your name?" he said, "Pickard"—I said, "I have three;" and I then asked him to sit down and wait till my husband came in—he said, "I can't stay, I have other business to attend to; I will come back soon"—I said, "Thank you," and he went away—the policeman was outside at the time, and I told him something—he came is after the prisoner had left, and went behind the partition—the prisoner returned in between five and ten minutes—I took the letters and placed them before him, and said, "Are these your letters?" he said, "Yes, thank you," placing down 3d.—I said, "Is your name Pickard?" and he said, "Yes"—he took up the letters, and the policeman came forward and took them out of his hand—I had never seen him before.
Cross-examined. Q. Do you take in letters for people when they ask you? A. I have never done so before, nor has my husband.
The prisoner received a good character.
GUILTY .— Confined Eighteen Months.
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, AUGUST 18, 1862.