CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
ELEVENTH SESSION, HELD SEPTEMBER 18TH, 1871.
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.
STEVENS & SONS, 119, CHANCERY LANE.
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, September 18th, 1871, and following days,
BEFORE THE RIGHT HON. THOMAS DAKIN, LORD MAYOR of the City of London; Sir WILLIAM BALIOL BRETT, Knt., one of the Justices of Her Majesty's Court of Common Pleas; Sir ANTHONY CLEASBY , Knt., one of the Barons of Her Majesty's Court of Exchequer; Sir JAMES DUKE , Bart, THOMAS QUESTED FINNIS, Esq., WILLIAM LAWRENCE , Esq., M. P., ROBERT BESLEY , Esq., SILLS JOHN GIBBONS, Esq., WILLIAM JAMES RICHMOND COTTON , Esq., and CHARLES WHETHAM , Esq., Aldermen of the said City; THOMAS CHAMBERS , Esq., Q.C., M.P., Common Serjeant of the said City; and ROBERT MALCOLM KERR , Esq., LL.D., Judge of the Sheriffs' 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.
THOMAS SCAMBLER OWDEN. Esq., Alderman
WILLIAM HALSE GATTY JONES, Esq.
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
DAKIN, MAYOR. ELEVENTH SESSION.
A star (*) denotes that prisoners have been previously in custody—two stars (**) that they have been more than once in custody—an obelisk (†) that 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, September 18th, 1871.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
625. GEORGE NORTON (18) , PLEADED GUILTY to feloniously forging and uttering a cheque for the payment of 25l., with intent to defraud the Governor and Company of the Bank of England— He received a good character— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
626. RICHARD WINTER (18) , to feloniously forging and uttering request for the payment of 170l., with intent to defraud— He received a good character— Twelve Months' Imprisonment. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
627. JOHN HOFFMAN (25), and HERMANN BOAS (32), to unlawfully conspiring together to obtain goods by false pretences—HOFFMAN— Two Years' Imprisonment. —BOAS— Twenty one Months' Imprisonment. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
628. MATTHEW ELEY (34) , for that he having been adjudicated bankrupt, did not to the best of his knowledge and belief fully and truly discover all his property— To enter info his own recognizance in 100l. to appear for judgment when called upon. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And
MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS conducted the Prosecution; and MR. WARNER SLEIGH the Defence.
HERBERT BARLEE . I am manager to the Cowley Brick Company, Limited, at Cowley, near Uxbridge—Mr. Edward Milliard and others are partners in the business—about 11th January I received this letter, marked "A:" (Read: "11th January, 1871. 1, Beechey Street, Leyton Road, Stratford. Mr. Barlee. Sir. Please inform me price of stocks at Battersea, and do you deliver by barge or monkey boat, and oblige yours respectfully, William Hedges.")—I wrote this reply: "12th January, 1871. Mr. William Hedges. Sir. The price of our stock bricks, delivered at Battersea Wharf, is 28s. per thousand; grizzels, 3s. less per thousand. We deliver by barge, not by monkey boat. (Signed) H. Barlee."—On the 13th I received this letter
from William Hedges: "Sir In reply to yours of yesterday, I will thank you to send to Battersea Wharf, one barge of stocks, say about 30,000, at 28s.; cash at a month. At the same time, I beg to hand you reference, Mr. C. Zencraft, iron and stone merchant, 42, King's Road, Asylum Road, Old Kent Road, S.E."—I wrote to Mr. Zencraft on 14th January, 1871, and received this answer: "16th January, 1871. 42, King's Road, Peckham. To the Secretary of the Cowley Brick Company. Re W. Hedges I have had several transactions with the above, and always found him regular in his payments; and I should consider him respectable, and I should otherwise say trustworthy; but I cannot say anything respecting his means. (Signed) C. S. Zencraft."—I dispatched by the barge Jane, 25,000 stocks to Battersea Wharf, and with them this delivery note, marked "D:" "Received from the Cowley Brick Company, Limited, 24th January, 1871, per clerk boat Jane, stocks, 25,000. (Signed) J. Chandler. W. Hedges."—It was sent for signature by the consignee—I wrote that same day to Mr. Hedges that I had despatched a barge, with 25,000 stock bricks, consigned to him at Battersea Wharf, and I received back the delivery note, marked "D," as it now appears—on 27th January, 1871, I received this post-card from William Hedges.: "I, Beechey Street, Ley ton Road, Stratford. The barge of bricks duly received, and unloaded yesterday."