CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
FIRST SESSION, HELD NOVEMBER 19TH, 1866.
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
EDWARD T. E. BESLEY, ESQ.,
OF THE MIDDLE TEMPLE, BARRISTER-AT-LAW.
SESSION I TO VI.
BUTTERWORTHS, 7, FLEET STREET,
Law 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, November 19th 1866, and following days,
BEFORE THE RIGHT HON. THOMAS GABRIEL, LORD MAYOR of the City of London; Sir GEORGE WILLIAM WILSHERE BRAMWELL , Knt., one of the Barons of Her Majesty's Court of Exchequer; Sir JOHN BARNARD BYLES , Knt., one of the Justices of Her Majesty's Court of Common Pleas; WILLIAM TAYLOR COPELAND , Esq., Sir JOHN MUSGROVE , Bart., THOMAS QUESTED FINNIS , Esq., and WILLIAM ANDERSON ROSE , Esq., Aldermen of the said City; The Right Hon. RUSSELL GURNEY , Q.C., M.P., Recorder of the said City; JAMES ABBISS , Esq., THOMAS DAKIN,, Esq., ROBERT BESLEY , Esq., and SILLS JOHN GIBBONS , Esq., Aldermen of the said City; THOMAS CHAMBERS , Esq., Q.C. and M.P., Common Serjeant of the said City; and ROBERT MALCOLM KERR , LL.D., Judge of the Sheriff's Court; 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.
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
GABRIEL, MAYOR. FIRST SESSION.
A star (*) denotes that the prisoners have been previously in custody—two stars (**) that they have been more than once in custody—an obelisk (†) 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, November 19th, 1866.
Before Mr. Recorder.
1. EDWARD SHERIDAN (43) PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully and maliciously publishing a false, scandalous, and defamatory libel of Francisco Antonio Pedrozo de Albuquerque. — To enter into recognisance to appear and receive judgment when called upon .
2. THOMAS RAVEN (22) , to four indictments for stealing several sums, amounting to 48s., of Charles Lumley and another, his masters. Recommended to mercy by the Prosecutors.— Confined Twelve Months . [Pleaded guilty:See original trial image.]
3. LOUIS EUGENE D'AUMONT (42) , to embezzling 9l. 19s., 3l. 12s. 3d., and 3l. 1s. 9d., of Ernest Meroy and another, his masters. Recommended to mercy by the Prosecutors.— Confined Nine Months . [Pleaded guilty:See original trial image.]
4. GEORGE LEWIS (28) , to stealing a box and twenty-four India-rubber shoes of the Great Eastern Railway Company, having been before convicted.—** Confined Eighteen Months . [Pleaded guilty:See original trial image.]
8. JOSEPH MORRIS (38) , to two indictments for embezzling sums of money of Samuel Grocutt and others, his masters.The Prosecutor stated the prisoner's deficiencies amounted to 171l.,and that a similar offence had been overlooked two years ago— Five Years' Penal Servitude . [Pleaded guilty:See original trial image.]
NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. SLEIGH and MONTAGU WILLIAMS conducted the Prosecution, and
MR. RIBTON the Defence.
MOSS DEFRIES . I am a chandelier manufacturer, carrying on business with my brothers in Commercial Street, Whitechapel—the prisoner was in our employment—it was his duty to keep the bought ledger, to receive the invoices from the cutters, to examine those invoices with the book in; which the goods were entered when received, to see that they corresponded; he would then bring me the ledger and the cutters' invoices—I should then see that the entry in the ledger corresponded with the invoices; he would also present me the order for payment, and if it corresponded with the entry in the ledger I put my initials across it; the order would then be presented to the pretty cashier, who would pay it—on 31st August the prisoner brought me this order (produced)—he also showed me this cutters' ledger—at the time the prisoner brought me the order it was for 1l. 7s. 3d., that was written in words and in figures—the letters "teen" have since been added, and the figure "I" has been prefixed to the 7.
Cross-examined. Q. I believe you prosecuted the prisoner last session? A. We did, upon two indictments—the facts were not of the same nature as in this case, he was acquitted—I was examined as a witness—this order is in the prisoner's writing, and the ledger also—the 1l. 17s. 3d. in the column is his writing—I believe the invoice has been lost—it would be handed to the prisoner by the cutter in the course of business—it would be copied into the book—I cannot tell whether the order would be copied from the invoice or the book—it would be from one or the other—Powell has been working for us a good many years—after crossing the order I gave it back to the prisoner—there was a junior clerk named Norden in the office with the prisoner—we have not discharged any clerks lately—we have discharged one man named Lazarus for selling goods on his own account when he was under an agreement for a certain number of years—no evidence as to this case was given before the Magistrate—we employ a great number of hands, but only about ten principal cutters, and they employ others under them, who work only for us—in cash between 500l. and 1000l. would pass through the prisoner's hands in a year—there are great numbers of crossed cheques and cheques payable to order—about 20l. or 30l. a week would be paid out on orders of this kind—we have employed a professional accountant to go through our books—he has been nearly two years doing that—this book remains in the prisoner's office—it would not be accessible to all the clerks—we could never get access to it—he almost always had it locked in his desk—I have asked Norden, the junior clerk, for it, and it has been locked in the prisoner's desk—whenever I have asked the prisoner himself for it he has always shown it to me.
MR. WILLIAMS. Q. In whose custody would the invoice be? A. In the prisoner's—Lazarus was one of the prisoner's bail.
MR. RIBTON. Q. Did you not on the Monday following this go and take away a number of invoices from the prisoner's office? A. No; I asked Norden for some invoices, and this amongst others, and he could not find it—I asked for the previous week's invoices, and they gave them to me, but this was not amongst them—I think they were given to me by Norden—I don't know how many there were—I really cannot tell whether it was Norden or the prisoner that gave them to me, they were sitting
next to each other—there were not above than ten or twelve—I don't think Lazarus was the prisoner's original bail, but when the case was postponed from last session.
JOHN POWELL . I am a glasscutter—I have been in the habit of doing work for Messrs. Defries—on 17th August I did some work for them amounting to 15s. 6d., and the week after some more amounting to 11s. 9d., together 1l. 7s. 3d.—I generally keep a pocket-book in which I put down the work I do—I made an entry of this work perhaps a day previous to sending it in, or perhaps the next day; this is it—it is "one plate", 15s. 6d., sent in either on 16th or 17th—I suppose it must have been the 17th, the date is not here, but I never take in work except on Thursday or Friday—on 31st August I went to Messrs. Defries for my money—I sent in a bill by my boy, and I received 1l. 7s. 3d. from the prisoner on the Friday following the 31st—this is my signature to this book—I don't believe the figures were 1l. 17s. 3d. when I signed it—this "By cash, 27s. 6d.," is my writing.
Cross-examined. Q. Did the prisoner himself pay you? A. Yes, I don't recollect in what coin, I believe it was in silver, I think there was 1l. in silver in paper—I was first spoken to about this about ten or fourteen days after—I swear that this 27s. 6d. is my writing—I wrote it at the time—I invariably enter the amount in the book when I receive the money, I suppose it is a habit I have—I received some money on 17th August, I see I have not put down the amount there—I think that is the only instance where I have not—I generally go there in the evening—I don't recollect having sometimes had too much to drink, I suppose I am like all the rest, we all have a little too much at times—I was perfectly sober when I received this 1l. 7s. 3d., and also the week before—I have been very steady lately.
EMANUEL NORDEN . I was a clerk in Messrs. Defries' employment at the time the prisoner was there—he kept the cutters' ledger—he some-times kept it in a drawer and sometimes in a safe—the drawer was in his own desk—I never made any entries in the book—I have, by Mr. Defries' direction, searched for Powell's invoice of 1l. 7s. 3d.—I have not been able to find it—I know the prisoner's writing—I have seen him write—the letters "teen" at the end of the "seven" resemble his writing—I believeit to be his.
Cross-examined. Q. Do you remember Mr. Defries coming to the office one morning and asking for a number of invoices? A. Yes—I handed them to him by the prisoner's direction; there were about a dozen—I received the invoices as they came in, and they were entered directly by the prisoner in the ledger—if he is not there at the time we put them on a file, they may remain there a few hours before they are entered, but they are always settled the same day.
Cross-examined. Q. Have you left the employment? A. Yes, to better myself—it was my duty to pay the cutters, but I handed the money to the prisoner to pay for me—I gave him 10l. 18s. 3d. altogether—other cutters were paid by cheque by the chief cashier, but no others by Cash that I know of—I handed the prisoner the orders, not the invoices—there were eight orders—I have seen the cutters' ledger on the prisoner's desk when I have gone into his office—I never looked into it—he had paid the
cutters for me several times—I requested him to do so—I left to go and assist my father, and my brother succeeded me.
COURT. Q. You say you have seen the cutters' ledger lying on the prisoner's desk, have you seen it there when he has not been there? A. I cannot say, I never noticed, I have seldom been there except when he has been in the office.
MOSS DEFRIES (re-examined). The prisoner left our employment between one and two o'clock on the Friday previous to his being taken into custody—he left without notice—we had a detective officer after him for two or three days.
MR. RIBTON. Q. Do you not know that he had been telegraphed for? A. I do not—I saw a telegram at the police-station, but what it was about I don't know; it was taken from his pocket, I did not read it—he had been between two and three years in our service—he has not sat up whole nights attending to our business—at stock-taking he has worked a little later than usual; that is only once a year, and lasts about a week—I raised his salary from 2l. to 2l. 5s.
NOT GUILTY .
There was another indictment against the prisoner, upon which no evidence was offered.
JANE SCOTT . I am the wife of Charles Scott, who keeps the Old Red Cross public-house, in Upper East Smithfield—on 22nd October the prisoner took a room at our house, she said she should want it for three weeks, or perhaps a month, she only remained one night—I examined the room when she had gone, and missed two blankets off the bed, and two pair of slippers, a box was broken open and several articles taken from it, but I cannot say what; the box had been left by a gentleman for a bad debt, and I did not know what it contained—this is one of the pair of slippers; the other pair has not been found, nor the blankets—I did not see the prisoner leave—she represented herself as the wife of the chief mate of a Belgian vessel, and ordered dinner for herself and husband on the Tuesday, but we did not see her again till she was in custody on the Wednesday night.
JOHN CURTIS (Policeman). In consequence of information I went to No. 119, Minories, and there found the prisoner—I told her she would be charged with stealing two blankets, the property of Mr. Scott, of the Old Red Cross public-house, Upper East Smithfield—she made no answer—as I was standing in the room I saw her take something from the foot of the bed and place it underneath the carpet, and I pulled out these slippers—I said, "Where did you get these from?" she made no answer—Mrs. Scott, who was in the room at the time, said, "These are my slippers"—I then said to the prisoner, "You will be further charged with stealing the slippers"—she made no remark.
Prisoner. Q. Did I not say I had put them in my bag by mistake? A. Not then, you did before the Magistrate.
Prisoner's Defence. As I found the room, so I left it. The slippers I picked up and put in my bag by mistake in my hurry; the blankets I know nothing of. The landlady's niece saw me leave, and went downstairs with me, and she could clear me if she was here. I could not put the blankets in my little bag. I should have gone back again, but the house was so noisy
I thought it was not a fit place for me; there were many lodgers in the house. I left some dirty linen of my own in the room.
GUILTY of stealing the slippers.— Confined Three Months .
ROBERT NISBIT . I am a traveller, and live at No. 19, Nicol Square—on 20th October, about half-past twelve in the morning, I was going along St. John Street—at the corner of Compton Street I passed a woman and a man—the prisoner is the woman, I am positive—there was a bright light from the public-house, so that you could see to pick up pins in the street—I did not speak to them nor they to me—as soon as I had passed about a yard and a half my hat was knocked off, and I received a blow on the side of the head, I believe from the man, but I did not see—I could not see a soul in the street besides those two—the blow was a very severe one—I was knocked down, and I remember nothing afterwards till I recovered my senses in the Royal Free Hospital—I had 30s. or 32s. in my pockets that night, when I got to the hospital it was gone, except a few coppers.
HENRY FIELD (Policeman G 251). About a quarter to two on the morning of the 20th October I was in St. John Street—I saw the prisoner there in company with a man—the prisoner was kneeling down by the prosecutor's side, and the man was standing up at the prisoner's feet—when I got within about fifteen yards of them she got up and ran away, I ran after her, caught her, and brought her back—I did not lose sight of her—the prosecutor was taken to the hospital by another constable—he was insensible—he had been drinking.
GUILTY .**— Confined Eighteen Months .
MR. POLAND conducted the Prosecution, and MR. LILLEY the Defence.
HARRIET COOK . I live at No. 3, Pitman Street, York Road, City Road—on the 2nd October some goods were delivered at my house by the prisoner, from Messrs. Phillips and Co., they came to 1l. 1s. 1d.—I paid him and saw him sign this receipt (produced).
EMMA BANKS . I live at No. 2, Wenlock Street, City Road—I deal with Phillips and Co.—on the 27th October the prisoner delivered some goods to me—I paid him 3s. 9d. and he signed this receipt (produced).
—BURGE. I am foreman to Martha Phillips and another—the prisoner was in their service as porter—it was his duty to deliver goods and receive money, and pay it to me the following day—he did not account to me for these three sums—I called the names over to him the morning after the delivery of the goods, and he said on one occasion that Mrs. Galliford was out, and on another that he had lost the bill—I asked if they had paid, and he said no—when he was given into custody he said he had made use of some of the moneys and had lost the other.
Cross-examined. Q. Did he say what he had lost? A. Yes, the 1l. 1s. 8d. and the 12s. 9d. and the other he had made use of because he
had no money, and he intended to have the amount deducted from his wages—he had been about six weeks in the service, before that he had been employed at another house for the same firm.
HENRY LAXTON . I am in the prosecutor's service—when the prisoner was given into custody I called his attention to these receipts and asked if they were in his handwriting—he said, "Yes"—I said, "What have you done with the moneys? have you paid them in?"—he said, "No"—I said, "What have you done with them?"—he said, "Lost them"—I asked him about the 3s. 2d., he said he had used the money in that case, that he was very sorry he had done so, and he deserved to go to prison, but he begged and prayed that I would not send him, and he was for about twenty minutes clinging to me in a very excited state, asking me not to send him to prison—a constable was there and he was given into custody.
Cross-examined. Q.. Before the constable came did he not tell you he had lost the money? A. He did—he did not ask me to deduct the amount from his wages—he said it was his intention to have got the money from his father—the prisoner was about eight years in the prosecutor's employ before this, he was then away twelve months, and I then reengaged him.
WILLIAM SMART (City Policeman). The prisoner was given into my custody on the 1st November—he said he had received the 1l. 1s. 8d., and the 12s. 9d., and that money he had lost, he also said he had received several other sums and had applied it to his own use.
GUILTY. Strongly recommended to mercy by the Prosecutor. — Confined Six Months .
MR. GRIFFITHS conducted the Prosecution
WILLIAM CARR . I am a groom, and live at No. 90, Fetter Lane—on the 28th October, about half-past one in the morning, I was in Gray's Inn Lane, going home from Kentish Town—as I passed by Fox Court the prisoner and two other men were on the pavement—I was in the act of passing them when the prisoner struck me a violent blow in my chest, which knocked me down; it did not knock me exactly on the ground, but against a public-house—before I could fall another man caught me round the neck—the prisoner put his left hand round my neck, and one of the others put his hand over my mouth—the prisoner then put his hand in my right trousers pocket and took out what money there was, a half-crown and three halfpence—they ransacked my pockets and took what was in them—I said, "You are welcome to what there is there, there is only a few halfpence," but there was a half-crown—the prisoner said, "Oh, he has only got a few halfpence; you may as well put that back and let him go, he has got nothing," and he put back the three halfpence—they then let me go—I was determined not to lose sight of them, and I went on the opposite side, close to Gray's Inn, under the dead wall—I saw a female come up, and I saw the prisoner strike her and partly knock her down—I went into Holborn to look for a constable, and I spoke to one of the city men—he said he was not in duty bound to go with me—I went into Middle Row and saw another constable, and he said the city constable was bound to go with me, and as I was coming back to the city constable I saw another constable in Gray's Inn Road talking to another man who had been ill-used—ultimately G 249 went with me—I saw the prisoner on the
opposite side of the road eating some oysters, and I crossed over and gave him into custody—I am sure he is the man that struck me, I could swear to him out of a thousand.
WILLIAM CHAPLIN (Policeman G 249). I was in Gray's Inn Lane on the morning of the 28th October—the last witness came to me about sixty yards from Fox Court—he pointed out the prisoner to me and I took him into custody—I did not search him at the time—I charged him with assaulting William Carr and Richard Stanley, and robbing them—he said he was not guilty of the charge, that he had not been in the place for two hours—I took him to the station and searched him—I found on him a half-crown, a three penny piece, three penny pieces and a halfpenny—he gave his address No. 17, Union Terrace—he said he had received the money from his master—he was the worse for liquor, but quite sensible—the prosecutor was quite sober.
Prisoner's Defence. I was never in prison in my life, and never charged with anything. I am a hard working man. I have worked at the Guild-hall for Mr. Lucas. I don't remember anything about this. I was very drunk. GUILTY .
MR. GRIFFITHS conducted the Prosecution.
RICHARD STANLEY . I am a smith, and live at 17, Glasgow Terrace, Pimlico—about one o'clock on the morning of 28th October I was passing very close to Fox Court, Gray's Inn Lane—three men came up in front of me and stopped me by giving me blows—the prisoner is one of them; he struck me on the side of the nose, which is a broken nose now, and the one on the left side struck me in the upper lip, which knocked me down on the pavement and cut me on the back of my head—two of the men fell with me, and as they fell their hands were in my pockets directly—the third one laid on my feet, and as I tried to call "Police!" the one that laid on me bumped his head into my chest, so that every time I tried to hallo it stopped my breath and took my breath away—I have got the wounds now caused by the prisoner's fearful kicking in my trying to resist his hands from my pocket—he kicked me across the loins and across the back—I have twelve yards of bandage about me now—I had 18s. in a purse, and the ticket of my watch, which was in pawn in Bishopsgate Street—I had been out of work eight weeks—after they had taken my money, when I was just calling "Police!" the prisoner called out "Finish," or some such word, and I received two kicks at the back of my head, which took all my senses away till I found myself in the hospital—I was there for a fortnight—I am not able to work now—I have not been free from headache since.
Prisoner. The man was quite as drunk as I was. Witness. I had had nothing but a pint of beer where I had been to get a glass eye from a subscription that had been given me—I had lost my eye through a misfortune in my work, and my mates had subscribed to get me a glass one.
ALICE POINTER . I am the wife of Alfred Pointer, of 12, Bell Court, Gray's Inn Lane—on the morning of 28th October, after one o'clock, I was coming along Gray's Inn Lane, by Fox Court—I saw the. prisoner there and a short fellow with, him—the prisoner struck me in the stomach
with his head—I went to get a policeman, but could not find one until I got home—I am sure the prisoner is the man.
WILLIAM CHAPLIN (Policeman G 249). I took the prisoner into custody on this night from information I received—I met the prosecutor in Gray's Inn Lane about half-past one, when he made a complaint to me—he pointed out the prisoner—he was rather the worse for liquor, or appeared so from being ill-treated by the prisoner—he knew what he was about—he pointed out the prisoner, and gave evidence at the station of what he had taken from him.
GUILTY .†— Seven Years' Penal Servitude, and twenty lashes with the cat
ROBERT HART . I am a fish salesman of 28, Underwood Street, City Road—on Saturday night, 3rd November, I went to bed about half-past eleven—I examined the doors and windows, and they were all perfectly secure—I was awoke a little before five in the morning by a noise like the forcing of the passage door leading from the washhouse—shortly afterwards I heard a crash of glass—I then went downstairs—I found the back parlour window up, and the washhouse window was broken away just by the catch—a person could then undo it and open the window—I then went and called a policeman—there was nothing taken that I am aware of.
JAMES WHITING (Policeman N 38). On the morning of 4th November the prosecutor made a complaint to me; I went and examined the house—access had been gained by passing over two walls from seven to eight feet high—the washhouse window and the back parlour window was broken—I examined the back yard—I saw no one there, but in the adjoining yard I saw the prisoner making his escape over the wall—I made a rush at him and caught him by his left arm—he struggled very hard, and the sleeve of his coat came off—I called for assistance and got him into the street—he asked who charged him—I told him I did—with great difficulty we conveyed him to the station—a low wall, about four feet high, separated the yard where I found him from the prosecutor's—by entering the washhouse window he would get to the passage door—that was bolted, and he could not get further, and he then went back and got in the other way.
Prisoner. I was in liquor. Witness. He pretended to be after I had taken him into custody, but it was only pretence, he could walk very well.
Prisoner's Defence. I am known to the police, and in conseqnence of that I have not been able to go about the streets. I know nothing about this case. On Saturday night, after coming from work, I met a friend and got drinking, and on Sunday morning I found myself in the station-house. GUILTY .
He PLEADED GUILTY to a previous conviction in May, 1861, when he was sentenced to Seven Years' Penal Servitude.— Ten Years' Penal Servitude .
NEW COURT.—Monday, November 19th, 1866.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. COLERIDGE and STRAIGHT conducted the Prosecution.
THOMAS DAVIDSON . I am sixteen years old, and live at No. 9, Canterbury Terrace, Maida Hill—I was at the corner of Church Street and George Place last Monday, about ten o'clock at night, and met the prisoner, who I did not know before—he asked me whether I would earn a penny by fetching a quarten of gin—I said, "Yes"—he told me to go across to the Nightingale, and gave me a florin—I had no other florin in my pocket, only 1s.—I went to the Nightingale, asked for the gin, and put down the florin—the barmaid served the gin out, and then said the florin was bad—she handed it to another lady behind the bar—the landlord spoke to me—he then went out at one door and I at the other—I crossed the road to where I had left the prisoner, but he was not there—I walked across the road, whistled two or three times, and he came up—I put my hand in my pocket and said, "The gin," but I had not got the bottle—he stooped down to take it from me and the landlord took hold of him.
ELLEN RANSOM . I am barmaid at the Nightingale, which is kept by Mr. Drake—on the 9th November Davidson came in for a quarten of gin in a bottle, which I was to supply—it came to 7d.—I stood it on the counter, and he put down a florin, which I found was bad—I took the gin back—my mistress looked at the florin and gave it back to me—I gave it to the constable—the landlord went out at one door and the boy at the other.
JOHN GRAY . I keep the Nightingale public-house—on the 12th November I followed Davidson across the road to the corner of Church Street—he whistled once and the prisoner came up—the boy made an attempt as if to take a bottle out of his pocket till I came to him—I took him to my house and gave him in charge.
WILLIAM COOPER (Policeman 138 D). I took the prisoner at the Nightingale, public-house, and told him the charge—he said, "I know nothing about it, the boy has made a mistake, I had no money in my pocket"—I asked the boy twice if he was positive the prisoner was the man, he said, "Yes"—the barmaid gave me this florin (produced)—I found nothing on him.
Prisoner's Defence. I sold the ticket of a ring and received the florin as. a good one. I wanted a drop of gin to take into the Marylebone Theatre, and as there was a man there who I had quarrelled with, I sent the boy in. While he was gone a lady asked me the way to the Marylebone Road, and while I was pointing it out the boy whistled. I went to him, and the landlord took me. GUILTY .— Confined Six Months .
MESSRS. COLERIDGE and STRAIGHT conducted the Prosecution.
half a pint of beer—he put down a bad shilling—I laid it on the counter, and he took another out which was also bad—he said that he thought he had one bad one, but did not know he had two—I gave him in charge—he was taken to Clerkenwell Police-court, remanded, and discharged.
ROSA BASEDEN . I live with my brother, who keeps the Royal Standard, Shepherd's Bush—about two months ago in the evening the prisoner came for a glass of ale, and gave me 1s.—I bent it, told him it was bad, and gave it back to him—he said that he was not aware of it, and went out without drinking the ale—he came again about a month afterwards for threepenny worth of brandy and water, and gave me a half-crown—I bent it, gave it back to him, and told him it was bad—he said that be was not aware of it, and paid me with coppers—I told him if he came again we should lock him up—he left, taking the half-crown with him—about two months afterwards, in October, he came again for a glass of ale, paid one of the barman with a bad florin, and was locked up.
Prisoner. You did not see the half-crown; your sister took it. Witness. She gave it to me and I bent it—you frequent the house.
JOHN SMITH . On the 20th October I was barman at the Royal Standard—the prisoner came in between four and five o'clock that after-noon for a glass of sixpenny ale—he put down a florin—I bent it and told him it was bad—my master asked him if he had any money to pay for the ale—he said no, and my master sent for a policeman, to whom I gave the florin.
ALFRED RANKIN (Policeman 338 N). The prisoner was given in my custody with this florin—I searched him at the station and found four shillings, two sixpences, and 3d. in coppers—I told him the charge—he said that he did not know the florin was bad.
Prisoner's Defence. I was not aware they were bad, I had been in my situation two years, and was taking money every day.
GUILTY .— Confined Nine Months .
19. JOHN BARRETT (44), CORNELIUS BARRETT (34), and ELIZABETH BARRETT (26) , Unlawfully having in their possession a certain mould for making counterfeit coin, to which CORNELIUS BARRETT PLEADED GUILTY .— Ten Years' Penal Servitude .
MESSRS. COLERIDGE and STRAIGHT conducted the Prosecution, and MR. DALY Defended John Barrett.
JAMES BRANNAN . I live at No. 39, Radnor Street, St. Luke's, and am principally employed by the authorities of the Mint in carrying out their inquiries—I am also agent to the Inspector of Reformatories—on the 2nd of November I went with Fife and other officers to No. 5, George Street, Spitalfields, between two and three o'clock in the afternoon—on entering the street an alarm was given, and John Barrett's head, which was out of the window, disappeared—we proceeded with all speed to the second floor front room, which was found open by Inspector Fife—at the time we entered Cornelius Barrett was standing close to John at the table, and he swept off the table with his hand a quantity of crowns, some of
which dropped on the floor, and some he threw out at the open window—he was seized and secured—he resisted very violently—John Barrett sat down on a chair by the window, and I then saw Elizabeth Barrett take from a table a black bag—it is a very small room—she took up a packet from the table wrapped up in a rag, and threw it out of the window—I had stationed Inspector Broad at the door outside in the street—I seized the female prisoner's hand, having seen her take a crown off the mantel-piece, and endeavoured to get it—she said, "May God strike me b—dead if it is not a good one, Mr. Brannan"—I said, "I quite imagine it is, and the pattern piece from which the mould is taken"—I got it from her hand with some difficulty, and soon afterwards Inspector Broad brought in a parcel with nine crowns in it, which she threw out, and two half-crowns which Cornelius threw out—I found that some of them corresponded in date and marks with the one I took from Elizabeth—she resisted very violently—I saw the officers pick up off the floor a quantity of coin which was strewed about—there was a clear bright fire in the fireplace, and I found this ladle (produced) with a small portion of white metal in it, hot, but not melted—Inspector Broad found a file with white metal hanging to the teeth of it, as if it had been recently used—I recovered this packet, containing the fragments of a plaster of Paris mould for casting crowns, and which Broad said that he saw thrown out at the window—the prisoners heard that, but made no answer.
Cross-examined. Q. Are you sure you said at the police-court that an alarm was given? A. Yes, but it was not taken down—a man at the corner of the street gave the alarm, and we immediately rushed upstairs—we do not apply to be let in, unless it is by a sledge hammer—the room door was fastened, but not the street door—the prisoner John has been occasionally working at the Docks—I do not think he has ever been convicted—this was Cornelius's place—they are brothers—the female prisoner cohabits with Cornelius.
MR. COLERIDGE. Q. Was the room door locked? A. I do not know, we did not wait to try—Fife broke it open with a sledge hammer—I was present when the prisoners were committed, and heard Cornelius say that John was not guilty—he said, "This man is innocent"—Elizabeth was exceedingly violent.
JOHN FIFE (Police Inspector G). I went with Brannan and broke the panel of the door in—I saw Cornelius seize a quantity of coin, and throw it out at the window—Elizabeth was standing by the fireplace—she seized a bag and threw it out at the window—I found on the table seven counter-feit half-crowns.
JAMES BRANNAN (Police Inspector F). I went with the other officers—I found two bad crowns at Cornelius's feet, and this plaster of Paris, and a bottle of acid under the table—this knife was on the table, with plaster of Paris on it—Cornelius said, "You have, got me and the old woman to rights; my brother merely came up for a bit of grub, as he had been out of work six weeks; he is innocent."
WILLIAM BROAD (Police Inspector H). I went with the party and remained in the street—I saw Brannan and Fife go upstairs, and shortly afterwards I saw several pieces of coin thrown out at the window—I picked them up, and also a black parcel containing a mould and a file.
ARTHUR ELLIOTT (Police Sergeant 13 G). I am employed by Mr. Brannan in watching suspected places, and had been watching this house in Spitalfields about a week—I know the room in which Cornelius Barrett
lived—I have seen John go in and out there half a dozen times, and have seen him at the window—I had seen them together two days before—I saw John go in, and saw him at the window as well.
Cross-examined. Q. You were not of sufficient importance to be examined before the Magistrate? A. No; I was there—it was for the solicitor to the Treasury to call me—I had not told him what I now say—I was ordered by Mr. Brannan to be there—I had told him that I had seen John going in and out with Cornelius—Mr. Brannan told me to be here to-day, and he spoke to me since—he was cross-examined, and asked me if I could remember the days, and I said "Yes.
MR. COLERIDGE. Q. Does Mr. Brannan arrange about the witnesses going up? A. Yes—he told me to be in attendance at the police-court, and also here—I have been employed by him for many years in cases of this description, and knew that it was my duty to be in attendance.
WILLIAM WEBSTER . These fragments are parts of a mould for making crowns, here is part of the get—this piece has the same marks on it as the good crown, proving that this coin was used for making the mould—these eleven crowns are bad, and all were made in this mould—this metal is the same that the coins are made of—the plaster of Paris is used for making moulds—the acid is for charging the battery, and the file to file off the get, which is the aperture in the mould through which the metal is poured. John Barrett. This woman is my wife; she is innocent.
JOHN BARRETT— NOT GUILTY .ELIZABETH BARRETT— GUILTY .— Ten Years' Penal Servitude .
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, November 20th, 1866.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. GOUGH conducted the Prosecution, and MR. LEWIS the Defence.
ANN SKEGG . I am a servant, and live at No. 56, Burlington Road, Paddington—on Sunday evening, 21st October, about a quarter-past seven o'clock, I saw the prisoner and another man walking up and down on each side of the way opposite Mr. Answorth's house—at about half-past seven o'clock I saw the prisoner come off Mr. Answorth's steps with something shining in his hand, like a basket—(he had nothing when I first saw him)—the other man crossed the road to him, they walked to the side of a lamp-post, covered the basket over, and then walked up to me—I mentioned what I had seen to two policemen.
Cross-examined. Q. Where were you? A. I was standing at the top of the area steps, locking the gate—when he came off the steps he turned to the right, but he crossed the road right before my face, as near to me as you are—I had never seen him before—I next saw him at Marylebone
Police-station the next day—I went there with a policeman on Sunday afternoon, saw the prisoner with nine or more others, and pointed him out—I have not seen the other man.
MR. GOUGH. Q. When you first saw him near the prosecutor's house was there a lamp near? A. Yes, and he crossed opposite me, I saw his face and dress plainly, and am quite certain he is the man.
EMMA ANSWORTH . I am the prosecutor's wife, and live at No. 41, Burlington Road—on the night of 24th October I had an ornamental clock with a glass shade over it in the dining-room, which is downstairs—the dining-room door is six or seven feet from the front door—I saw the clock safe at a quarter to seven o'clock, and missed it at twenty minutes past—our house is opposite No. 56.
FREDERICK HALL (Policeman 233 X). I received information from the first witness—I examined the prosecutor's dining-room window and the railings that go up the steps—there were footmarks on the railings and on the window-sill, and a garden pot had been removed from the side to the centre of the window. NOT GUILTY .
MR. GOUGH conducted the Prosecution, and MR. LEWIS defended Murphy.
ISAAC TAYLOR . I am a carpenter, of No. 55, Queen Street, Edgware Road—on Saturday evening, 27th October, about a quarter to nine o'clock I was at the White Lion public-house, and saw Berry there, who I had seen about four years ago, but not since, as he robbed me then—I was quite sober—I did not speak to him, but he caught hold of my arm and chucked me round—I asked him what he did that for; he made no answer, but struck me on my breast, and struck my watch-guard up, saying, "You are not everybody, if you have got a guard on"—he struck me two or three times—I buttoned my coat up, and turned to go outside to get away from him, but he rushed at me, unbuttoned my coat, and struck me a violent blow on my eye—we struggled together and both fell on the floor inside, and I felt a tug at my watch, and then missed it—I immediately got up, and said, "He has stolen my watch"—he got up immediately, and I found my chain was gone, but my watch was still in my pocket—I said, "You have stolen my watch," and then I saw him pass something to Murphy, who I then saw for the first time—I said, "Stick to the door, and let no one go out till we get the police in"—Murphy rushed at me and struck me three times to get to the door, but I kept him in—he made a rush at another door and got out there—Berry stood in a fighting attitude till Murphy was gone—the police came in and I gave him in charge—my chain was worth about 8l.—I have not seen it since.
Cross-examined. Q. How many persons were in the house? A. There might be twenty, and most of them were prostitutes—I know that, because they are always walking about the streets—I did not speak to any of them—the landlord was there, not the potman—Berry did not say that he would go, he did not speak, he only struck me.
Berry. Q. Did you not come in and have something to drink with us? A. I have had nothing to drink for twelve months—I did not get into conversation with you.
Lion, and asked him what he had got to say about stealing the chain—he said, "I did not mean to steal it I did it for a lark"—I said, "Where is the chain now?"—he said, "I threw it over the bar"—I could not find it there.
Berry. Q. Was I not standing in the bar when you came in? A. Yes.
WILLIAM COLLIER . I am a carpenter, of No. 58, Camden Street, Notting Hill—I was standing in the White Lion, and saw both the prisoners strike the prosecutor—Murphy's hat was off on the ground—Berry said, "Run to the door"—they could not get out, and he said to me, "You b—, let me go"—I had not the presence of mind to stop him, but let him pass, and ran after him—he ran up the Edgware Road, and afterwards came back.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you run? A. Yes, and had him in sight a good part of the way, but he was out of my sight three or four minutes—he was about twenty yards before me as he ran.
MR. GOUGH. Q. Are you sure Berry is the man who ran. A. Yes.
Berry's Defence. I quarrelled with Taylor in the public-house about his bad work, and he caught me by the neck and knocked me against the door, when thirty or forty people came between us and stopped the fight. I never touched his watch-guard. I did not say that I threw the watch and chain over the bar. If so, how could he have his watch? I never saw Murphy in my life, and did not know he was in the house. Taylor and the bricklayer were the worse for drink. I did not say that I did it for a lark. I defy any person to say that I ever committed felony, or was at any police-court in the kingdom. Taylor says that I robbed him four years ago. If so, why was I not brought before a Magistrate the same as now? I am a working man, and no thief.
MURPHY— GUILTY. He was further charged with having been before convicted of felony, in July, 1861,to which he PLEADED GUILTY.**— Ten Years' Penal Servitude . BERRY— GUILTY .— Confined Twelve Months .
MR. LEWIS conducted the Prosecution, and MR. GOUGH the Defence.
SAMUEL OBEE (City Policeman 99). I was at the top corner of Cheap-side on Lord Mayor's day about a quarter past three o'clock, and saw a lady in front of a gentleman—the prisoner pulled the lady's dress out a little way—the gentleman pulled him away, and at the same time the prisoner put something into his right-hand pocket—he made a rush and got away—I was shoved on one side, but followed him to King Street, where I laid hold of him and told him I wanted him for robbing a lady—he twisted and tried to get away—Whitney, who was with me, put his hand in the prisoner's trousers pocket and took out this purse (produced)—I took him to the station, and found on him a tobacco pouch and this Albert chain, which he was wearing without a watch—he refused his address.
Cross-examined. Q. Were the streets very much crowded, and a great many rough characters about, and a great many practical jokes being played? A. Yes, and hats were being thrown in the air—there were lots of people near the prisoner, but I was close to the prisoner—the gentleman pulled him from the lady—I was then pushed by the crowd, and he got away, and immediately he got away he put his hand in his trousers pocket.
MR. LEWIS. Q. Are you certain he is the man who put his hand to his side? A. Yes—I have known him twelve months or more.
GEORGE WHITNEY (City Policeman 98). I was with Obee—I have heard his evidence, it is correct, but I did not see the gentleman pull the prisoner—I saw the prisoner go down Cheapside, and I had him in sight the whole time—I took from his righthand trousers pocket this purse, containing a pair of common earrings and two duplicates. NOT GUILTY .
MR. HOUSTON conducted the Prosecution, and MR. DALY the Defence.
CHARLES ISAAC SWIFT . I am a wholesale boot and shoe manufacturer, of 99, High Street, Camden Town—I have dealt with Mr. Cohen, and in October I owed him 10l. 11s.—the prisoner called on me for the amount and I gave him this cheque (read:—"National Bank, Pay Mr. Cohen or order 10l. 11s., Charles I. Swift," endorsed "L. Cohen")—it was not crossed—I had given the prisoner cheques previously.
Cross-examined. Q. Have you any of them here? A. No, I was not asked at the police-court whether the endorsement was the same.
ALBERT RICHARDS . I am clerk in the National Bank, Camden Town—Mr. Swift keeps an account there—this cheque was produced on the 11th October with this endorsement on it—I paid it in cash, but I do not remember to whom, or whether I made any inquiry of the person.
Cross-examined. Q. Have you paid other cheques of Mr. Swift's? A. Yes, I cannot recollect the endorsements on them.
LEWIS COHEN . I am a bootmaker, of 1, Nelson Street, Stepney—Mr. Swift is a customer of mine and owed me 10l. 11s. on 11th October, which I have not received—the prisoner was in my employ—this "Lewis Cohen" at the back of the cheque is his writing and not mine—I have never authorised him to sign my name or to endorse it to a cheque—he has not paid me any money on account of this cheque—I first saw it on 14th October, I think in Mr. Swift's hand—he sent for my banker, and he fetched it and gave it me.
Cross-examined. Q. Where do you carry on business? A. I, Nelson Street—I have been there over twelve months, and was in King Edward Street, Mile End New Town, for five years—I keep no books—it is not an extensive business, only about 600l. or 700l. a year—my mistress has brought a book which she keeps—I can only write my name and the word "paid." (The witness here wrote his name and the word "paid," at Mr. Daly's request.) I know the prisoner's writing very well—this is his regular writing—he had not to collect money for me—his duty was to sell goods and deliver the money to me at night—he was sometimes paid on cheques—he would very often pay my mistress—if she had gone to bed he would not pay her, because I was up at most times—I always asked her if he had paid, but sometimes he received no payment—he would come sometimes at ten and sometimes at eleven at night—I have been at the theatre two or three times since he has been with me, but I always went home when the first piece was over, at half-past nine, and waited for him—I paid my money to go into the theatre, and then went home to wait
for my traveller—I used to require the money very often that he collected to pay my workpeople—it never occurred that I had not money enough to pay them until be came home—I pay 40l. or 50l. a week, and keep that amount in my house—I never told him not to take crossed cheques—he sometimes brought them—I have no banker—I paid them to a leather-cutter, who changed them for me—I told the prisoner to accept all cheques given to him—he used not to sign receipts in my name—he never signed my name except when he took money from customers, and I do not know that he signed my name then; so long as he always brought me the money, I was always satisfied—I did not go to persons to inquire—he did not tell me that he could not bring me the money that night because the cheques were made payable to order—I never said, "So long as you bring me the money, I do not care what you sign," or anything like it—he did not tell me that he had signed an endorsement on a cheque, and I never knew that he had done so—I never knew that he had obtained money by signing my name, nor did I take the money afterwards—when he took this cheque he ran away—I then went round to the customers, and found he had taken a cheque from Mr. Swift and allowed five per cent, discount, which was more than I allow.