—I have tried to obtain payment at the address given, 1, Beechey Street, Leyton Road, by written and personal application—I went to the house in March or April, and found it shut up—there was no business carried on there at all—I have not been paid—I made inquiries for William Hedges, but could not find him or ascertain his whereabouts—prior to making inquiries, I received other letters from Hedges—I received one on 20th February, 1871, from the same place at Stratford, ordering another barge of stocks, at 28s., and stating that he would run down to Uxbridge, and pay for the two barges—I sent off 25,000 stocks 'on 25th February, and I wrote a letter stating that I had dispatched them, and asking for an acknowledgement of the same—the delivery note is dated 25th February, 1871: "Received from the Cowley Brick Company, Limited, by the boat Jane, stocks, 25,000. Pro William Hedges, G. Bruton."—I have not been paid for those bricks—I have applied for payment—they were sent in the same way, by the barge Jane—on 30th January, Southwell came to me at Mr. Hilliard's house, and wanted to know the price of bricks delivered at Cherry Garden Stairs—Southwell is the man who pleaded guilty last Session—he gave me his name as Serle—I told him the price would be 28s. per thousand above London Bridge; below there would be rather a higher rate—he said he was willing to pay any extra freight; he wished to get the bricks, as he was going to build himself a small house—I asked him for a reference, and he gave me Mr. William Perry, 58, New Street, Kennington, who he said was a retired publican—I made inquiries for Mr. Perry afterwards, but could not find any such person—I received a letter from a person calling himself William Perry, on 1st February—this (produced) is a delivery note for 24,000 stocks, signed Frederick Serle—on 4th February I received this note, signed Frederick Serle: "Harriot Cottage, Odessa Road, Forest Gate. Mr. Barlee. Sir. When may I expect the bricks at Cherry Garden Stairs?"—This is the letter I received from Mr. Perry, on 1st February: "58, New Street, Kennington. Sir. In reply to yours of 30th instant, respecting Mr. Serle, of Forest Gate, I consider you will be justified in selling him bricks, as I have had business transaction with him for some years, which have been always satisfactory Yours
respectfully, William Perry."—I wrote a letter afterwards, making an application for the money, to Mr. Serle, Harriot Cottage, Odessa Road—the letter was returned through the Dead Letter Office—I went to the cottage, and found it shut up—in the meantime I had received another letter, dated 11th February, signed Serle—the last lot of bricks were sent by the barge Lydia—(Read: "11th February, 1871. Harriot Cottage, Odessa Road, Forest Gate. Mr. Barlee. Sir. The bricks to hand, and unloaded yesterday. Please send another barge to Pimlico Wharf, and will send cheque for the two lots; but let me know when I may expect them, as I want them at once. Signed, Frederick Serle.")—Those bricks were sent by the barge John—the receipt is dated 14th February, 1871, signed Frederick Serle, "25,000 stock by the barge John"—I received a letter on 21st February, signed Frederick Serle, acknowledging the receipt of the bricks, and requesting invoice for the same—it was after the bricks were delivered that I made inquiries and found the place shut up—on 28th January, I received this letter, signed in the name of John Archer, from 18, Herbert Street, New North Road—(Read: "Will you kindly forward me your price for the best stock bricks, and guzzles, if you have any of the latter, as I am a purchaser; to be delivered at Chelsea. Tour attention will oblige")—I replied, stating our price was 28s. per thousand hard stock, and grizzels 3s. per thousand less—on 31st January, I received another letter, signed John Archer, ordering a barge of best stock bricks at 28s., to be delivered at Lindsay Wharf, Chelsea, and enclosing as a reference, A. Javey & Co., 17, Great George Street Westminster—on 1st February, I wrote to Messrs. A. Javey & Co. for information respecting John Archer, and received this letter from them in reply: "3rd February, 1871, 17A, Great George Street Gentlemen. In reply to yours of 1st instant, we beg to say that we always found Mr. Archer punctual in his engagements in any business