MR. HOUSTON. Q. When he received money did he sign your name? A. He signed his name first and then he signed "Paid," but I cannot read.
PRISCILLA COHEN . I am the wife of the last witness and keep his books—the endorsement to this cheque is not his writing, but the prisoner's—that amount has never been paid to me by him or accounted for in any way—I have never seen him write my husband's name by his authority.
Cross-examined. Q. Is it in his ordinary writing? A. Yes—I have got a book with me which I keep Mr. Swift's account in—this is it (produced)—I have received nothing on that account on 11th October—I keep no cash-book, only this book—I make the entry here at the time the goods go out—the account is 11l. 2s.—I write "Settled," when he brings the money; he pays Mr. Cohen sometimes, but I am there always to write it down—if we were out, he used to stand at the door or go inside and wait till we came in, but it was not often that we were out—he did not sleep in the house—we only went to the theatre two or three times in a year—we got home sometimes at eleven, and sometimes earlier—the first piece is over at nine or ten—we did not always leave when the first piece was over, but sometimes we left and went back again—the theatre is about five minutes' walk from our house—it is the Effingham—I only found the prisoner waiting in the street twice—he was paid by commission, two and a half per cent. I think—I gave money to Mr. Cohen—I sometimes paid the prisoner his commission—he did not deduct it out of the money he paid—it would be reckoned up a couple of hours before he came home—I used to put down what he brought home in this book, but I did not always put down the dates of the month—I know Mr. Swift's bill is not paid, because I have not got "Settled" here—Mr. Cohen used not some-times to send his father-in-law with the prisoner—when we came home from the theatre Mr. Cohen would fetch the book and pen and ink into the kitchen—the books were locked up, but the key was in the warehouse—we took it with us if we went out.
MR. HOUSTON. Q. If you were not at home, would the prisoner wait? A. yes; his salary was 1l. a week and two and a half per cent, commission, with the use of a horse and cart.
MOSES WILSON (Policeman 665 A.). I took the prisoner on 16th October—he was first charged with embezzlement—he was twice remanded, and afterwards this charge was preferred—he said it was done through drink. GUILTY — Confined Twelve Months .
MR. LILLEY. conducted the Prosecution.
MICHAEL SHEHAN . I am a seaman—on 7th November I was lodging at the Sailors' Home, Whitechapel, and about ten o'clock in the evening I was in the highway—I had had very little to drink, and was as sober as I am now—the prisoner came behind, put his arm over my shoulder and his hand on my mouth; another person then came up very quickly, and they got me down between them, and one of them took my money from my pockets very quickly and ran away—I ran after them, kept close to them, and kept the prisoner in sight till he was stopped by a policeman, and I charged him—they did not strike me—I lost from 18s. to 1l., which I had felt safe a quarter of an hour before.
JAMES BRAYBROOK (Policeman 92 H). I was on duty in St. George's Street East about 150 yards off, and saw a number of persons running towards me, but they turned up Prince's Street—I ran towards them, turned up Prince's Court, met the prisoner running as hard as he could, and stopped him—all the others were following him, crying out, "Stop thief"—Wigley came up first, and said something, and then Shehan came up and said, in the prisoner's presence, "That is the man that robbed me"—Shehan was very much exhausted—Wigley said that he was one of the two who were running, but he did not see him rob the man—going to the station Wigley said in the prisoner's hearing, "I believe that man (the prisoner) has given something to that girl"—that was a girl named Hunt, who was taken in custody—I took them both to the station, but nothing was found on either of them.
Prisoner's Defence. I heard a cry of "Stop thief," and ran towards the head of the crowd. I turned down the court, and ran into the policeman's arms. GUILTY .— Confined Twelve Months .
MR. LEWIS conducted the Prosecution.
GEORGE ALFRED FLEET . I am porter to Mr. Desaxe, an umbrella maker, of Addle Street—it was my duty to act under the prisoner's directions—I have taken umbrellas, by his directions, in wrappers with his name on them, to the Lancashire Coffee-house, London Wall, twice, if not more; and four or five times, or more, to the Crown, Lower Whitecross Street—there appeared to be three or four in each package.
Prisoner. Q. Have you ever seen me bring parcels in? A. No, I have seen you walk in with an umbrella in your hand on a wet morning—the instructions you gave me were to say, "Can I leave this here in charge for Mr. Cook?"
LOUIS STEINGRABER . I keep the Crown coffee-house—the prisoner was in the habit of coming there for refreshment—parcels and umbrellas were left there for him, very likely a dozen times, which he took away.
Prisoner. Q. Will you swear that all the parcels contained umbrellas? A. I cannot, but they were nearly all alike; none of them contained a pair of boots.
MORRIS DESAXE . I am an umbrella manufacturer, of Addle Street—the prisoner has been in my service ten months previous to 14th September—these umbrellas are mine, and were removed from my stock without my authority—I took stock on 20th October and found a considerable deficiency.
Prisoner. Q. Had you any suspicion of my robbing you during the time I was in your employment? A. Not the slightest.
COURT. Q. Was he entitled to give instructions to the boy? A. Not to leave umbrellas at coffee-houses, but the boy was right in acting under him.
JOSEPH WILLIAM THORPE (City Policeman 199). On 3rd November I took the prisoner and charged him with stealing a quantity of umbrellas—he was taken to Moor Lane station and charged with stealing ten dozen umbrellas—he said, "Not so many as that"—I conveyed him to the cell, and as I was about closing the door he said, "I may as well make a clean breast of it; the most I ever took was about two dozen"—I asked him what he had done with them—he told me he had pledged two or three lots at Mrs. Harrison's, in Aldersgate Street, and three or four lots in Newgate Street—I searched him and found 14s. 2 1/2;d. on him and some betting cards.
Prisoner's Defence. I admit giving instructions that the umbrellas should go out, but it was with a very different motive to that imputed to me. The parcels contained four or five each, and he is correct in saying six parcels. I took about twenty umbrellas altogether. I totally deny stealing them or pawning them, but one or two friends asked me to get them umbrellas a little cheaper than they could get them at the retail place. I said, "Yes," and took out two or three for them to choose from. In doing so I have acted wrongly, but I paid the money I received for them to the managing clerk. If I charged them anything I took it for myself, as my salary was not enough to keep me. I have been guilty of a very silly action, but nothing for which he ought to have branded me with the name of felon. He does the second largest business in London, and it is only feasible that a few of his umbrellas should get into pawnshops by other means than mine, and neither of the pawnbrokers swear to me, whereas if I had taken as many as he says I should have been pretty well known. I had six years' good character when I went to him from Messrs. Ellis, Howell, and Co. GUILTY .— Confined Twelve Months .
29. WILLIAM YOUNG (60) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing two dozen knives, 388 spoons, and other articles, the property of James Brooks; also to stealing four gross of rings and other articles of Edward Worthington. He received a good character.— Confined Six Months .
He received a good character.— Confined Twelve Months . [Pleaded guilty:See original trial image.]
31. HENRY HAYWOOD ( ), to stealing on 10th October twenty-four boxes of pills and one bottle of syrup, and on 11th October one bottle of essence of Rondeletia, six bottles of pills, six packets of powders, and three boxes of pills, of George Barclay and another, his masters.— Judgment respited.
32. JOSEPH THOMAS HAND (52) , to three indictments for embezzling the sums of 8l. 15s., 29l. 10s., and 504l. 11s. 6d. of Frank Morrison and another, his masters.— Five Years' Penal Servitude . [Pleaded guilty:See original trial image.]
33. HENRY WILLIS (17) and ALFRED DUKE (15) , to burglariously breaking and entering the dwellinghouse of Henry Bolton, and stealing a gold watch and other articles, his property, Drake having been previously convicted. WILLIS— Confined Nine Months. DRAKE**—. Three Years in Feltham Reformatory [Pleaded guilty:See original trial image.]
35. WILLIAM CURTAIN** (15) , to stealing a handkerchief from the person of George Furzer, having been before convicted in July, 1866.— Confined Three Months, and then Five Years in a Reformatory. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
36. ARTHUR MOORE (20) , to burglariously breaking and entering the dwellinghouse of Hugh Oxenham, and stealing therein two curtains and other articles, his property.— Confined Nine Months. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]And,
OLD COURT—Tuesday, November 20th; and
~THIRD COURT—Wednesday and Thursday, November, 21st and 22nd, 1866.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MESSRS. SLEIGH, MONTAGU WILLIAMS, and STARLING conducted the Prosecution; and MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE, with MESSRS. COOPER, TURNER, and GRIFFITHS, the Defence.
CHARLES STANLEY . I am chief usher at the Marylebone Police-court—I was present on 31st August at the hearing of a charge against two persons named Dye and Pearce for burglary—I know the defendant—he is a constable in the S division of police—he gave evidence on that occasion upon the charge against Dye and Pearce—I administered the oath to him.
Cross-examined by MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. Were you at the trial of Barry, who was acquitted? A. Yes—I have had conversations, several times with the lads Dye and Pearce—I took them to get some refreshment at a public-house in the neighbourhood of this court; we were all in company together, Pearce, Dye, Blackburne, and Potts, and they asked me how I thought the case would get on—I said I could not tell—Pearce said, "If they get off, what can they do to us?"—I said, "I don't know at all"—he then said, "We don't wish to hurt them; we hope they will get off; we got off, and if they get off, that will be trick and tie," meaning "that will be both alike"—he said he had no wish to hurt the constables; they were satisfied with getting off, and if they were driven into it, or brought into it, if they should be charged, they should
expect Mr. Ivory to be in with them, as it was through him they made the charge.
MR. SLEIGH Q. Where was this conversation? A. At the public-house opposite, on the Thursday; it was more than once they asked the same question, but it was on the Thursday particularly, the first day of the trial—I believe Mr. Ivory is the employer of one of the lads—there were several persons in the bar at the time of this conversation, but no one paying any attention to us—it was an open conversation—we were all together—I was having something to drink with them—I paid for it—they said they had not received anything, and I asked them to have some-thing to drink—I am an officer of the police-court and a witness for the prosecution with them—I was ordered to be here—I received a subpoena on the part of the defence last evening.
WILLIAM CHARLES HODGKINSON . I am a clerk in the. office of the Clerk of the Peace, Clerkenwell—I produce the original depositions of Dye and Pearce at the police-court—I also produce the indictment against the same persons for attempted housebreaking—the verdict was "Not Guilty."
Cross-examined by MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. Whose handwriting is this? A. Mine—I took the charge from Barry and Hayes. (The charge was, "being found in the enclosed garden of No. 63, Gloucester Crescent, St. Pancras, supposed for an unlawful purpose; further, with burglariously breaking and entering the above house.")The words "burglariously," &c., were not added till about nine o'clock in the morning, after the constables had been and professed to have found the state the house was in—the nature of the charge was altered from that information—it was twenty minutes to two o'clock when the young men were brought to the station—I have got the time accurately—it is part of my duty to book the time; I do not speak by guess, but positively—Barry and Hayes were in plain clothes as detectives—I had given them certain orders—I know what their line. of duty was; it would take them to Gloucester Crescent; that was where I ordered them to go, and patrol in that neighbourhood—I know Eversholt Street; they would not have the slightest business there, if they were there at all they would be entirely out of the line of their duty, they would be off the ground to which they were sent—Mr. Dollman's house is about a mile from the station—I know the Stationers' Arms public-house; that would be also out of their beat—supposing persons taken into custody at Gloucester Crescent, I should think the most direct way for the constables to take them to the station would be down Mornington Road, Stanhope Street, and across Cumberland Market into the station—I should think that would be the nearest road, that is the way I should have taken any one if I had taken them—that would be a route frequented by policemen, they would meet with about six or seven policemen that way I believe.
COURT. Q. Do you mean "meet" or "pass?" A. They would meet them, as they work that way, they all work to the right.
MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. You would reckon on their meeting that number of policemen? A. I should; supposing they came right down Albany Street, they would only pass two, even if they had the chance of meeting them—Albany Street is a straight beat, and there are only two policemen from the York and Albany to the station door—it would most decidedly be the proper course for them to take prisoners along a route
where there might be assistance in the event of any attempt at rescue—there had been a good many burglaries in this neighbourhood, and it was in consequence of those burglaries that an extra number of policemen were stationed in plain clothes.
Q. When had Barry and Hayes gone on duty? A. I did not see Hayes till he brought the prisoners in, but Barry at twelve o'clock at night was waiting at the station for Hayes to come—their duty was to go out at twelve o'clock—Hayes did not come to the station till twenty minutes to two o'clock, the time he brought the prisoners; but he sent a policeman in; that was Small, and in consequence of Small's message I sent Barry immediately to him—I saw nothing more of them till they brought the prisoners—after they had brought in the prisoners they went out again on duty—it would be the proper course of their duty to go up to the house where they said they had taken the prisoners, to see whether there were any appearances necessary to take notice of—I do not know that they went, only from what I was told.
Q. Supposing there were appearances about the house of an attempt to break into it, but no appearance to indicate that an entry had been made, would it be the duty of the constables to wake up the inmates, or to wait in the neighbourhood? A. To wait in the neighbourhood—in matters of this kind the possibility of accomplices is not lost sight of—if they waited watching the premises until daylight, and then woke up the inmates, that would be in the ordinary and proper course of their duty—the time at which they left the station after giving the parties in charge was from five to ten minutes before two o'clock—they brought them in at the back door, and placed them in the dock, I then pushed up the window of my office and took their names and addresses, and after I had done that I took the charge-sheet and walked round into the room where they were, and took the charge, and it was then twenty minutes to two o'clock, it very possibly might have been three minutes before that that they came in—both Hayes and Barry gave the charge—Hayes was the first that spoke; he said, "I charge these two young men with being found in the enclosed garden of No. 63, Gloucester Crescent"—I then said to him, "Are these the young men you were watching when you sent into the station at twelve o'clock?"—he said, "Yes"—he had not anything in his hand at that time that I saw—neither of the constables had that I saw—he made this statement in the hearing of the two young men—neither of them said anything then—I then took down the charge, and read it over to them, and one of them, I could not say which, said, "We were not there," and the other one said, "No, Eversholt Street"—a knife was afterwards produced by Hayes, and he told me he had found it in the garden; that was said in their presence, they must have heard him, because they were not standing two yards from him—neither of them made any remark, not in my hearing—I should have heard them if they had—I do not know how long Hayes has been in the force, I think not above three or four years—he has been under me, or rather I do duty in the station, he has a sergeant looking after him doing duty in the streets—he has borne a very good character indeed, steady, regular, and truthful; if he had not borne the character of a good constable he would not have been put in plain clothes—I saw the prisoners searched—this knife was not taken from them in my presence—I saw them searched—I saw everything that was taken—no knife was taken from them at the station—I think there were two or three matches, they were thrown into the grate; when persons are brought to the station with short pipes
or matches we generally throw them away—supposing the young men were taken into custody in Eversholt Street, I should take them down Eversholt Street, up Seymour Street, Bedford Street, across Ampthill Square, Edward Street, across Cumberland Market, up Ernest Street into the station—I know the place where Small was on duty—they would be taken past there, coming from Eversholt Street; that would be a part of his beat.
MR. SLEIGH. Q. While Hayes has been in the force has he not been reported? A. Yes, I believe he has; I can't say how often, perhaps two or three times—he would not have been reported if he had not neglected his duty.
MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. Was the report made to you? A. No, to the Superintendent—I do not know anything of that.
MR. SLEIGH. Q. Within your knowledge, has he not been reported for not properly working on his beat? A. No, I can't say that he has—I cannot say he has not—if I was on day duty and he was on night duty I should not know anything about his duties—I know he has been reported, what for I don't know—I do not know that he was in the service of Mr. Curling, of Davies's Wharf, before he came into the police force—I do not know whether Mr. Curling is here—I do not know whether he was in the employ of Mr. Scovel, of Hibernia Wharf—I did not inquire into his character when he joined the police, so I do not know anything at all about it—I can't say what kind of plain clothes Hayes and Barry had on—I can't say that one of them had an umbrella in his hand—I cannot say that he had not—I don't believe that one of them had a light coat on—I don't remember it—I could not swear that he had—I don't believe that either of them had a light coat on—I will not swear he had not, because I don't know whether he had or not—I would not swear to a thing I am not positive of—I don't believe Barry had an umbrella in his hand; I did not see one, not to notice it—if the constables saw persons of a suspicious character it would be their duty to follow them, up Eversholt Street, or any other street—it would not be their duty, upon seeing the window of a house lifted, immediately to alarm the people in the house, because they told me the shutters were not opened—it was their duty to wait till daylight and not to alarm the persons in the house—the shutters were closed, and there was no proof that any person had entered the house—I should think it would be folly on the part of the policemen to alarm the persons if they saw the shutters undisturbed—I have never heard of persons getting into a house and fastening the shutters after them when they were in the house committing their depredations—I don't say it would be more likely that they would leave the shutters open to be seen by anybody passing by—it was no part of the officers' duty to alarm the persons till the proper time of waking from their rest, just before they came off duty—they would come off duty at six o'clock—if I had been on duty I should have awoke them, so as to have had time to search the house before I came off duty—I should not wait till the last moment before coming off duty, but so as to have time to get to the station at the proper time, six o'clock—if I was confident in my own mind that no person had entered the house, I should not think it right to ring the bell to ascertain whether I was right or wrong in that conjecture, I should use my own judgment upon that—it would be the duty of the constables to go back to the house immediately after leaving their prisoners at the station—the officers left before me, and I was away before two—when they brought the lads in I did not see anything
in the hands of either of the constables—it was after they had been searched that I saw the knife—the charge was booked first, then they were searched, and then for the first time I saw the knife—when they came in with the lads I did not see a knife in the hand of either of them—I can't say that I must have seen it if that had been so, most likely I should not.
MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. When you first saw the knife was it open or shut? A. Open; I am positive it was not upon the person of either of the lads when they were searched—as to awaking the inmates of the house, a constable must exercise his own judgment under the emergency—if my judgment assured me there was nobody in the house I should wait until I had time to awake the inmates before going off my beat—that is the course I should pursue.
JOHN RONALDSON LYALL . I produce the original depositions—I took down in writing the evidence given by Hayes at the police-court—it was read over to him, and signed by him (read:—"I am a police-constable, 81 S. Last night, about twelve o'clock, I was in Mornington Road with Barry, 99 S. I saw the two prisoners standing at the corner for about ten minutes; they then went up Mornington Road. About half-past one I saw them in the garden of No. 63, Gloucester Crescent. I leaped over the wall and caught the prisoner Dye, and Pearce was taken into custody by Barry in the garden. I found this knife. We took them to the station, and at the station the prisoner Dye said, 'That is my knife.' The other prisoner said, 'Yes, I sharpened it for you.' I and Barry went back to the house, and saw that the latch of the area window had been forced open, and some pieces of the sash lay on the window-ledge—the knife fitted the marks exactly. I found this chisel in the area. Cross-examined. The knife was not taken from the pocket of the prisoner.")
Cross-examined. Q. There were other witnesses, were there not? A. There were Mary Ann Northcote and William Barry, the other constable—the usual caution was given by the Magistrate to the prisoners—they were asked if they had anything to say, and Pearce said, "I was taken in charge for nothing"—the other prisoner said nothing—Eversholt Street was not mentioned at the examination by anybody.
MR. SLEIGH. Q. When they were examined on the first occasion was anybody examined besides the two officers? A. Yes, Mary Ann North-cote, Mr. Dollman's servant—the lads had no professional assistance on that occasion, but the case was closed that day—the depositions were finished—I cannot say whether Mr. Ivory, the master of one of the lads, came to the court afterwards on that day—they were remanded for a week, but that was for other cases that might be brought against them, not for this case—a solicitor did not then appear for them—it was a Mr. Sayers, a clerk from the office of Mr. Lewis, of Great Marlborough Street, who is now instructing you—Mr. Sayers asked me about the case; I told him that it was completed, and when the case was brought before the Magistrate (I think it was a different Magistrate, but I can't be sure about that) I told the Magistrate that the case was completed, and he, on my assurance that it was so, committed them for trial immediately, and Mr. Sayers said, "Then I have nothing to say"—evidence was not tendered on the part of the defence, nor did the Magistrate refuse to hear it; he said no evidence could be heard, because the case had been completed—Mr. Sayers did not tender any evidence—I recollect now what did occur, Mr. Sayers knew that the case was closed, and to the best of my recollection he said, "As the case is closed, I suppose you will not hear any witnesses for the
defence, "and the Magistrate said, "No "—I said to the constable (I do not know which was in the box at the time), "Any fresh evidence to-day?" and he said, "No"—I don't think the Magistrate said anything.
MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. Did either of the lads on their original examination express any wish to wait for witnesses, or say they had any? A. No, not any at all.
HENRY THOMPSON . I reside at Kingswood Cottage, Walworth—I am a reporter at the Middlesex Sessions—I knew the usher who administered the oath to the defendant—he is since dead—I saw the oath administered to Hayes in the prosecution against Pearce and Dye—I took the evidence of Hayes in that case—I produce my notes of it—(read:—" I am a police constable, 81 S—I remember the 30th of August coming on duty in Mornington Crescent in plain clothes—a little before twelve my attention was attracted to the two prisoners, who were standing at the corner of Mornington Road—after that I saw the police constable Small on his beat—they stood there about twenty minutes—I met Small, and in consequence of something I said to Small he went to the station to fetch another constable—police constable Barry, 99 S, came to me afterwards; this was about twenty minutes past twelve—the prisoners went up the Mornington Road, that is in the direction of Gloucester Crescent—I lost sight of them at the corner of Gloucester Crescent, and the next I saw of them was in the garden of No. 63, Gloucester Crescent—that was past one o'clock, but I do not know exactly—I jumped over the wall, it is about four and a half feet high—I put my hands upon it—I caught hold of the prisoner Dye—Pearce got over the wall, and Barry took him outside—I found a knife in the garden—at the station I produced the knife—Dye said, "That is my knife"—Pearce said, "Yes, I sharpened it for you"—I had found the knife in the front garden—I examined the area and window—it had been forced and the latch pushed back, and the window lifted up two or three inches—I also found this chisel (produced) in the area—I had got the knife with me at the time—there were some marks on the windows, and two or three shavings taken off and laid on the window-ledge—I compared the knife with the marks I found on the window in the presence of the servant, and they corresponded—the first time I saw these lads was a little before twelve o'clock at the corner of Mornington Road—Small is here to-day—he was not examined before the police Magistrate, because this defence was not set up at the first hearing—I did not say one word about Small in my evidence before the Magistrate, I did not mention his name—I have made inquiries about these lads since this charge was preferred—I found out that Dye was in the employment of Mr. Ivory, and Pearce in the employ of Mr. Brooks—the lad Dye gave his address No. 18, Bayham Place, Camden Town, and I could not find it—he gave me No. 18—I asked at No. 18 if there was another 18, and they said no—I did not take the trouble to inquire at the next house or at the house opposite—I believe there is a No. 18 A—I was informed that Mrs. Dye, his mother, lived at No. 18 A—I gave an answer to the Court that I had been to No. 18, Bayham Place, and found that no such person lived there—I was told there was a No. 18 A by a constable since, but I was told here not to answer more than I was asked—I know the Stationers' Arms, at the corner of High Street and Warren Street, Camden Town—I did not happen to go there that night—I do not know the proprietor of the house—I know the house well—I mean to tell you and the gentlemen of the jury, on that night I was not in the Stationers' Arms public-house—and Barry were not together in this
public-house on that evening before twelve o'clock that night—I was not in the Stationers' Arms in company with Barry, because at twelve o'clock I had not seen him. Mr. Sleigh. Let Thomas Grocer, George Ostler, and Mr. Wright come into court. (Three witnesses enter the court.) Mr. Sleigh. "You see those gentlemen?" Witness. "Yes." Mr. Sleigh. "Let them leave the court again." Cross-examination continued. "I adhere to the answer I have given, that I and Barry were not in the Stationers' Arms on that night—I never saw Barry until he was sent from the station-house—I did not stay there till past one o'clock in the morning, when the house was closed—I was not near to it—I and Barry took these lads into custody—I saw them both in the garden—one was taken outside—Pearce jumped over the wall—I took Dye actually in the garden—I know Evers-holt Street—it was about a mile, or a little over, from the garden where I saw these lads, and where they were taken into custody—there is not a great deal of difference between Eversholt Street and Gloucester Crescent from the station—we did not pass Eversholt Street to go to the station—they were taken to the Albany Station—I was not in Eversholt Street or neighbourhood between one and two o'clock in the morning—I had no business there—I was not in company with Barry in or close to Eversholt Street between one and two o'clock in the morning—Eversholt Street is a mile from the station—The prisoners were taken through Mornington Road, Stanhope Street, across Cumberland Market, to our station in Albany Street—those are the streets we passed through, although we crossed other streets—we did not pass through Albany Street, because we were more likely to meet with assistance in passing through Mornington Road—that was a straighter road than going through Albany Street—Eversholt Street leads into King Street, Camden Town—I saw no man in a fit in the neighbourhood of Eversholt Street on that night—I was in plain clothes, and the other officer too—I had no umbrella with me, but I do not remember if Barry had or not—it is not true that I and Barry spoke to these lads or pushed them—it is not true that I followed these lads down High Street—I and the other officer did not get into a hansom cab—why should we do so?—it is not true that I took the prisoners into custody in Eversholt Street—it is not true that I said, "I have got one, and you take another, and so let us have a couple of them"—it is not true that I took those lads through Lidlington Street, that we stopped at the post office, and went from there to the station-house—we did not go through Mornington Crescent, but passed the end of it—I went to Mr. Dollman's house, in whose garden we had seen the prisoners, at past three o'clock—we rang the bell for the people in the house, and it was daylight when the people came—these lads were deposited in the station-house before two o'clock—they were in the station-house at that time—before we rang the bell we went into the garden and examined the window, and found the window had been lifted two or three inches, and two or three bits of shaving were lying on the window—after seeing the knife I examined it with the marks on the window when I got into the house—it was getting on for five o'clock at that time—the chisel was in the area, and the knife was in the garden close by Dye. Q. Do you adhere to the statement that you found the knife there? A. Yes. Q. Do you adhere to the statement you made here to-day, that the knife was not taken from the lad in the station-house? A. Certainly—I searched him in the station-house in the presence of others, but I took the knife into the station-house open in my hand. Q. Is it your duty when you take persons into custody at the
station-house to report to the sergeant on duty what you find on them? A. Yes, but this knife was not found on the person of the prisoner, it was found in the garden. Q. If it was taken from the prisoner on being searched, would it be your duty to have it entered on the charge-sheet? A. Yes, it is my duty to search any one taken into custody, unless it is a female—it is my duty to sign the charge-sheet. Mr. Sleigh. Q. I ask you whether in the presence of the sergeant and inspector this lad did not say, "This is my knife?" A. Yes, before I searched him—I said so before. Mr. Payne. He was not cross-examined as to any of these things before the Magistrate? A. No, they were committed for trial—on the first occasion when the prisoners were brought before the Magistrate there was no professional man—Pearce said it was false. Mr. Sleigh. Q. On the occasion of the remand did not the solicitor who instructs me say he had an ample defence, and the Magistrate said it was no use to hear a professional man, as he was determined to send the case for trial? A. Yes.")
CHARLES PEARCE . I live at No. 15, Johnson Street, Somer's Town, with my parents—I am in the employment of Mr. Ivory, a pianoforte manufacturer, at Brooks's factory, Cumberland Market—I had been in his employ about ten months previous to this transaction—I know Dye—he is a companion and friend of mine—I remember the night of the 30th August—on that night I met Dye in a place called the "Slips" in the Regent's Park—I should think it was a little before eight o'clock—I did not part company with him at all that night—I was with him during the whole night until we were taken into custody—I know Gloucester Crescent—I was not in Gloucester Crescent that night—I was not in the garden of the house No. 63—a chap of the name of Gregory was with me in the "Slips" besides Dye, another one of the name of Blackburn, and George Potts, and a young girl of the name of Phoebe Glue—I could not say for certain what time it was when we left the "Slips," but it was about a quarter past eight—we went to the Regalia public-house, in Augusta Street—Gregory, Blackburn, and Potts were with us there—Phoebe Glue had left us—we stayed at the Regalia until about twenty minutes past eleven, and then went to the York and Albany public-house—that was the nearest point that we were to Gloucester Crescent—I do not know the house that was supposed to have been broken—I should say Gloucester Crescent was about 150 yards from the York and Albany—we stayed at the York and Albany till they shut up, twelve o'clock—Gregory, Dye, Potts, and Blackburn were with me up to that time—when we left there we went down Park Street into Smith's, the one o'clock house, the Camden Stores, at the corner of Grove Street and Park Street—it was about ten minutes or a quarter past twelve when we got to Smith's—all the persons I have named were with me except Glue—she joined us again at the York and Albany before we got to the one o'clock house—we walked straight into Smith's and called for some ale—all of us went in—I believe Glue went in with us—we remained there till about five minutes to one—after we left there we walked down Park Street, turned down by the Britannia, down High Street, till we got to the corner of Warren Street, where we saw some young chaps standing outside the Stationers' Arms—from what I have learnt since, I wanted to fight some of them—a young chap told me I wanted to fight him—I had been drinking a good deal of beer that evening—I had known those young men by sight—I first saw the defendant Hayes when I got to the Stationers' Arms—Barry was with him—they
were standing outside the Stationers' Arms—they were both dressed in private clothes—one of them, Barry, had an umbrella in his hand—I could not swear which one had a light coat, but I know one had a light overcoat—there was a little bit of a row with our party and the others outside the Stationers' Arms, and we walked down Camden Town—the constables followed us—when we got about a hundred yards down there was a man in a fit—we stopped to look at him, and one of the constables said, "Sling your dannel"—he said that to Blackburn, who was with us—we then walked across the road to the other side of High Street, and Barry poked Blackburn in the back with his umbrella—then we ran, and they ran a little way, and Blackburn and Dye turned round King Street—I and Gregory and Phoebe Glue ran straight down Camden Town—our party and Dye and Blackburn met again at the corner of High Street at the perambulator maker's—they would go down King Street, round Bayham Street, and round Earl's Terrace—we were all together at the bottom of High Street, except Potts—he left Smith's public-house two or three minutes before we did, and went home—that was before the poking in the back with the umbrella—when we were at the corner of High Street we stood bidding Blackburn good night, because he lives up Kentish Town—we bade him good night at the corner of Eversholt Street—that is just across the road—before Blackburn had left us we had crossed the road, and stood at the chemist's shop at the corner of Eversholt Street—it was there that Blackburn left us—we then went straight down Eversholt Street—we had gone half-way down Eversholt Street, and Dye ran on ahead—he did not run, he went a little quicker than we—I asked where he was going—he turned round and said he was going round the corner to make water—he went round Crawley Mews, and when he got round there Hayes and Barry were there, and knocked him down—I and Glue and Gregory were on the right side of the road coming from Camden Town—the constables and Dye were on the opposite side—they took Dye into custody, and they were bringing him across the road, and Gregory and Glue ran up, and I said, "What is the matter?" and Hayes said to Barry, "Collar him; we may as well have a couple"—they then took me into custody—Gregory was following behind, and they told him if he did not go back they would have him—Gregory then went home—he went away—we were taken from Eversholt Street; through Lidlington Place, across the road by some iron posts—they stopped there for a second or two, as though considering which way they should take us—we then went through the iron posts, and round Harrington Square, across the Hampstead road, round Mornington Crescent, up Stan-hope Place, along Stanhope Street, into Edward Street, up Edward Street into Cumberland Market, Munster Street, and Ernest Street, to the back door of the station—Phoebe Glue followed us to the station—we were put behind an iron bar and searched, and the sergeant began writing something down in a book—I do not know what he wrote down—I asked Barry what he took us up for, and he told me to hold my noise—I first heard what I was charged with next morning, when we were brought out of the cells to go to Marylebone—I heard it from one of the sergeants—I do not know his name—I saw Dye searched at the station—Hayes held up a knife when he was searched and said, "Here is a pretty thing"—Dye said, "That is my knife," and I said, "Yes, I sharpened it for you yesterday"—we had been in the station about five minutes before the knife was produced—I did not see Hayes or Barry in the Stationers' Arms—I never
was in the house—I know Stanley, the officer of the police-court—I saw him here last session when the charge against Barry was being tried—I went out with him from the other court to a public-house—I said I wanted to go out and have something to drink, and he said he would go with me and another gentleman—we had some cooper and pork pie—I believe there was a few words between us while we were having it—I cannot exactly remember what it was—I know I said it was a scandalous affair to take us and charge us with burglary, and we knew nothing about it—Stanley merely said, "Yes" and "No"—I might have said a few more words, but I cannot remember them—I did not say I should be glad if the policemen got of—I said I should not care whether they got off or not, as long it was all dropped, as I was tired of it—nothing was said about "trick" and "tie" that I am aware of—I do not remember whether anything was said about Mr. Ivory.
Cross-examined. Q. Do you mean you do not recollect whether anything was said about Mr. Ivory, or that nothing was said? A. I do not think there was—I would not say there was, and I would not say there was not—I did not say if anything happened to me, the same ought to happen to Mr. Ivory—I do not believe I spoke about Mr. Ivory—I will swear I did not—I am quite certain—I cannot answer for other persons, I did not—I am quite sure I have accurately given the different streets through which we were taken—I have a perfect recollection of them—I did not knock anybody down or strike anybody—I wanted to fight—I did not forget that—I spoke about it when the counsel examined me—I remember it perfectly well—it never went out of my mind—I am quite sure about that—I said that a party told me I wanted to fight—I did not remember till I was told of it—I might have forgotten till I was reminded of it—I did forget it—I go by what I was told, that I wanted to fight—I was told so by Wright—I did not remember until I was told—if I swore I did I was confused for the moment—I did not exactly know what I was answering—I should not have thought about it if I had not been told—it is very seldom I want to fight—I had a shilling when I started from home that night—I think it was on Thursday night—I had not had my wages—my wages are 16s. a week—I had nothing at the station-house—I spent the whole of the shilling in drink and tobacco—I was to be paid my wages on Saturday—I should have no money until then—I could get a little of father if I wanted it—he generally gives me money when I ask him—I have a mother, and brothers and sisters—I am not generally wandering about the streets as I was on this night—it was unusual for me to be out so late—they knew I should be out as late—I told them I should be a little late that night, and I borrowed the key of mother—I did not tell her where I was going to—I did not mention that to anybody—I told her I was going out—I am eighteen years old—mother does not always ask me where I go—she did not that evening—I had been in about a quarter past ten the night before—Dye lived in Bayham Place—I saw him run down King Street—he would get into Eversholt Street by going down King Street, down Bayham Street, and round Crowndale Terrace—he would not have to pass his own house, he would go near it—instead of going to his own house, he came into Eversholt Street, where he was taken into custody—I cannot account for that—he ran down King Street because the constable poked Blackburn in the back with his umbrella—Blackburn started running, and we all started running—I ran in the direction of Eversholt Street—I did not
expect to see Dye again in Eversholt Street—I was not surprised to see him—it was nothing uncommon to see him—as far as I know, that was the first time a man was poked in the back with an umbrella by a policeman—I cannot answer for Blackburn, and I shall not—I have not often been to Dye's house—I know where it is—it is three or four hundred yards from the place where he was taken into custody, and where I was taken is about two hundred yards from my house—when I ran I meant to go home; I was prevented by being taken into custody—I was not running at the time I was taken into custody—I stopped on seeing Dye taken into custody by two men—I had not been running up to that time—we had been stopping at the corner of Eversholt Street, bidding Blackburn good night—Blackburn did not come back again—he went home, he went down King Street with Dye—he lives up Kentish Town—Eversholt Street was not in his way to Kentish Town, nor King Street. Q. When did you first see any of your friends after you had been taken into custody? A. Next morning, at Marylebone Police-court, I saw my mother—I there heard the evidence of the officers, and heard for the first time that we were charged with attempting to commit a burglary in Gloucester Crescent—I first heard that we were charged with burglary at Albany Street Station—I heard next morning that we were charged with burglary at a house in Gloucester Crescent, at Albany Street Station—that was before I saw my mother—I heard the officers swear to having taken me into custody there—I did not say that I had plenty of witnesses to prove that I had never been there the whole evening, because I was so confused at being taken up for, burglary, never having been locked up before, and I thought it very hard, and I could not speak; I tried to and I could not, my mouth came regularly parched and I could not speak—I did say it was false—I should have said a little more, but I could not go on with it, being so confused, and my mouth was so parched—I stopped midway in my speech—Dye said nothing—he will be better able than I to tell you whether his mouth was parched—if I had not been prevented by my mouth being parched I should have told the story as I have to-day—I was simply prevented from doing so from that cause—I really mean to tell the jury so—I did not have time to tell my mother, I was drove in like a dog—we were handcuffed together—my mother was sitting as I went by the door, and she said something to me, but I did not understand her, I had not got time as I walked past her—she did not ask me for the key—I said, "I have done nothing"—that was all I said to my mother—that was all I had a chance to say—I was prevented continuing the conversation by Hayes and Barry—they pushed me in like a dog—Mr. Ivory is my master—he does not keep an establishment himself—he is a piecework master—he works in one of Mr. Brooks's shops—I call him my master, and Mr. Brooks's servant—I don't know whether he is paying the expenses of these proceedings—I am not paying them—I don't know who is, I have never asked—I should think the chief one would be Mr. Ivory, because he was the first party that took it up—I do not know how soon he took it up—it was in the House of Detention—a young chap, named George Scott, first saw me in the House of Detention—he has been a sailor—he is not here—he has nothing to do with defending me—my brother was the next person I saw, he is older than me—I saw my solicitor at Marylebone Police-court for the first time—I had seen Mr. Ivory, he came to me in the House of Detention—I told him the truth—I told him what I have told to-day—that was after my brother had been, the third or fourth day after
I was taken, in the next week—I have got back the latchkey that I borrowed of my mother—it was in my pocket when I was at the station—it was taken from me, I am sure of that—the "Slips" is about three hundred or four hundred yards from the house in Gloucester Crescent—I used to be there twice or three times a week, but I have not been since the trial—they are green parts of the park that lead down to the canal—I don't believe that part of the park shuts all night, nor Gloucester Grate—there are young ladies as well as young gentlemen there—I don't know whether they are in equal numbers, they might be, I can't say—Dye used to go there—I did not make acquaintance with the young ladies—very little—I only knew one, a girl of the name of Rachel—that is not the person they call Scotchy—I don't know who Scotchy Is—I have heard the name, but I don't know the girl—I don't know the girl who was there with Blackburn—I don't associate with any of the girls—I knew Phoebe Glue by sight, seeing her with Dye, that's all—Dye associates with her—I went there with young chaps the same as myself—sometimes we practise running—I get off work at 7 o'clock—we go to the "Slips" to practise running from about eight till about nine o'clock or half-past—it is very seldom I am out as late as twelve o'clock—I am sometimes—the young ladies do not practise running with me or the others—I never have them ruuning about after me—sometimes we have the boxing-gloves up there, only for amusement, and we practise running—I don't know what becomes of the girls—I have no notion, they are away from us—I can't tell what they are doing—I know they are there in the park—when we have finished the race we do not come back to the girls, we go and sit down on a seat—there is a seat there that we generally sit on—it is away from them, you can be—they come up and speak to young chaps that are there, that is about it—I suppose we get three or four runs of an evening—I have seen chaps go out with the girls, I mean go down the park and out of the gate, and I have seen them walk about up there—the light is the same as in all other parks—I have lost sight of them occasionally, and after a short time they have come back again—that has been while I have been on the seat—Phoebe Glue was the friend of Dye—when I have seen them walk together they have always gone towards the gate—they have not come back together—the girl has not come back at all—I do not make these girls presents—I never give anything to any of them—I have never had anything from them, not at any time, I swear that—I have never seen Dye have anything from them—I told you before I know one by name, and only one, that is Rachel—I don't know what has become of her, I have not heard—she was not my friend—I knew her by name, but not to walk with her—she walked with a young chap what goes up there, who works in the pianoforte line—I don't know his name—he does not work in the same place with me—I know what they call him, Long Charlie—I don't know where he is now—I saw him on Saturday night in Camden Town, and spoke to him—I have not heard that he has been out of the way at all—I don't know Exmouth Street—I have never slept out of my mother's house—I have been away of a Saturday night, that was when I was in a fishing club and went out fishing—the club was held at the Seymour Arms, Seymour Street—I was never at Exmouth Street—I went to fish at Elstree sometimes, and some-times at Watford—I never slept in any house with Dye and Glue and another girl—I am quite sure of that—I don't know a person named Appleton who used to work in the same place with me, and who used to go to the "Slips" regularly—I have no idea who you mean—I know that a man
with a fire escape is stationed in Eversholt Street—I did not notice him on this night—I did not notice the fire escape—I know where it is generally stationed—it is about two hundred and sixty yards from the place where I was taken up.