transactions with us"—In consequence of that I wrote to Archer on 6th February, 1871, stating that as the reference was satisfactory, I would send the barge of bricks, the usual quantity, two-thirds stocks and one-third grizzels, to any wharf at Chelsea he might wish; and on the 7th I received this letter from John Archer: "In reply to yours of the 6th, you can please forward the barge to Lindsay Wharf, Chelsea, as addressed in my former note. I ordered all stocks, but if you have them loaded, I can make use of the grizzels"—In consequence of that letter, I dispatched by the barge Sophia 17,000 stocks and 8000 grizzels to Lindsay Wharf, Chelsea—on 15th February, I received another letter from John Archer, stating that he had received the barge of bricks, and ordering another barge-load to be delivered at Lindsay Wharf, Chelsea—the delivery note for those bricks has been lost—I have since applied at 18, Herbert Street, New North Road—the letter was returned through the dead letter office—I made a personal application, but he had left about a month, and I could not trace him—I went to the office of the reference, he was not there, and his private address was not known—I could not get any information at all—on 23rd February, I sent to Lindsay Wharf, to John Archer, 18,000 stocks and 7000 grizzels—I received the delivery note back, signed—I sent the invoice by post, which amounted to 71l. 11s. altogether—the amount sent to Hedges was 70l—the total amount of the six consignments was 210l. 15s.—in consequence of not finding the persons referred to, I communicated with the police, and the men were taken into custody, and committed for trial—the men there were Southwell, Baker, and Palmer, with the prisoner Feiler—they were
put upon their trial last Sessions, and pleaded guilty to the charge, and Feiler was remanded till this Sessions.
Cross-examined. I went to his house in Beechey Street; it is a corner house—the name of W. Hedges is over the letter box at the side of the door—I did not see any other name—I did not see Feiler's name up, but I can't say it was not there—the shop door was in Beechey Street—I can't say that there was a private door in Leyton Road, I did not go round that way—I did not see Hedges' name over the shop—in these cases I sent off the bricks after receiving a written reference, without making any further inquiries—it won't be so again.
GEORGE THOMAS . I am a bargeman, in the employment of Mr. Stroud—about 24th January, I took the barge Jane with a load of bricks from the wharf of the Cowley Brick Company to Battersea—at first I did not see anyone to claim the bricks—I afterwards saw Southwell and Baker, two of the men who pleaded guilty here last Sessions—they asked me if I knew the nearest way to Battersea Wharf—I asked them what they were looking for, and they said they were looking after a barge of Cowley's stock bricks—I said they were just the persons I wanted to see, and I showed them my notes—I brought the barge to the Battersea draw dock, and I saw the two gentlemen there—Baker said he was the clerk of the other man—when I delivered the bricks, Baker signed the delivery notes in the name of W. Hedges—I delivered another load of bricks on 25th February, by the barge Jane—I saw the same two persons—I saw the barge Energy at the same time with a load of bricks, consigned to Archer—on the second occasion the delivery note was signed by Baker, "Pro W. Hedges, G. Baker"—I saw the Energy there—one of them went on board to look at the bricks, and they said they would send the carts to unload them—I saw the receipt for the Energy the evening it was signed—I did not see who signed it.
Cross-examined. The same two persons who received the cargo from the Energy received the cargo of the Jane—I can't say who signed the delivery note for the Energy—Baker signed the note for the Jane—Johnson would be there when the Energy's note was signed.
THOMAS SHACKELL . I am a bargeman—in February, I went with the barge Lydia from Cowley with 24,000 bricks to Cherry Garden Stairs, where I saw Southwell and Baker—they were waiting for the bricks—they came on board the barge, and asked who the bricks were for—I said "For Mr. Serle"—they wanted me to go back again to Pimlico—I said I would not get the anchor up no more for them than my master—they said "We will give you a half-sovereign if you go back again to Pimlico, and you will be unloaded there to-morrow"—I went back to Pimlico, and the barge was unloaded the next morning.