MR. SLEIGH. Q. Was this fishing club in London? A. It is broken up now—it was held at the Seymour Arms public-house, in Seymour Street, Euston Square—we used to pay so much a week all round, and have a van and two horses, and a driver, and start from there about twelve o'clock at night, and get down to Elstree by daylight to fish—I live with my father and mother at No. 15, Johnson Street, Somer's Town, and have done so about two or three years—my father is a carpenter in the employment of the London and North Western Railway Company at Euston Square, and has been for thirty years—there is no truth in the suggestion that I ever slept at any private house with the persons that have been named, or any one else—it is false—the "Slips" is a broad plat of grass in the Regent's Park, it is not a secluded little spot, but a large portion of the park, it goes half-way round the three-mile park—I don't remember that Rachel was there on this night, I could not say—Long Charlie is a companion of mine, he is a very respectable young chap—he was not there that night—we lads used to be in the "Slips" for an hour or so of a summer's evening, playing at boxing, racing, and so forth—I saw my mother at the police-station as I was going in, at the entrance—there is a little door, and we had to walk in—me and Dye were handcuffed together—I did not see any others marched in along with us—Hayes and Barry were following us up close behind—that was the only opportunity I had of saying anything to my mother—Dye and me were both handcuffed together.
COURT. Q. Who is George Scott, who you say was the first person that came to see you in the House of Detention? A. He has been a sailor—my mother came to see me—they kept her away as long as they could—she came two days before I came out—that would be about the Wednesday—I think Scott came to me on the Saturday.
HENRY DYE . I live at No. 18A, Bayham Place, in the neighbourhood of Camden Town, with my father and mother—at the time this circumstance took place I was in the employment of Mr. Burton, a plumber, in Frederick Street, Hampstead Road—I had been in his employment about two years—I know Pearce—I remember the night of Thursday, 30th August—I was in the "Slips" in the Regent's Park, about half-past seven o'clock, with Thomas Pearce, George Potts, William Gregory, Leonard Blackburn, and Phoebe Glue—it was about half-past eight o'clock, as near as I can speak, when we left the "Slips"—we went from there to the Regalia public-house, in Augusta Street—I was in the habit of walking out with Phoebe Glue—she did not go to the Regalia with me, Potts did, and Gregory, Blackburn, and Pearce—after we left the Regalia we came back to the York and Albany again—I know Gloucester Crescent—I was not at all in Gloucester Crescent on the night of 30th August—I was not in the garden of No. 63 with Pearce—the only time that Pearce and I parted company was when I and Blackburn ran down King Street, that was about one minute, with that exception we were together all the evening up to the time of being taken into custody—when we left the Regalia we went back to the York and Albany, and Phoebe Glue rejoined us there—when we left the York and Albany we went down Park Street, before that we went into Smith's at the corner of Grove Street, that was
between twelve and one o'clock—when we left Smith's we went down High Street, Camden Town, and then into Eversholt Street.
Q. Did you see either Hayes or Barry that night? A. Yes, we saw them at the corner of Warren Street, where there is a public-house called the Stationers' Arms—they were both together—that was about five or ten minutes after one o'clock—we had been drinking beer at different public-houses—we saw some young men standing at the corner of Warren Street, by the Stationers' Arms—Pearce wanted to fight with them or something—Hayes and Barry did not do anything to us there—we went down High Street after that—Hayes and Barry followed us—one of them had an umbrella in his hand—they were in plain clothes—one had a light coat on and billycock hat—one of them, I don't know which, struck Blackburn with the umbrella, and said, "Sling your dannel"—he poked me in the back with it—we were looking at a man in a fit—we then crossed over the road, and they followed us, and me and Blackburn ran down Bayham Street—the others went straight down High Street—I met them again at the bottom of High Street, that is opposite Eversholt Street—there was me, Gregory, Pearce, Blackburn, and Phoebe Glue there—Potts had left us—we went to Mr. Gates, the chemist's shop at the corner of Eversholt Street—when we were standing at the chemist's shop Blackburn said, "Here are the two men coming down High Street; I will see where they go"—they called a cab and got into it and turned round again, that was while we were standing at the corner of High Street—I saw Hayes and Barry get into the cab—Blackburn went home then, he bade us all good night—that was after I saw the men get into the cab—we remained at the corner two or three minutes after they got into the cab, and then after that Blackburn left us—Gregory, Pearce, Glue, and I went up Eversholt Street—when we were walking up Eversholt Street I ran on ahead to make water—I was turning round the Mews to go up against a dead wall, and one of the policemen, Hayes, knocked me down—they picked me up and ran across the road and took Pearce.
COURT. Q. Do you mean that Hayes and Barry picked you up? A. Yes.
MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS . Q. Where were you struck? A. Under the ear; it was the one in the light coat that struck me, and he said, "I have got one; we may as well have another, collar him"—when that was said Pearce was over on the other side of the road coming down with Gregory and Phoebe Glue—the other officer then took Pearce—they said to Gregory that he had better be off, or else they would have him too, and he went away—Phoebe Glue followed us to the station-house—we went from Eversholt Street through Lidlington Place, Harrington Square, across the Hampstead Road, and round Mornington Crescent, till we came to Stanhope Place—we passed some iron posts just before you enter Harrington Square; they stood there for a minute, as if to consider which way they would take us—the nearest point that I was to Gloucester Crescent that night was coming from the York and Albany down High Street—when we got to the station they put us in a little place and searched us—I had a knife about me; that was taken from me by Hayes in the station when they searched me—when it was taken from me I said that was mine.
COURT. Q. Do you say it was taken out of your pocket? A. Yes.
yesterday"—I did not hear Hayes or Barry say anything before I said that was my knife—I asked Hayes what we were charged with—he said, "Hold your noise"—I asked him again, and he said, "You will know in the morning"—I first heard in the morning what we were charged with when they brought us out of the cells; the charge was breaking into a house, burglary—we were then taken before the Magistrate.
Cross-examined. Q. The knife you say was taken out of your pocket? A. Yes, I said it was my knife, because he took it from me and held it up—Pearce had sharpened it for me where he works, at Mr. Brooks's—I do not work there, I was not there at all—he sharpened it on a grindstone, that they have there; he told me that he had sharpened it there, I had given it to him to be sharpened on the night previous—I gave it him in the "Slips," I was cutting a piece of wood, and he said it was not sharp, and he would sharpen it for me—he gave it me back the next night when I met him, in the Regalia—Potts was with us when I was cutting the piece of wood—Phoebe was not there—I don't know whether the knife is here, it was left in the court the last time we were here, it was produced on the last occasion—I don't know where it is now—I don't know who took it away—I gave it into court to be looked at, and I have never seen it since—we were taken before the Magistrate at Marylebone—I had not seen anybody before I went before the Magistrate the first time—I heard the officers swear before the Magistrate that I was taken in Gloucester Crescent—they asked if I had anything to say in answer to the charge—I said nothing—I did not know what to say—I cannot explain why I did not say that I was in Eversholt Street and these policeman laid hold of me, and that I was never in Gloucester Crescent—they asked if I had anything to say, and I said, "No."
Q. Why did you say "No?" Why not say, "I was not there at all, I was in Eversholt Street, and was never near Gloucester Crescent at all?" A. The witnesses had said so before, the witnesses for us—they said that we were in Eversholt Street; I mean before the Magistrate—the witnesses for us were examined before the Magistrate—I know what I am saying; our witnesses were examined before the Magistrate at Marylebone.
COURT. Q. What, the first time you were there? A. No, not the first time.
MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. Were they ever examined? A. They were put in the witness-box—I heard the officers swear that we were taken in Gloucester Crescent, and that one of us dropped a knife, which he picked up in Gloucester Crescent—I can give no reason why, when I was asked what I had to say in answer to that, I said nothing.
Q. Can you give no explanation of any kind? You know the police say, "We took this young man Dye into custody in Gloucester Crescent." Why did you not say that was not true, that you were taken into custody in Eversholt Street? Now, answer. You must understand me, and be able to give one, if there is one single word of truth in the story you have told about being in Eversholt Street, if it is not an entire falsehood—how came you not to say so at the police-court? A. I was told not to say anything, by some one outside, I don't know his name—some one out-side told me to say nothing; I swear that—it was some one I don't know—we were pushed into the police-court by the constable, I don't mean by Barry; I don't know exactly about being pushed in like dogs; we were taken into a room there; we were not pushed much; we were not pushed at all, we walked in—we were not pushed in—it was when we were
coming up that somebody told me to say nothing, just before I got into the room where they wait, just as I got into the station, as I was walking into the room—I had never been before a Magistrate before—the person said, "Don't say anything if they ask you if you have got anything to say"—I and Pearce were together at the time; I don't know whether Pearce heard it or not, he was close to me, we were a little way apart, we were handcuffed together—it was a man who said this, he whispered it, he was alongside of me—he did not exactly whisper it, he spoke loud enough for me to hear him, I don't know whether anybody else could hear him; he spoke close to my ear—I did not say anything to it, I walked on—I looked at him—I should know him again if I saw him—I have not seen him since—I had never seen him before to my recollection, he was a perfect stranger to me—I did not exactly attend to what he said; I obeyed him because he told me to say nothing (I am eighteen years of age)—that was my only reason for saying nothing; I swear that—I did not know him, he was a perfect stranger.
COURT. Q. You said just now that you had not seen anybody before you went before the Magistrate? A. Not any of my friends, that was what I meant.
MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. You have said, have you not, that you were very sorry you had been a witness against the policemen? A. No, I have never said so, nothing of the kind—I am quite sure about that—I was going home on this night—I and Phoebe Glue keep company—she is not a prostitute—I go out with her sometimes—she works at home, I think, with her mother—I was going to see Pearce home first—I ran down King Street because the policeman was knocking us about, and I wanted to get rid of them—I did not go at once to my own home, because I wanted to wish the others good night—I knew they would be in Eversholt Street, because they went down Camden Town—we knew we should get round as soon as they did, because we ran—I passed close by my own house and went to Eversholt Street.
Q. What do you do in the "Slips" of a night? A. Sometimes we have a game of "foot it," flying over one another's backs; sometimes we have the boxing gloves; sometimes we have running—the girls come there sometimes, not always; I don't know about always, I am not always up there—I have been there without any being there, without any being in my company—there are girls, strangers, walking up and down.
MR. SLEIGH. Q. When this person spoke to you at the police-court, and told you not to say anything if you were asked, who did you suppose he was? A. I don't know who he was, I thought he was some friend of mine, somebody that knew me, or something—I did not know what he was—he was dressed in cord trousers, something like a working man, and a tall black hat, and a kind of dark coat—because he advised me to say nothing I thought it was good advice and acted upon it, not having seen my friends at that time—I had never been in a police-court before.
COURT. Q. Did you see anybody else besides that person? A. No—there were more persons in the court—I did not see Pearce's mother—I do not know whether she was there—I know her when I see her—Pearce wanted to fight somebody that night—I wanted to fight, too, with some of the men at the corner.
PHOEBE GLUE . I live in Upper Fitzroy Place with my mother, who is a laundress—I assist her—I know the lads Dye and Pearce—I have been in the habit of walking with Dye, and on Summer evenings going into the
Regent's Park to what is called the "Slips"—on Thursday evening, 30th August, I was there, and met the lads there about half-past seven—I stayed with them about three-quarters of an hour—we came out, and I left them at the corner of Augusta Street, and went to my brother's, in Priory Street, Camden Town; that was about nine o'clock, I should think—I saw them again about half-past eleven at the York and Albany, and from that time until they were taken into custody I was not out of their company—I don't know exactly where Gloucester Crescent is—I was in Eversholt Street when these lads were taken into custody—as we went along Pearce wanted to fight Dye at the corner of Warren Street—I got them across the road, and we got a little further down by a jeweller's shop, there was a man in a fit, they went across the road, and just as they got across two young men, I did not know whether they were policemen or not, hit Dye with an umbrella, and they ran across and ran them up King Street—I did not run—Pearce and Dye ran up King Street and round Bayham Street—the one with the umbrella in his hand had a round hat on with a light coat, and the other was dressed in black, but I don't know whether he had anything in his hand—after that, when they got to the Southampton Arms, we were all saying "Good night," and I saw these two men get into a hansom cab, and then I went with Pearce, Dye, and Gregory, and got along till we got to Eversholt Street, and as we got to Eversholt Street there were these two men standing there, and Dye took and ran over to the mews opposite, and one of them ran after him and knocked him down and catched hold of him and said to the other, "I have got one; you take another, and we shall have a pair of them," and he took Pearce and left me and Gregory behind—he sent Gregory off home—he said, "You had better be off home, or else I shall have you," and he swore at him—Gregory then went away—I followed Pearce and Dye to the station, to the back door in Little Albany Street—I did not follow them into the station—they slammed the door in my face.
Cross-examined. Q. Do you mean that you gain a livelihood by assisting your mother in the laundry? A. Yes, that is my only mode of gaining a livelihood—I go to the "Slips" to see Dye—I don't know whether Pearce had a young woman who took an equal interest in him—I only know about my own case—I don't know exactly who was Pearce's young woman—I don't know her name or what they call her, there are so many names—we used to go out with a good many—he did have Scotchy—I don't know that she has disappeared—I never heard that she was in a little trouble—I know Rachel, Rachel and Scotchy are two different persons—after I got back to Pearce I did not lose sight of him at all till he was taken into custody—Pearce wanted to fight Dye at the corner of Warren Street and High Street; they were both a little drunk—Pearce did not strike Dye—there were a few words—Pearce asked Dye if he would like to have a turn up with him—he did not double his fists—he did not want to fight anybody but Dye—he never offered to fight anybody but Dye—I am quite sure about that—the policeman hit Dye with the umbrella—he did not give him a poke—he hit him across the shoulders with it—he did not hit anybody else—that was what made Dye run away—I can't tell what made him come back again—he came round by the Southampton Arms.
COURT. Q. You say you went to see your brother? A. Yes, that is in Randall Street, Camden Town; that would be 300 yards or more from where I parted from them—when I got there I found he had left, and I returned back again—I did not come back to them exactly, I came back
again, but I did not go to them, I went down High Street and went home to tell my mother the news that they had removed—I wanted to have some of the washing from there—I went to my mother's before I went to the York and Albany, and I was back by half-past eleven exactly—that was not the account I gave when I was here before—I said I took a walk down High Street, and went home to my mother.
Q. What you said before was that you went for a walk, and you remained taking the walk till half-past eleven? A. Yes, but I walked on home—I did not stop at home—I came out again and went up to them—that was about half-past eleven—we had made an agreement to meet again at the York and Albany.
WILLIAM GREGORY . I live at 26, Judd Street, and am in the employment of Mr. Meadow, of Parson's Street, Leicester Square, a pianoforte manufacturer—I know Dye, Pearce, Glue, Potts, and Blackburn—I was with them on the night of the 30th August—I first met them in the park, at a place called the "Slips," about eight o'clock, and I was with them up to the time they were taken into custody in Eversholt Street—they were never out of my sight—they were not in Gloucester Crescent that night—I saw Hayes and Barry that evening—I first saw them in Camden Town, outside the public-house at the corner of Warren Street—that was soon after one, outside the Stationers' Arms—one of them had a light coat on—Pearce and Dye had been having a drop—there were two or three young men standing outside, at the corner of Warren Street, and Pearce and Dye wanted to fight them—they were going to fight—Grocer I believe the young man's name is—Grocer and the others did not form part of our party, I never saw them before—when I left the Stationers' Arms I came down Camden Town, High Street, Tottenham Court Road—the two constables followed us—they followed Blackburn across the road—we saw a man in a fit—we went across to see it, and when we got there the two constables were there still, and they said, "You had better sling your dannel"—they followed Blackburn and me across the road—we went down the road, and they followed us all the way down to the Southampton Arms—they had an umbrella, and they hit Blackburn—they did not touch me—they followed us to the Southampton Arms—a hansom cab then came up, and I saw them get into the cab—I was then at the corner of Eversholt Street, at the doctor's shop—Dye and Blackburn ran round the back streets; me, Pearce, and Phoebe Glue came on down the road—we all met again at the corner of Eversholt Street—there Blackburn bade us good night, and left us, and Pearce, Dye, and Glue and I went down Eversholt Street, towards home—when we got about half-way down Eversholt Street Dye ran on ahead—we followed him up, and when we got near to him he was knocked down by one of the police—when we got up to him one of the police picked him up, and caught hold of him and came across the road, and the one that had Dye said, "Collar the other; we may as well have a couple," and they took Pearce, and told me to be off home, or they would have me—I went home—I left Glue following them.
Cross-examined. Q. I cannot make out about this cab; where was it the policemen called the cab and got into it? A. They called it at the Southampton Arms, that is at the corner of Mornington Crescent and Southampton Street, where the toll-gate used to be, near High Street—there is not a cabstand there, that is up higher, more towards Park Street—this cab was passing accidentally, coming up from Tottenham Court Road way, and they called it, and got into it, and turned round, and drove
again towards Tottenham Court Road—they must have gone round the square and come out in Eversholt Street—if we had gone in the opposite direction, up Camden Town, they would not have met us—we went down Eversholt Street, and they went round to meet us—I did not know they were policemen—I did not see how far they went in the cab—Phoebe Glue was with us when Pearce and Dye wanted to fight Grocer—Pearce did not want to fight Dye, that I am aware of—I went to the court at Marylebone next day—I knew my friends would be brought up, at least I thought so—I was there soon after ten—I know the time they take them down—I went alone—I can't say whether I met anybody I knew there—I might have met somebody there—I cannot recollect whether I did or not—I was in work at the time, but I was not at work that day—I came home, and went down again afterwards—I don't know that I met any one when I went there at ten—I can't swear I did not—I know. Mrs. Pearce—I met her there—I might have had a few words with her—I don't know whether I did or not; I can't say—I can't recollect whether I had a few words with anybody else—I waited there a little time, and saw them coming down—I was outside the police-court—I saw them go in—I did not follow them in—they would not allow me in the court, and I did not see any more of them; I did not go in at all—I went in in the afternoon—I did not see any of my friends there in the morning, that I am aware of—I can't say whether I did or not—I went in the afternoon to see them. come out—Pearce's mother was there then, and Potts and Blackburn—me, Potts, and Blackburn went together, and Phoebe Glue was down there, nobody else that I am aware of—I very seldom frequent the "Slips;" I do sometimes—I do not know this house in Gloucester Crescent—I know Gloucester Crescent—I did not hear that there had been a good many houses broken into in that neighbourhood, or that there were any suspicions about burglaries—I never heard it mentioned—I never had any conversation with Pearce or Dye about such a thing—I had not heard that any had been committed in the neighbourhood.
GEORGE POTTS . I reside at 18, Cumberland Market, with my mother—my father was an umbrella maker, and my mother carries on the business—I repair the umbrellas for her, and assist her in conducting the business—I know Dye and Pearce, Gregory and Blackburn—I have known them two or three years—Blackburn I have known five or six years—I know Phoebe Glue by sight; I am not intimately acquainted with her—I know the "Slips" in the Regent's Park—on the evening of the 30th August I was there—I saw Gregory and Pearce there, Dye, and several others—we stopped there till a little after nine—I think Pearce and Dye, and several others, I cannot exactly recollect who, then went with me to the Regalia tavern in Augusta Street—we stopped there till about twenty minutes, past eleven—I think it was about half-past nine when we went there—Gregory, Pearce, and Dye, and one or two others, left with me—we then went to the York and Albany—we left the York and Albany at twelve o'clock, when the house shut up—they were closing as we left—I then went to Smith's, in Park Street, with Pearce and Dye—we stayed there till about five or six minutes to one—they did not come out with me—I left them there—from the time I saw Pearce and Dye in the "Slips" till I left them at Smith's, at five minutes to one, they were never in Gloucester Crescent.
Street, Cheapside—I am not there now—I was at the time I was examined on the last trial—I have known Pearce and Dye for some time, and have been in the habit of going to the Regent's Park of an evening—on 30th August I met them about eight o'clock, and after being at the "Slips" some time we went to the Regalia—there was no female with them that I saw before we went to the Regalia, not while I was there—we remained at the Regalia till about twenty minutes past eleven o'clock, and then went to the York and Albany—I know the Stationers' Arms, at the corner of Warren Street—I was there about half-past one o'clock—I had no watch with me—there were some young men standing at the corner, and we wanted to have a fight with some of them—there was not a fight—I saw the two constables, Hayes and another man, when we were going down the road—they followed behind us—we got to a disturbance there, and they shoved us as we were going down the road from the Stationers' Arms—they shoved me and Gregory—we were standing at the crowd, and I said to Gregory, "What is the matter? Let us have a look," and the constable Hayes came behind me and said, "Sling your dannel"—so we went across the road, and Barry came behind me and shoved me with his umbrella—me and Dye then ran down King Street—Pearce ran straight on—one of the constables had on a light coat and an umbrella—the other one had a black coat on—we met again at Trotman's, the perambulator maker, at the bottom of High Street, and while we were standing there we saw the two constables coming down on the opposite side—there was a hansom cab coming in the direction from the Tottenham Court Road—I bid Pearce and them good night at the corner of Eversholt Street—Potts, Gregory, Phoebe Glue, Dye, and Pearce were there; not when I left them, they were with us all the evening—there was only Gregory and Phoebe Glue with them when I left them at the corner of Eversholt Street—I know Gloucester Crescent—during the whole time I was in company with these lads I was not with them at Gloucester Crescent, or nearer to it than the York and Albany.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you go next morning to Marylebone? A. Yes, in the afternoon—I am often in these public-houses I have spoken of, and Pearce and Dye too with me—Phoebe Glue is not often with us—some-times she has been with us—I am at the "Slips" about once or twice a week—I had not heard at this time that a good many burglaries had been committed, nothing of the kind—I heard no talk of it in the public-houses.
GEORGE OSLER . I am a grainer, and reside at Kentish Town—on the night of the 30th August I was at the Stationers' Arms public-house—I know the defendants Hayes and Barry—it was a quarter past twelve o'clock when I was at the Stationers' Arms—I cannot say exactly the time I remained there—I think it was about half an hour—we left some time before one o'clock—I saw both Hayes and Barry inside the Stationers' Arms, one had a light coat on, the other had a black coat—they were standing at the side bar at the farther end—there were glasses standing before them—I did not take particular notice what they had in them—I remember being outside the Stationers' Arms when some boys came up and insulted me—they were Pearce and Dye—they pushed against me and pushed me into the road—at that time the constables were standing in Warren Street—Pearce and Dye passed us and passed again and went up Warren Street, and I believe they spoke to the policemen, and said something to them to insult them—then they came back and went down the Hampstead Road towards Mornington Crescent—that would be in the direction of
Eversholt Street—I did not see what became of the constables after I left—I saw them in Warren Street and then I went home—when I left I left the constables in Warren Street—the boys passed me and I went away directly—Pearce, I think, who wore a white scarf, challenged all three of us to fight—I do not know which one it was, it was one of the two—I did not know them before—they were entire strangers—I had seen them, but not to know them personally—I had never spoken to them before that night.
Cross-examined. Q. Were you examined at the Clerkenwell Sessions? A. Yes; I then stated that the landlady at the Stationers' Arms had served me—I took the eldest barmaid to be Mrs. Hughes—she was the one I took to be the landlady—I called her the landlady—I find out now that she is not—I have since learnt that the landlady was not in the house that night—I had not been frequently to the Stationers' Arms previous to this—I have been occasionally at the same house when I leave business—Pearce's brother came to me about this matter on the Saturday night—I do not know how he came to come to me—Grocer brought him to me.
MR. SLEIGH. Q. You were not only examined at the Middlesex Sessions, but at this court on the last occasion, I believe? A. Yes.
THOMAS GROCER . I live at Kentish Town, and carry on the business of a master grainer—I know the Stationers' Arms public-house, and some-times go in there of a night—it is some little distance from where I live—Osler is a friend of mine, and lives and works with me—I was at the Stationers' Arms on the night of 30th August—I went there about a quarter past twelve, and remained till the house closed, within two or three minutes of one o'clock—while there I saw Hayes and Barry inside the house—they were there till it closed—I saw them there from a quarter past twelve till the house closed—they were there when I went in—they were drinking at the bar—I could not swear as to how they were dressed—they were in plain clothes—they came out at the same time as I did, because the house closed—we all came out together—when we came out two young chaps, Pearce and Dye, came running up and pushed against us and wanted to fight us—we would not have anything to do with them, and they left us and went into Warren Street—the constables followed them—they left Warren Street and went towards the Southampton; then I lost sight of them after that—I know the lads by sight, but 'never to speak to them—I never knew their names until I was at Marylebone Police-station—I went there to appear for Pearce and Dye when they were taken for burglary—I cannot now say when that was—I really forget it—I believe it was two or three days after—I went into the court, but I never said anything—no professional gentleman appeared for them then to my knowledge—I was not examined as a witness—I cannot say the reason of that—I did not hear anybody say anything about witnesses being called.
Cross-examined. Q. How soon was it after you were at the public-house that you were at the police-court? A. I cannot say—I do not think I was ever in a police-court before—it might have been a week after, but I cannot say whether it was or not—it was not the next day—I cannot tell whether it was the next day or a week after.
MR. WILLIAMS. Q. Do you know Osler? A. Yes; he was with meat the Southampton Arms, and Wright and Bryant.
COURT. Q. How came you to go to the police-court? A. I was subpoenaed—I was fetched to go—Mr. Pearce, the prisoner's brother, asked me—he said there was a young chap there, a grainer, a paperhanger, and a
waiter at the Bedford—that was me, Osler, and Wright, and we were foraged out and had to appear—I did not know their names until I went to the police-court—when I was at the police-court I believe these two young chaps were committed for trial—I did not see any witnesses examined—I was there till the case was over—it might have been a quarter of an hour, I cannot say to a few minutes—the boys were admitted to bail when I was there.
JOHN THOMAS WRIGHT . I live at 98, High Street, Camden Town, exactly opposite the Stationers' Arms—I work with my father, a paper-hanger—he carries on that business at that place—I remember the night between the 30th and 31st August—I was at the Stationers' Arms—I saw Hayes there and somebody talking to him—I believe it was Barry, but I cannot swear to him—I recognise Hayes—I came out of the house just as it closed—Mr. Hughes said it was time to shut up, and we walked out—I do not know whether these two men came out directly after or not—I stayed outside for some considerable time—I did not notice them out-side—while standing there I saw a party run up Warren Street, and I said to a party who was with me, "Let us go up and see what the row is "—one of the parties came up to me and said, "Do you want to fight?" and I said, "No, thank you, good night," and walked away—I left the boys there and went back to the place where we were talking—I believe these boys were the parties who were charged with burglary, Pearce and Dye—I should know them if I saw them—I saw them hero last month.
Cross-examined. Q. What were you doing at the Stationers' Arms, drinking or playing billiards? A. No; I called in there and had a glass of ale after coming from work—I was not playing at billiards there at all—that was at another place—I was about twenty minutes or half an hour at the Stationers' Arms—I am positive I saw Hayes there, and I am certain of the time—I have never said that the landlady was there—I might have called at the Stationers' Arms since this affair—I do not know whether I have—I do not recollect—I might have called there for money—I did not call there to see Mrs. Hughes, the landlady—I recollect calling there the night that we were here before, and having a glass of ale—I did not go to Mrs. Hughes and say, "You remember the night of 30th August last when Hayes and Barry were in your house, and you spoke to them"—I could not, because I knew she was out of town on 30th August—I did not say that that I recollect—I could not swear it, but I do not believe I did—I would not take my oath on it—she did not say, "They were not here; at any rate, I was not here to see them, I was at Ramsgate"—I will swear that positively—nothing of the kind—she did not mention anything of that to me—I called for a glass of sherry and something to eat—no conversation passed that I recollect about the case—we went there and had supper after leaving here last sessions—no such conversation took place that night—I did not have any conversation with her, I only asked her how she was—I have been there several times—I used to go there at six in the morning when our men went up to work—I do not remember saying what you put to me on any occasion—I will swear I did not—I do not remember saying it to her—I cannot swear I did not exactly—I will swear I did not as I remember—I knew she was at Ramsgate at the time because she wished me good bye, and said that she was going, and my brother was stopping with her in the same house where she lodged—she did not, to my recollection, tell me that my brother was there with her—I knew he was—she did not produce her hotel bill to me to show me she was away on the 30th—I swear that positively.
COURT. Q. What time did you go to the Stationers' Arms that night? A. As far as I can recollect, it was about half-past twelve, but I was in there twenty minutes, and that was the time they shut up—Grocer was in there at the time—I was by myself when I went in.
WILLIAM BRYANT . I am a French polisher, and reside in a turning out of College Street—at the time of the last trial I was living at No. 10, Paul's Terrace—I know the Stationers' Arms public-house at the corner of. Warren Street—I was there on the night of the 30th August—I saw several there that I knew—I saw the defendant Hayes there that night—I can swear I saw him there—I should know Barry if I was to see him—I can't exactly say where Hayes was standing, he had his back towards us—he had his back to the counter—I was there about three-quarters of an hour—a man named Reed was with me—when I left I left the two constables in there—I left about a quarter past twelve, according to the clock—the constables were in private clothes—I can't say exactly how they were dressed—I was examined as a witness when Pearce and Dye were at Clerkenwell—I was not examined here at the last trial.
Cross-examined. Q. You noticed the clock, and it was fifteen minutes past twelve, was it? A. Yes—Mr. Ivory asked me to give evidence, on the Sunday previous to the case coming off at the sessions.
COURT. Q. Were the two constables there when you went in? A. Yes, and they were there when I left—I went in about half-past eleven, or perhaps a quarter to twelve, and they were there then—I am sure I was there before twelve, and that I found them there at that time—I knew them, by seeing them in policeman's clothes previously (looking at Barry), that is the gentleman—he was there with Hayes—they had their backs to me, but I saw their side faces.
GEORGE REED . I am a carpenter, and live at No. 7, Bury Street, Camden Town—I was in the Stationers' Arms, at the corner of Warren Street, on the night of the 30th August—I did not see Hayes there, but I swear to Barry—I had seen him before in policeman's clothes—I saw him that night at the Stationers' Arms—there was some one talking to him with his back towards me—I am unable to say who that was—I was there about ten minutes or a quarter of an hour—I don't remember how the man was dressed who had his back towards me—I was examined at the Middlesex Sessions when Pearce and Dye were tried—I was not subpoenaed at the last trial here.
Cross-examined. Q. What time do you say you saw them there, the latest moment? A. A few minutes before twelve o'clock—we left them in the house at a quarter past twelve—I saw them first at a quarter or twenty minutes before twelve—I would not say to a few minutes—I can't say when I was first spoken to about it—I did not see the landlady there—I saw the barmaid in the bar.
COURT. Q. You are quite certain that you were there before twelve o'clock, are you? A. Yes, and that they were there when I went in.
CHARLES GRINDLEY . I reside at No. 28, Union Street, Clarendon Square—I am a pianoforte maker—on the 30th August I was at the Stationers' Arms—I went there between twelve and one, and I might have stopped between twenty minutes or half an hour—I saw two men there who I knew to be policemen—I know who they were—Hayes is one and Barry the other—they were there when I got there, and I left them there when I came away at half-past twelve—I do not know how they were dressed, I will not swear.
Cross-examined. Q. What time do you say you went in when you first saw them. A. I might have gone in about twelve o'clock—I had come out of the Bedford Music Hall. Q. Are you able to speak positively to the time you went in or came away? A. It was between twelve and one when I left, that is all I can say—I was there about half an hour—I went in about five minutes to twelve—I am sure it was before twelve o'clock, and that they were there when I went in.
FRANCIS THOMAS DOLLMAN . I reside at No. 63, Gloucester Crescent—on the night of 30th August I retired to rest about half-past eleven o'clock—the servant usually saw that the house was safe, and I did occasionally myself—I went to bed as usual on the night in question—I was awoke as nearly as possible at five minutes to five o'clock, first by the servant coming down the stairs and telling me there was a ring at the bell, and then by the policeman Hayes, I believe it was, who came a short way up the stairs to tell me my house had been broken—I went down into the kitchen—the servant was there, and Hayes, and Barry, and a policeman in uniform—there is a small garden in front of my house—I think this model (produced) is a fairly correct model of my house—I have not had the garden measured—it was not measured in my presence—I saw the sash of kitchen window that morning when I was called downstairs—the window was open two or three inches, and the shutters were open when I came down—this model (produced) gives an indication of the marks that I had pointed out to me on the window—I believe it to be correct—I do not know what the state of the catch might be then, but afterwards it went rather stiff—if I remember right, I tried it, and found it to be rather stiff—I did not try it at the time—Hayes I am sure was in plain clothes—I could not swear as to what dress the other had on, or what coat he had on—I believe Hayes had a darkcoloured coat—with regard to the other, I could not swear whether his coat was exactly light or not—I could not exactly tell whether they were dressed in dark clothes or not, not for certain—I could not swear to it.
JOHN IVORY . I reside at No. 53, College Place, Camden Town, and am a pianoforte maker by trade—I am in the employment of Mr. Brooks, of Cumberland Market—Pearce was in my employment, and had been I should think some seven or eight months—I have known him for a long time—he had been in the employment of a firm before he was in mine—his mother called on me on Saturday morning, and informed me he was in custody—I first of all went to Albany Street Police-station to ascertain the nature of the charge, because his mother did not tell me—I then proceeded to the House of Detention to see the lad on the same day, Saturday, but I found I could not see him then—I saw him on the Monday—having seen him I instructed a solicitor to appear for him at the next hearing at the police-court, and I attended myself—he stated the nature of the defence that was proposed to be put in—the Magistrate said, "I will not hear one word of it"—I was extremely anxious to make an application to the Magistrate myself—I do not know what has become of the knife that was produced on the last trial here—I gave it in at the entrance of this court when I was asked for it—I saw it in the hands of the jury, and I have not seen it since—it was a pocket-knife with a white handle—the blade of it I should judge was about six inches long—this model correctly represents the state of the window-sash of Mr. Dollman's house when I saw it, with respect to the marks on it, and everything of that kind.
Cross-examined. Q. You are in the employment of Mr. Brooks? A. Yes—I am a piece-worker—I allowed Pearce 16s. a week—he is still in my service.
MARY ANN NORTHCOTE . I am servant to Mr. Dollman—on the morning of 31st August I was upstairs in my room and heard the bell ring—I think it was between four and five o'clock—I do not know whether the front gate was bolted at that time—I opened my door and came downstairs—I saw Hayes and Barry, and a policeman in uniform—that was the first time I had seen them—they said they were two detectives—I let them in and went down into the kitchen with them—they went first, but I followed them—they were in the hall—they had got as far as the stairs when I went up to master; but before I opened the door to them I told my master as I was coming downstairs that there was somebody at the door, and after I let them in I left them at the top of the stairs and went up just two or three steps, and master came outside his door as I was going up—when I came down the constables were where I had left them—they went before me into the kitchen—I followed them quite closely—at that time the shutters were shut—I saw them opened—Hayes opened them—the bell is just outside the gate.
Cross-examined. Q. You did not lose sight of the policemen at all? A. Not at all.
COURT. Q. Were the shutters fastened? A. Yes—I believe the catch of the window was fastened the night before, but I might have made a mistake—I was very busy that night with Mrs. Dollman, packing up—I am under the impression that I did fasten it, as I usually did, but I am not quite sure.
MR. DOLLMAN (re-examined). I have measured the length of the front wall; it is about thirty-four feet—I have not an exact measurement of the depth from the outside to the house, but I think it is about twenty feet—the hasp of the gate is somewhat worn—it could be opened by a kick unless it was bolted—there is a bolt inside.
Wednesday, November 21st, 1866.
Witnesses for the Defence.
WILLIAM BARRY (Policeman 99s.) I am a constable of the Metropolitan Police Force—I am now suspended during the progress of this inquiry—I was tried last session on a charge of perjury in relation to this matter, and acquitted—I have been in the police force seven years—I live at Barclay Street, Somer's Town—I am married—I have no family—I was on duty in plain clothes on 30th August, the night this affair took place—I had to go on duty at twelve o'clock at night and come off at six o'clock in the morning—I am off duty during the intermediate time—the course which a police-constable has to pursue before he goes on duty is to go to the police-station and report himself to the acting inspector—it would therefore be my proper course to go to the police-station at twelve o'clock and report myself—I did so on the night of 30th August—I reported myself at a quarter to twelve—Sergeant Bendall was present when I reported myself—he was the person to receive my report and order me on duty—more constables than usual were on that beat in consequence of many burglaries having been committed in the neighbourhood—I waited at the station till twelve minutes after twelve—I was told to wait till the defendant Hayes came—I am quite sure I was at the station-house from about a quarter to twelve till ten minutes after twelve—Hayes did not
come—Constable Small, 80, came—he went and spoke to Sergeant Bendall and I was ordered to go and meet Hayes in the Mornington Road—I should think Mornington Road is about a quarter of a mile from the station—I should say rather more—that is the nearest point, the railway bridge—that is at the corner of Stanhope Place, in the Mornington Road—I went beyond Stanhope Place and met Hayes to the left of that, between the two bridges in the Mornington Road—that would be about twenty minutes to twenty-five minutes past twelve—Hayes pointed out two young men, Pearce and Dye, some little distance up the Mornington Road from where I met Hayes—they went in the direction of Gloucester Crescent—they were walking together—they were just moving away when Hayes pointed them out to me—I and Hayes watched them—they went up Mornington Road and afterwards into Park Street, and into Mornington Crescent after that—directly they got into Mornington Crescent I lost sight of them—we were in the Mornington Road when we lost sight of them—I do not mean Mornington Crescent, I mean Gloucester Crescent—we watched them into Gloucester Crescent and then lost sight of them—we made an arrangement between as and I searched the right side of Gloucester Crescent, the gardens, and Hayes the left side, and when I had got about half-way round the Crescent I heard Hayes raise an alarm—I turned round and saw Hayes going over the wall and saw a man leaving a garden on the opposite side—that man was Pearce—he was running—I ran after him and took him about 150 yards from where I saw him leave the garden—I collared him and took him back and met Hayes coming out of the garden with Dye—I took Pearce to the station—I left Hayes coming behind with Dye—I saw an open knife in Hayes's hand—I am quite sure about that, Hayes called my attention to it at the time—he showed it to me in the presence of Dye and in the hearing of Dye—he told me that he found it at Dye's feet in the garden—Dye did not say anything to that—I arrived at the station I think at about half-past one as near as possible, it might be a little earlier—the police are not supplied with watches—I have a watch—there is a clock at the station—when we got to the station we charged the prisoners with being found in enclosed premises for an unlawful purpose—we were not aware at that time that any attempt had been made to break into the house—there was no other constable in Gloucester Crescent when we took the two young men—the route we took to the station from Gloucester Crescent was across Park Street, through Mornington Road, till we got to the railway bridge, and then turned to the right up Stanhope Street—Albany Street may be a shorter route—there is a reason why we went the particular route we did—if we went through Albany Street and required any assistance, we should meet but one or two constables: on the other route we would meet about seven, and if we required assistance we could get it more readily there—I saw some policemen going that way—I saw two or three persons not policemen also—I saw a person of the name of Davey just a few yards beyond-Park Street—I might have seen him before, I did not know him—going along the street I saw a policeman named King—after I had seen King I saw another person who turned out to be Davis—I had never spoken to Davis before—as far as I know I never saw him before—after seeing Davis I saw 66, Sinclair—these different people had an opportunity of seeing me and Hayes—after we had disposed of our prisoners at the station we went back to Gloucester Crescent—we arrived there, as near as I can recollect, at about three o'clock—some little time was occupied
at the station in taking down the charge—when we got back to Gloucester Crescent we examined the premises No, 63—we found footmarks in the garden and traced them to the area—we then saw, by the lamp of the constable on the beat, that the window was open—he was present when we discovered this—there were marks of some sharp instrument having been used—we remained in the immediate neighbourhood, in a position that if any person came we must have seen them—from what we saw of the window we formed a judgment as to whether any person was inside—we saw the window open, but the shutters were fast: there were no marks of violence whatever on the shutters, and from that we concluded that no person had entered by that way—I consider my duty was, therefore, to remain in the immediate neighbourhood in the first place—I did not think I should be doing right in alarming the house, there might have been an invalid there—I did not think it right to alarm the house at that time, as I did not think any entry had been made—we waited about till rather before five, and then awoke the inmates—my proper beat is the second and third sections—that would not bring me to Eversholt Street under any circumstances—I was not near there—I could not be, in fact I had no right to be there—I did not take these men in custody in Eversholt Street, decidedly not—I was not that evening in the Stationers' Arms—I was there two or three nights previously, with Hayes—I am quite sure I was not in the public-house that night—I have never been in that public-house but once previously to this matter taking place—I was at the station-house, in fact, from ten minutes to twelve till some minutes after twelve—I was dressed as I am now, with a scarf round my neck—Hayes was dressed as he is now—neither of us had a light coat on—I had an umbrella—I always carry an umbrella while upon duty, in case of any change in the weather—I did not poke or strike any one with that umbrella that night—no complaint was made about it till very lately—the knife I saw was decidedly not taken out of the pocket at the station—it was found at the place—Hayes carried the knife in his hand all the way from the Crescent to the station.
Cross-examined by MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS. Q. Do I understand you to say that Hayes upon the night in question had a dark coat on? A. Yes—he used to wear a dark overcoat—he has a light overcoat—he used to wear it at one time—when I was examined at the Middlesex Sessions I did not say anything about having met this constable on the road while I was taking the boys to the station—I did not say a word about having met Davey on the night in question—Hayes was examined first at the Middlesex Sessions—I was in the small room while Hayes was being examined—I did not say I had never seen Davey before, but to the best of my recollection I had never seen Davey before—I know now that he lives next door to the police-station, three or four doors off, in Albany Street—he is a French polisher—I don't know that he follows any other occupation—I had never spoken to him before in my life till this took place—I do not know that Davis is a friend of Hayes—I never heard that he was—I have heard since that Davis had been employed by the police—I was most positively not in the Stationers' Arms that night—if Grocer, Osler, and Bryant and others have said that, they have said that which is most false—I was never at the Stationers' Arms but once previous to that—I was then with Hayes—I cannot undertake to say what time it was—it would be after twelve o'clock—it was two or three days previous to this—I cannot undertake to say who served me—I took something—I
believe a woman served me—I know Mr. Hughes, the landlord, now—it was not he—I know the two barmaids by sight—I would not undertake to say it was not either of them—I should not like to undertake to swear who served me—I have seen Grocer before—I believe he was there that night in the public-house—I observed that at the Middlesex Sessions—I know Osler by sight now; I never saw Osler till he appeared at the Middlesex Sessions—I will not undertake to say that Ostler was not there that night—I do not know Bryant, or Grindley, or Reed—I do not know Wright: I saw him at the Middlesex Sessions—I could not distinguish one from the other—I do not know whether he was there on the night in question—I was not at the Stationers' Arms the night the occurrence took place, and of course I did not see any disturbance take place—I did not on that evening follow two lads and poke them in the back with the umbrella—I did not do so to any one else that evening—I was on duty when I went into the public-house—I must explain my reason for being in the house—we are supposed to look into the public-houses, to see whether there are any suspicious characters loitering about, or any known thieves in the public-houses, and to see in which direction they go afterwards—I do not think I stayed longer in the Stationers' Arms than five minutes—the Stationers' Arms is upon my beat—I certainly might properly have been there on the night these boys were taken into custody; it was on my beat—if we had not been otherwise engaged we might have been that way—I did not see Blackburn to my knowledge on the night the boys were taken into custody—I never saw him till I saw him at the Middlesex Sessions—I saw a woman afterwards, but I did not see any one with Pearce and Dye when they were taken in custody—I did not see any males with them—I did not see Gregory at all that night, nor Blackburn nor Potts—I saw a woman—I believe I saw her as we were crossing Park Street to the Mornington Road—Dye called out to go and tell somebody they were being locked up—it was while we were going to the station—I am sure a woman did not follow them to the station—I have seen Phoebe Glue here—she was not the woman—I believe she was not the woman—she was a taller and a stouter woman than her—I could not swear that Phoebe Glue was not the woman—I will swear most positively that I did not say to the woman, "If you don't go away I will take you into custody"—I first saw Pearce and Dye that night between the two railway bridges in the Mornington Road—I lost sight of them just at the angle of Gloucester Crescent—we were then in the Mornington Road—I saw Hayes go into the garden five or six minutes afterwards, as near as I can tell—I did not try the door of the garden in Gloucester Crescent; I will not undertake to say that Hayes did—I was on the opposite side, the right hand side—we consulted together after we lost sight of them, and I went to search the gardens on the right side, to look over the walls into the gardens on the right, and Hayes on the left—I suppose there are about a hundred houses in Gloucester Crescent—I cannot say how many gardens I searched before Hayes came to 63—I had not gone into the different gardens over the walls—I looked over the walls and listened to see if I could hear anybody—Hayes called out, "Here they are," or something to that effect, and I immediately turned round and went over to 63—the gate was at that time shut—I did not try it—I pursued Pearce—Pearce came over the wall, and I pursued him down the Crescent towards Park Street, and took him in custody—I did not bring him back quite to 63, one or two doors this side of it—I was taking him
back when I saw Hayes coming towards me—I was not in the garden at all until I came back from the station—I first saw the knife in Hayes's hand as he was coming towards me from the garden—he had got Dye by one hand and the knife in the other—I did not say at the Middlesex Sessions, "I then took Pearce to the station-house; at the station-house the knife was produced by Hayes"—that is not word for word correct—"At the police-station Hayes produced the knife" is correct—"Dye said, ‘That is my knife,' and Pearce said, 'Yes, I sharpened it for you," that is correct—we took the prisoners along this route, on which we should meet seven policemen, in preference to that on which we should only meet two, because there is such a thing as prisoners being rescued—Hayes never shut the knife but carried it in his hand the whole way to the station—the route we came to the station is the route that the section is marched from the station to the beats—I had Dye by one hand, and my other hand was engaged by my umbrella—I did not know that the window was open till I came back at three o'clock in the morning—I did not think it necessary to go back with Hayes and examine the premises when he brought the boy out of the premises—I had a watch—we got back to this garden at three o'clock in the morning, as near as I can calculate—I communicated with the police-man on the beat as soon as I saw him, a few minutes afterwards—his name is Burke, 32—he would know the time we arrived there—we were not in the garden all the time from three o'clock in the morning till five—we came out of the garden at three, with Burke—we went away from the garden, but remained in the immediate neighbourhood, in the Crescent—we felt assured that no entry had been made into the house, and that is the reason why we did not alarm the inmates—we did alarm the inmates at about five o'clock—I said before the Magistrate that one of the then defendants gave a false address—he gave the address, 18, Bayham Place—I inquired there and found he did not live there—I did not try the next house or the opposite side of the street—I did not try 18 A, but I must tell you that I asked the person who opened the door at No. 18 if a person named Dye lived in the house; he said "No"—I further asked him whether there was any other 18 in the place, and if he knew a person of the name of Dye, and he said "No." I described Dye, and asked him if he knew such a person or not, and he said "No"—I did not inquire whether there was an 18 A or not—Bayham Street is not on my beat or in my division at all—I first found he lived at 18 A after the proceedings were taken at the Middlesex Sessions—I won't undertake to say when I found it out—I know that I found out that he lived at 18 A afterwards, but I don't recollect when I found it out—I am not positive that I did not find out that he lived at 18A before the remand; I cannot say when I found it out—I don't know how Pearce got out of the garden, I saw him coming from the garden—I don't know how he got out.
MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. With regard to Davey and Davis, whatever you may have learnt since, did you know anything of them before? A. No—I did not know their business or what they were.
COURT. Q. I understand that the depositions were all concluded in this case at the first examination? A. Yes—they were formally committed for trial, and remanded for a week, merely to see if there were any fresh charges.
JAMES WEBB (Superintendent of Police). I have been in the police force twenty-four years—supposing an attempt had been made to enter a house by breaking the window or otherwise, and the constable felt
assured that there was nobody in the house, it would be his duty not to alarm the premises at the time, but to take the prisoners if he found them there direct to the station—if he were thoroughly satisfied that no entry had been made it would not be his duty then to alarm the inmates, but to remain and call them up at a reasonable time—I am superintendent of the Y division—those are the instructions I give—certainly, I believe they are the general instructions through the whole of the police force.
Cross-examined by MR. SLEIGH. Q. Are they in print? A. I am not aware that they are actually in print—they are general instructions given to the police, to each man who enters the force—I am not aware that such instructions are in any book issued by the Police Commissioners—it is certainly a constable's duty, after taking the men in custody under the circumstances which these men state, to go to the station with their prisoners, and not to communicate with the policeman on the beat till they return, because it would be very dangerous for him to wait till the constable came round, the constable might be detained—I think under the circumstances it would not be right for him to wait for the policeman on the beat—it is impossible to tell what companions they might have—the principle is, when a policeman gets a man into custody to keep him there, and prevent him from escaping.
EDWARD SMALL (Policeman 80 S). On the night of 30th August I was on duty in plain clothes—my beat leads me towards Mornington Road—I met Hayes in plain clothes about twelve o'clock, a little this side of the Mornington Road, in Stanhope Street—that is not the Stanhope Street by Gloucester Crescent, but the Stanhope Street between Mornington Crescent and the station—he called my attention to two lads who I had seen four or five minutes before I saw Hayes, about the middle of Stanhope Street, they passed me walking up the left hand side of Stanhope Street—they were going towards the Mornington Road when I saw them—when Hayes called my attention to them he asked me to go to the station for Barry—I reached the station about twelve, as near as I can guess—I gave a description of the two men and what Hayes told me to the inspector on duty, Sergeant Bendall—I saw Barry leave—the next morning, at six o'clock, I saw Pearce and Dye in the cells, and recognised them as the two who passed me on the previous night—I am quite sure of them—I went part of the way with Barry, but he left me and went on to Hayes—when I described the men at the station to the inspector a constable named Geddings was there.
Cross-examined by MR. SLEIGH. Q. How were these police constables dressed? A. In dark clothes both of them—I am quite clear about that—neither of them had an umbrella when I saw them—I did not notice anything in their hands—I believe that both of them had overcoats—I knew the lads Dye and Pearce by sight before, by seeing them about the neighbourhood—I did not know them by name—when I went to the station in the morning I had heard that the two lads had been taken in custody on a charge of burglary—I cannot say who told me; it was talked about—I did not describe them then, but when I went for Barry—they were each in a separate cell.
CLEMENT DAVEY . I am the inventor of the new improved method of American polishing—I am likewise a French polisher—I work at 48, Little Albany Street—I was out on the night of the 30th August—I was going down with the intention of going to Mr. Burrows's public-house—I went along Park Street—I remember being at the corner—I should think it was
more than a quarter past one—I saw some men bringing two boys across the road—I crossed over on the right-hand side of the way.
COURT. Q. Where were they going towards? A. Down the Mornington Road, crossing Park Street, going towards the Mornington Road.
MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. Have you seen these people since? A. I saw them at the Marylebone Court—the prisoner is one—I went up and asked what was the matter—they pushed me, and told me to mind my own business—they kept along Mornington Road—I followed them—I turned up the little bridge running across into Augusta Street—they went on—I did not know the prisoner before—I did not know Barry before—I never saw a woman with them.
Cross-examined by MR. SLEIGH. Q. A French polisher you call yourself? A. Yes, that is my trade, that and an American polisher—I do a little on the banjo, according to where I am asked—I don't go to be paid, I go voluntarily—I don't take what is given to me (handing in his card)—I sometimes go to public-houses and play the banjo for the benefit of working men—you cannot call them free and easy's when they are called concerts—I don't think they are called friendly leads, not always—they are sometimes called friendly leads—a friendly lead is for the benefit of working men out of employ or in distress, and when you go there you pay your money just as any one else—I don't know another interpretation of a friendly lead—I never heard before that a friendly lead was an assemblage of persons for the purpose of subscribing for the defence of persons charged with offences—the difference between a free and easy and a friendly lead is that a free and easy is at a common public-house in the tap-room, or something of that kind, but a friendly lead is a room got for the express purpose by the United Friendly Lead Society—the only friendly lead society I know is in the Caledonian Road—I first spoke about this matter after the 29th September—I did not see the lads at the police-court to my knowledge—it was after I had read in the newspaper on the 29th September the examination of Pearce and Dye that I said, "It's a shame for those young men to swear as they did against those constables"—that was the day after Pearce and Dye were tried at the Middlesex Sessions—I read the trial, and said that to Magett—the part I took the most notice of was where they said they were taken in Eversholt Street—I remember reading that Pearce and Dye swore that against the constables, and that is untrue—I cannot recollect which of the two boys were examined first, I never think of anything—I remember reading that each of them gave his evidence before Mr. Payne at the Middlesex Sessions—I remember reading in the paper that these lads said they were taken in Eversholt Street—I did not know Pearce and Dye before, or Barry and Hayes—when I said upon the last occasion here, "I remember saying to Magett it's a shame for these young men to swear as they have done against those constables," I meant by "those young men" Pearce and Dye—I meant when I said that, the false evidence given before Mr. Judge Payne—I remember reading that each of them swore he was taken in Eversholt Street—I don't carry a newspaper in my head to recollect, and my business carries me somewhere else—to the best of my recollection I told you I remembered reading it—the first time after the night when I again saw Pearce and Dye was when you asked me to pick out the men I saw in charge, and I did so according to your wishes—from the night in question until in Court that day I never saw either of them, and one of them I picked out and the other I made a mistake about—on the last occasion you asked me whether
I had seen either of them outside the court that day, or whether they had been pointed out to me, and I said I never had them pointed out to me, and I was rather surprised to hear you ask such a thing—I know a person named Longland; I employ him occasionally—he is not in my employment now—I did not read the account of the trial of the lads to him, or in his presence, nor did he read it to me—I did not mention it to him—he had some conversation with me; that was after I had spoken to Magett—I cannot explain to you the day I mentioned it to Magett; it was after the 29th—it might be a week after—I should not think it was longer than that—I did not say in conversation to Longland that I hoped the police would be punished for what they had done—there is no mistake about my knowing the man, but it is utterly untrue that I ever made any such observation to him—I know the man well—I have employed him, and he has always done his duty to me, and I have done my duty to him—I had some conversation with him, but I said nothing of that kind.
MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. You have been asked as to reading the account of the trial at Clerkenwell Sessions, do you remember what paper it was? A. I think it was the Telegraph—I saw in that account Eversholt Street mentioned—I saw about Dye and Pearce being taken there, and all I know is that they tell an untruth, for I saw them coming across Park Street—I did not notice the names of the persons who were examined as witnesses—I did not pay that particular attention to it—the banjo is a musical instrument—it is an importation from America—I play the banjo and teach it to lads and people that like to learn—the name of the society for which I play is the "United Kingdom"—I am not paid for playing on these occasions—they are for the benefit of the working man who wants assistance—supposing a man dies and leaves a widow and children destitute, these concerts are given for the purpose of relieving them.
COURT. Q. You began to say how it was you went to Magett? A. One of my men was charged with being concerned with two others in a robbery—after the 29th I asked Mr. Magett how lie had got on—then it came out in conversation how I came to see it—then I was summoned at the Marylebone Court.
HERBERT ALFRED KING (Policeman). I have been in the force between three and four years—I was on duty on the night of the 30th August in the Mornington Road—I remember at about a quarter past one in the morning of 31st standing at the corner of the Mornington Road and Stanhope Street—that is facing the Edinburgh Castle public-house, not by the bridge over the railway—I saw Hayes and Barry—both had a prisoner—they came from the direction of Gloucester Crescent—they were about a hundred yards, it may be a little further, from Gloucester Crescent at that time—they went towards the Albany Street Station—they were both dressed in dark clothes.
Cross-examined by MR. SLEIGH. Q. Had either of them anything in his hand? A. I did not notice—I was not near enough to distinguish—they were on one side of the street and I on the other—there was gaslight—cannot remember whether it was a clear night—I don't remember whether it was very light—there were gaslights, as there always are—I cannot say whether it was nearer one or half-past one—it might be about a quarter past one—I went to the station off my beat at six o'clock in the morning of the 31st—I gave information about what I had seen on the night of the 30th or 31st when I was called upon to report what I knew of the
affair—that was after the trial of Pearce and Dye—some time between that and the trial for perjury—I was not called upon to mention it until the time I was called upon to make a report—I don't remember having said anything about what I have said here to-day until I made the report—there was a general order sent round to the police on my beat to make a report as to that night—I cannot remember whether it was after these two men were examined before the Magistrate at the police-court and committed on a charge of perjury.
MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. Were you on regular duty at this time? A. Yes, on night duty—the superintendent required me to make a report—I was required to report what I was doing, and where I was on the night these persons were taken into custody—I sent in my report when I was called upon to do so—I am quite sure about the night—I am quite sure about the parties.
COURT to DAVEY. Q. Did you notice the way in which these persons who had the boys in custody were dressed? A. Yes, they were dressed in dark clothes—I never took that notice to see if either of them had anything in his hand—Hayes pushed me, Barry was on before.
EDWARD CHARLES DAVIS . I am a surveyor, lodging at Stanmore Place for a week or two—I was out on the night of the 30th August—I saw some persons bringing two lads in custody—I came over from Augusta Street, and when I had turned the corner of the bridge I saw some persons coming down the road, and, it being light, I looked to see who they were—one was a constable—I did not know his name at the time, but I now know it to be Barry—he had a prisoner by his side—I then passed up the Mornington Road, and when opposite Mornington Street, a short distance further on, I saw Hayes, whom I know, come with a prisoner on his left hand side.
Cross-examined by MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS. Q. Where had you been on the evening in question? A. To Hammersmith and Kensington—I went to the house of one of my relations, but found him out, not returned from France—I did not see anyone at Kensington, my parents' house—after I left my parents' house I went to the house of a friend of mine, of the name of William Fraser, No. 6, Mundon Street, Hammersmith—I stayed there about two hours—I got there about five or six, and stayed there till eight o'clock—I then met several of my friends, and had a glass of ale with several of them—I also went to Taylor's, in Church Street—I saw Mrs. Taylor—I was there, say from about six up to eight o'clock—Hammersmith was my last place to come back to—I went to Hammersmith first, and then went to Kensington, and stayed there till about eight o'clock—after I left at eight o'clock I went to Fraser's and stayed there till ten—I saw Mr. Fraser—after I left Fraser's I went to the Hand and Plough, and there met a man named Carpenter—that is near Kensington station—I was intending to take a train back—I stopped to be two or three minutes late for the five minutes to eleven train from Kensington—I missed the last train from Kensington, and then had to walk down to Hammersmith and take the train at Hammersmith—the train left, supposing it to leave at its correct time, at twelve o'clock—I got out at the Portland Road station—I should say that the time was then nearly half-past twelve—I think that is about the time the train took—I proceeded up Albany Street, and then with a fellow-passenger went in and had a glass of ale—I travelled third-class with the fellow-passenger—I got into conversation with him and went with him to have a glass of ale in Albany Street at a house on the right-hand side—I
left the public-house in Albany Street, just at their closing up-time, at one o'clock—I came direct from Albany Street, turning up the next street, and then round through Cumberland Market and up Augusta Street.
Q. You have been examined before; is this correct: "I am a surveyor, and live at West Hendry, near Wantage, Berkshire; about half-past one o'clock on the morning of 31st August I was returning home?" A. Yes, from Hammersmith—it is correct that the time was half-past one, or a few minutes before perhaps—I said I resided at Wantage—I had been there five days—I left my address at the police-station, and also at my lodgings—it was at the house of Mr. G. K. Reeves, West Hendry, near Wantage, Berks—I was down there as a friend, and most likely should reside there all the winter—I had apartments of course, I was staying with a friend—I must have lodgings to transact business in London—I was keeping in lodgings in London, and staying at Wantage—the address was No. 2, Mansfield Terrace—I had only been there two or three weeks; in fact, family matters prevented my living close there—I had only one room—at the time of the occurrence I certainly was not living at No. 3, Stanmore Place, Grove Street, Camden Town—I was at West Hendry when I had the subpoena—at the time I gave my evidence I was living at No. 3, Stanmore Place—I have been living there from about the middle of September—I am a surveyor and licensed appraiser—I am lodging at this place, in Stanmore Place, until this affair is over, but I don't take any meals there—I occupy a furnished room there at 5s. a week rent—I stated upon the last occasion, "My address now is, No. 104, Carlton Street, Camden Town," because I there have apartments the same as I always had—that is where my letters or anything of that kind go to—it is true that No. 104, Carlton Street, may be considered my address—I have had apartments there two years, and that is where all my communications for business go—I have the room at Stanmore Place because I have been subjected latterly to an annoyance from a certain female—the other is where I pass my day and transact my business—I do not pay any rent for No. 104, Carlton Street—I have got an arrangement with them—I have lived there two years—I cannot charge my memory when was the last time I paid rent for No. 104, Carlton Street—I have done so within the last three months; somewhere about 15th September I was paying 6s. a week rent—I think I have not paid any rent since 15th September—it was about 15th September when I went to reside at Stanmore Place—I am a surveyor, and have been employed by Government in an Admiralty case, and also two or three police cases—I was last employed by Government in January, 1863—that lasted two or three months—that was the Acton murder case—I have also been in several police cases—I had on a card that I was agent for publicans' brown earthenware jugs—I did that for a man in my employ, so that if he could sell any I should be responsible for the money—I never sold any—I have never been a "dealer in every description of glass, of No. 104, Carlton Street, Camden Town"—I have never been in the police; I repeat it: never—I know some of the police—I know Hayes, and did then, to speak to—I have on certain occasions drank with the police, with those of superior rank—I told my landlord when I went into the country to Wantage that I was going down, and left my address—I did not say I was going for three days—I did not know when this case would come on at the Marylebone Police-court—this paper (produced) is my writing—I did not at the time I left this address tell Mr. Green, my landlord, that I was going into the country for three days to my
brother's—I said to Mr. Green I was going into the country—my sister went down with me, and my brother was not with me—it is not a fact that when I went to live at Mr. Green's I was in such a distressed state that I had not a change of linen—I had new shirts, new linen—I have been living with a woman named Bullen—I am not a married man—I don't know that this woman Bullen is the wife of a cabman—I first met her about the beginning of last March—I knew her eight or nine years ago—I have heard since this inquiry that she is a married woman—in consequence of her conduct I broke up my home and sold off—I do not know who she is—when I went into Mr. Green's apartments I did not give a reference—I was not required to do so because his father-in-law or grandfather asked me to come and take the place—I distinctly state that I gave no reference when I took the rooms at No. 104, Carlton Street—I gave the name of Rush, and a reference to Rush, No. 104, Carlton Street, when I went to Mansfield Terrace—I do not know that the landlady of No. 2, Mansfield Terrace, went there for a reference—I told her that I had been living there for two years, and five years before that I lived with them before—I do not know that Rush refused to give me a reference—it does not seem probable, because he wished me to stop with him—the landlady of Mansfield Terrace never said that they had refused to give a reference.
COURT. Q. Did they take you in as a tenant? A. Yes.
MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS . Q. Is it not a fact that you were obliged to keep away and go down into the country to Wantage, on account of a judgment summons being out against you from the County Court? A. There was only one judgment out against me for 1l. 10s.—I have been in the habit of acting as a debt collector—I know a person named Coates—he has employed me to collect debts for him—I have collected debts for Mr. Coates which I have omitted to hand over to him: only one—I don't know the exact amount, several pounds—I don't know when I collected this—I cannot charge my memory with the exact sum—there are two other sums which I have omitted to account for to different people—Mr. Taylor is one—he employed me to settle an account—I handed him over a portion, and retained back what I considered due for my services—he employed me for the purpose of collecting money, but also to settle the value of the work with the party—I received 3l. on behalf of Mr. Taylor, which I omitted to hand over to him—the sum I collected was about 10l.
Q. Did you think yourself entitled to the sum of 3l. for collecting it? A. It was a disputed builder's account—I had to go over the items and measure the work—for a 10l. account I charged 3l.—I handed over the 7l., all but the 3l.—I told Mr. Taylor at the time that I thought I ought to deduct the 3l.—I believe there was a judgment against me for the amount—it never came to my knowledge—I know I was summoned, but I did not appear to make a defence—some little accident happened that day, so that I did not appear—I know Mr. Evans—I have been employed by him to collect money, and he is paid—I paid it into Court last Wednesday morning—I collected it some few weeks back—it might be a couple of months back—he only applied to me once for it—he took out a summons against me, and there was a warrant out against me—the officer came and executed it—it was after the warrant that I paid the money—I know Mr. Williams, a corn chandler—I collected debts for him and they are paid over—I collected them, it may be, twelve months ago, and I think shortly after I paid them, a month or six weeks after—there was not something awkward about that
warrant—I was not threatened with an indictment or with a criminal prosecution—I swear it—a demand was made, and then it was paid—it was not paid at the first demand, and I cannot say whether at the second or third—I don't believe there were more than two demands.
Q. Do not you know that your father paid that money under pressure? A. They might have told him they were going to—I was present when it was paid—my brother and myself paid it—I don't know the amount—it was about 10l.—I cannot charge my memory with the exact amount which I paid—I have certain money allowed me from my father—it was paid out of my allowance—I got it advanced at the time—the whole of it came out of my pocket, if it did not at that moment—the whole is deducted from my income—that is the only answer I can give you—I know a Mr. Reed—I collected money for him—he lives in Eversholt Street—I collected 3l. or 4l. for him: 3l., or somewhere thereabouts—I did not pay it over—I had a dispute about it—he has never asked me for it or applied to me since—I collected it nine, ten, or twelve months ago—I never handed it over—I mean to say he never applied to me for it; yes, he applied once by letter—I recollect I had a letter asking for it—I answered the letter, promising to pay—I have never fulfilled my promise—I have been to the Bedford Music Hall as a friend of the chairman, but I have never filled any position there—I have acted for half an hour if the checktaker was away, out of friendship for the proprietor and conductor—I went there for amusement—I decidedly say I have never been in the police—I never used to walk about with a policeman's or inspector's cape—I am well known to the police of the T division, in consequence of that trial, when of course there was a number of policemen—I have had a glass of ale with Hayes since the first trial—I should think once only—I mean to swear that—I cannot recollect where it was—I am not at all sure—I think it is most probable that it was at the Stationers' Arms—I first made mention of this matter, seeing Pearce and Dye on this night, after the trial at the Middlesex Session—I first saw it in the Saturday paper.
MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. Having seen the report in the paper, you communicated at the station what you had seen? A. Yes—I have no interest in the police, no promise of an appointment of any kind—I have never held anything in any way, or received anything from them of any kind—in the cases where I was a witness I was paid by the Treasury, but from the police I have never received anything—I have had summonses from County Courts for sums of money—I have not had quite so much work at I should like to have during the last twelvemonth—my father is a person of some position at Kensington—my first cousin lives at Wantage—I left my address at the police-station, and was subpoenaed from Wantage—my sister was staying there—she is not present with me in court to-day—she is down there—I saw my father here to-day—he knows of my being down there—the postman would know that I was down there.COURT. Q. You mentioned you were employed by the Treasury? A. Yes, to make a plan in the Acton murder—I have been employed by the Treasury in two or three cases before Mr. Bodkin—I have never been a witness in any other case but this as to fact.
JOSEPH DAVIS . I am a builder, and live at Kensington—I remember my son going to Wantage—I took him in my carriage to the station, and my daughter went with him, first-class, express train—I don't know the day: it was the day he spoke of—he went to visit a very respectable friend, quite above imputation.
Cross-examined by MR. SLEIGH. Q. You don't remember the day nor the hour? A. No.
COURT. Q. Do you remember the last trial? A. Yes, it was about that time—it was before the last trial—my daughter is not here to-day.
DAVID SINCLAIR (Policeman 66 S). On the morning of 31st August I was on duty at Stanhope Street, at the corner of Rutland Street—I saw the two policemen Hayes and Barry—each had got a prisoner in charge—the time was about half-past one—they were bringing them from the direction of the Mornington Road, going in the direction of the Albany Street station—Hayes had a knife in his right hand—he was holding the prisoner with the left—both of the policemen were dressed in dark clothes—I did not notice a woman following them—if there had been a woman following them, I should have seen her—I do not know Phoebe Glue, I have seen her.
Cross-examined by MR. SLEIGH. Q. Were you on the same side of the street or the opposite side? A. I was on the same side as they came along Stanhope Street—it is Stanhope Street, Hampstead Road—I was at the corner of Rutland Street—I did not notice an umbrella in the hands of either of them—I passed them on the same side of the street, on the pavement—I must have seen it if either of them had an umbrella.
GEORGE STAACOMBE (Policeman 13 S). I have been in the force between eight and nine years—on the morning of 31st August I was on duty in Cumberland Market—Sinclair was with me—I saw Hayes and Barry crossing Cumberland Market—they were dressed in dark clothes—two prisoners were with them—I saw a knife in Hayes's right hand—he was holding the prisoner with his left—I know Phoebe Glue—she was not there—I followed them to the station—I remained at the station—I relieved Sergeant Bendall—I heard the charge read over to Pearce and Dye—it was, being in enclosed premises in Gloucester Crescent—Sergeant Bendall read it over—the place where the charge was read over was rather a large room—it was not half the size of this room—there was about two or three yards between the dock and where the charge was taken—the prisoners were within three yards, and must have heard the charge read over.
Cross-examined by MR. SLEIGH. Q. Was it about a fortnight after the defendant with the other was charged with perjury at the police-court that you made any mention of what you saw at the time? A. We were all required to make a report—I don't remember exactly the date—I remember them being examined upon the charge of perjury before Mr. Mansfield at the police-court—I won't be positive that it was after that I made the report—a request was sent for each of us to make a report of what occurred on the night in question, and what we knew of the case, of this case of Hayes and Barry coming to the station on the night of 30th or the morning of 31st August—it was near about the time of the trial at the police-court—it certainly was not after the trial here—I cannot say whether it was after the trial at the Middlesex Sessions—I was not at the Middlesex Sessions—I think neither had an overcoat—I believe I spoke to Sergeant Bendall before I made the report—I cannot say exactly when, at different times no doubt—I was at the Marylebone Police-court on one occasion, I think when the policemen were there—I cannot say whether either of the constables had an umbrella in his hand—I was ten or twelve yards from them, perhaps twenty—I
got close to them in Albany Street—I won't be positive whether either of them had anything in his hand besides the knife spoken of—I won't say whether he had or not.
MR. COOPER. Q. Is that your report? (Paper handed to witness.) A. This is my signature—I speak of what I knew of the case—as to whether I had seen Hayes and Barry—this is the report I sent in—it agrees with my evidence to-day.
MR. SLEIGH. Q. What part of this is in your handwriting? A. The whole of it, except a little bit—I have no idea in whose handwriting these alterations are—I signed it before those alterations were made in it—in its altered form, with those interlineations, I have never seen it till now.
JAMES SMITH (Policeman 150 S). On the night of 30th August I was stationed in Cumberland Market—at this point these two young men passed me—I saw a knife in the hand of Hayes—I did not see any woman following them.
Cross-examined by MR. SLEIGH. Q. Did you observe an umbrella in the hand of either of them? A. I think not, I did not notice—I was four or five yards from the defendant, perhaps not so much—one of them might have had an umbrella in his hand, I did not notice it—I did not say anything about this matter until after I was called upon for a report—I could see the colour of the handle of the knife—it was a whitehandled knife.
MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. How was it you could see the colour of the knife? A. I saw a portion of the handle—there was nothing in this matter for me to report unless I was called upon to do so.
WILLIAM PEARCE (Policeman 63 S). I remember the night of 30th August—I saw Hayes and Barry bring two prisoners into Albany Street station on that night—I was in the charge-room—I have been fourteen years in the force—as near as I can tell, the time was half-past one—as soon as the prisoners were placed in the dock Hayes showed me the knife and said, "How would you like a bit of this?"—they had not been searched at that time—the knife was open—I have no doubt at all about this—when Hayes showed me the knife Dye said, "That's my knife;" Pearce said, "Yes, I sharpened it for you"—I did not see any woman apply at the station to come in—if she came to the station door I must have seen her—if an application had been made by a female to come in I should have kept her waiting till the charge was taken, and showed her then to the acting inspector and enabled him to use his own discretion—no woman applied—I was present when Small came for Barry—the time might be five minutes past twelve or so.
COURT. Q. What time did you go on duty? A. Ten o'clock.
Cross-examined by MR. SLEIGH. Q. You were standing on duty outside the door? A. I was in the charge-room I said—I was not at the door of the station when they came in—I was not at the door in Little Albany Street—I was standing in the charge-room, so that I could see from where I was standing—I did not say upon the last examination here, "I was at the door of the station when Hayes and Barry came in with the two men"—I said I was in the station—I never said anything about being at the door—what you have read over to me is not correct—I was inside the station—inside the door—Hayes drew my attention to it; I don't know whether Sergeant Bendall heard it or not.
Q. How long had they been in the station when the knife was produced by Hayes? A. There was just time for me to shut the rail down—the knife was so that it could have been seen by any one in the station—I cannot be
positive as to how these men were dressed; I know they had no overcoat on—I cannot answer for their having any umbrella in their hand.
THOMAS GRAY (Policeman A 748). I have been in the police force just about six years—I was on duty in Camden Town on the night of 30th August; I had to report myself at the Albany Street station at half-past one—I did so—when I came to the station I saw Pearce and Dye in the dock, and Hayes and Barry—I heard Sergeant Bendall read the charge over to them—one of the young men made answer and said, "I never was near the place," I think those were the words he made use of.
Cross-examined by MR. SLEIGH. Q. Had you returned into the station before they were brought in? A. No, they were in the dock when I came in off duty—Hayes and Barry were, I think I remember, dressed at they always are dressed, in dark clothes—I have never seen either of them in a light coat—upon that night neither had a light coat—I cannot say whether they had undercoats or overcoats—I think they were dressed in dark clothes—I cannot remember seeing them dressed otherwise—neither of them had anything in his hand when I saw them—neither of them had an umbrella—I reported on this affair when I was called upon to make a report—before I was called on to report I spoke to Hayes about it—I spoke to several of our men about it, among ourselves at the station—I remember the constables being summoned—before they were charged with perjury I made no report of it; I spoke of it.
Q. When one of them said, "We never were near the plaee," what place had been mentioned to them or read over to them? A. Sergeant Bendall read to them, "Charles Pearce and William Dye, you are charged with being, found in a garden in Gloucester Crescent with intent"—I think that was the charge which was read over to them; upon that one of them said, "We never were near the place," or some words to that effect—I don't recollect whether they said where they had been—I think one of them said that they were taken in Eversholt Street—I think it was the dark one, Dye, who said that.
JAMES COLLINS (Policeman 743 A.). From ten o'clock in the night of 30th August till half-past one on 31st I was on duty on the beat of Eversholt Street—I patrolled Eversholt Street about every quarter of an hour or twenty minutes—I did not see upon any occasion that I was there Hayes or Barry there—I did not see any persons taken in custody in Eversholt Street—it is the duty of a man of the S division to go into Eversholt Street, besides myself on the other side of the street—from every quarter of an hour to twenty minutes it would be this constable's duty to patrol the street—there would not be a policeman out of the street more than ten minutes or a quarter of an hour—I did not see any of these parties in the street—to my knowledge there was no disturbance there, or person of any kind taken in custody—my beat is Eversholt Street, doubles Lidlington Place, down Seymour Street, up Bedford Street, and round Ampthill Square, and so round again—that was my route unless something in the way of business stopped my continuing it—I reported myself at half-past one, and then found these young men in custody—I saw them in the dock—I had been in Eversholt Street about one o'clock—from Eversholt Street I went up Lidlington Place and came down again, I doubled that, I went down one side of Lidlington Street and came up the other; I then went down Seymour Street and then to the station.
Cross-examined by MR. SLEIGH. Q. The distance between the portion of your beat which is Lidlington Place and Eversholt Street is about one hundred yards, is it not? A. I cannot exactly say the distance—I cannot
say how many houses there are from the corner of Eversholt Street and Gloucester Place to Lidlington Place—I cannot say whether from the corner of Gloucester Place to the corner of Lidlington Place is more than a third of the length of the Old Bailey—the men were in the dock when I got to the station—I believe the charge was being taken—I only went to the room door—I believe the officers were dressed in dark clothes—I was not there more than a minute—I did not hear what was said by anybody.
CHARLES HODGKINSON (Policeman). I was on duty in plain clothes from twelve o'clock on the night of the 30th August till six o'clock on the 31st—I was patrolling the first and fourth sections, S division—it includes Eversholt Street and Ampthill Place—it does not take in Lidlington Place—it takes in Addington Square—I have to go out of it, but still it does take in that—the first and fourth sections is Regent's Park Terrace, Cumberland Market, Munster Street, one side of Stanhope Street, Seymour Street, Ampthill Square, Harrington Square, and Eversholt Street, not Mornington Crescent—if I saw anything that took my fancy it might take me four or five hours to patrol the two sections—I could do it in an hour or an hour and a half—I was in Eversholt Street and Ampthill Square that morning from about forty-five minutes past twelve to ten minutes to two—if there had been the slightest disturbance in Eversholt Street during that time I must have heard it: in fact, from where I was stationed, if a shadow were seen I must have seen it, and if you had cried out I must have heard it—this is my second year in the force—the man with the fire-escape is stationed a few yards out of Eversholt Street—I could not say exactly to a yard—I did not notice him particularly that night.
Cross-examined by MR. SLEIGH. Q. The beat you have described is evidently a long beat, the first and fourth sections of the S division, tell me, there being nothing to attract your attention, how did it happen that you were at Eversholt Street, and close to it for the time you have described? A. In consequence of a burglary having been committed a few nights previously in Hawarden Place—I have told you I was about Ampthill Square and Eversholt Street from forty-five minutes past twelve to ten minutes to two—when I was examined here on the last, occasion I did say that—I swear to it.
MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. And you swear to it again to-day? A. I do.
JOHN GEDDINGS (Policeman 75 S). I was on the beat in the neighbourhood of Eversholt Street on this night in plain clothes—from before one o'clock till about ten minutes to two I was in company with Hodgkinson—nothing occurred to direct my attention in Eversholt Street during that time—if any persons had been taken into custody I must have heard it—I am able to say positively that nothing of the kind occurred.
Cross-examined by MR. SLEIGH. Q. Was it your duty to accompany Hodgkinson on his beat? A. We were both together in plain clothes—I did accompany him: wherever he went I went—we were not on the beat—we were patrolling the first and fourth sections—we commenced about twelve o'clock—we went first, as near as I can recollect, down Rupert Street into the Hampstead Road; from the Hampstead Road we turned to the right, along Euston Road, and back into Osnaburgh Street—it is about half an hour from the station to the furthest extremity we went that night—we went from Osnaburgh Street about half-past twelve, round Tomlin Square, into Ampthill Square some time about one o'clock—we stopped in that neighbourhood, walking backwards and forwards and standing still,
till about ten minutes before two, just before that—we got to Ampthill Square a little before one, about a quarter before one, something like that,
Q. Then you stayed there till ten minutes to two? A. The clock struck two when we got into the Hampstead Road—we were not compelled to walk fast—the fire-escape station used to be against the Southampton; now a piece of ground has been allowed for Cobden's monument, and it stands in front of that—in August last I believe it was where it is now, in front of Cobden's monument—it is exactly facing Eversholt Street, between the end and the end near High Street—there is no house to it at all, certainly not; only a mere box for a man to get into, very much like a sentry-box, for the man who takes care of the escape—I did not say anything about this matter till I was called upon to report after the constables, were charged with perjury at the police-court.
MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. Were you desired by the Police Commissioners to make a report of where you were that night? A. Yes, I made a report.
MICHAEL HEATH (Policeman 305 Y). I was on duty from ten o'clock at night on the 30th August till six o'clock next morning—my beat led into Eversholt Street—I came to the end of Eversholt Street every quarter of an hour—I could see Eversholt Street from my beat—during the whole of my beat I did not see Hayes and Barry—I did not see four men going together—if anything of that kind had occurred I must have seen it; very likely.
Cross-examined by MR. SLEIGH. Q. Did you say what you had seen, or what you had not seen, till after you were required to make a report? A. Yes—I am not to speak to any officer except the sergeant on my beat—Oakley Square, leading into Eversholt Street, is on my beat—I spoke to a constable that night while I was upon my beat who was on duty at one side of Eversholt Street—he is now in Australia—I spoke to no one else except the sergeant.
SAMUEL WINTERBURN (Policeman 104 S). I remember the 30th August—my beat is Eversholt Street and Lidlington Place from ten o'clock till six o'clock—I have to walk along part of Evereholt Street every twenty-five minutes—during the whole of that night I did not see Hayes or Barry.
Cross-examined by MR. SLEIGH. Q. Just tell me how long it took you to go through the beat? A. Twenty-five minutes—I saw there that night 75, Geddings, and a man named Hodgkinson, about half-past one, in Ampthill Square—I remained in Ampthill Square about ten minutes—I cannot say what became of them, or say which way they went—I was on my beat, and left them—they were standing there when I passed down my beat, and when I came back—I worked my beat regularly in twenty-five minutes—they were not there.
THOMAS BURKE (Policeman 122 S). I was on duty in Gloucester Crescent on the 30th August—I went on duty at ten o'clock—I have a regular route to go—it consists of Gloucester Crescent, Park Terrace, and Gloucester Place—walking at the pace policemen generally walk, it was a round about twenty minutes long—I saw nothing of these lads at the time they were taken into custody—I afterwards saw Barry and Hayes—I had no watch with me—I saw them between four and five in the morning of the 31st—I did not see them at all earlier than that—they told me what had taken place, and that they had two men locked up for it—they pointed out the window to me—they told me there had been an attempt at burglary
at 63, Gloucester Crescent, and asked me to examine the garden and the premises, and I did so—it might be twenty minutes past four o'clock—I went off duty at six o'clock.
Cross-examined by MR. SLEIGH. Q. You went on duty? A. At ten o'clock—it takes twenty minutes to go my beat if there is nothing to detain me—nothing detained me on that night that I am aware of—I would go round Gloucester Crescent three times in each hour—between the time I have mentioned as going on duty until twenty minutes past four in the morning I saw nothing of Hayes and Barry—I saw them close to the top of Regent's Park Terrace—not exactly at the house No. 63—I cannot exactly say the time it took looking at the premises—it was some time before we got an answer when we rang the bell—as far as I can tell it occupied twenty to twenty-five minutes looking round the garden—it was about a quarter to five, to the best of my belief, when we went to Mr. Dollman's house—the gate was one we could open—we opened the gate by turning the handle—at the time I got there the gate was merely closed, not locked—I cannot exactly say whether we got in by giving it a push—it was opened by catching hold of the handle—I did not examine the gate, and find that it would not actually fasten.
MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. You did not disturb the inmates at once? A. No, not till the premises were examined—nothing passed between us as to the propriety of waking up the inmates until after we examined the premises—there was then some conversation as to the propriety of waking up the inmates—they told me they thought it too early—they remained with me after that—they did not separate—I made a report to the Commissioners.
JOHN EDWARD BARBER . I have charge of the fire-escape in the neighbourhood of Eversholt Street, the Camden Town station—it is opposite the end of Eversholt Street—it is my duty to be there, in case it is wanted, from eight at night till seven in the morning eight months in the year—that includes August—I was on duty on the night of the 30th August—I cannot say whether I was asleep or watching from twelve to two o'clock—I heard no disturbance whatever in Eversholt Street—not during the whole night—no one has called upon me on the part of the prosecution—I have not seen any one on the part of the prosecution.
Cross-examined by MR. SLEIGH. Q. Have you received a guinea on the part of the police to give evidence? A. Yes.
COURT. Q. Have you mentioned to any one before that you received a guinea? A. I cannot say.
LLEWELLYN HUGHES . I am the landlord of the Stationers' Arms—I was so on the 30th August last—I was at home on the night of the 30th August up to the time of closing the house—it closed at one that night—rather before, always before one—Barry and Hayes have been at my house—I was in and out of the parlour on that night—as far as I saw, they were not there on that night—my wife was not at home, she was down at Ramsgate—the two barmaids were at home.
Cross-examined by MR. SLEIGH. Q. Do I understand you, you were in your own bar parlour during the greater part of that evening? A. Yes—I might have been as much as half an hour together in the parlour that evening.
COURT. Q. Does the bar parlour command a view of the bar? A. It is opposite part of the bar, you can see nearly the whole.
barmaid on the night of the 30th up to the closing of the house—my mistress was at Ramsgate—it was my duty to remain at the bar all that time—I was at the bar from half-past eleven till the closing of the house—I saw the people who were in the house—I know Barry and Hayes—I did not see either of them in the house that night—it is not possible that they could have been in the house without my seeing them
Cross-examined by MR. SLEIGIH. Q. Did you knew them before the 30th August? A. Yes—I knew both of them before—there were not a very great many people in the house that evening—Miss Gibbs served in the bar besides myself that evening—I saw Hayes on the night of Mr. Hughes's birthday—that was ten days before—I was first spoken to about this matter not very long afterwards—I don't remember the date—I did not see Hughes upon any previous occasion besides that of Mr. Hughes's birthday—he was then in uniform—I had seen Barry before the night of 30th August two or three times.
Q. Is this true, that you had seen Barry once before the 30th? A. Yes—I have seen him outside the house—I never saw him more than once before in Mr. Hughes's house—he was in plain clothes, in a dark suit of clothes.
Q. Did you say anything to any one about this 30th August until a constable came to serve you with a subpoena? A. I do not remember it.
Q. Do you remember the two constables Hayes and Barry coming with another man, who served you with a subpoena to attend the trial here last month? Up to that time did you say anything about having seen them on the night of 30th August? A. I don't remember. Q. Do you remember two gentlemen coming and asking you whether you remembered two police-constables being at your master's house on the night of 30th August? Do you persist in that answer, that you don't remember two gentlemen coming and making that inquiry of you as to whether two police-constables had been in your master's house on the night of 30th August? A. I don't remember two in particular; I do not remember two gentlemen coming and making that inquiry of me—(a gentleman brought forward)—I don't remember that gentleman coming to me and making that inquiry—I don't remember seeing him—I don't remember any person or persons coming and making that inquiry of me; it was spoken of at the bar by the different customers, but I don't remember any one in particular—I will not swear that I did not say, on being asked the question about seeing the constables there on the night of 30th August, "I don't remember anything about it"—I might have done so, but I cannot remember it.
Q. Did you upon the last occasion upon the trial here state that two gentlemen came and asked you that question, and did you say, "And my answer was, 'I don't remember it?'" Did you swear that upon the last occasion here? A. Yes—the question was put to me, "Will you undertake to swear that two persons did not call and speak to you about the two constables being at your place on the night of 30th August?"
Q. Do you remember saying, "Oh! yes, that was a long time ago; I don't remember who it was?" Do you remember saying, "I remember two gentlemen calling and making that inquiry of me?" and did you go on and say, "I said to them, 'I do not remember anything about it?'" A. Yes.
Q. Did you say further, "I remember them asking about two police constables, and whether they were there on 30th August, and my answer was, ‘I don't remember anything about it?'" A. I don't remember it.
MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. How old are you? A. Twenty-five—I have not been often in a court of justice before—this affair, having
occurred in the neighbourhood, was a good deal talked about by a good many people in our house—I don't remember the person who was pointed out to me to look at—I cannot tell whether he was one of the persons who asked me questions about it—I am able to speak with certainty as to that night—I have no doubt on the subject.
ELIZABETH GIBBS . I am a barmaid—I was acting as barmaid in the business of Mr. Hughes on the night of the 30th August—I heard of the alleged attempted burglary in Gloucester Crescent soon after—I cannot say how soon after—I remember the night of the 30th August—I know Hayes and Barry—I saw Hayes on the night of the 20th August—he came in to clear the house—we were continuing up a little later, and he came in to clear the house—there was a reference to the inspector, and we were allowed to go on—I never saw him before that occasion—I did not see him on the 30th—I am able to say that I never saw them on that night—they could not have been there without my seeing them.
Cross-examined by MR. SLEIGH. Q. How long after the 30th August were you spoken to upon this matter? A. I cannot say—Mr. Hughes, the landlord, first spoke to me about it, about the time the police constables were charged at the Marylebone Police-court—he said the two policemen—he named Hayes; I don't remember about Barry—I had not known Barry—I saw Barry for the first time before I saw him at the trial here in October last—it was more than a week, I cannot say; it might have been more than a fortnight before the last trial that I saw him for the first time—I saw him at our house—I don't remember whether he came with Hayes—I think it must have been that he was with Hayes.
GUILTY.— Judgment respited .
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, November 21st, 1866.
Before Mr. Justice Byles.
40. JAMES LORD (28) , to stealing five 10l. notes and one 500l. note, of the. Governor and Company of the Bank of England, his employers, He received a good character. Strongly recommended to mercy by the Prosecutors.— Five Years' Penal Servitude . [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MESSRS. POLAND and BESLEY conducted the Prosecution, and MESSRS. MONTAGU WILLIAMS and STRAIGHT the Defence.
SAMUEL CASWELL . I live near Euston Square, and am out of business—on the 18th April I went to Drummond's bank, and received two 10l. notes, one 5l. note, six sovereigns and a half, and 8s. 6d. in silver, making 36l. 18s. 6d.—on the evening of the 24th April I had 37l. on my person, as I had a sovereign in a leather purse apart from what I had received at Drummond's—I had parted with the half-sovereign and the 8s. 6d., and had the two 10l. notes and the 5l. note in a purse in my left trousers pocket—I had been drinking to a slight extent—I went to the Bay Tree public-house, St. Swithin's Lane, about twenty-five minutes to seven o'clock—no one was with me, but a man accosted me as soon as I entered
—I do not know whether he entered with me—I called for a glass of half and-half, and the man asked me to give him half a pint of porter—he was in a very distressed state, and I told the barmaid to draw a glass of porter, which I paid for with a sixpence I believe, but was not quite certain—I do not know the man—I had never seen him before—I was about two minutes in the public-house, and the man who I had given the glass of beer to came out with me, and further solicited me to give him some help, as he was so distressed—I was walking towards Cannon Street—I walked away from him; I wanted no further association with him—I crossed from St. Swithin's Lane, just by Bush Lane; I do not know whether I had passed Bush Lane, but it was near that part—I received a violent blow, which cut my eyebrow right across; the scar still remains—it deluged me with blood, and was so extensive that it reached down to my lip, and I have scarcely recovered the feeling of that side of my face up to the present time—I did not stagger or fall, but immediately seized the man, who struck me and received another blow on the other side of my face, which broke my jaw, and so far stunned me that I felt to lose all power, but was not quite deprived of my senses—I was flung immediately on the ground by the man who struck me—I had no power of seeing his face—it was all done very rapidly; it was three or four seconds from the time I received the blow till I was flung down—I felt my purse being removed from my pocket, but cannot say whether that was while I was on the ground—I recollect saying, "That man has robbed men," but whether it was when I was on the ground or when I was lifted up I do not know—I have no recollection for two hours afterwards—I cannot tell whether the blows were struck by a fist or by some weapon—I was laid up for three months from the injury to my jaw—I went next day, ill as I was, with one of the detectives to Drummond's bank—I have seen two notes since, but cannot recognise them, as I do not think there was any mark on them when they were in my possession.
Cross-examined. Q. How far were you from the Bay Tree when you received the blow? A. I do not think more than 100 yards—the man importuned me directly I got out, but I did not look at him—I did not turn round.
COURT. Q. Was the man who asked you to give him some help in the street, the same man whom you had seen in the tavern? A. I have no question about it, although I did not look at him—I was perhaps the length of a couple of houses from the public-house when the man asked me for help, but I immediately sharpened my pace away from him, though I did not look at him—I have not the shadow of a doubt that he was the man I had treated in the public-house.
REBECCA FITTER . I am barmaid at the Bay Tree, St. Swithin's Lane—on the 24th April a policeman named Wines came to me to make in quiries—I had seen Mr. Caswell at the bar about an hour before that drinking with the prisoner—Mr. Caswell paid for two glasses of beer—I had seen the prisoner several times before, through his serving the house with lemons, and knew him perfectly well—Mr. Caswell was there about five minutes, and the prisoner was with him the whole time; they both went out together—Mr. Caswell was slightly under the influence of liquor—when Wines came to me an hour afterwards I gave him a description of the prisoner and the prosecutor—the prisoner never came with lemons after that night—I next saw him at the Mansion House on Monday, the 5th November—on the evening the prisoner was at the bar with the
prosecutor he wore a half-high hat, one of those black hard ones—the crown was flat.
Cross-examined. Q. Do you know that he is a hawker? A. Yes, he was frequently in the habit of coming there—there was another young woman serving in the bar, but not at that end—no one served there but me that night—we do a pretty good business—I did not know the prisoner's name—I did not say that he was a Jew—I described his features as accurately as I could—when I saw him again he was brought into a room at the Mansion House with twelve or thirteen others, and I identified him as the man who was in the habit of selling lemons at our place—I described him as having a very large mouth.
COURT. Q. How often used he to come to the Bay Tree with lemons? A. About once a week, but he had been absent for a month just before that—I described him as the man who was in the house that night talking to Caswell.
WILLIAM WINES (City Policeman). On the night of the 24th April I was on duty in plain clothes, and about half-past six or twenty minutes to seven I was about thirty yards from Cannon Street, in St. Swithin's Lane—I had not passed the Bay Tree—St. Swithin's Church was on my left, and the Bay Tree on my right—I met two men walking in the middle of the road, which is very narrow—they were about seventy yards from the Bay Tree when I first saw them, and about eighty yards from where Caswell was knocked down—they passed me and turned to the left—I turned to see in which direction they went, and when they got to the bottom of the lane they turned to the left, eastward—the prisoner had hold of the prosecutor's right arm—I know that it was the prisoner, I picked him out from a dozen others—I know his face and person—I had seen him before several times—he is a hawker—I have frequently seen him about the Mansion house and the Bank, hawking lemons and nuts this year—I saw nothing more of them, as the corner hid them from me—I received information about half an hour afterwards and went to the station and described the prisoner—I saw the last witness at the Bay Tree about eight o'clock and received a description from her of the prisoner and prosecutor—she said that she knew the prisoner well—on 6th November I went to Bow Lane Station and picked the prisoner out from a number of others—he was then in custody—I had not seen him since 24th April, though I had searched for him during the first fortnight in the neighbourhood of Petticoat Lane, where he lived, and near the Mansion House, where I had been accustomed to see him—he wore a round hat when I saw him in St. Swithin's Lane, what they call a deerstalker or a Muller cut down.
Cross-examined. Q. Was it the same night you went to Miss Fitter? A. Yes, she gave me a very accurate description of the person she believed had been in the house that night—I am quite sure that the person was leading the prosecutor by the arm, but the prosecutor could walk very well without leading—the prisoner was holding his arm for about thirty yards till they turned the corner—it did not strike me that Caswell was very drunk, he could walk very well.
Q. You use the expression in your deposition three different times, that he was leading the prosecutor: is that correct? A. I do not see any difference—he had hold of his arm, and was walking with him, whether it was leading or not—it was not in my mind at that time that he was helplessly drunk—he was walking straight as a sober man.
COURT. Q. What kind of hat had the prisoner? A. A round hat with a narrow brim—I think it was felt.
MR. WILLIAMS. Q. Are you prepared to say that it had a flat top? A. I cannot say that—I thought from the prisoner's appearance that he was a Jew.
JOHN HOSKINS . I am a porter in the service of Ford Hale and Sons, of No. 86, Cannon Street—on the evening of the 24th April I was in the shop—I could see into the street towards St. Swithin's Lane, but I was packing cases, and did not look into Cannon Street at all—my attention was called by persons looking towards Cannon Street and calling "Stop thief"—I went out to see what they were looking at—it was then about twenty minutes to seven—when I got on to the pavement I saw the prisoner just on the kerb in the act of stooping to pick up something, and the prosecutor was lying on the ground, four or five yards from the prisoner, with a crowd round him—the prisoner started to run across the road up Abchurch Lane, and, hearing that the prosecutor had been robbed, I chased him seventy or eighty yards, but lost sight of him half-way up Abchurch Lane—he turned the left corner into King William Street, and I did not follow him further—one of his boots came off in the chase—it was daylight, and I am sure the prisoner is the person—I was taken on 4th November to Bow Lane Station—several persons were placed before me, twelve I believe, and I saw the prisoner among them, and pointed him out as the man I had seen on the 24th April—I was twenty-five or thirty yards from him when he escaped—I was not near enough to see whether he picked up anything.
Cross-examined. Q. Had you ever seen him before in your life? A. No—his boot is not here—I am sure the prisoner is the man—I have never said, "I still believe he is the person"—I said, "I believe," but not, "I still believe"—I do not know who the people were whom I picked him out from at the Station—I have since heard that there were some constables among them—I do not know how many—they may have been all constables except the prisoner, for aught I know.
MR. BESLEY. Q. Was Wines there when the prisoner was shown? A. Wines stood behind me—the acting sergeant stood behind me—there was no one in uniform—I do not think there was anything to show that they were policemen—some of them looked more like thieves than the others, as they were dressed.
RICHARD STEPHENS . I am in the employ of Messrs. Hale and Sons, candle manufacturers, of 86, Cannon Street—on the 24th April, about a quarter to seven, I was standing at the shop door and saw the prisoner and prosecutor cross from the corner of St. Swithin's Lane to where I was standing, at the corner of Bush Lane—they were together—they passed me and went up Cannon Street—I observed people looking at the other side of the way—I stepped out, and about thirty yards distance I saw the prosecutor holding the prisoner by the back of his coat—I sang out, "Stick to him, old fellow"—the prisoner threw him with great violence on the pavement and ran away—one of his shoes came off, and he was pursued by my fellow shopmate towards Abchurch Lane—I identified the prisoner on the 4th November, at the station, out of fourteen others.
Cross-examined. Q. Had you ever seen him before? A. Not to my knowledge—Hoskins was inside till I called out—he went out directly the prosecutor was thrown down—I went to the station two hours previous to Hoskins—I refrained from going with him—I cannot say whether the men who passed before me at the station were policemen—the constable was there, and the sergeant I believe—it was not a room, it was a passage.
MR. BESLEY. Q. Did they do anything to indicate the person to you? A. No.
JOHN ROBERT COY . I was standing at Ford Hale's warehouse door talking to Stephens—I know the prosecutor, and saw him with some one who I cannot identify, and who struck him on his face—the prosecutor seized him by the collar, and then the man gave him a second blow and the prosecutor fell—I went towards them and the man who gave the blow buttoned his coat and ran up Abchurch Lane—he left a cap behind him, which was given to the police.
COURT. Q. You saw a person with the prosecutor: what were they doing? A. The man was four or six inches behind the prosecutor—I did not take much notice, but I saw a running in the street and then turned to look—they were crossing Bush Lane when I first saw them.
HENRY JACKSON . I am a warehouseman in employ of Dickson and Co., wholesale stationers, of Budge Row—on the 24th April I was coming out of Ford Hale's warehouse—I saw Stephens and Hoskins there—I saw Mr. Caswell and a man in the street—that is the man (the prisoner)—I thought they were fighting; I saw him throw Mr. Caswell on his back with great force, and he lay as if lifeless—the prisoner's hat came off, and as he ran away across Cannon Street his shoe came off and he ran away without it—Hoskins ran across the road as far as the corner of Abchurch Lane—it was a lowcrowned hat that the prisoner left behind him—I do not know whether they call it a deerstalker or a wideawake; it was not in the fashion of a chimneypot; I went to Newgate on Monday, and saw some thirty people in the airing-yard walking round at a quick pace, and picked the prisoner out from them.
Cross-examined. Q. Are you in the same service as Hoskins? A. No, but I know him very well—I was not called at the police-court.
CHARLES BROWN (City Policeman 94). On the 4th November I took the prisoner in Harrow Alley, Petticoat Lane—I told him the charge; he said, "I know nothing about it; I have been at Liverpool transacting business for Mr. Isaac Woolf, of Dale Street, Liverpoor"—I know the prisoner, and had been in the habit of seeing him about, daily up to the time of the robbery—I went to the places after the robbery where I had usually seen him, but he was not there—I have seen two notes at the Bank of England, and have made inquiries about them in Petticoat Lane.
—MOSELEY (City Police Sergeant 85). I was in Cannon Street, and saw a very old boot in the road near the railway station, and a hat at a little distance from it—I left the hat at the station in the care of the station-sergeant; it was a very old one, one which fitted close to the head like a deerstalker's—the boot was very old, with no heel to it.
JOHN FOULGER (Police Inspector). I saw a very old boot, with no heel, and cut to pieces; I cannot find it or the hat; I have made search for it, and have reason to believe it was swept away with some rubbish when the station was cleaned out; it was a lowcrowned felt hat, sometimes they are called deerstalkers and sometimes wideawakes.
Cross-examined. Q. Do not you enter articles in a book? A. Yes, if they are of any value—no entry was made of this cap, because it was rubbish.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate:—"I am not guilty." GUILTY .— Seven Years' Penal Servitude, and Thirty-five Lashes with the Cat .
MR. PATER conducted the Prosecution.
WALTER HENRY SHAW . I am a teadealer carrying on business in Newgate Street—on the 30th October, about half-past one o'clock in the night, I was passing through Fox Court, Holborn, with a woman—that is the last court at the top of Holborn Hill, on the right-hand side going towards Holborn—I saw five men there, the prisoners are three of them—one of them ran up against me and knocked me against a house, and before I could recover myself one of them seized me by the neck from, behind, and I was drawn over his knees, so that I was reclining across him—Wilson is the man who first attacked me—while I was in that position another man took what money I had from my pockets, and. tore my trousers very much, and tore the cloth away—I was thrown to the ground and one or two of them then kicked me about the face and head—I believe Everett is one who did so, but I cannot speak positively—the others wereby—I only had 5s. in my pocket, and 4s. was taken away—while I was on the ground the woman called out "Police" and "Murder," which attracted their attention, and they left me and went to her—I immediately went into Holborn, met two constables, went back to Fox Court, and met the woman with my hat—Wilson then came up with a policeman, and I gave him and Everett in charge—I have not the slightest doubt that they are two of the men—I saw Thompson a week afterwards at Bow Street—I am as confident about him as I am about the other two.
Wilson. Q. Did not you say to the Magistrate that you believed me and this one were two of them, and at last, after a little hesitation, that you were positively sure we were the identical two? A. I swore confidently that you were two out of the five—I said I had not the slightest doubt about it, but I could not swear whether you pulled me from behind, and whether Everett robbed me—I was with the woman for an hour, but not at any public-house—nobody else was with her while I was with her—I say that you and Everett are two of the parties who robbed me, I could see your features as distinctly as I do now—I believe you had hold of me behind—there was a gaslamp there—I did not state at the Court that I was not sure whether you were two of the parties, or that I had been with the woman since half-past five in the evening, or that I had been over the water with her—I had had six or seven glasses of beer during the evening, but when I went to the station and charged you I was perfectly sober—there was nobody with the woman—I do not know who she is.
Everett. Q. On Tuesday, the 30th, before the Magistrate, did you not state that you were not sure we were the persons who assaulted and robbed you? A. No—Mr. Barker did not say, "You must not come to this place unless you are sure," nor did I then say, "Well, I am sure"—Wilson is the first of the men who pushed against me, and I can swear to you being there, and I believe it was you who kicked me when on the ground, but I cannot state that positively—I saw you standing within a foot of me when I was on the ground—I saw your face, there was a lamp immediately over us—the place was broad enough for us all to be together—I told the policeman I had been robbed and garotted in the court, but did not describe the persons who had done it, as we ran down without further argument, but I could have done so—he did not point out anybody to me, but a constable brought you up two minutes afterwards—when Wilson was taken I swore to him.
Thompson. Q. Can you say that I was one of the men who assaulted you? A. You were one of the five—I am not sure whether you assaulted me, but you were there all the time—I would not swear that you took any money out of my pocket.
STEPHEN LITTLE (31 E). On the morning of 30th October, between half-past one and two o'clock, Shaw came up to me in Holborn, his pockets were turned inside out, his trousers torn, he had a pinch in his throat, and two black eyes—I went into Holborn Buildings, at the end of which is a place called the Well, leading into Fox Court—I went to the end of Fox Court and saw Wilson in custody, he had the constable down against the wall, and they were struggling together—I assisted in taking Wilson.
ROBERT GBOVES (Policeman 161 G). On 30th October, between half-past one and two in the morning, I heard a cry of "Police"—I went in the direction of the cry, and met Everett at the corner of Leather Lane, coming in a direction from Fox Court, bleeding very much—he said, "For God's sake go to Holborn Buildings; I have been stabbed there by my brother-in-law"—I said, "You had better wait and go back with me"—he said, "No, I refuse to do so," and within five minutes of that Walsh came up and pointed out Everett, saying, "hat is the man who assaulted me and assaulted the prosecutor"—he used the word prosecutor—where I met him was about 800 yards from Fox Court, he came down Holborn Buildings through Holborn.
Everett. Q. Did not I say that I wished to see a doctor? A. No.
JOHN WALSH (257 G). I was on duty, and heard cries of "Police" from Fox Court—I entered the court and saw Wilson and Everett, and a woman, who pointed out Everett as the man who knocked her husband (Shaw) down and robbed him—I put my hand on Everett to take him in custody, and he ran at me and hit me under the ear with his fist—I drew my staff, but was knocked down, Little came to my assistance—I had Wilson and Everett at that time.
Wilson. Q. Did I strike you when you had Everett in custody? A. Yes—I saw you with Everett and three others—I selected you because the woman pointed you out.
JOHN CHOWN (Police Sergeant 5 E). I know Wilson and Everett—I have seen them together two or three times, and Wilson and Thompson two or three times in the neighbourhood of Holborn, shortly before the robbery.
Wilson. Q. How long before the robbery did you see us together? A. It might be a week or a fortnight—I met you at the corner of Dean Street one evening, and Thompson was with you.
Thompson. Q. How long have you known me? A. I only know you by seeing you with Wilson two or three nights, about a fortnight before the robbery.
Wilson's Defence. Fox Court is only a yard and a half wide, and he could not distinctly see who the man was who robbed him, and who was the man who chucked him. He has altered his statement since he was before the Magistrate. I am innocent of the robbery, though I may have struck a policeman. I do not believe there was a robbery; if there was it was the woman who did it.
Everett's Defence. He cannot tell whether I assaulted or robbed him. Where is the evidence to prove I am guilty of either?
Thompson's Defence. The prosecutor says that he cannot swear to me as assaulting or robbing him, only that I was one of the five persons present,
which I deny. I deny all knowledge of the robbery, and deny being a companion of Wilson's. Previous to my being apprehended I was only five days out of the infirmary, and have things about me to prove it.
WILSON— GUILTY . He was further charged with having been convicted at Westminster in June, 1858, to which he PLEADED GUILTY.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude, and Thirty-five Lashes with the Cat . EVERETT— GUILTY . He was further charged with having been convicted at this Court in April, 1862, to which he PLEADED GUILTY.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude, and Thirty-five Lashes with the Cat . THOMPSON— NOT GUILTY .
43. The said EDWARD THOMPSON was again indicted for being found at night with a crowbar, lantern, and key in his possession without lawful excuse, having been before convicted, to which he PLEADED GUILTY .— Seven Years' Penal Servitude .
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, November 21st, 1866.
Before Mr. Baron Bramwell.
RIBTON and GOUGH appeared for Young, MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS for Shaw and Flynn, and MR. MCCARTHY O'LEARY for Morris.
JAMES EVANS . I live in Coburg Street, Drummond Street, and am a hammerman or smith's labourer—on 9th October last I was at Shaw's house—I first went to the Wrekin, in Broad Court, kept by Shaw's father, and from there to the prisoner Shaw's, in Windmill Street, Haymarket—the boy Wilmot asked me would I look after him; I refused at first, but at last he and I went together to the prisoner Shaw's about nine or half-past—we had a drop of something at the bar, and then went upstairs—I did not see Shaw there that I know of—I have often been there before sparring, and Wilmot with me—there is always a ring formed in the room, it is never down, the wall of the room forms one side of it, and the rest is formed by stakes and a rope—Young came up into the room about a quarter of an hour after us, I had Donelly with me—Morris and Daw were there, they were on the other side—I know nothing about those that came up—I took my man into the ring and acted as his second, and Donelly also—Morris and Daw acted as seconds for Young—the men put gloves on; they were new gloves fastened with elastic; one of my elastics broke, and I tied it on with a piece of tape, so that it could not come off—they were stripped as usual to their buff—they had their shirts off, and were naked to the waist—I don't know whether there was a timekeeper—I did not see Flynn there—only what I have heard—I was so excited looking after my boy—it did not matter about having him up to time that is a matter of form—I did not hear any one call "Time"—there were 100 people there—I was in the ring looking after my boy, to see that he was not hurt—Flynn was not in the ring—I can't answer whether he was the referee, I never chose him—I saw Good there—the people occupied seats on both sides of the ring—they fought a succession of rounds, sparring—it continued about an hour, or over an hour I should think—they hit each other of course, I don't know whether as hard as they could, that they know better themselves—they hit as hard as they liked with the gloves—
I have tutored gentlemen to spar, and when they have got. the gloves on they have got rather rash in their excitement, they can't help it—I don't know what they were fighting for, I never heard—at the last round Wilmot fell either by a shove or a blow from Young, he fell on his posterior and struck his head against a post that runs up in the centre of the ring—the hit was somewhere in the face—I picked him up, he felt rather queer and a little giddy—I gave in for him—I dressed him and gave him a drop of brandy and took him to the hospital in a cab—Good gave him a half-sovereign in his corner—I don't know what it was for, it was before the fight.
Cross-examined by MR. RIBTON. Q. Do you give lessons in this noble science? A. Yes, at times—I charge half a crown or three shillings, and sometimes a sovereign, whatever a gentleman might give me—I have many a time knocked one of my pupils down, and they have knocked me down—this was a permanent ring, where lessons are given—anybody going there may learn to spar—they have gloves for the purpose—gloves are always put on in learning, it is fighting to use the naked fists—the encounters between teacher and pupil sometimes last half or three-quarters of an hour—I have had two or three hours of it at a time with pupils—it is customary for persons to come in and look on while lessons are being given—I have sometimes known accidents happen in giving lessons, you cannot help it—I broke a gentleman's jaw myself in sparring—I never meant to do it, but he was rather rash, and I thought to stop him somehow, I put the jaw right out—I knew Young—I did not know Wilmot, I had seen him once or twice, that was all, they were good friends.
Donelly. Q. Was not this simple sparring, and fairly conducted? A. Oh! yes, I took care of that.
Good. Q. When I gave the half-sovereign did you not hear me say, "Here, Ted, is the half-sovereign I owe you? A. No, I was otherwise engaged.
MR. BEASLEY. Q. Was it given just before the fight? A. Yes—I never knew a death to happen in these sparrings.
COURT. Q. Is there not generally a timekeeper on these occasions? A. No, this was not a prizefight—there was no timekeeper that I am aware of—the thing comes to an end by giving in for them—my boy was winning fast, and I wanted the other lad's father to give in for him, but he would not, and the consequence was, my boy met with this misfortune—you would not allow a man to wait for a quarter of an hour before coming up; if your man was not fit to stand up and spar you would give in for him—they go on till one of them gives in, it don't want any timekeeping—they get bruised about the arms of course—if you keep tapping the head it will weaken and confuse them.
MR. BEASLEY. Q. Was anytime allowed between each round? A. That was according to your own judgment—if a man is hit in the nose with the gloves it will make his nose bleed—the gloves will not give black eyes unless you have a very hard pair, but these were a new pair—I did not take my man on my knee at every round—I sat him on another man's lap, because I had to fan him and attend to him—at a prizefight there is a regular fixed time, but not in these things.
COURT. Q. What makes a round; is it that the men keep on fighting till one is knocked down? A. No, till one slips down, then he is picked up, and if he has a mind to have any more they go on again—they get knocked down at times.
at Shaw's, in Windmill Street—I had been at the Wrekin first—I had a card, which I paid 6d. for—I bought it of one of my customers—it is a facsimile to this (produced)—when I got to the Wrekin I was given to understand that it would not take place there, and I was sent to Shaw's son's, in Windmill Street—I produced my ticket, and was admitted by a person standing in the passage, who took all the tickets—that was not Shaw himself—I saw him in the bar that night, and I saw him when he came up into the room and put an end to it by turning the gas off—I did not see him in the room during the sparring—the room was fitted up for sparring—I saw Young and Wilmot set to with the gloves—it continued little under an hour—at the end of that time they seemed to be so tired and fatigued that they could not strike many blows—they could not come up—I did not observe whether there was a time-keeper—I heard two or three people calling out "Time," half-a-dozen—I cannot say that I heard any of the prisoners—the men were tardy in coming up—I believe they should come up as soon as they got up again, but I am not acquainted with the modus operandi of these things—the seconds took them up and gave them a glass of water, and put them on their knees every time—at the last round they came up, and all in a stumble together, and had a hugging match—they were too exhausted to strike one another forcible blows—they were trying to throw each other, and the deceased slipped away, or was thrown away from the prisoner Young—he was not struck down by the blow—he got up, and wanted to come up again, but they would not allow him—the spectators kept on crying out "Time"—I do not know whether Evans gave in for him, but Shaw came in and put an end to it, and turned off the gas—I should say there, were about 100 persons there—there were seats—I do not know whether some were more expense than others—I was never there before—I saw Good there—I heard him tell the deceased not to wrestle, not to allow him to be hugged—that was at the beginning of the contest—when I left the deceased appeared to be in a fainting state—he was breathing heavily, as if he had fainted from exhaustion and fatigue.
Cross-examined by MR. GOUGH. Q. You had been acquainted with the deceased some time, had you not? A. No, I did not know any of them.
Good. Q. You say you saw me there: did I seem to be more concerned than any other spectator? A. You were one of the spectators outside the room; I did not see you take any part in it, only tell the man not to wrestle.
JOHN CARROLL . I am a brushmaker—I was at Shaw's house on 9th October—I had no ticket—I paid 6d. to some one on the stairs at Shaw's house, in Windmill Street—I saw the match out—at the last round both parties seemed to be very weak, and they seemed to scramble with one another, and by some means or other that I cannot explain the deceased fell with his head against the partition, and after that one of the parties came in the middle of the ring and gave in for him—I saw Shaw there for about two or three minutes—I do not think he was there when anything was going on—they had stopped sparring then—it was in the interval, when the waiter was supplying refreshments—I heard that Flynn was in the room—I think I saw him myself—that was when the sparring was going in—I did not notice what he was doing—I heard a lot of parties calling out "Time"—I cannot swear that Flynn did.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLIAMS. Q. Have you not stated that you saw Shaw on the stairs, and not in the room? A. I cannot remember—I
did say I saw him on the stairs or passage leading into the room—I may have said that I could not say I had seen Flynn.
WILLIAM PARKER . I am a saddler—I was at Shaw's, in Windmill Street, on the night of 9th of October—I was having a glass of ale there—I heard there was some sparring going on upstairs, and I went up to see it—I paid 6d., and I had refreshment for the 6d.—I stayed there through-out the whole of it—I saw the lads sparring for about an hour—the deceased seemed to have the best of it—the last round the deceased seemed to square up to his man and make a sort of slip, and he fell against the wooden partition, and I saw Shaw run in the ring and turn off the gas and say, "It is all over, gentlemen; downstairs, please"—when I first went I up the stairs I met Shaw just coming out of the room—it had not began then—I did not see him in there at all while it was going on—when I went into the room the men were in the ring pulling on the gloves.
GEORGE SILVERTON (Police Inspector C). On the 14th October I went to Flynn's house—I charged him with being concerned with others in aiding and abetting and causing the death of a man named Wilmot, at the Queen's Head public-house, Queen's Head Court, Great Windmill Street, kept by the prisoner Shaw—he said, "It is a bad job for all of us; I was there keeping time for them; you do not want to take me out of my business to-night, I have a house full of people"—I said, "No"—I made an appointment, and he met me the following morning—I received this card from the prisoner Shaw on the 10th, the night after the occurrence.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLIAMS. Q. When you went to Flynn's house were you in plain clothes? A. Yes—he was not drunk at the time—I should say he had been drinking—he is a publican—his words were, "I was there keeping time," or words to that effect—I could not swear as to the distinct words, whether it was, "I was there keeping time," or, "I was there at the time"—I would not be sure.
GEORGE AIRY . I was house surgeon on the 9th October at Charing Cross Hospital, when the deceased Edward Wilmot was brought there, a little before twelve—he was quite insensible—we put him to bed, and did everything we could for him, but he died about half-past five the next morning—he was never sensible the whole time—I made a post-mortem examination, and found the right arm, the chest, and the face very extensively bruised all over, and the head was extensively bruised—on taking off the scalp I found several bruises, one larger than the rest just over the right ear—there was a large collection of blood, and a rupture of one of the arteries that goes to the membrane of the brain—that rupture coincided exactly with the larger bruise that I found externally on the right side of the head, about two inches above the right ear—that would cause pressure of blood on the brain and consequent death—I think the external appearances were exactly such as I should expect to find from blows by the fist with gloves on—they were large bruises—if he had lived a little longer the arm and face would have been completely black—the flesh was cut from the lips by the teeth—the brain was very healthy, and there was nothing at all the matter with the man that I saw—the appearances before death and those afterwards perfectly coincided—I attribute the collection of blood to the bruises—a blow or fall would cause such injury—it must have been a severe one—I should think the blow with the gloves would do it—I have seen some of them very hard—I saw some produced at the inquest.
GEORGE SILVERTON (re-examined). I produce some gloves which. I received from the prisoner Shaw the day after—I asked for them, and he ordered them to be fetched down by his servant, and said, "These were the gloves used on the occasion"—the elastic to one is broken.
MR. AIRY (re-examined). I think these gloves on a man's hand might produce such a bruise as would occasion the extravasation of blood I found in the skull.
Cross-examined by MR. GOUGH. Q. Did you open the body? A. No, only the head—I thought, from the symptoms I saw during life, that death was caused by some injury in the head, and on opening the head and finding the injury I proceeded no further—the effusion of blood might be accounted for by apoplexy, but this was a young man only twenty-two, and you never find it in a young man, and there was the external bruises exactly corresponding with the internal injuries, and there was no disease apparent—there is a disease called aneurism—if it had arisen from that I could have detected it.
Good. Q. How long was it after he was first brought to the hospital that he received any attention from a medical man? A. I think within two minutes—nothing could have saved him.
COURT. Q. Should you think a person sparring with such gloves as these in the way that has been described would be dangerous to human life? A. I should think so, decidedly—I think the man might be knocked so thoroughly silly by a blow about the face that he might die from it, especially if he were liable to any disease—a man might die from the blow of a cricket ball much sooner than by such blows as these—death would not be a likely result—I should think a very unlikely result—I should fancy that danger in sparring with gloves would be where a person is able to strike a straight blow—when they get weak the danger would be weakened, because I do not see how the gloves could do any injury except from a direct blow.
MR. WILLIAMS, in submitting that there was no case against Shaw, contended that the witnesses (being spectators at an unlawful contest) must be regarded as accomplices, and, as such, each would require corroboration. MR. POLAND referred to Reg. v.Hargraves, 5 Carrington and Payne, p. 178, where the point had been decided the other way. MR. BARON BRAMWELL said it had certainly occurred to him whether the witnesses might not have objected to give evidence on the ground that in so doing they might criminate themselves, but in such a case as the present it could not be carried to that extent. MR. WILLIAMS further submitted whether there was any evidence to support a charge of manslaughter against any of the prisoners, the death happening in the exercise of a mere lawful sport. MR. BARON BRAMWELL said the difficulty was to see what there was unlawful in the matter: it took place in a private room; there was no breach of the peace. No doubt if death ensued from a fight, independently of its taking place for money, it would be manslaughter, because a fight was a dangerous thing and likely to kill; but the medical witness here had stated that this sparring with the gloves was not dangerous and not a thing likely to kill. Both MR. POLAND and MR. WILLIAMS referred to certain passages in Foster's Crown Law and in East, where the distinction was drawn between accidents resulting from lawful sports and contests taking place for lucre. MR. BARON BRAMWELL. after consulting MR. JUSTICE BYLES, stated that he retained the opinion he had already expressed; it had, however, occurred to him that, supposing there was no danger in the original encounter, but that the men fought on until they were
in such a state of exhaustion that it was probable they would fall, and fall dangerously, and death ensued from that, it might amount to manslaughter and he proposed therefore so to leave the case to the jury, and reserve the point if necessary. NOT GUILTY .
They were further charged upon the coroner's inquisition with the like offence, upon which no evidence was offered.
FOURTH COURT.—Wednesday, November 21st, 1866.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MESSRS. GIFFARD, Q.C., and POLAND conducted the Prosecution, and MR. STRAIGHT the Defence.
JOHN BARNARD DAVIS . I am clerk in the Queen's Bench Associates' Office—in the absence of the Associate it is my duty to call out the names of jurymen in the different causes—I produce a record of the cause of Firth v. Mitchell and others, tried on 8th July, 1865—the jury panel is annexed to it—Mr. Kingsford name is there—I called out that name, and there was no answer or any excuse at the time, and a fine of 10l. was then imposed—in consequence of that, under the Jury Act, I sent out by post this form (produced) (read:—"Queens' Bench Associates' Office, Chancery Lane, July 10, 1866.—Sir, a fine of 10l. has been imposed on you for nonattendance to serve as a special juror in the cause of Firth v. Mitchell and others on the 8th inst. Any application you are desirous of making for a remission of the fine must be made within six days, upon affidavit stating the cause of your absence or the ground upon which you claim exemption from the fine, either in person to the Lord Chief Justice, at the sitting of the Court (10 a.m.), or at the Associates' Office, 19, Chancery Lane. I am, sir, your obedient servant, H. G. CAMPBELL.")—after this notice was sent this affidavit (produced) was left at the office—I believe the notice that I had sent was attached to it—in consequence of this affidavit the fine was remitted.
Cross-examined. Q. Do you know Davies? A. No; I do not know whether he has been accustomed to come to the Associates' Office—I do not know anything about him—I cannot tell you who brought the affidavit—I found it in our possession.
ARTHUR DASHWOOD . I am clerk to my brother, who is an auctioneer in Eastcheap—the prisoner was also his clerk some two years since—I am acquainted with his writing—the signature to this affidavit is signed by the prisoner, but not the body of it.
Cross-examined. Q. Do you know Davies? A. He was formerly clerk to my brother—I am sorry to say that he has not been an honest upright fellow—he was in my brother's employ, to the best of my knowledge, two years and a half or three years—(affidavit read:—"In the Queen's Bench. Firth v. Mitchell and others. Richard Davies, clerk to Messieurs Kingsford and Lay, of No. 3, Savage Gardens, in the City of London, Merchants, maketh oath, and says as follows:—That Mr. Henry Kingsford, summoned as a special juryman in the above cause, is, and has been for upwards of a fortnight past, residing at Geneva, in Switzerland, and was not aware of being summoned as such special juror in the said cause,
neither has it been brought to the knowledge of the said Henry Kingsford, by reason of his absence aforesaid. Sworn at my office, No. 23, Rood Lane, in the city of London, this 12th day of July, 1665, before me, Anthony Carr, a London commissioner to administer oaths in Common Law, Richard Davies.")
RICHARD KINGSFORD . I am a member of the firm of Kingsford and. Lay, corn factors—we carried on business at No. 3, Savage Gardens, but now in Seething Lane—there is no other gentleman of my name in the firm—we had not a clerk named Richard Davies—it is not true that I was residing at Geneva a fortnight before and on 12th of July, 1865—I was not in Switzerland at all—I believe I was attending to my business in London—I was not out of England—I received a summons in the cause of Firth v. Mitchell, which I sent to Mr. Mayhew, whom I have known two years—I had an arrangement with him to pay a guinea a year to release me from serving on juries—the last time I paid him a guinea was in December, 1865—no explanation at all was given to me as to how it was to be done—I remember afterwards receiving a notice that I should be fined 10l., and I took it to Mr. Mayhew—I do not remember whether this is the notice—I presume it was one like this, but really I have no recollection—it was a notice that I should be fined 10l.—I believe it came by post, but I cannot say—I have no knowledge whatever of the prisoner.
Cross-examined. Q. All your arrangements were made with Mr. Mayhew? A. Yes—he is an elderly gentleman, close upon sixty—his office was at No. 4, Tower Street—I was informed that he was a solicitor—I was told by one or two of my friends that Mr. Mayhew would release me serving on juries on the payment of a guinea a year, and I went to Mr. Mayhew and asked him if such was the case, and he said, "Yes"—he did not say how it would be done—I paid the guinea to him—I paid two subscriptions.
WILLIAM KENNET COOPER . I am a clerk in the service of Messrs. Kingsford and Lay—I was so in July, 1865—Mr. Kingsford was not absent for a fortnight in July—he was in London attending to his business—I do not know anything of the prisoner—he was never in their service as clerk that I know of—I went in their service in March, 1863, and have been in it up to the present time.
WILLIAM THOMAS ANDREW . I am clerk to the surveyor of taxes at Stratford—I know Mr. Mayhew's writing—the body of this affidavit is in his writing—the signature, "Richard Davies," is in the prisoner's writing—I have been employed by Mr. Mayhew to attend different Courts to make excuses for jurymen—I have known Davies employed in the same way perhaps once or twice a week during the sittings at Guildhall and West-minster—I have heard Mayhew give him directions from time to time—I have seen Mr. Mayhew give him a jury summons.
Cross-examined. Q. You used to make excuses? A. Yes—Mr. Mayhew would say there was some one summoned on the jury, and I used to go and make excuses by his direction—I did not have written documents, it was by word of mouth—he would give me the summons and say, "Mr. A.B. is away from home, on the Continent"—I knew nothing whatever about the person—I was acting under Mr. Mayhew's orders.
ALFRED FERNINGHAM . I live at No. 90, Queen's Road, Dalston—I am a commission agent—I did carry on business at No. 47, Mark Lane—I first knew the prisoner about two years and a half ago—I met him at a refreshment house in Eastcheap—I had a conversation with him on many occasions—
he has asked me to subscribe a guinea a year, and to ask my friends to do the same for to get them excused from serving on juries—he did not say how it would be done—he did not say in whose service he was—I did not subscribe—I have heard him speak to other persons who were present—he had said something to the same effect to them on two or three occasions, I dare say.
Cross-examined. Q. Have you been summoned on a jury? A. Never—I was as late in Mark Lane as last March—I cannot tell you when it. was I had this conversation with Davies, I have had so many—I used to meet him almost every day—I should say this interview about getting meexcused from juries took place about twelve months ago—I did not pay a guinea—I have not been rather active in these proceedings—it was not me who originally called on the City solicitor about this—it was on quite another case—I did not mention this to him—I had nothing to do with the origin of these proceedings until after Davies was taken—I did not go to Guildhall and give evidence—I was subpoenaed—I saw the City solicitor—I went to speak to him about another affair, and he asked me in the course of conversation whether I knew Dashwood, and then it all came out, and I then remembered this conversation in the chop-house—I do not know how this conversation began when he volunteered this offer to me—he did not mention Mayhew's name, to the best of my belief—I do not recollect exactly how it commenced—I did not tell him I had been summoned on the jury—I did not mention about anybody else having been summoned.
MR. GIFFARD. Q. This case was prosecuted by the City solicitor; you saw your solicitor about other business, and he asked you about Davies? A. He did—I knew nothing whatever about this society, and refused Davies's solicitations to subscribe.
JAMES POTTER . I am a solicitor—I know Mayhew—I know his writing—the body of this affidavit is in his writing—I knew him at Tower Street—he had an office there, and I rented part of it—it did not describe what business was there.
ANTHONY CARR . I am a commissioner for administering oaths at common law—I administered the oath to the person, whoever it was, who made this affidavit—I am not able to say who it was—we have a great many—it is in the ordinary form—he admits this to be his writing, and what it contains to be true—I then sign my name, and give him back the affidavit on the fine of 5s.
WILLIAM SMITH (City Detective Office). On Saturday, 29th September, I went to the prisoner's residence in Beresford Street, Walworth Road—I found him there, and told him I was an officer, and that I had a document in my pocket that I wanted him to look at—he walked into the kitchen and I produced this affidavit, and pointed to the name "Richard Davies"—I said, "Is that your writing?"—he hesitated, and said it was not at first, and then hesitated a little time, and then said, "Yes"—I called his attention to where he had described himself as a clerk, and he read it—he said he was not a clerk, and he had signed this as a matter of form—I asked him if he had been in the employ of Mayhew—he said, "Yes, I have"—he also said, "I hope I shall not get into trouble; I did not know I was; doing wrong"—I asked him whose writing the body of the affidavit was in—he said, "Mr. Mayhew's"—I was only employed to make inquiries then, and did not take him in custody—on 2nd October I went to the same place, and told him I was compelled to take him in custody for being concerned with Mayhew in perjury, and showed him the affidavit—he said
that he had been led into it, and that he was very sorry for it—he repeated that many times—I asked him if he swore the affidavit, and he said that he did not; on the way to the station he said that he had been many times to the Courts of justice with summonses to make excuses for jurymen serving on juries, and that he had often seen summonses come to the office from gentlemen who had been served—when at the station, previous to charging him, I read the affidavit to him—he was then asked by the inspector whether it was his signature at the bottom, and be said that it was, and that he had been led into it, and was very sorry for it.
Cross-examined. Q. Do I understand you to say that when you first asked him he denied the writing? A. He did at first—I have said that several times before. (The witness's depositions, being read, stated, "He hesitated, and said, 'Yes, it looks like my writing, it is my writing, I hope I shall not get into trouble about it.,")
The prisoner received a good character. GUILTY. Strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury.—Judgment respited.
46. TOUKHUR HENRI PHILIP CHRISTIAN GODFRIED VAN DER HOEVEN (37) PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully writing to Adrian Elias Hope, a letter containing threats, and inciting him to fight with him.— To enter into recognisances and find sureties to keep the peace for six months .
OLD COURT.—Thursday, November 22nd, 1866.
Before Mr. Baron Bramwell.
MR. POLAND conducted the Prosecution.
JOHN BATTEN . I am a subwarder in the Middlesex House of Correction, Coldbath Fields—on 16th October last the prisoner was there, undergoing a sentence—some time that morning I reported him to the governor, in his presence, for talking on the day previous in the tailors' shop—the prisoner made some observation to the governor—the governor admonished him at first, and after he made the observation he ordered him a day's cell and bread and water—after making my report I returned back to the tailors' shop—a number of prisoners work there, and the prisoner had been employed there; it was about a quarter to eleven when I got back—when the prisoner came into the shop he came up to me and made a spring on me, I turned round and caught hold of him by the collar—by that means he fell down or threw himself down—at the time he made the spring on me I was walking down the shop; he was in front of me—I did not see anything in his hand when he made the spring; he made a rush at me; he did not turn round; he was facing me, coming towards me—he had got his hands loose, he attempted to strike me; he struck at me with his clenched fist, and I caught him by the collar; he aimed at my face—he did not strike me, he struck at me—when he threw himself down I had got hold of him by the collar, leaning over him, and I found a stab in my chest with the scissors directly I was down leaning over him—it was under the fifth rib on the left side—I did not see where he got the scissors from—I saw them in his hand after I was wounded—he was making a second blow at me, and a prisoner named Driffield came up and prevented
the second blow; in doing that he was wounded in the hand—I did not hear the prisoner say anything when he wounded me—an officer who is present was in the shop at the time, and he came up to my assistance—these (produced) are the scissors used in the tailors' shop—they belong to the prisoner and bear his number—I did not see them taken from him—I have been off duty ever since—Driffield was the only prisoner that came to my assistance.
COURT. Q. When he first came towards you and struck at you with his fist, was it as a man would strike who meant to hit, or as if he had a weapon? A. As if he meant to strike with his fist, not in a stabbing way—I did not see the scissors in his hand at that time—the prisoners do not carry them about in their pockets—he might take them with him in going from one part of the shop to another, but it is unusual—where he fell was just upon where he was working—he might have snatched the scissors in his fall, as he was going down while I was collaring him—I think he got them after he seized hold of me.
THOMAS DRIFFIELD . I am a prisoner in the House of Correction undergoing a sentence—on 16th October I was in the tailors' shop about eleven o'clock in the forenoon—I heard a noise, a scuffling in the middle of the shop—I looked round and saw the prisoner and the officer scuffling together—the prisoner was just falling on his back—the officer was forcing him down—he had him by the collar with his right hand, and the prisoner had the officer by the collar with his left hand—I then saw a pair of scissors in the prisoner's right hand—as he was falling he had them in his hand—he struck once or twice, but could not hit the officer—he struck short—he then rose himself as well as he could by the right shoulder and succeeded in hitting him a violent blow somewhere in the left breast—I then got up to them—as I went to the officer's assistance he was striking another blow—I put my hand between the officer's breast and the prisoner's hand as he was striking the blow, and he cut me with the point of the scissors on the left hand—I could not tell what was done afterwards, I was so severely wounded—in two or three minutes I knew what was going on again, and I was taken to the hospital in the prison and put to bed and had my wound dressed, and a doctor was there directly.
COURT. Q. You say they had a scuffle, and the officer was forcing him on to the ground? A. Yes; the officer is a good deal more powerful man than the prisoner—he was trying to put him on the ground because he had the scissors on the ground—he had him by the collar, and the prisoner was attempting to strike him—he had the scissors in his hand in this position (describing it)—I am sure of that—he was trying to take the scissors from him with his left hand, the only hand he had at liberty, but he could not get hold of him—I saw that very plainly—he was trying to get hold of them as well as he could with his left hand, but he had them in this way as he was going down—I did not see them till they were just going down, but when I saw him he had the scissors in his right hand, attempting to strike the officer—I had to get up off my seat, and had about five or six yards to go—they might have been falling at that time—they were going down together, both of them—nobody else interfered besides myself that I saw—I have not been back to the tailors' shop since then—I have been in the hospital—I cannot tell how the other prisoners will receive me when I go back—I am frightened at going among them.
from the report office, where he had been reported by Batten, and went to the tailors' shop—the prisoner had no business there then—he passed me—I called him by his number—he took no notice—I went up to see where he had got to, and he was then close on to the officer, about two yards from him—he drew a pair of scissors from out of his breast, went up to the officer, and aimed a blow at him from behind, but whether he struck him or not then I cannot say—the officer's back was towards him at the time—with that I called out, and the officer faced about—the prisoner had recovered his arm then—his arm drew back, and he made another thrust at the officer and struck him in the breast—I can't say whether it was right or left, but it was in front that he struck him; then the officer closed with him, got hold of him by the collar of his jacket, and tried to put him down to take the scissors from him—by that time I got up to them—the prisoner had the scissors in his right hand then; he had them in this fashion (points downwards)—that was the way he took them out of his breast, and he was trying then to stab the officer as he was down—the prisoner was down on his back—the prisoner's number is 100, and that is the number of the scissors he had—these are the scissors he should have had at his employment in the shop—I did not take those scissors from his hand—I took another pair, No. 83—those were not his own—his scissors, No. 100, were brought down to me out of the shop afterwards—no doubt he had them about him all the time he was up at the office; I saw him take them out of his breast; that was not the pair I took from his hand—the pair I took from his hand was a pair he took from the board as we were bringing him from the shop to the report office—he collared those, and I took them from him—I can't say how he came to have his own scissors upon his person—he ought to have put them on the board before he went to the report office; they were taken from him immediately after the blow was given—I did not take them from him—No. 83 scissors I took from his hand after the first pair had been taken from him—those were not the scissors he struck the officer with, those were No. 100; the others I saw him take off the board after the scuffle—he made no remark when he aimed the blow—I was present when he was reported to the Governor—he was admonished for talking—he told the Governor there was a higher one than him one day, then bread and water would be all over—then the Governor ordered him bread and water.
COURT. Q. According to your account, when he first attacked the officer he had the scissors in his hand? A. He had them secreted in his breast, and he took them out; he had them in his hand when he struck at him—he was then behind the officer, the officer was going up from him—I don't know how he came not to strike him—I called out, and the officer faced about then, and by that time he had recovered his arm, and he struck him—the officer's back was to him, there was no one to interfere, and yet he did not manage to hit him—the officer was walking up the shop—he and the prisoner had both come in at the same time, only the officer had come in some few minutes previous and was walking up the shop—he faced about when I called out.
JOHN BATTEN (re-examined). I have heard my brother warder's account—it is a different one to mine—I am right, I did not see anything of the kind, not till after I fell down—I was coming down the shop and facing the prisoner; he was coming one way and I the other—I never had my back towards him—I was facing him at the time—he could not have made a stab at me from behind if I was facing him—he could not have done so
—I caught hold of him to prevent his striking again, and as I caught hold of him we both fell down, I being over him—I merely kept him down, so that he should not get up again—I am not under the least apprehension from the other prisoners in consequence of this affair.
WILLIAM SMILES . I am surgeon to the House of Correction—I examined Batten—I met them coming out of the room, and took him and Driffield up to the infirmary immediately—Batten was bleeding freely from two wounds on the left side of the chest, from the two points of the scissors, I believe—his nervous system seemed very much shaken—I put him to bed immediately—I dressed the wounds, which bled freely—all his under-clothing was saturated with blood—the wound was on the left side, just over the heart, over the fifth rib—the rib stopped the blow—if the blow had been between the ribs it would probably have proved fatal—he is a very fleshy man, which mitigated the danger—it was a deep wound, down to the rib; I probed it—he has remained off duty and under my care up to the present time—the wound in itself has not turned out to be dangerous—I examined the hand of Driffield; he had a deep cut in the palm, in the fleshy part, dividing the tendons—it bled very freely, and was a dangerous wound—it is now nearly healed, but I have no doubt the first two fingers will remain in some degree stiff for life in consequence of it—it was a wound that might have been inflicted with a pair of scissors.
COURT. Q. Is Driffield's sentence a long one? A. Twelve months—Four months of it have expired—I do not believe his position will be more uncomfortable in consequence of his interference—as a rule, we generally find prisoners rush to the assistance of the officers; in fact, it is the only protection the officers have among so many men—they did not do so in this case certainly, but I have known it in many cases—Duffield will be a sufferer from it for life; he has been in the infirmary convalescent ward ever since.
JOHN BATTEN (re-examined). I had come in at the same door as the prisoner—I did not see him come in—I had gone up the shop, and was coming down the shop again, facing the door—this took place in the centre of the shop.
Prisoner's Defence. I have this much to say, I have been used most shamefully, worse than I would treat a dog, for months; not only by him, but others. I have actually been obliged when I wanted to go to the closet to go from ten in the morning till four in the afternoon, because they could not punish me in any other way. I have been in that pain and faint that I have not known how to walk round the yard, and it was all because I reported an officer. This is what they call worrying a poor man. I was told by a prisoner who had been in there before that they would worry me for it, and would not put my number down when I wanted to go to the closet, and they have kept their word. No man could suffer more than I have by these fiends, that call themselves men; I am ashamed of them. I would not use a poor dumb animal as they have treated me, as God is my witness. Not satisfied with sending me for two years unjustly, they must hunt me up like this. I have no witness. Where could I get a witness? I leave it in the Almighty's hands. He is my-witness and my judge.
while I have been there—I had him in my charge from 1st September till 16th October, when he was taken from me and put into one of the gallery cells.
Prisoner. It is six or seven months ago; I bore it till I could bear it no longer.
Witness. When he was in his cell he had a utensil in the cell with him, and when he applied to go to the closet he was allowed to do so.
JOHN BATTEN (re-examined). The men in the tailors' shop work on the floor—it is raised up about a yard high from the passage leading up the shop, a small platform—if the scissors were lying on the bench they would be about a yard from the floor—the prisoners wear a short jacket and waist-coat—the coat is buttoned by the top button—he could put scissors in his breast—they might not fall through—his trousers might Catch them—by his walking along I think they must fall through—there are outside pockets to the jacket, none to the waistcoat—I did not hear the warder call out.
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding.—Five Years' Penal Servitude .
The Jury expressed an anxious wish that mention should be made of the witness Driffield's conduct.
MR. POLAND conducted the Prosecution.
CHARLES AMBROSE . I am a surgeon at Hammersmith, and am surgeon to the union workhouse—on Friday morning, 14th September, I saw the deceased child in the nursery there between ten and half-past ten o'clock—I could not form a very correct opinion as to its age, because it was in such an emaciated condition—it was a few weeks old—it was in a very filthy condition—I examined it particularly—its head and ears were dirty—it had on a white frock, most filthy, saturated with vomit, and stank—the eyes were sunk in the sockets, the mouth half open, and it was continually moaning—it had a napkin on with some fullers' earth, and the thighs were excoriated, ulcerated—it died on the evening of the 5th September, about five o'clock—I had ordered it food at first—I ordered it half milk and half water as far as it could take it—it was too weak to suck or take the bottle, therefore food was given by a spoon—finding it did not rally, I ordered milk and brandy every hour; at the same time I requested a young woman who had been recently confined to suckle it—the child attempted to suck in my presence, but could not—the young woman then milked the milk out of her breast and gave it the child with a spoon—I made a post-mortem examination on the Monday by order of the coroner—I found no particular difference in its appearance at that time—there were no marks of violence at all—the child weighed 51bs. 14 oz.—a newly-born child in good condition generally weighs between 61bs. and 71bs. when born—this child ought to have weighed from 101bs. to 121bs.—I found the brain perfectly healthy, except that it was pale—there was very little blood in the vessels—I examined the mouth—there was no thrush—the lungs were perfectly healthy, only bloodless—the heart was healthy, and contained a very small quantity of coagulated blood on the right side—I think there was very little blood on the other side—the stomach was small and collapsed—it was perfectly healthy inside—it contained but a very small quantity of what I supposed to be coagulated milk, about a spoonful—the intestines and bowels were all collapsed and reduced in size—a portion of the large intestine on the left side was
distended with wind, and the lower part of the bowel at the end contained a small quantity offical matter—I examined the whole lining of the intestine—it was perfectly healthy—there was not a sign of disease about it—the mesenteric glands were healthy, and the liver, spleen, and kidneys—the skin was not shrivelled—it was not pinched up—when a child dies from want of food that is not necessarily the case, it would depend on the length of time—my conclusion was that the child died of inanition, which means emptiness, want of nutriment circulating of the system—I came to that conclusion because I found no internal disease whatever to account for death—it died because it had not been fed—if a child is too weak to draw milk it could have food administered to it—that was what was done at the workhouse—we attempted to make it swallow, but it did not—it was too weak to make any effort on its own part to swallow anything.
Prisoner. I had not sufficient milk to give the child, but I fed it well, and gave it food of a night—it was very ill with diarrhoea, and I took it to Dr. Spurgeon when it was about five weeks old—he was out of town, but a gentleman saw it and advised me to change the food, which I did, and gave it flour, arrowroot, and milk, but it was then very bad and continually fretting, and nothing came from it but blood and matter—Dr. Spurgeon afterwards saw the child, and he ordered me to give it milk and take beer myself, which I did—I was advised to use fullers' earth to the child, as it was so sore—I fed it as I would a bird, and never left it without food.
COURT. Q. Suppose a mother had no milk of her own, could the child be brought up by hand? A. Of course—sometimes they will not feed in that way, and then they die—I could not form an opinion on that point with regard to this child, because I saw it in such a feeble condition, only two days before its death—many children are brought up by hand—the year before last I had two cases in which I was obliged to find a wetnurse for the child, which would have inevitably died without, whatever care had been taken of it—in my opinion this child could have been fed by hand if food had been given to it when it was strong enough to take it, but it was starved when I saw it; the food came too late.
FREDERICK WILLIAM SPURGEON . I am a surgeon at Hammersmith—I know the the prisoner—she lived at 9, Paradise Cottages, Albion Road, Hammersmith—I believe she is a married woman—I attended her when she was delivered of this child, I believe on the 27th June—it was a nine months' child—she had a very good time—I attended her for the ordinary period, about nine days—I believe she was able to give the child the breast—it was not her first child—she had two or three living at that time—when I ceased to attend her the child was going on well—I believe I saw her husband, but I am not positive—my visits were in the day, and he would not return till night—I next saw the child on the 9th September—the prisoner sent to me and desired me to visit it, and I went to her house—she said the child did not seem to be getting on, and that it was suffering from diarrhoea—I saw that it was in a very emaciated condition, and I directed that it should be continued at the breast, and that it should have beef-tea and some drops of brandy occasionally, and a little arrowroot—I also prescribed some medicine to check the diarrhoea—she got the medicine—I saw the child the next day—it was then somewhat better—I did not not see it again till the 13th, the Thursday—then I examined the prisoner as to the nutriment the child had been receiving, my attention having been directed to that point by the neighbours—she told me she had given it the various things I had directed, arrowroot, beef-tea, and brandy—I
asked her to show me the beef-tea, to convince me it really had had it, and a basin of beef-tea was produced, nearly full, and in a stinking state—she said the child would not take the breast—I said, "Let me see"—she then put the child to the breast, and it sucked—I could not swear that it got milk—I felt it my duty to have the child taken to the union the same day—I cannot say at what time it was taken there—that was the last time I saw it—I could not swear whether the diarrhoea had ceased then—the house was always wretched—I believe I have seen her the worse for liquor—I won't say positively drunk—I believe she was recovering from the effects of liquor when I saw her on the 18th, by her manner; her clothes and the room smelt so offensively of vomit that I was obliged to have the child brought into another room—I believe that was her vomit—she had every aspect of recovering from a drunken bout—drunkenness would have a very bad effect on the milk—it would impoverish the system, and deteriorate the quality as well as the quantity of milk.
COURT. Q. What was the condition of the child as to cleanliness? A. It was decidedly dirty, but I did not examine it so minutely as Dr. Ambrose seems to have done—the only food I saw was this bad beef-tea—I inquired for arrowroot, and there was none in the house—my memory won't serve me as to the brandy.
SUSAN PIERCE . I am married, and live at 9, Paradise Cottages, Albion Road, the same house as the prisoner—I have known her just on three years—I nursed her in her confinement for a fortnight—the child was a nice little baby born, small, but rather fat—it was not ill while I was nursing her—she brought the child down to me one day after that—it was rather cross, but I did not see anything the matter with it—she told me it had diarrhea—it looked clean then—I did not examine it—I saw it take the breast—it did not appear to take it eagerly—it sucked very nicely—I remember the doctor being called in—he asked me to go upstairs with him to see the child—he asked to see the arrowroot and brandy which he had prescribed for it, and I showed him the beef-tea—that was bad, and that was all there was that I saw—it was stinking, and the spoon that was in it was all verdigris—I saw no brandy in the house—I have had the child for one week, and the prisoner brought me one or two pennyworths of brandy for it at that time—that was before it was ill—she was out drining the whole of that week—the husband gave it to me to mind—he asked if I would look after it for him—I gave it arrowroot and brandy, and baked flour and milk—the husband provided the milk every night, or else left the money for it before he went out in the morning—the prisoner would be out four or five hours at a time drinking—she did not remain out the whole week—she came home at night, and sometimes in the course of the day—the child would hardly suckle then—she would go and lay down and go to sleep—she sometimes gave it the breast—she was not sober when she came home—I could not swear how often I have known her be away in that manner and come back in that state, but several times—her husband is a plasterer—I do not know what wages he gets—there are three boys now living at home.
Prisoner. She has said to me herself, "What is the use of giving the baby that bit of skin? it only sucks the wind from you."
Witness. When she has been out drinking I said it only made the child worse if she gave it the breast—she did not eat anything the whole of that time, and it only made the child ill—it always ate what I gave it—it could have been brought up by hand if it had been taken care of—it was taken to the workhouse at half-past six on the Thursday evening—the prisoner was
not sober when she came home that night at half-past eight—it was a week before that that I had the care of the child—it was very well then, only a little diarrhoea, nothing to speak of.
JURY. Q. On what terms did the husband and wife live? A. Very good—they scarcely ever quarrelled—he is a very sober man—I never saw him the worse for drink.
JOHN SEARLE (Police Inspector T). I saw the prisoner on the evening of the 14th September, when she was brought to the station, on a warrant taken out by the parish authorities, for neglecting to support her child—she was then suffering from the effects of drink—she complained of having diarrhoea, and I sent for the divisional surgeon, Mr. Barnes—he examined her and said, "I am of opinion you are not suffering from diarrhoea, but from the effects of drink"—he prescribed some medicine for her—I believe her husband is a very respectable man, in regular work as a plasterer—I belive his pay is about 35s. a week.
Prisoner's Defence. I was not intoxicated. I was very ill. I did everything I could for the baby. I own I have gone out at times when I have been in a low wandering state, and did not know what I was doing. I had no friends to go and speak to. The neighbours insulted me frightfully, and my husband was very cross to me; he has kept me without money at times, and sometimes only given me 2d., 3d., or 1s.
GUILTY .— Confined Six Months .
MESSRS. METCALFE and STRAIGHT conducted the Prosecution, and MR. RIBTON the Defence.
CAROLINE GARRETT . I live at 34, Chalk Farm Road, Haverstock Hill, and am sixteen years old—on Wednesday, the 10th October, I went to the Railway Tavern, kept by Mr. Parry—I live next door—I went for a pint of ale—when I went in the barmaid and Parry were in the bar—Hoskins came in afterwards—I knew him by sight—I had seen him about the neighbourhood—he was a short old man—he asked Parry for half a quartern of gin, with which Parry served him—he put down a two-shilling piece, and said to Parry, "What did you turn me out for the other night?"—Parry said, "For grossly insulting my wife"—some abusive language arose between them, and Parry made a strike at Hoskins over the bar and missed him—he jumped over the bar and knocked him down, and beat his head against the boards with his hands—he did it three or four times, I should say—Hoskins called out "Murder!"—there was a little private bar and a little door, that you can get from one part of the place to the other—there is a bottle and jug department, which divides it—the door was undone, and I went through there and opened the front door and let Hoskins out—he was dragged out by Parry and Mike, a man who sells apples at a stall outside Parry's house—I opened the door, and let them drag him out—when Hoskins got up he called Parry an abusive name, and Parry slapped his face, and with that he fell down—he slapped him with his open hand as hard as he could—Hoskins called Parry abusive names several times—when he fell Parry went to hit at him, and knocked one of his teeth out with his fist—after that Hoskins tried to get up—while he was trying to get up Parry struck him twice or three times I think, once in the mouth, which bled furiously, where the tooth was knocked out, and
the other was under the eye—he struck at him with his clenched fists—after that Hoskins did not go in, but waited outside the door and called Parry abusive names—Parry went in—Hoskins's eye was very much swollen, and his collar and necktie was torn completely off, and his mouth was bleeding—he held a handkerchief to it by his left hand—I picked up his tooth that had been knocked out, and gave it to him—I helped him up and fastened his collar and necktie.
Cross-examined. Q. Were you examined before the Magistrate? A. I was not called in—when the inquest was on I was not at home—I assist my father in his business—he is an upholsterer—I run the seams together—I work in my father's house when he has work—I work nowhere else—I did not see what occurred on the Monday—the deceased came out of the door, and I heard what was said—I saw some struggling at the door—the deceased was not trying to make his way into the house again—he only said, "Give me my change"—he said that at the door several times—while he was saying that the prisoner went inside and got over the bar, when Mr. Hoskins hallooed in an abusive name to him, and then the prisoner returned out—he hallooed it out more than twice, out loud just out-side Mr. Parry's door—it was after he got up—I saw him come out of the tavern—at first, when he went in, he asked for what refreshment he required—I was inside—I heard his words, and I did not return out till it finished—I heard all that passed—the language made use of by the deceased is not fit to mention—he said, "What did you turn me out for on Monday night? It was not me that did it, it was another surveyor that I had with me"—there were two stablemen inside—they sat in the further bar that leads to the coffee-room—I swear that the prisoner knocked the deceased's head against the floor several times—he was going to get up, and the prisoner knocked him down again—I went and opened the door, and he was dragged out by Mr. Parry by one arm and Mike by the other—he laid senseless on the ground then for some time—it was after that that he came to the door and abused Mr. Parry—I first gave this evidence to Mr. Wontner, the solicitor—I do not know the date now—I was examined before the grand jury on Monday—that was the first time I gave public evidence—I have only known the prisoner since he came to the place—I cannot say how long that is—I have not been speaking to my father about this matter—I have not heard him make any offer—he is here if you require him—he saw nothing of this—I know one of the two men that were in the place, not the other—he is an ostler—I do not know his name—I know Rogers, a fishman—he was not there at all—he was not inside—he was not at the doorway—I believe he had gone on an errand or something—he came up very near as it was over—I told Mr. Wontner that I did not know the names of the two men that were there—he asked me if there were any men there—I told him two, and that I knew one, but not the other—I knew one only by sight—he did not ask me to try to find him out, or point him out—I swear that the prisoner knocked the deceased's head against the floor—he catched It in his hands like that, and dashed it against the boards like that (with both hands)—I think I saw Mr. Wontner on the Monday or Tuesday week after the inquest—Mr. Hoskins, the deceased's son, came for me—I was subpoenaed—I knew nothing of the inquest—I was in the City along with my mother and father.
MR. METCALFE. Q. You say Mike helped to take him out; where did he come from? A. He was outside selling his apples, and when he saw the
scuffle he came up to the door the same as any one else to look on—that was when I opened the door.
MR. RIBTON. Q. Do you know a Mrs. Tuskin? A. No (she was called in)—I know her by sight—I have spoken to her once or twice—I saw her this morning—I merely said "Good morning," and asked her how the baby was—I have not seen her at any other time—I never said to her that I knew nothing at all about this, that I only came here to get 5s. a day, and that my father had been to the defendant about it—I never said that, nor did I say that he had kept me out of the way at the inquest—I deny all that.
COURT. Q. Where were you in the City with your father and mother on the day of the inquest? A. I do not know the name of the lane—it is a turning out of the City against the Bank—we went out with father—he went on business to a gentleman he does work for, and he merely said to me and mother, "Will you walk with me?" and we did so—we did not go into any place—we waited for him—I had no idea the inquest was coming on, or I would not have gone—I had no idea there was going to be an inquest—I did not know of it till Mr. Hoskins called on me.
MARY GARRETT . I am the wife of William Garrett, a furniture dealer—the last witness is my daughter—on the 10th October I was standing outside my shop, which is next door to the Railway Tavern—I saw Mr. Hoskins drawn out on the ground by Mr. Parry, and my daughter went to help to push the doors open—Mr. Mike helped to push the door open too—I do not know him by any other name—he sells apples—when he was dragged out I saw Mr. Parry brutally hit him on the ground three times on the head—he laid quiet for a little time, stunned—after that I saw him get on his knees—Mr. Parry was going towards his own house, and he would have gone in, but Mr. Hoskins insulted him by calling him a bad name, and Mr. Parry returned, and when he returned my bookcase came on me—it was a piece of furniture that was outside—there was a good many people there—it was knocked down by Mr. Parry striking at Mr. Hoskins on the ground—he was then on his knees—this took place just off my step—Mr. Parry said, "You insulted my wife"—Hoskins said, "I did not, it was not' me"—a crowd then collected round, and after that I had enough to do to take care of my furniture.
Cross-examined. Q. You were not inside the tavern? A. No—I never left my bookcase till the fighting was over—I did not see what occurred inside—the first I saw was Mr. Parry helping to drag out Mr. Hoskins on the ground—he seemed to draw him himself pretty well—Mike was helping to push open the door.
COURT. Q. Where was your daughter? A. Standing by the side of the bookcase after she had gone in—she had been to fetch a pint of ale, into Mr. Parry's—I saw her help to push the doors open—she then stood by my side till the bookcase fell on me—I did not hear of the inquest—I went into the City with my husband—it was held at the Prince of Wales I think, that is just down the street, by Mr. Parry's house.
MARY PRICE . I am servant to Mrs. Smith, of 32, Chalk Farm Road—there are two houses between that and the Railway Tavern—my mistress was sitting at the window at work when this took place—I went into the room—there was a noise at the Railway Tavern—I walked towards the window and told my mistress, and we threw up the window, and I saw the prisoner and the deceased coming out—they had both got up their hands—Parry was trying to put Hoskins from the house, and Hoskins was
trying to reenter it—I saw Parry strike Hoskins one blow in the face, and he fell on the stones—he lay there for a second or two, then he partially raised himself, got up, and walked about with his collar and necktie in one hand and his handkerchief in the other, frequently putting it to his mouth—he walked about I should say for twenty minutes—I then came in, my mistress told me to shut the window—it was not dark, it was getting dusk—I could not say whether there was any blood on him—I saw no one go to him when he was knocked down—Mr. Parry went indoors directly, and he looked very pale—I did not hear any language at all.
Cross-examined. Q. Have you told us air you saw? A. Yes—my attention was directed to them from the first time they came out—Hoskins seemed to be trying to reenter the house—I saw Mr. Parry push him out—that was the only struggle I saw—I did not see Hoskins pushing against Mr. Parry—I saw both of them with their hands up, and then a blow struck, and after that Mr. Parry went in.
COURT. Q. Are you sure he was not dragged out? A. I am confident he was not—he was on his feet when I saw him—I saw a man standing there with apples—I did not see him do anything—I saw Caroline Garrett and her mother standing protecting their goods in the struggle—there appeared something like a cheffonier pushed over, and I saw them picking it up—our house is next but one to theirs, on the same side of the way.
Q. How was it you were able to see it from your window? A. We put our heads out—the deceased came out of the house on his feet—he appeared to try to get in again—he walked from one door to the other—there are three doors altogether to the public-house—I did not see what happened to him when he got to the other door—I saw that he walked about for twenty minutes afterwards—it was not before Mr. Parry struck him that he tried to reenter the house, it was afterwards—I could not say whether Mr. Parry had got him by the collar or the shoulders—the instant we opened the window we saw Hoskins come out as though somebody was pushing him—I do not know what made Mr. Parry strike him—he struck the blow the instant he was out, and down Mr. Hoskins fell—I did not see but one blow—Mr. Parry did not kick him when he was down or hit him—I am confident of that.
AMELIA SMITH . I live at 32, Chalk Farm Road—On the 10th October, between five and six o'clock, I heard a disturbance at the Railway Tavern—my servant, Mary Price, raised the window; I looked out and saw two gentlemen coming from the Railway Tavern, at the door nearest to my house—their hands were raised, Mr. Parry was pushing the deceased forward, and he was trying to reenter the house—I then saw Mr. Parry give him one blow, and he fell to the ground with a very heavy fall on the stones on the back of his head, and I said, "Oh dear, he has killed him"—he remained insensible for a few seconds, then he partially raised himself, and then he got up, with his shirt collar and necktie in his hand—I did not see him take them off; when he came out of the house his shirt appeared loose, and his waistcoat was unbuttoned—after he got up he tried to reenter the house—he looked excited—I did not hear any language, I thought I heard Mr. Hoskins say, "You area liar," but I could not swear to that—I believe he was perfectly sober.
SEPTIMUS HOSKINS . I live at 74, Prince of Wales Road, and am the son of Septimus Hoskins, the deceased—he was sixty-four years of age, and was a surveyor—on the evening of the 10th October, when I came home, I found him sitting in an easy chair by the fire; he had a tremendous
black eye, his head was bandaged, and he had a blow in the mouth—he told me he had had a blow in the eye and in the mouth—when I left him in the morning he was to all appearance in the best of health; he died on the 2nd November.
Cross-examined. Q. He was generally a strong active man, was he not? A. He was—he was not out for two or three weeks after this transaction; he went out the next day, I did not see him, he did not stop long—Mr. Knight was with bim.
WILLIAM KNIGHT . I am a builder, 29, Alma Street—I knew the deceased—I was with him on Wednesday, the 10th October, from about half-past two till about five—I left him then under the railway arch, Chalk Farm, near the tavern—he was in good health, as far as I can say, and quite sober.
Cross-examined. Q. Did you see him out frequently after the 10th? A. No; he was out once with me, next day, the 11th—we went out to do a little business for an hour, but he could not manage it, he went back home again; I did not see him again.
JURY to MRS. GARRETT. Q. Was any of your furniture broken? A. Two little pieces off the bottom of the bookcase, by falling over—I did not make a claim on the prisoner for that, merely told him of it—we have not sent in any bill—I told him he had broken the bookcase, I got my husband next morning to put on the pieces that were broken off; the bookcase was worth four guineas—I suppose any one might have mended it for 1s. 6d. or 2s.—I did not tell the prisoner how must it cost—I said, "You have broken my bookcase, and my husband mended it."
BENJAMIN BAILEY , M. R. C. S. On Sunday evening, the 14th October, I was called to see Mr. Hoskins; he was suffering from great pain in his head; he had a severe bruise under the left eye, and there was extravasated blood in the surface of the eyeball itself—his pain was principally in his forehead—he was somewhat rational in his conversation, and apparently attended to business—I continued to attend him until the time of his death, on the 2nd November—from the apparent weakness of his system, I considered it would be as well to see another medical man, and I called in Dr. George—during the last two or three days he was more or less unconscious—sleepy—I made a post-mortem examination—externally there was a bruise under the left eye, with effusion of blood round the ball, a yellowish discolouration of the scalp on the right side on the skin of the head—internally the dura mater was very much thickened and adherent all over the inner surface of the bones of the skull, and underneath the dura mater, on the entire surface of the right hemisphere, was a diffused coagulum of blood from the back to the front—the lungs were flaccid and loaded with mucus; the heart was flaccid and loaded with fat—the liver was large, indurated, and presented a nutmeg-like appearance on being cut into—the coats of the stomach were thickened and contained a brownish liquid like beef-tea; the kidneys were enlarged, somewhat soft, and enveloped in thick fat; the left kidney on the lower part contained two cists of serum, which burst—they contained about a tablespoonful of serum each; the spleen was healthy—the cause of death was the extravasation of blood on the brain, that might be caused by external violence—when I first examined him his head was sore on the right side, he could not bear any pressure, and there was great heat over the forehead, it was burning to the hand.
Cross-examined. Q. Do I understand you to speak with confidence that the injury to the head was the cause of death? A. Yes—when he complained of pain in the first instance it was on the forehead and round the sides, but the clot was at the side, and on the top part of the half of the hemisphere—there was no injury at the top of the head, no bone broken, there was a bruise, not on the top, on the side, one bruise—I should think it might have been the result of one fall—he was a moderately built man, something weighty, not particularly muscular, but wellformed—I should take him to be about twelve or thirteen stone, and about five feet four inches in height; I should call that a moderate height.
COURT. Q. Put your hand to where the external injury was that you saw when he was alive? A. About there (near the top of the head)—he could have got that if he had had his head knocked on the ground by falling—if he was taken by the ears or hair, or collar, and his head knocked on the ground, I should think it likely that part would be touched, because the neck would give to a certain extent as he bent over—he might have fallen on that part of his head—his feet would to a certain extent be up in the air for him to do so, but he would fall that way, even if he was struck.
MR. RIBTON called the following Witnesses for the Defence:—THOMAS ROGERS. I did not see anything that happened on the Monday—on the Wednesday I was standing by my stall opposite Mr. Parry's house; I heard a noise in one of the compartments of the bar—I went to see what it was, and I saw Mr. Parry trying to turn a man out—I opened the door, and the old gentleman was sitting on his latter end on the floor, and Mr. Parry put his hands under his armpits, and lifted him out—when he got; outside he made use of very bad languare, and called Mr. Parry a b—vagabond, and squared up to him in a fighting attitude, and Mr. Parry hit him and knocked him down; he then went indoors, he did not strike or kick him while he was on the ground; as soon as he delivered the blow he went indoors—I am quite sure the deceased squared up, he did it in that way (in a boxing attitude)—he squared right up to him—I know Caroline Garrett, I saw her standing by the side of her mother, and my wife was standing at the other side of her mother at the time—there was no one in the bar barring Mr. Parry and the old gentleman when I opened the door.
Cross-examined. Q. You keep the apple-stall outside the public-house? A., No, I sell oysters, whelks, etc., anything I can buy—I am not the man they call Mike—I know him—my stall is opposite Mr. Parry's house, on the same ground the house stands on, about seven yards from it—Mr. Parry gives me permission to stand there—I have stood there six or seven years—I know Mr. Parry, of course—when I have anything to spare I spend it there—he never gives me anything to drink—I never had a drain at his expense till yesterday, opposite here—I have not seen a good deal of Mr. Parry in the last two or three days—I was with him yesterday for about five minutes—he said nothing about this case, not a word—he did not talk to me at all—there were more there besides me, I don't know who—no one that is here—my wife was not there, nor Mrs. Tuskin—I know her by sight, I came down with her—she does not live near me—Mr. Parry said nothing to me, only asked if I would like anything, and I preferred threepennyworth of brandy, and that was all—When I heard the disturbance in the house I did not go in and assist in taking out Mr. Hoskins—I did not go in at all—I did not notice his shirt and collar.
MR. RIBTON. Q. Were you examined before the coroner? A. Yes, I was subpoenaed to attend here—when the deceased squared up to Mr. Parry he called him a b—vagabond—he said two or three different words—that was the only word I caught hold of—after Mr. Parry knocked him down he got up and said he would fight him for an hour.
MARY JANE TUSKIN . I live at No. 31, Leonard Square—my husband is a coal-heaver—I know Caroline Garrett by sight—I have spoken to her—I saw her three days after the coroner's inquest—I heard of what occurred at the public-house—I had not heard of the death of the old man before she told me—I and my sister, Mrs. Thomas, were going to Mr. Cook's, the butter-shop, and we met Miss Garrett—she said, "Do you know anything of Mr. Parry's affair?"—I said, "No, not much; did you see it?"—she said, "Yes, I was in there getting some ale"—I said, "Oh"—and she said, "Well, Mr. Parry jumped over the bar and struck at the old gentleman, and then went and bolted the door, and knocked the old gentleman down and then kicked him"—I said, "Were you in there when he done that?"—she said, "No, I was outside"—I said, "Then how did you see it?"—she said, "I only go by what the newspapers tell me and what I was told"—I said, "Then you will swear false"—she said, "Never mind; there's plenty of money, because I shall get my dollar a day."
Cross-examined. Q. What was the day this conversation took place? A. It was the third day after the inquest—it took place close by Mr. Parry's public-house—I am really married—I do not go out to work—I am not very intimate with Miss Garrett—they have got a shop next door to Mr. Parry's, and whenever I go by she generally stops and speaks to me, and asks how the baby is—I did not mention this conversation before this morning; then I told it to Mr. Parry himself, in his own house, because I thought it was my place to do so—I did not hear of the inquest—I did not know that the gentleman was dead—I never knew anything about it before this young person told me—I did not mention it to Mr. Parry before, because I did not know there was any bother about it—I hardly ever go down there, except I go down to my husband, where he works—I live a goodish distance from there—I go down there about twice a week to see for my husband—they pay just outside Mr. Parry's house—my husband does not use the house, he is a teetotaller—Mr. Parry did not bring me here to-day, I came with Mrs. Rogers—I told Mr. Parry the same that I have told you, the truth, what Miss Garrett told me—she said she had heard that lots of money was flying about, and she did not care, for she should get her dollar a-day: those were the words she said to me.
MR. RIBTON. Q. How came you to go to Mr. Parry's? A. Mrs. Rogers said the best thing I could do, as I heard that, was to go there—I met her this morning—we were talking about the matter, and I told her what this girl had said, and she said it was my place to go and see Mr. Parry—I heard Mrs. Rogers had to come here.
COURT. Q. How came you to mention this girl? Did you know anything about her coming here? A. Yes, she told me herself she was coming here—she said she was subpoenaed up to come, and asked me if I was coming, and I said, "No"—that was three days after the inquest—I had not seen Mrs. Rogers till this morning—I did not tell anybody else, because I did not know it was anything to do with me—I am not to have a dollar a day—I don't wish for anything whatever, because I don't earn it—I have nothing to do but keep my place clean and my baby, and that I did this morning before I came away—I brought the baby with me to-day.
SARAH THOMAS . I know Mrs. Tuskin and Caroline Garrett—I heard of this affair at Mr. Parry's house three days after the inquest—Mrs. Tuskin and I met Caroline Garrett close by Mr. Parry's house—she asked my sister, Mrs. Tuskin, had she seen anything of Mr. Parry's affair—Mrs. Tuskin said, "No; did you?"—she said, "Yes, I saw it all"—she said that she was inside, getting some ale, when Mr. Parry jumped over the counter and struck the old gentleman—he immediately ran and shut the door and knocked the old gentleman down and kicked him—Mrs. Tuskin said, "Did Mr. Parry lock you in?"—she said, "Oh no, he did not lock me in; all I want is money"—Mrs. Tuskin said, "You are going to take a false oath"—she said, "Never mind, as long as I get my dollar a day"—that was all I heard—she said she did not see what took place inside—she said the mob was so great outside the house that she could not get nearer than her father's door, she only went by what other people said and what was in the papers—I did not mention this to anybody—my husband said I had better come up, that Miss Garrett was going to take a false oath, and, if I was wanted, to come and say what she told my sister and me—I told him what Miss Garrett had said, and he said I could come up if I was wanted—I came here this morning to help to carry my sister's baby, or else I do not know that I should have come.
Cross-examined. Q. When did you first mention this to your husband? A. Last week, on Tuesday or Wednesday, I do not know exactly—I work hard for my living—I have got a mangle—it is not doing anything to-day—I do not much with it before Friday or Saturday—those are my best days—I do not know Mr. Parry particularly—I go there for my beer of a night and occasionally have beer there—sometimes I may be there two or three times a week, and sometimes I do not go there for a fortnight—I did not know about this affair till Miss Garrett told me and my sister of it—that was three days after the inquest—I have not been to the public-house since then—my husband is a teetotaller—I take half a pint of beer when I want it—I did not go and tell Mr. Parry anything about this—I knew I could give important evidence.
COURT. Q. When did you agree to come here with your sister to take care of the baby? A. This morning—I had not arranged it before that—she asked if I would come with her—she lives about five minutes' walk from me—she came to me this morning and said she would come if she was wanted, and spoke about what Miss Garrett had told her and me, and I said, "If you go I will go with you"—I spoke to my husband about it last night—he said if I was wanted I could come—he did not order me to come—Miss Garrett told me and my sister that she was subpoenaed here as a witness—I did not go and tell Mr. Parry, because I did not want to have anything to do with it—it is the truth that I have told.
EUPHEMIA ROGERS . On the night this happened I was standing next door to Mr. Parry's along with Mrs. Garrett and her daughter—I saw my husband open the door while Mr. Parry lifted the deceased out—after that he sparred up to Mr. Porry and used very bad language—he said he was a b—son of a b—and Mr. Parry struck him on the mouth and then returned indoors—the girl Garrett was with me all the time, and for three or four minutes before I saw them come out of the house—she had not been inside, I am quite sure of that.
Cross-examined. Q. What are you? A. I keep an oyster stall at the Railway Tavern with my husband—I did not go to the inquest—I did not know that I was wanted—if I had been wanted I should have been there
—I was not aware that what I had to say was important—my husband went to the inquest—I came here to-day with him—I did not talk the matter over with him on the way—I never mentioned it—I saw Mr. Parry to-day in his bar just before I started—I was only waiting to see whether I was to come or not—there was a great crowd when this took place—I first mentioned what I have stated to-day last Monday to Mr. Parry and another gentleman who sat by his side—that was upstairs in Mr. Parry's house—I was not sent for—I had mentioned to Mr. Parry about what I saw of it before that, but it was not till Monday that I told him what I knew—I do not know when the inquest was.
AMELIA SMITH (re-examined). I did not see the deceased square to Mr. Parry at all—I am sure he did not—his hand was up in this way, pushing—that was after he was outside—he appeared to be trying to reenter the house—there was no clenching of the fist.
MARY PRICE (re-examined). I say exactly the same as my mistress—I only saw their hands up—Mr. Hoskins was endeavouring to push Mr. Parry, to get into the house again—I did not see any squaring—he had his hands open, endeavouring to push Mr. Parry, to get into the house.
COURT to CAROLINE GARRETT. Q. Now, be careful: have you heard what these two women have said about you? A. Yes, but I never see them, I still deny them—I never saw them—I knew nothing of it till I received my subpoena, when I was to come on the inquest, or anything—I did not have this conversation with them—it is untrue—I say I did not see them, I merely saw the one with the baby this morning, and said "Good morning" to her—I swear it is untrue—I was getting a pint of four ale for my mother, she was going to drink it, she was very thirsty—she had had her dinner—it was not her supper ale, it was between five and six o'clock—she sent me in—I persist in my statement that I was inside, or else I should not have known—I did not say anything about getting a dollar a day, or anything about the newspaper—Mr. Wontner, the solicitor, gave me a subpoena—I don't know the date.
The prisoner received an excellent character. NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT—Thursday, November 22nd, 1866.
Before Mr. Justice Byles.
MR. COOPER conducted the Prosecution, and MR. HARRIS appeared for Main, MR. WILLIAMS for White, and MR. PATER for Bevis.
JOHN THOMAS SWALLOW . I am an auctioneer, of the Market Place, Peterborough—I came to London on Tuesday afternoon, the 23rd October, and next evening went to King's Cross, intending to return home—I left my inn, as I thought, at half-past eight, and when I got to King's Cross I found it was only twenty-five minutes to nine, which very much surprised me, but I found afterwards that the inn clock was fast, and that it was a
quarter past eight when I left there—the gatekeeper of the railway told me that I had half an hour to spare, so I placed my coat and bag in a railway carriage and lit a cigar in his presence and went outside—when I was leaving him, the female prisoner accosted me two or three feet from him and asked me if I was going to Glasgow—I said, "No, I am going by the Edinburgh mail—she said, "I should like to go to Glasgow"—I said, "You had better go then," and walked off—I then went into the Victoria and had a glass of ale—I came out again, and walked across the road to where they are pulling some buildings down, opposite the Great Northern Hotel; I was turning round to come back again, and the same woman, to the best of my belief, came up and put a question about Glasgow—I said, "Be off, and don't bother me"—two men then came up, one with a white hat on, and who I can swear to—that is the little one, the prisoner White—he asked me if I knew where Mr. Johnson lived—I said, "No, I do not know anything about Mr. Johnson, I am an entire stranger—White then gave me a blow on the right side of my face with an umbrella—it was not very severe—I then received a blow on the left side of my head, which felled me to the ground—I do not know what that blow was given with—two men and a woman were close to me after I received it, all round me in a cluster—when I was on the ground I felt for my money, and said, "You have robbed me"—I had my hand on my money before I received the blow—it was in a canvas bag in my left-hand trousers pocket, not tied up, but twisted round—I had not to pay my fare, I had a return ticket, and had not taken my purse out after I left the hotel—I said, "You vagabonds, you have robbed me"—White said, "Oh! no, nothing of the sort; you have had a fall, allow me to assist you; do not excite yourself"—I said, "You have," and shoved him over and got away from him—I struck him and shoved him away—he was holding me here (by the coat)—I then rose up, and saw a man and woman running down the street—White tried to hold me and to trip me up, but I got away and ran after them—he did not trip me up, but he caught me by the calf of the leg—he had a white hat on—I got up to him, and the big man turned on one side and I lost sight of him—I saw the woman running, and laid hold of her and said, "You or the men have got my money"—I then received a third blow on the left side of my head, about the same place as the second, which rendered me senseless, and I fell to the ground—when I came to my senses they were all gone—I made a communication to the police, and then saw White on the other side of the way, and pointed him out to the policeman, who crossed and took him into custody—I then went across to him and said in his presence, "That is the man who struck me with the umbrella"—he said that he was not, he had been to see a friend off by the train—a great many people came round us—I saw a tall man going down the pavement, and said, "To the best of my belief that is the other man"—he was taken in custody directly, and I have seen him here to-day—I never saw his face, but I recognised him by his voice, which I heard at the time the question was asked about Mr. Johnson—they both came up and asked where Mr. Johnson lived—I next heard his voice when he said that he knew nothing of the robbery and nothing of that man, alluding to White—I cannot swear to Bevis.
Cross-examined by MR. HARRIS. Q. I understand that you do not swear to Main? A. No.
MR. COOPER. What time elapsed from your being robbed, till their being taken in custody? A. Not five minutes: not three.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLIAMS. Q. Are there a number of houses pulled down and a vacant space opposite the Great Northern Railway? A. Not to my knowledge—I went to the Victoria first and then across the road—there are some shops there, and a hoarding which comes up to the pavement—it was not more than three minutes after I was knocked down the last time, that the prisoners were taken in custody—I was perfectly sober—(The witness's deposition, being read, stated, "about five minutes elapsed between the occurrence and their being taken into custody")—that is correct—I had got out at the station gate before anybody accosted me—when White was taken he was on the opposite side of the road—I do not know whether he was standing still, the police had got hold of him—I had told them that the man who accosted me had a white hat on—I had never seen White before—one man asked me where Mr. Johnson lived, and the other said that he knew he lived about there, but did not know the number—to the best of my belief it was the big man (Main) who said that he did not know the number.
Cross-examined by MR. PATER. Q. Are you able to say whether more than one woman spoke to you? A. Only one spoke to me, but I saw two after I got from the ground—another woman joined in the chase, joined in running away—I do not know what she ran for—I could not swear to her.
RICHARD SPRATT . I am a cabdriver, of No. 2, Erin Place, Thames Bank, Pimlico—on the night of 24th October I was coming out of the Great Northern Railway by the back way at about three minutes past nine—I pulled up directly I got outside the gate, and just at that time three men ran by fast, all three in a line—they stopped at the corner of Edmund Street, but previous to that I saw a man stop a woman—I do not recognise the prosecutor as the man—I went to the top of the street, and then saw the prosecutor getting off the ground, and saw White and Main make off in opposite directions in St. Pancras Road—a woman walked down the same way as I came up—the prosecutor got up and spoke to me—I told him that there was a constable on the other side of the road—he went and spoke to him, and while he was doing so I saw White on the opposite side of the road—a policeman took him in custody—Main then came up, and the sergeant and the prosecutor told the constable to take him—directly the sergeant said, "That is the other one," he attempted to make off, but only got a few yards before he was stopped by the constable.
Cross-examined by MR. HARRIS. Q. Did he walk away two or three yards? A. Yes, a quick walk—I said before the Magistrate that I was not quite sure as to Main.
COURT. Q. You mean that you were not quite sure that Main was one of the men whom you saw make off fast? A. No.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLIAMS. Q. From the time you saw the prosecutor on the ground to the time White was taken, how long was it? A. Five minutes—the man I spoke to about White went to the right, away from the station, running fast—I did not turn the corner to see him after he ran—when I saw him about five minutes afterwards he was standing still, underneath the railings—the prosecutor pointed him out before he was in custody.
Q. Then if the prosecutor says he was in the custody of the police at the time he pointed him out, it is not correct? A. He was on the opposite side of the road—I only saw the side face of the man I supposed to be White as he ran by me.
MR. COOPER. Q. You saw his side face, and what do you say? A. I swear he is the man.
GEORGE PARRY (Policeman 14 Y). On the night of 24th October I saw Swallow in St. Pancras Road, leaning against a. hoarding opposite Edmund Street—he was very much excited—I spoke to him, and while doing so saw White and Main coming along on the opposite side—I had seen White before—I called Swallow's attention to them, and then ran across the road and seized White—he addressed me first, and said, "I did not rob the gentleman, I have come to see a friend off by the train"—Swallow then came up, and some people came round, amongst whom was Main—he was about a yard from me, and White was about a foot from Swallow, who pointed him out, and said, in Main's hearing, "That is the other man that robbed me"—Main instantly made off, pursued by Woodrough—White had this umbrella (produced) in his hand—about a quarter of an hour previous to this transaction I had seen the three prisoners and another man and woman at the corner of Euston Road and St. Pancras Road, opposite the arrival entrance of the Great Northern Railway—I had not seen them together before that night.
Cross-examined by MR. HARRIS. Q. I understand that Main came up with other persons, and stood round the scene? A. Yes—I did not see him taken.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLIAMS. Q. When you saw White and Main coming down Saint Pancras Road, had you spoken to the prosecutor against the hoarding? A. Yes—they both came in the same direction—when White said, "I did not rob the gentleman," Swallow was not standing so that he could have heard it, he was on the opposite side; he had not arrived—White was in my custody about a moment before Swallow crossed the road—I saw the cabman there.
Q. Is not this nearly what passed: Swallow said, "That is the man who struck me," and did not White say, "I am not the man, I have come down to the train to see a friend off?" A. No.
Cross-examined by MR. PATER. Q. Were you in uniform? A. Yes—the woman was a stranger to me up to that time—I saw her about a quarter of an hour before the robbery at the corner of Euston Road—that is about a quarter of a mile from St. Pancras Church—she was on the pavement—she had on a light dress, a black shawl, a dark bonnet, and a veil not quite half-way down the front of it—(The witness's depositions, being read, stated "she had a veil half drawn down; she wore a black shawl and a light dress")—it is some time since that deposition was read over and signed by me.
THOMAS WOODROUGH (Policeman 165 Y). On 24th October, about nine in the evening I saw a number of people at the corner of Edmund Street—on going there I saw Parry, with White in custody—he pointed to Main and said, "There goes the other man"—I do not think Main heard him—I followed him and stopped him—he said, "I am going home, I am a respectable man"—I said, "You must come with me"—he said, "Did he say I robbed him?"—I had not mentioned the name of anybody to him—I took him back, and directly we got back to the mob Main pointed to White and said, "I know nothing of this man, I never saw him before in my life," and then he said to the prosecutor, "Do you charge me with robbing you?"—Swallow said "Yes"—I took Main to the station, searched him, and found this flash note for 30,000l., these five medals imitating sovereigns, 14s. in silver, 4d. in copper, a purse, and a knife—I
had seen White and Main that evening opposite King's Cross Station about a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes previously, about a quarter or twenty minutes to nine—I did not see any one with them—they were near the hoarding—there is an angle opposite.
Cross-examined by MR. HARRIS. Q. Was not there somebody who said, "You will have to come back, some gentleman has been robbed?" A. Some one said, "A gentleman has been robbed"—Swallow was there when Main pointed to White—Main said, "I never saw that man before in my life".
COURT. Q. I understand that Main pointed to White and said, "I know nothing of that man, I never saw him before in my life?" A. Yes—White was then standing close by him in custody—they were standing close together.
RICHARD KENWARD . I know Main and White—I have frequently seen them together within the last three months in the neighbourhood of Church Street and Shoreditch, and I have seen Bevis twice or three times a week in their company at a beer shop called the Garibaldi, in Old Nichol Street—I went to Clerkenwell on 30th to identify the two male prisoners, and received a description—I searched for Bevis, and met her in Worship Square—I told her I was going to take her for being concerned with two men in robbing a man at King's Cross of 28l. 10s., on Wednesday week last—she said, "This is well got up for me; I know nothing about it, but I knew on Monday last that I was going to he apprehended for it"—I took her to the station—one of the railway policemen saw her there, and she was charged and locked up—she afterwards wished to see me—I went to the cell, and she said, "I am not going to suffer for other people; if you go to a house in Baxendale Street, you will find two. women there who did it.
Cross-examined by MR. PATER. Q. Was she dressed as she is now? A. She had a bonnet on—I believe she has the same shawl—I met her in Worship Square—I am not aware she had been to the police-court, she was going towards it—she afterwards told me that she obtained a summons against a woman at Worship Street, and I found it was true—I found on her a handkerchief and 4 1/2;d.
GEORGE HILLS . I am a constable of the Great Northern Railway at King's Cross—on Wednesday, 24th October, I was on duty about half-past eight—Swallow spoke to me, and Bevis came up and asked him whether he was going to Glasgow—he said no; he was going by the Edinburgh mail—she said that she came from Glasgow, and she should like to go there—he said, "Well, you had better go then; you have half an hour before the train goes"—he turned round and walked away, and she followed him—I saw no more of them at that time—I am quite sure she is the woman—I had not seen her before—she was close under two gaslamps—she came up facing us, and I am sure of her—I was shown several women in a room at the police-station on 31st October, and recognised her at once.
Cross-examined by MR. PATER. Q. How was she dressed? A. A dark shawl, a dark bonnet, a light drab dress, and a veil just over the edge of her bonnet—she had not spoken to me that night—I looked at her because I was speaking to Swallow when she came up, and she spoke to us—she went away after Swallow.
COURT. to T. J. SWALLOW. Q. Who was it you caught? A. The woman, and I said, "You or the men have got my money."
JURY. Q. We understood you to say that there were two voices asking about Johnson? A. Yes; I heard the other man's voice when he spoke about the number—White asked the question about Johnson, and the other said that he did not know the number; he had lost the number.
MAIN— GUILTY . He was further charged with having been before convicted at Portsmouth in April, 1865, to which he PLEADED GUILTY.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude, and Twenty-five Lashes with the cat. WHITE— GUILTY.— Five Years' Penal Servitude, and Twenty-five Lashes with the Cat. BEVIS— GUILTY .— Five Years' Penal Servitude .
THIRD COURT.—Thursday, November 22nd, 1866.
Before Mr. Recorder.
MR. LILLEY conducted the Prosecution, and MR. M. WILLIAMS defended Owen.
BENJAMIN ADAMS (City Detective). On 9th November, about four o'clock in the afternoon, I was in Cheapside and saw both the prisoners together—there was a great crowd at the corner of Lawrence Lane, and I saw Owen put his right arm round a gentleman's waist, and with his left hand take this breastpin from his scarf; Jones was shoving the gentleman behind—I immediately seized Owen by the collar, and saw him with the pin in his left hand—I was just going to get it from him, but he dropped it on the pavement, and Green, another officer who was with me, picked it up—I took Owen to the station, and Green took Jones—Owen wanted to be let go—he refused his name and address—the gentleman went with us to the station.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLIAMS. Q. I believe the value of the pin is 1s. 6d.? A. Yes; it was Lord Mayor's Day—there was a great crowd—it was just after the procession had passed—I did not see one of the mounted police backing his horse against the crowd—I cannot say whether that was so or not—the prisoner's cap fell off because I got hold of his collar, I think—he stooped to pick up the cap from the ground—that was after I took him into custody.
MR. LILLEY. Q. Was the cap on the ground previously to your laying hold of him? A. No.
WILLIAM GREEN (City Detective). I was with Adams, and saw the prisoners with three others surround an old gentleman at the corner of Lawrence Lane—Jones got at his back and called out, "Hit him in the caddy"—I then saw Owen put his right arm round the gentleman's waist, and with his left draw this pin (produced) from his scarf—Adams took Owen into custody—a scuffle ensued, Owen's cap fell to the ground, and when it fell he dropped the pin from his left hand.
Cross-examined by MR. WILLIAMS. Q. It is the fact that there was a great crowd there? A. Yes—I did not notice a policeman's horse backing upon the crowd.
THOMAS PALMER LOVELL . I am a clerk in the office of the Albert Orphan Asylum, Cheapside—I was in Cheapside about four on this afternoon, going from the next house to the corner of Lawrence Lane—there was a crowd; I felt considerable hustling round me, and saw a hand grasp
my pin; I immediately felt my scarf and found that the pin was gone—this is it—I cannot identify either of the prisoners.
Jones's Defence. The first time I ever saw Owen in my life was when I saw him standing in Cheapside, apparently reaching down to pick his cap from the floor. I stopped to look, and one of the policemen said, "Here is his companion." He was no companion of mine, I never saw him in my life. On going to the station I asked him whether he saw me speak to the other prisoner, and he said, "No." When we got to the station they said, "Of course, I suppose, you did see the prisoner speak to him?" and then he said, "Oh! yes, I saw them in company." I said, "What do you mean by telling such a falsehood? Not two minutes ago you said you didn't see us speak; I asked you that question just now, and what did you mean by saying 'Yes?'" He said, "Well, I do not exactly know, I didn't rightly understand you." I said, "I asked you distinctly about it." I said, "It's all very fine; didn't understand me."
COURT to BENJAMIN ADAMS. Q. Did you first of all say that you did not see him speak to them? A. I did not, not at first—when the inspector asked me if I had seen them together I said I had not, but I saw them speak to each other just before Owen took the pin—Jones gave a false address, 26, King Street, Limehouse.
Owen. I was at work at the Exhibition, that is the reason I did not give my address.
Owen received a good character. NOT GUILTY .
MR. COOPER conducted the Prosecution, and MR. PATER the Defence.
SARAH TEBBY . I live at 10, White Lion Street, Clerkenwell—the prisoner came into my shop about nine o'clock on the 24th October, and asked to see some boots—I showed him some—he looked at one pair, and said that was not good enough—then he looked at another, and they were too large—my husband asked him to buy a new pair—he was about five minutes in the shop—I am quite sure he is the man.
Cross-examined. Q. Had you seen the man, whoever he was, before he came to your shop? A. No—he was a stranger to me—he was dressed in a dark frockcoat and a round brown cap—I did not notice his trousers—I looked sufficiently at his face to know him—he had not spectacles—I did not notice that he had a moustache.
MR. COOPER. Q. Are you the last to go to bed? A. We both went together—I saw my husband lock up the house—the door and window were shut and fastened—he was the first to discover the robbery next morning.
JOHN TEBBY . I am a shoemaker at 10, White Lion Street, Clerkenwell, and carry on business in the shop under my dwellinghouse—when I went to bed on the 24th October I saw all fastened up—next morning, about half-past six, I found the shop door ajar, and seven pairs of boots missing from the shop window—I then went into the parlour adjoining, and found the shutters taken down and put under another person's premises—I think the persons got in at the parlour window—that was fastened the night before, and the shutters closed—I identify these boots as my property—they were in my shop when I went to bed, I am quite sure—I saw the
prisoner the day before, when he came to the shop—I am quite sure he is the person who came.
Cross-examined. Q. Was the prisoner a stranger to you at that time? A. Quite—I showed him a pair of boots, which were too good for him; another pair were too large for him—he was dressed in a dark coat and a round cap—he had no moustache—I swear that—I know these boots by my own mark on them—this 14s. is my writing—I don't mark all my boots—I marked these, that my wife should not make a mistake while I was out—two other pairs are missing—they are marked—I saw the prisoner again on the 13th or 14th—I think it was at the Clerkenwell Court—Sergeant McMath told me he was there—(my wife went with me)—he was in the Court—Sergeant McMath pointed him out to me.
COURT. Q. How did he point him out to you? A. I recognised the man—the sergeant took him that morning at four o'clock, and when he had taken him he came and told me he was brought into the court in the custody of McMath.
WILLIAM MCMATH (Policeman Y 36). About one o'clock on the evening of the 25th October I went to the rooms, 7, Middlesex Place, occupied by the prisoner and his wife—I searched the room and found the five pairs of boots produced—the prisoner was absent—the next day I went again to the rooms and found a padlock on the door—I was in search of him from that till the 13th of this month—I then found him at 13, Denton Buildings—he was in bed—I knocked at the door, and some one inside asked, "Who's there?"—I gave my name, and the prisoner said, "All right; I will be up directly"—he got up and let me in when he was dressed—when I entered the room he said, "All right; you might have had me before I wasn't far away"—I said to him, "I had better tell you what the charge is: for breaking and entering a house, and also for stealing five pairs of boots"—he said, "I never stole them; I can't deny fencing them, as they were found at my place"—I then took him to the station.
Cross-examined. Q. How far is Denton's Buildings from the room he had in Middlesex Place? A. Thirty or forty yards—I took his wife into custody on this charge—you will find that in the depositions—she was discharged—these boots were found in a basket under the prisoner's bed in Middlesex Place—the door has no fastening—the street door was open at the time—I never heard that the boots were put in there in the absence of the prisoner—his wife stated that she found them in the yard that morning, and that her husband was at market, but not at the time she found them.
The prisoner received a good character.— GUILTY on the second Count.
MARY ANN GRIFFITHS . I live at 6, Hunt's Buildings, Somer's Town, and am a widow—on Friday evening, the 19th October, at 8.30 or 8.40, I was going to my daughter's, and saw the prisoner attempting to open the window of No. 6, Goldington Crescent—I know him, from frequenting Somer's Town market—I am quite sure he is the man—there was a man on the pavement, who gave a sort of whistle between his teeth—the prisoner suddenly turned round, and I saw his face.
Cross-examined. Q. Had you seen him before? A. Yes, a number of times—I have never spoken to him—I have seen him in the neighbourhood
talking to several costermongers—he was at the door when I was passing—I did not say anything to him—I suspected he was doing wrong—it was not particularly dark, there was plenty of gas.
MARY ANN MIDDLETON . I live with my brother at 5, Goldington Crescent, Oakley Square, and am single—these articles (produced) are my property, one mine and one my mother's—I know them both well—I saw them last safe on Friday, 19th October, at about half-past eight to nine, as well as I can recollect—my mother missed them about a quarter to eleven—they were kept in a ground room, the same with the street—after we missed them we observed the window open at the bottom end—in the morning we discovered the mark of a foot upon the window curtain—the street door was shut.
WILLIAM MCMATH (Policeman 36 Y). On the evening of 28th October I went to 7, Middlesex Place, a room occupied by the prisoner, and in that room, on searching, I found, among other things, this box with the contents—the prisoner was not there at that time—I afterwards found him, on the 15th November, at 13, Denton's buildings, in bed—I told him on the way to the station that he was charged with entering this house and stealing this workbox—he said he had never stolen them, but could not deny fencing them, as they were found at his house.
Cross-examined. Q. You spoke in the last case of his having removed; had you taken his bedclothing? A. No; I took away two sheets that were on the bed, no others.
GUILTY †.— Confined Eighteen Months .
MR. LILLEY conducted the Prosecution, and MR. M. WILLIAMS the Defence.
MARCUS FIELDMAN (through an interpreter). I am a leather cutter—at a quarter to six on Wednesday evening, November 7th, I was opposite Shoreditch Church, on the right-hand side—I had my watch in this waist-coat pocket, and the chain round my neck—all of a sudden I got a blow on the back of my head behind the ear—I turned round, thinking it one of my comrades, and the same person then snatched my watch from my pocket, breaking the chain; this piece remained round my neck—I ran after him, and thought I should be able to catch him, when several persons stood in the way and said, "What's the matter?"—I was stopped there a few minutes and lost sight of the man—I had not noticed him till after I received the blow—when I turned round I saw not only his face but his dress—there was gaslight in the street, and it was near where a building was going on—the prisoner is the man—I did not go to the station, but A policeman came across the road and I told him—afterwards my master said I had better leave it alone, but the policeman said he would not leave it alone—on the Wednesday when it happened I went to the Kingsland Police Station, and on the Friday the policeman came and took me to the station—there were four other persons there, five altogether—I was told to pick out the right one, and I picked out the prisoner—I had no hesitation at all—I picked him out immediately.
Cross-examined. Q. What kind of a blow was it? A. It bled a little—it was a superficial blow—there is a hoarding just a little in the corner,
opposite Shoreditch Church—there was a sort of passage there, but the prisoner did not go up that passage—it took a few seconds to break the chain, as it was very strong.
MR. LILLEY. Q. Was it opposite the hoarding or opposite a house that the watch was snatched? A. Just close to the hoarding—opposite there is a public-house—the person who did it came from the right angle, just outside—I did not pay any particular attention to the light there.
DAN SCHRADER (Policeman 77 H). I received a description from the last witness, in consequence of which I apprehended the prisoner on the 9th of November—I told him the charge—he said, "You are mistaken; I know nothing about it"—I took him to the station, and fetched the prosecutor—I took the prosecutor into the inspector's office whilst I went and found four young men about the same size as the prisoner—I then took the prisoner into the charge-room, and told him to stand where he liked among them—after that I called the prosecutor, and the moment he went in he said, "That's the man," as plain as he could speak—the prisoner then answered, "I know nothing at all about it; I can prove where I was that night; I was at the shop at my work, and my book will prove it"—he handed me this book, and I found in it that he was not there that day at all.
Witnesses for the Defence.
JOHN BLUMMSEN . I am a shoemaker, of 59, George Street, Bethnal Green Road—I know the prisoner—he works at the same shop as I and my brother—on Wednesday, 7th November, he came there at half-past nine to ten in the morning, and was there till he went to his dinner, and when he came back from his dinner he was there till 9 o'clock—I know that night was Wednesday, 7th November, because I had to go to Turner's Music Hall, Mile End Road, to see a friend—I went there about half-past nine—we have a clock in the shop—we are generally in the habit of taking work home to a shop in Brick Lane—I don't know the name—he was in the habit of going from eight to a quarter-past to take his work home—he did not go on that evening—a young man engaged to work for me, Thomas Russell, was there, and my brother and mother.
Cross-examined by MR. LILLEY. Q. Haw far is the shop from Shoreditch Church? A. A little over a mile—I go to Turner's Music Hall every Wednesday—I left at 9 o'clock.
COURT. Q. Where was the prisoner when you left? A. I left him in the shop—he has worked for me for eight or nine years at different times—he has worked for me now for nine months, constant work—I am sure the clock was going—I know the time was correct—I take it from the Jews' chapel in Cambridge Heath Road—we can see the clock from the shop window—I heard the prisoner was in custody on the 9th—I was at work when I heard of it—his mother came to the shop at a quarter to nine and said so—he was not fetched from the shop, he was taken in Worship Street, I believe—he was not working with me on the Friday morning—he came about 10 o'clock, and said he was going to see the Lord Mayor's show, and I did not see him again that day—he did not come back at all that day—I attended at the police-court at Worship Street on the Saturday morning—I was not examined; nobody was—Mr. Mills mentioned to the Magistrate that he had witnesses in Court who could prove it was no the—I did not hear the Magistrate say anything—I am not certain that he did not make an answer, but am certain that I was not examined, nor any one else—Thomas Russell, my brother, and my father were in the Court—
neither of us stepped forward and offered ourselves as witnesses for the defence.
THOMAS BLUMMSEN . I am a brother of the last witness—the prisoner works in the same shop with me—on Wednesday evening, 7th November, he was there up to a few minutes past nine—I left home at a quarter past eight and went to the shop to take my work home—I came back home at a quarter to nine—the prisoner was in the shop—I did not go out again till ten—at a few minutes past nine the prisoner left.
Cross-examined. Q. Have you a clock in the shop? A. Yes, it is always going—it is what they call a Dutch clock—you can reach it—he was there pretty well every evening, except when he went away for the purpose of delivering his work—he mostly every night went out to deliver his work—he was accustomed to go at eight o'clock—sometimes he came back, not always—there is nothing particular which enables me to say that on the 7th November he remained in the shop till a few minutes past nine—I remember that he came into the shop and bade me "good night" after I came home—he used to make about two pair of boots a day—he used to have seventeenpence a pair—women's boots, with double soles—he has been at work for us for many years—his attendance has been coming in the morning and leaving in the evening at the same time—he has gone on with his work in the same regular course and manner—he made no other than ladies' boots—he did not work always for the same shop—I don't know the person's name in Brick Lane for whom he was working on the 7th November—I cannot exactly say how long he has been working for him—he worked for Mr. Colwell as well—Mr. Mills is his uncle—that book is in the writing of the master—Endsleigh is the name of one of the persons for whom he worked.
MR. WILLIAMS. Q. Do you remember hearing that he had been taken into custody? A. Yes—on Friday after the Wednesday—I attended before the Magistrate, but was not examined.
COURT. Q. Did the prisoner go alone when he went away? A. No, he went with Thomas Russell.
THOMAS RUSSELL . I live at No. 57, George Street, Old Bethnal Green Road—I know the prisoner—I worked at the shop with him on the 7th November—on the evening of the 7th November he left Blummsen's that evening at two or three minutes past nine—he went away with me to Mr. Fox, Dover Castle, Bethnal Green Road—I know it was two or three minutes past nine, because the clock is always right by the Jews' chapel in the Bethnal Green Road.
Cross-examined. Q. How long have you worked there? A. I worked there for that day—I went up to Mr. Blummsen's for a day's work—I have worked there before, plenty of times—about two years before I worked there, and I have worked there since, I worked there on all that day—I know prisoner very well—we were brought up as children together—I know the 7th of November was the day I worked there, because it was the first day's work I had had, and it was two days before Lord Mayor's show—I attended at the police-court at Worship Street on the Saturday—the two Mr. Blummsens, Mr. Finch, and other people were there to give him a character.
MR. LILLEY stated that he would not press the case further. NOT GUILTY .
MR. LEWIS conducted the Prosecution.
prisoner formerly rented No. 10, John Street, Wandsworth Road—after he left I sued him for nine weeks' rent—the case came on on the 17th—it was first heard on the 31st July—I heard the officer of the Court swear him—he then said he gave up possession of the house on the 21st March—I received possession of the house on Wednesday, 16th May—I received the key of the house on that day—I was in Dublin on the 21st March—I left Dublin on 8th April, and arrived in London on the evening of the 9th—on the very day I came back I received 10s. rent from the prisoner's wife—I have it in my book—they were then in the tenement—I am not certain that I saw the prisoner there then—I saw him there afterwards—his wife was examined also—in consequence of their evidence the Judge gave a verdict for rent up to 28th March—I afterwards applied and got a new trial—upon the second trial I examined my witnesses and got a verdict for the whole nine weeks.
Prisoner. Q. Do I understand you sued for nine weeks' rent? A. Yes—I refused to receive 5s. 6d. from the prisoner's wife—I had given them notice to quit, and I thought I should invalidate the notice if I took the money—I did not say, "I don't want the money; it's all d—bosh; get out of the house"—the prisoner was not present at all on the occasion.
Prisoner. I was standing against the street door.
SARAH BROWN . I live at Larkhall Lane, Lambeth—the prisoner formerly lived next door to me in John Street, Wandsworth Road—I went to live there on the 6th May—I cannot say how long they were in the next house after the 14th.
Prisoner. I have got one day of the month. That is where I made a mistake.
ELIZABETH HART . I formerly lived next door to the prisoner—I went to live there on 5th May—the prisoner was there a week or nine days after I went into the house—I saw him go out in the morning and come in in the evening.
Prisoner. I never saw the girl before till she came to the Wandsworth Police-court.
Prisoner. All I can say is, my wife made a mistake in the day of the month. I am no scholar. It was not done with a bad intent.
COURT to MRS. ELLIOTT. Q. Was there a rent-book? A. Yes; he kept the rent-book—he always knew better than I what was due. GUILTY.Recommended to mercy by the Jury, on the ground that he was not aware of the serious crime he was committing .— Confined Nine Months.
FOURTH COURT.—Thursday, November 22nd, 1866.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
The following prisoners PLEADED GUILTY:—
58. EDGAR BROOKS (40) , to unlawfully selling 240 muskets, the barrels of which had not been proved by the Birmingham Proof House.— To enter into his own recognisance in the sum of 100l. to appear and receive judgment when called upon. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
61. HENRY FLEMING (18), CHARLES CURTIS (16), and JOSEPH HUNT*(17) , to breaking and entering a chapel, and stealing 3s. in money, the property of William Keen.—Fleming Confined Twelve Months; Curtis and Hunt Confined Eighteen Months each [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MESSRS. METCALFE and GRAIN conducted the Prosecution, and MESSRS. RIBTON and LEWIS the Defence.
In this case the Jury, being unable to agree to a verdict, were discharged, and the trial postponed till the next Session.
FOURTH COURT.—Friday, November 23rd, 1866.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MESSRS. METCALFE and STARLING conducted the Prosecution, and MR. W. SLEIGH the Defence.
FREDERICK ROSS . I am in the office of the Chief Registrar in Bank-ruptcy—I produce a copy of a composition deed made on 22nd March by William Hopkinson, of 3, Alfred Place, Lower Wandsworth Road, which was left for registration on 13th April, and with it an affidavit of the truth of the accounts—I also produce the amount of debts.
Cross-examined. Q. Will you look at that copy of the deed: the first name is James Clements, a debt of 45l., and the composition for that debt and his signature is put, on April 2nd, 1866? A. Yes; that is the first signature—the date on the outside of the deed is merely the clerk's endorsement, but it corresponds always with the execution of the deed, or it ought to do. MR. METCALFE. Q. Is not the date rather an important part of the deed, because it must be registered within twenty-eight days? A. Yes.
SAMUEL WEYMOUTH HOPWOOD . I live at 47, Chancery Lane, and am a solicitor and Commissioner for administering oaths in the Court of Exchequer—this is my signature to this affidavit, and it appears to be signed by the person who took the oath—I administered the oath to him—the account was annexed at the time, and both the sheets bear my signature.
Cross-examined. Q. Can you tell me who the person was who signed this? A. I cannot identify him.
FREDERICK SEEAR . I am a grocer and teadealer, of Market Terrace, Victoria Park—I have known the prisoner seven or eight years—he came into my service some years ago, which was the commencement of my knowing him—he set up in business for himself about two years since—he had had goods of me before the commencement of this year, and I continue to supply him—in January, February, and March I supplied him with goods to the amount of about 80l.—he paid some small sum, leaving an amount of 61l. 6s. 8d., on the 13th April—he obtained the last goods for me on March 26th or 27th—the date appears to have been
the 26th, and I appear to have altered it to the 27th—on the 2nd May I received a letter from the prisoner, dated the 1st May; it is, I believe, attached to the depositions—at the time I supplied the last goods I was not aware that he was about to enter or had entered into a composition deed—I first heard of it through another creditor after the deed was registered, after the 13th April—my name is not in this account, which is signed in the prisoner's writing; he is still indebted to me in the amount of 60l. (The prisoner's letter was dated May 1st, 1866, addressed to Mr. Seear, and stated:—"I was not aware that you intended to push me. I did not put you down in the list of creditors, as I meant to pay you in full as soon as I get my affairs settled")—I called on the prisoner after the last goods were supplied to him, and before I was aware of that deed—I found him in bed, and told him I was sorry to hear that he was in difficulties, and urged him, whatever he did, to act in a straightforward honourable way, or he would blast his reputation in the commercial world for ever, and that I was afraid he had got into bad hands, and had got bad advisers—he acknowledged that he was in difficulties, and I asked him if he was so far involved that he could not by perseverance and industry keep a good name, as few men were in business but who at some period of their lives had been sharply pinched, but by industry and perseverance had kept a good name, and asked him what he owed—he went through his debts from memory, and I reckoned them up, and made it 360l.—he said that there were some smaller amounts, which he could not specify, which would bring it to about 400l.—among others, he mentioned White Brothers, Revell, Philpott, and Luce Brothers as creditors—he did not mention a word to me about having debts to the amount of 1600l., nor did he mention his father-in-law, Mr. Fashion, as a creditor for 100l.—he said that he thought it was more than he could pull through—he did not ask my assent to a deed, or mention one.
Cross-examined. Q. I believe he has been on visiting terms at your house? A. Not what I should call visiting terms—he was an old servant, and I think I was a good master to him—he called on me when he was in the neighbourhood, always addressed me as Sir, and signed his letters "Yours respectfully"—he has called on me about meal times, and I have invited him to have some dinner with me, but he has gone away immediately afterwards and not spent the day with me—he sat with me, and not with my servants—I find in my ledger that the last goods were delivered to him on the 26th or 27th March—I did not say at the police-court that the day was the first Sunday after the delivery of those goods—I said that it was on a Sunday between those two dates—it was after he had the last goods and before I heard of the deed—I had been to him concerning his debts about a couple of months previously—I had not been and seen his wife during that week, nor some short time previously, less than two months—I had a conversation with her on that Sunday when he was not present—I never told her that some of his creditors had been to me respecting his affairs, and that I would call and see William, meaning the prisoner, about them—I believe I wrote him a letter saying that I would call—I have no recollection of calling and seeing his wife and saying that I would call on Sunday—I had a conversation with her on this Sunday—I do not recollect a previous conversation—I went there some time previously, but he was not at home, and I saw the young man—I did not, in a conversation, during which Mrs. Hopkinson was very much distressed, say to her, "Do not fret, I will be a friend to him," but it might possibly be turned into that—I said that if he made an honourable arrangement
with his creditors I would assist them—on the Sunday I saw him in bed he had a bad leg—I do not know whether it was broken—I went to him both as a friend and a creditor—I was sorry to see the young man going wrong—I believe the expression I used before, was that I went rather as a friend—my deposition was read over to me, and I was asked if it was correct—I made one alteration in it, which was needed, and then signed it as a correct transcript of what I had said—I believe I did not say that I went only as a friend, not as a creditor—I believe I said rather as a friend than as a creditor—those were the words I used—I do not know how they were copied—(The deposition stated;—"I went to the prisoner only as a friend, and not as a creditor")—he said to me that he should have to make an arrangement, a friendly composition with his creditors, and I advised him to go to my own solicitor, and gave him the name—I offered to assist him in any way I could with his creditors if he acted in an honourable way—I was, I believe, the first creditor who took proceedings under the Bankruptcy Act—when I went on that day I should have advised him to make an arrangement with his creditors if he was not in a position to pay—I thought it might be a temporary difficulty—I cannot fix the date when I first went before the Magistrate for a summons or warrant—it was certainly after the 13th April—it was after we were aware of the composition deed—it was within two or three weeks of the 13th April—I did not know that an action had been brought against some creditors of the name of White Brothers—I knew that White Brothers had put an execution into the prisoner's house and taken away all his goods—they have told me so—I have done business with them many years—they did not suggest my applying to the Magistrate for a warrant, or advise my taking proceedings—I was introduced by the prisoner to them, and I am bound to carry it on, as he has made creditors of them—these numerous creditors are not paying between them for this prosecution—I have paid nothing yet, but I expect to do so, and I hope to get something from every bond fide creditor.
MR. METCALFE. Q. You say that you were the first creditor who took proceedings in the Bankruptcy Court; was that after you heard of the deed? A. Yes—I did not believe it was genuine; and it was for the purpose of testing its validity—I am not aware that Mr. Read took proceedings at the same time—he was at the Court at the same time.
(The deed, being read, was a release to the prisoner by certain creditors upon payment by him of 2s. 6d. in the pound. The affidavit stated that the account annexed to it was a true account of the names and addresses of the prisoner's creditors, and was signed by him, and the amounts were cast up as 1203l. 10s., which would represent three-fourths of the whole, plus 1l.; but when added up correctly it only amounted to 1003l., and Mr. Seear's debt was omitted.) GUILTY. Judgment respited.
OLD COURT.—Friday, October 23rd, 1866.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
64. SIMEON DUCK (30)and WILLIAM HENRY TAYLOR (34) were indicted for stealing six dozen pairs of gloves of John Derby Allcroft and others; two other counts for stealing six dozen and ten dozen pairs of gloves; and four counts for feloniously receiving the same.
MR. GIFFARD, Q. C., with MESSRS. POLAND and GRAIN conducted the Prosecution, MR. RIBTON defended Duck, and MR. DIGBY SEYMOUR, Q. C., defended Taylor. In this case the Jury, being unable to agree, were discharged without giving a verdict, and the case was postponed till next Sessions .
Before Baron Bramwell.
MESSRS. POLAND and BEASLEY conducted the Prosecution, and MR. DALY the Defence.
WILLIAM KEMP . I live at 8, Esplanade Cottages, Lewisham—I knew the deceased George Styles—he lived in the next cottage to me, No. 7—about half-past eleven on Saturday night, 13th October, whilst in my house, I heard some noise in front of my cottage by Mrs. Cole and her children—I came out and looked, and Styles opened his window—Cole walked along, and Styles said, "What is the matter, Sam?" and he said, "Oh, my son-in-law is going to stab me"—Styles said, "Shall I come down, Sam?"—Jones said, "No, not to-night; come down some other night," and while he said it Mr. Jones (the prisoner) stood out there—Mrs. Jones said, "If he comes down I will drench him with water"—she repeated those words several times, and with that Styles dressed him-self and came down—while he was doing so Jones walked indoors and got what he had, and stood behind the front of the house three or four minutes—Mrs. Jones got hallooing to him, and said, "You stop here, Jack; if he comes down I will chuck this water over him"—Styles walked down, and I walked down too—in the meantime Mrs. Jones took up the pail of water, and chucked it partly over him and partly over me—she then went to the door, and took up a broom and struck at Styles—he put up his hand and took the broom, and tried to break it, and while he was in the act of breaking it Jones stepped from the front of his house and struck him down on the head with something similar to a hammer, and it went off just like the bursting of an air-ball or a paper bag, and he fell—I did not see Styles do anything to him—I was close to them—I said to the prisoner, "Jack, what have you done? have you hit him with a hammer?"—he made no answer—I got a candle, and went and looked at his head, and I said he was killed; I thought he was—I saw a hole in his head, and blood running out at the back of his head, and running right down into the river—I directly went and fetched a constable—I think the prisoner had had a little beer that night, but I did not notice whether he was tipsy or not—he only went into his house once—I could not see whether he had anything in his hand or not—I did not observe anything.
Cross-examined. Q. About how many people were there there altogether? A. There was Jones and his wife, me and my wife, Mrs. Styles, and a man named Hillard, son-in-law to the people—several came out of their doors afterwards—I did not take notice of them all—they were out when it was done—Miss Thomas came out after the blow was struck—I took
the candle from her—it was dark—it was seven or eight minutes before the blow that I heard the prisoner saying, "Not to-night; come down some other night"—it might be three or four minutes after that that he went into his house—he was standing close against his window at the time—his wife went in with him—they were a very little while in there—they came out again together, and the prisoner stood by the wall with his hands so—I could not see them, but they might be by his side—I might have said before the Magistrate that they were by his side—I did not see Styles do anything when he came out, only walk towards Mrs. Jones—the prisoner was standing with his wife beside his own wall—Mrs. Jones got the water from the front door—I do not know that he said anything before the water was thrown over him—he might have said, "What did she say?" or something like it—I was not above eight yards from them—she said, "If you come here I will chuck the water over you"—he did go, and she chucked the water over him, and then she took the broom—she struck at him with it, and he put up his hand to defend himself—Jones stepped from the wall directly, and Styles took the broom and hit him—Mrs. Jones did not try to hold the broom—she loosed it directly—it was almost instantly done—I did not hear any one use any bad language—I did not hear Mrs. Jones called anything.
MR. BBASLEY. Q. About how long did this struggle with the broom last? A. A very little while—during that time Jones was standing waiting for his opportunity, by what I could see—I did not see Styles do anything to Mrs. Jones before she threw the water over him.
ELIZABETH KEMP . I am the wife of the last witness—on Saturday night, 13th October, there was a disturbance going on in the front of our house between Mrs. Cole and her son—I went out with my husband into the street—the deceased lived next door to us—he was upstairs at his bedroom window—when I went out he opened the window, when he heard Mrs. Cole crying, and he asked if he should come down—Mr. Cole came along, and he asked what was the matter—Cole said that they were going to run a knife through his guts—he said, "You should have your guts lined either with lead or with iron, then the knife would not penetrate through"—with that Jones came out of his mother-in-law's house, and said to me, "It is the women's long tongues that causes all these disturbances"—Styles made some remark to me, but what it was I do not exactly know—the prisoner did not answer it—Mrs. Jones said if Styles came down she was up and dressed and ready for him, and would throw some water over him—the deceased told her that she wanted throwing into the river to wash the scabs off her arms—I did not hear her call him any name particularly—he said, "Do you want me to come down? if you do I will come"—the prisoner said, "No, not to-night; another night"—Mrs. Jones then called him a bald-headed old something, but I did not hear the word, and with that the deceased came downstairs—he was not dressed when he was up at the window; I could see that, because he put his legs out—when he came down he had his trousers on, but no hat or cap or jacket—he had a bald head—he no sooner came down than Mrs. Jones up with a pail of water and threw part over him and part over my husband—it was a large tin pail, that she brought out of her own house—as soon as the water was gone she seized the hair broom, and began to strike at him—she did not hit him—he took the broom away from her, and was in the act of breaking it and throwing it into the river when the blow was struck—the prisoner was standing outside his door, by his window, while this
altercation was going on, in this position (with his arms behind him)—I went to him and said, "Mr. Jones, shut your door; Mr. Styles is coming down"—that was before he did come down, when I saw the light disappear from the bedroom window—Jones said if he did come he should have what he came for—I saw Jones step out and strike the blow—it looked to me like a hammer that he struck with—he had it in his right hand—I am certain he had something—it was a very violent blow—I could hear it—it appeared to me like a paper bag filled with wind burst in his hand—it was a very loud report indeed—I saw the deceased put his hands up and fall back, and he never spoke for a time—I know no more that went on after that—the deceased had nothing on his head at the time—I did not hear the prisoner speak at all—I saw him throw what he had in his hand behind him, in the direction of the passage of his own house—I said to him, "Mr. Jones, you have no business to hit that man with that," and he said, "What is the matter? I am going to look for my broom"—I observed him go into his house after he came out of his mother-in-law's, just before the disturbance began, before Styles came down—he had nothing in his hand when he came out of his mother-in-law's I did not see the deceased do anything to him, the deceased was picked up and taken in, and he asked me whether I saw the blow struck—I said, "I did," and he said, "It was cruel of him to hit me with that hammer"—they were both under the influence of drink, but not as I had seen them before.
Cross-examined. Q. Could your husband have heard him say that what he came down for he should get? A. I do not think he did, he is rather hard of hearing—I do not know whether he did hear it or not—he was standing close to Mr. Styles some part of the time, and some part of the time close to Mr. Jones—I told the Magistrate of that expression—I am sure of that—I do not know whether it was in my depositions—I said at first that the blow went off pop—I heard my husband examined before the Magistrate, and heard him say it was like a paper bag or an air-ball—I said the same, because we were both there, close to each other—I was examined before him before the Magistrate—I never saw a blow struck by the deceased—they were close together, against Jones's window—it was close to his door that the deceased was breaking the broom—he might have struck the prisoner without my seeing it, but I was close there and never saw it—I saw the prisoner go into his own house—I did not see his wife go in with him—he went in by himself, when I saw him I should not think his wife could have gone in with him without my seeing it—I say positively she did not go in with him when I saw him.
GEORGE ELLIOTT . I am a labourer, and live at 6, Esplanade Cottages, Lewisham—on Saturday, the 13th October, I was in bed when this occurred—I put on my clothes and went out in front, and saw a row between Styles and Jones—I saw Mrs. Kemp and Mrs. Jones there—I say Styles sparring his fists up to Jones—Jones was doing nothing—after that there was a bit of a row—Styles did not strike the prisoner—the prisoner did not say anything to him—he did not hit him—the prisoner is my brother-in-law—I did not see any blows struck, but I heard one—I saw Styles on the ground—I was the first one who helped to pick him up.
GEORGE NUNN (Policeman 127 P). On Saturday night, 13th October, about half-past twelve, I was fetched to the Esplanade Cottages—I found Styles lying on a sofa in his house, with a very large wound on the left
side of his head—I went for a doctor, and afterwards went to the prisoner's house—he was in bed—I told him he must get up and go with me and another constable to the station—he said, "What for?"—I said, "For the assault you have committed on Styles"—he said, "Very well, I can go"—he got up and dressed himself, and I took him into Styles's house—before going in I asked him what he had done with the hammer that he had struck Styles with—he said, "I did not strike him with a hammer"—I said, "What did you strike him with, then?"—he said, "Not with a hammer, with my fist"—I took him into Styles, who was lying on a sofa, and asked if that was the man who struck him—he said, "Yes"—I said, "Can you swear he is the man?"—he said, "Yes, I can swear that, I will take my oath of it"—the prisoner said nothing—he was not sober—he was a little under the influence of drink.
JAMES FINNEY (Policeman R 56). I went to Jones's house when he was taken into custody—as I was taking him to the station he said, "Policeman, you would not catch me coming so quiet with you if I did not think I was in the right; he has been getting on at me and my family a long time, and called my mother-in-law a rotten old w—"—when the charge was read over to him at the station he said, "I did not strike him with a hammer"—I then returned to his house to search for the hammer, and found it at the end of a passage, in a recess under the stairs—that was about half-past two or a quarter to three in the morning.
Cross-examined. Q. Were there any marks of blood on the hammer? A. No.
COURT. Q. Did you find it in a place where it could be thrown by a person standing at the door? A. The recess is under the stairs in a direct line from the front door; there is a door to the recess, but that was open; it is a sort of cupboard, where there was a quantity of coke, nothing else—there were no shelves to it—the hammer was in front of the coke, behind a piece of board which was placed to keep the coke from falling into the passage.
FREDERICK HUMPHREYS . I was house surgeon at Guy's Hospital when Styles was brought there, on Sunday morning, the 14th October, about five o'clock, by one of the constables—I found a large cut in his forehead, at the top, on the left side, where the hair begins—he was bald there—it was about two inches long and gaping wide open, and a fracture of the bone—part of the bone was depressed, knocked into the brain, and fractured—Mr. Durham, the surgeon, was sent for at once, and took out a good deal of bone—he went on well till Tuesday morning, and on Wednesday morning, about ten o'clock, he died—there was a post-mortem examination—I found that the membranes of the brain were inflamed—that was the cause of death—the brain was bruised opposite the place of injury—the skull had a large hole in it where the bone had been taken out—it was an oval hole, about an inch wide by an inch and a half long—the injury to the brain was the cause of death—a blow with a hammer of this description would be calculated to inflict such an injury, one blow—the pressure of the instrument would most likely prevent the blood from coming at first—I should say the skull might be fractured in that way, and yet the instrument not have blood upon it—it would be impossible for a fist to cause such an injury.
Cross-examined. Q. Are there not a good many arteries about the surface of the head? A. Yes—I should say they would spout blood almost directly they were severed, at the next pulsation of the heart—the instrument went about half an inch into the skull—there was a good deal of bleeding—it
might be a sudden blow, and the instrument might be taken away before the blood came—it must have been a very heavy blow—if he could recover his arm in time most likely the blood would not spout on the hammer—I can't say which would be more likely; I never tried—I have seen arteries divided by a slow cut, never by a sudden blow—the blood spouts as soon as the knife gets away from the artery, as soon as it passes through it—the knife is generally bloody—the deceased was a healthy man in every respect—I don't know that he had been a drinking man—there was nothing to show it—his organs were all healthy—I cannot account for the change that took place—it is very common indeed after such an injury.
ROBERT MCMURDO SMITH . I am a gasfitter, and live at 4, Pear Tree Cottages, Lewisham—I knew the deceased and the prisoner—somewhere between two and three months before this matter happened I was with the prisoner in his garden—I went to look at some iron that he had to sell—I said to him, "I hear you have had another row here the other Sunday week"—he said, "Yes; Styles has been on to my wife again; he is always on to her, calling her all sorts of names; if he gets on to her when I am at home I will smash his brains in with a b—hammer"—I said, "Don't talk like that, Jack; serve him like I did: he would not leave me alone when I lived up here, and I gave him a punch in the nose"—he said, "No; he called my wife a b—scabby old w—, and I mean doing it."
Cross-examined. Q. Have you and the prisoner been good friends? A. Yes—I have known him many years—about ten weeks ago he was working for me at a job—I asked him to work for me, and he said he had some-thing else to do and refused—he played the fool with me for two or three days, and kept me waiting for him—I was examined before the Magistrate—I believe I then stated what I have said to-day—I said that the prisoner said, "He is always calling my wife bad names," not "my wife and me"—nor did I add, "If he he don't leave us alone I will smash his skull with a hammer"—I can't say whether I said "skull" or "brains"—I do not carry a pocket-book about with me to put down the exact words—he meant hitting him on the head with the hammer, what the exact words were I can't say.
The prisoner received a good character, GUILTY of Manslaughter— Seven Years' Penal Servitude .
Before Mr. Recorder.
Before Mr. Justice Byles.
MESSRS. DALY and W. SLEIGH conducted the Prosecution, and MR. GRIFFITHS the Defence.
in-law was in the same room with me—there had been a little disagreement between her and her husband, in consequence of which she refused to go home, and slept on the floor, and her husband slept on the bed with the two boys—when I was going to lie down, my sister-in-law said, "There is some one looking through the shutters"—I looked, and saw that the shutters were open—my sister-in-law ran and opened the street door—she then came in and said something, and her husband went out in his drawers and stockings—after he came in I went to the street-door and saw the prisoner run to the corner of an alley opposite—he called "Chums" three times, and two young men came out of the alley with him—he crossed the road with his arms raised towards the door—I was standing just inside it—I put my hands up, thinking he was going to strike me in the face, and he plunged a knife into the side of my stomach—he said as he came across the road that the first one he came to he would give a bit of steel to—the blow sent me staggering into the passage, and he came into the passage to draw the knife out—there was a light on the table, which shone full on his face—he is the man.
Cross-examined. Q. How many people were standing outside the door at the time? A. The prisoner and those two that he called from the alley, Digby and Jones—I heard a few words outside with my brother-in-law, when he went out and asked why he had opened the shutters—my brother-in-law was not out long enough to have knocked the prisoner about a good deal—I did not hear that his mouth had been cut, and was bleeding badly—I heard rowing when my brother-in-law went out—I had nothing in my hand—Charlotte Ash was in the room with me—she did not come out and say that she would knock them down—she hallooed "Police! murder! there is a man stabbed," and the prisoner, who was standing in the middle of the road, ran off—he was not very tipsy, but he had had a drop to drink—I could see he was not very tipsy when he came down the passage to draw the knife from me—I did not speak a word to him—I had been in bed from a quarter to seven till half-past twelve when my sister-in-law came in—I am sure of that—I do not know Emma Spalding or Spalcher, of No. 3, Hughes's Fields—I had not been drinking that day—I never drink to excess or get tipsy—I do not know the name of Mrs. Harley—I never saw the prisoner before to my knowledge, and never spoke to him—he did it with a long claspknife—he called "Chums" three times—he did not call Collas, he said, "Chums, this is the house," and after I was stabbed, and the door was shut, he knocked at the door.
COURT. Q. You say you had never seen him before; why should he stab you? A. I do not know—he said before the Magistrate that he was sorry he gave it to me, he meant it for the man—there was a candle, and he could see that I was not a man.
CORNELIUS ASH . I am brother-in-law of the last witness, and was in her mother-in-law's house—my attention was called to somebody having opened the parlour shutters—I went out into the road to see who it was, and reasoned with the prisoner, and asked him what he was looking through the shutters for—he said something which I did not understand, and I hit him with my open hand—he then hallooed out, "Chums," twice—I ran in and put on my trousers, and while doing so my sister-in-law went to the door—I heard her call out that she was kicked, "In fact," she said, "I am stabbed"—she was then on the threshold of the door—there was then a kicking at the door, but I do not know who it was—I know the prisoner is the man who was looking through the shutters—I have seen him on several occasions.
Cross-examined. Q. Was he very tipsy? A. I think he was, I did not see any one go out with a hammer.
CHARLOTTE ASH . I am the wife of the last witness—after he had gone out I went to the door, and saw him walk over in his drawers, and saw the prisoner go across the road—I said, "There is the man standing over there"—he went over and asked him what he opened the shatters for—my husband slapped him in the face with his open hand—the prisoner ran to the end of the alley, and called "Chums" three times—my husband came indoors to dress himself—I told my sister-in-law to shut the door, but before I could get the words out she screamed out, "I am stabbed"—she reeled back into the passage, and the prisoner pulled the knife out and ran out again—I directly shut the door and looked at my sister-in-law, and saw blood gushing out—a man kicked at the door immediately as I shut it, and afterwards I opened it, and the prisoner was gone—my husband put on his clothes and fetched two constables—the prisoner may have had a drop of drink, but he could walk and talk and run.
Cross-examined. Q. If your husband says that the prisoner was tipsy, is that wrong? A. My husband did not see so much of him as I did—I had had no quarrel with him, and never spoke to him.
JOHN JONES . I am a sawyer, of 2, Union Terrace, Church Street—on Saturday night, 13th October, about twelve o'clock, I met the prisoner in Church Street—I saw he was very drunk; and went down home with him—we met some more, who began talking about ships—we got him as far as his aunt's, who came out and asked him to go in—they had two or three words, and he ran round the alley—we heard somebody halloo out or scream—the prisoner was not with me then—I took two or three steps and heard a halloo for "Col"—a man named Collas was there—I got up to the prisoner who was then in the alley, and saw him kick at the door—they came out and hallooed "Police," and "Murder," and that he had stabbed the woman, but I did not see it done.
Cross-examined. Q. How long have you known Ealy? A. A long while—I always knew him to work hard—he supports his grandmother and aunt—he is a boiler-maker—I never heard any harm of him.
JAMES CHEESEMAN (168 R). On 14th October, from information I received, I took the prisoner in bed, between a quarter and half past twelve at night—I told him that the charge was stabbing a female named Coppell—he said, "I was standing outside the house, and a man came out and gave me a smack in the mouth, and I did something, but what I did I do not know; I was tipsy at the time, but what I did was not intended for the female"—I spoke to him about the knife, and found this knife (produced) in his trousers pocket—he went with me, and Mrs. Coppell identified him as the man who stabbed her—he said that that was the only knife he hadin his possession that day.
Cross-examined. Q. Did he seem excessively sorry? A. From his appearance I believe he did—I have known him some years, and never knewanything against him.
JOSEPH HENDERSON . I am a surgeon, of Deptford—on Sunday morning, 14th October, I was called to the prosecutrix—she complained of much pain—she had bled very much, and was faint—I found a clean-cut wound on her right side, a little above the crest of the hip bone, about an inch and a half long, inflicted by some sharp instrument—I do not think this knife would inflict it—she was in great danger for a fortnight, and is hot entirely out of danger yet, as the wound has not healed; it is still discharging.
COURT. Q. Did you see her dress? A. Yes; it had penetrated her dress and several pockets—there was a crinoline, so that there would be a large surface exposed—the wound was in the lower part of the abdomen, a little above the groin.
The prisoner received a good character. GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. — Confined Six Months .
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
69. VALENTINE BARTON (32) PLEADED GUILTY to six indictfor forging and uttering cheques for the payment of 2l. 12s. 3d., 1l. 17s., 13l. 4s. 6d., and other sums, with intent to defraud.— Confined Six Months
HANNAH LANGLEY . I am the wife of William Langley, a grocer, of 31, Nelson Street, Bermondsey—on 10th November, between seven and eight, the prisoner came for three pounds of potatoes, which came to 2 1/2;d.—she gave me a florin—I said, "I think it is bad"—I do not know whether she heard that—I understand she is very deaf—she did not answer me—I ran across to Mr. Page, gave it to him, and he came back with me—I said nothing to the prisoner, but she threw the pieces of the florin on the pavement—I heard something else fall, and picked up a shilling, which I gave to Mr. Page.
Prisoner. You did not come back for half an hour? Witness. I was not more than a minute away.
ALFRED PAGE . I am a blacksmith, of 16, Nelson Street, right opposite Mrs. Langley's—on 10th November she came and showed me a bad florin—I went across to the prisoner, and asked her name and address—she said, "Mrs. Miller, 1, Friar Street, Blackfriars Road"—I said, "That is a long way to come for three pounds of potatoes," and told her the florin was bad—she went outside and threw the pieces down—Mrs. Langley gave me a shilling, which I gave to the constable, with the florin.
GEORGE BRADLEY (Policeman 225 M). The prisoner was given into my custody, with this florin and shilling—I asked her what she had about her, and she gave me 2s., and at the station a sixpence, a threepenny-piece, and 4 1/2;d. in copper.
WILLIAM WEBSTER . This florin and shilling are both bad. GUILTY . She was further charged with having been convicted of a like offence in April, 1863, when she was sentenced to Three Years' Penal Servitude , to which she PLEADED GUILTY.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude .
MESSRS. POLAND and O'CONNELL conducted the Prosecution, and MR. TURNER defended Bradford.
gin and three smokes, which came to 5 1/2;d.—Barford gave me a half-crown—I gave him 2s. 0 1/2;d. change, and placed it on the mantelshelf by itself—they stayed about five minutes after that—Harris and Hales came back in twenty minutes or half an hour, and asked for two more smokes—Harris gave me a half-crown—I put it in the till and gave him 2s. 2d. change—there were only four sixpences there—they left directly they had lit their cigars—I then turned the gas on, and found the last half-crown was bad—I followed them a little way down the town, but not far, as I could not leave my bar, my wife having gone to bed, but I gave information to a policeman—about an hour afterwards I saw the prisoners at the station—I am sure they are the same men—I found the first half-crown bad also, and gave them both to 111 V.
Cross-examined. Q. Why did you put the first half-crown on the shelf? A. Because I had cleared the till, leaving only four sixpences there, and was about shutting up to go to bed—I believe they had all been drinking, but they were putting it on a little.
ANN CORBY . I am barmaid at the Brown Bear, Richmond—the prisoners came there on 14th November, at a quarter or half-past eleven—Barford called for half a quartern of gin and three-halfpennyworth of rum, which came to 4 1/2;d.—he gave me a half-crown—I gave him 2s. 1 1/2;d. change—I thought the half-crown was light, and showed it to my master, and he said it was bad—I told Bardford so—he made no answer, but returned me my change and another sixpence, and when I showed him the half-crown he threw it over the bar—I picked it up and kept it—they left, and afterwards I heard something, went to the police-station, and found them there—I recognised them, and gave the half-crown to the constable.
Cross-examined. Q. Did Barford utter any expression of surprise? A. Not that I heard.
JOHN JAMES BODDY . I keep the Railway Tavern, Richmond—on 14th November, about half-past eleven at night, the prisoners brought in a Richmond man, named Henry Littlewood, whom I had known for years, to treat him—Barton called for a quartern of rum, which came to six-pence, and gave me a bad florin—I said directly, "This is bad; have you any more of these?"—none of them answered, they appeared to take no notice of what I was saying—I said, "Give me good coin, and get off the premises, or the police will have you; and if you are not out directly I shall lock you up myself"—Barford gave me a good shilling, and I gave him sixpence change—I asked Littlewood if he knew them—he said, "No; they merely asked me to come and have a glass of some-thing to drink"—they were all present then—a policeman then came and called me out on the private side, and I told him to lock them up—I slightly bent the florin—Barford took it up, and it was found on him afterwards.
Cross-examined. Q. Was he drunk or sober? A. He appeared to have had a little, but he knew what he was about—I think he made himself worse than he was—he did not go as if he was stupidly drunk.
EDWARD BROWNING (Policeman 111 V). On the 14th November, in consequence of information, I went to Mr. Boddy's house and took Brad-ford and Harris—I searched Bradford, and found in his right pocket ten bad half-crowns and a bad florin, and in the left a good florin, nineteen shillings, and seven sixpences, all good, but in a different pocket to the bad money—on Harris I found one shilling, two sixpences, and tenpence
halfpenny in copper, all good—when Hales was brought in I searched him, and found two sixpences, two shillings, and a halfpenny, all good.
Cross-examined. Q. When did you first make that statement about the good money being in the right pocket and the bad in the left? A. At police-court—I swear that—he appeared to have been drinking; he was just comfortable—it was Kingston fair day—he said nothing to me about the fair.
WILLIAM WEBSTER . These two coins are bad; these ten half-crowns found on Bradford are also bad, and among them are two from the same mould as that uttered by him, and three from the same mould as that uttered by Harris; the others are from different moulds—this florin is also bad.
Harris's Defence. I went into a public-house in Kingston fair, and Bradford, whom I had never seen before, entered into conversation with three of us, and said that he had found a bag behind a cart, with some half-crowns in it. We walked to Richmond together, and he said that he would stand treat, and gave me a half-crown to get two pickwicks. We then went to the Railway Tavern, and I found he had a bad florin. We were locked up.
Hales's Defence. I met these men. I had two shillings and a halfpenny. I never tendered any bad money.
GUILTY .— Confined Nine Months each .
MESSRS. POLAND and O'CONNELL conducted the Prosecution, and MR. GOUGH the Defence.
PHCEBE KINCHIN . I am the wife of Henry Kinchin of Edward Street, Blackfriars Road—my father, Mr. Waller, keeps the Dover Castle public-house—I was there on the 9th September, between eight and nine at night, sitting in the bar—the prisoner came in for a pint of half-and-half—I served her—it came to 2d.—she gave me a florin—I put it in the till—I gave her 1s. 10d. change—my mother, who was also serving in the bar, remained, but I went away.
Cross-examined. Q. Do the public-houses open at five and close at eleven on Sunday evenings? A. Yes—I did not serve twenty customers—I cannot say as to fifteen—mother also served other customers—the prisoner had a bonnet on—there are two tills, I moved about, and put the money into the till nearest to me—it is a welllighted room.
MR. O'CONNELL. Q. Do you know that there was no larger coin in the till? A. There was not.
PHCEBE ELIZABETH WALLER . I am the wife of Samuel Charles Waller, who keeps the Dover Castle—I saw the prisoner there on the evening in question—I cleared the till the first time that evening between eight and nine—that was after the prisoner left—my daughter had been assisting in serving some time before that—on clearing it I found only one florin, which I put in my pocket—the prisoner had gone out, but she came back afterwards with another woman, and I served her with a quartern of gin, which came to fivepence—she gave me a florin, which I put in the till—there was no other florin there—I gave her the change, and she left—I served in the bar with my husband till eleven o'clock, when we closed—I took no other florin
that evening—my husband was serving a lad with some porter, he tendered the florin in change for a half-crown, and it was found to be bad—I then looked at the one in my pocket, and found that also bad—I gave it to my husband.
Cross-examined. Q. How do you know the prisoner is the person? A. I know her well by seeing her frequently come in and have something to drink—I had taken no large money that evening—my husband had the money out of the till which was taken during the day.
SAMUEL CHARLES WALLER . I am the husband of the last witness—I found a florin in the till, tendered it in change, and found it was bad—I showed it to my wife, who gave me another bad florin from her pocket—I kept them in my pocket, and ultimately handed them to a policeman—on the Tuesday following I saw the prisoner in front of my bar, and asked her if she recollected being there on Sunday evening—she said, "Yes"—I said that she had passed two bad florins—she said that she had not—I gave her in custody, with the coins.
Cross-examined. Q. Do you know where she lives? A. Close to Black-friars Road, about ten minutes' walk from this public-house.
NOT GUILTY .
74. JOHN THOMPSON (18) PLEADED GUILTY * to three indictments for burglaries in the dwellinghouses of John Gray, Joseph Wilson, and William Hicks, and stealing divers articles, their goods.— Confined Eighteen Months .
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, DECEMBER 17 TH,1866.