Cross-examined. Pimlico Wharf is a public wharf—Baker did not tell me he was Mr. Southwell's clerk—he did not speak of him as his master.
Re-examined. I thought Southwell was Serle—I took him for the master—he was the one who gave me the half-sovereign.
JOHN JOHNSON . I am a bargeman—on 23rd February, I took the barge Energy, with 18,000 stock bricks and 7000 grizzels, from the Cowley Brick Company to Lindsay Wharf—they were consigned to John Archer—I afterwards took them to Battersea draw dock—I saw a man there whom I knew before the Magistrate as Baker—I took them from Lindsay Wharf to Battersca, by his direction—they were unloaded on the Monday—I saw Baker
there—the delivery note was given to me signed—I did not see anyone else but Baker—while I was there I saw Thomas with the barge Jane.
JOSEPH HISCOCK . I am a member of the firm of Hiscock & Williams, contractors—on 26th January, I bought from a man named Baker 25,000 stock bricks, at 20s. per thousand; and on 9th February, 24,000 more at the same price—I found afterwards they were marked "C.B.C"—on 14th February, I bought 25,000 bricks; 9000 grizzels and the rest stocks—I paid 20s. for the stocks and 16s. for the grizzels, per thousand—on the game day I bought 25,000 more stocks—they were all bought from Baker—they were cheap—he said they were the bricks of a builder who had them to spare on a job, and he would take a little less for them for cash—I don't know Feiler at all, I did not see him in the transaction.
JOHN BELL PALMER . I pleaded guilty to conspiracy last Sessions, but only as to the two bargee—I had nothing to do with. Baker or Southwell—my true name is Palmer—I know the prisoner—I first became acquainted with him twenty years ago—I went to live at 18, Herbert Street, New North Road—I had a bedroom there at 3s. 6d. a week—Mr. Cave was the landlord—I took the room in the name of John Archer—I went there either the end of December last year or the beginning of January—I had seen the prisoner before I went—I went in the name of Archer because I was in partnership with a person named Archer, and I was known as Archer—when I took the room I asked the prisoner to give me a reference, and he said he would not, he would speak to Southwell to see if he would do it—in the morning he told me Mr. Southwell would do it—he did not give me any written paper—I told Southwell I should go by the name of Archer—I knew Southwell by his own name—the reference I gave was to Southwell, at Harriot Cottage, Odessa Road, Forest Gate—this is the paper I gave to Mr. Cave—(Read: "John Archer, reference to Mr. Serle, Harriot Cottage, Odessa Road, Forest Gate"—I meant Southwell by Serle—that was the name I was told to write to him in—I can't recollect who told me to refer to him as Serle—I was allowed to occupy the bed-room after the reference—after I bad taken the lodging I was in the habit of going to the Commercial Tavern, Commercial Street, Spitalfields—I have met Feiler there, and several others—Baker was there sometimes—we had been in the habit of meeting there of a morning, when the train arrived from Forest Gate at the Shoreditch Station—I was at that time selling on commission for Feiler for several months—I sold different goods—woollen goods, carpets, and so on—it was only at my lodging I passed as Archer—this letter of 28th January is in my writing—I wrote it at the Commercial Tavern—it was not written by the prisoner's wish, but by the wish of a friend of his—I have not seen him here—it was his son—the prisoner was not present—I wrote that letter, and signed it John Archer, and the prisoner's son posted it—I got an answer to that by the post—I handed it over to the prisoner and his son, at the Commercial Tavern—I took it, and opened it there, in their presence—I gave it to the prisoner; I am not certain that he kept it—I wrote this letter, dated 31st January—it was drawn up between us; I only wrote it—the prisoner told me to write it, and also to add the reference—I don't know anything about Javey & Co.—I never saw them, and know nothing about them—the letter was composed by the prisoner, and posted by his son—I wrote it in the public-house—two or three days after, I received a letter stating that the bricks would be sent—I showed that letter to the prisoner and his son at the public-house—this letter of 7th February
is my writing—I wrote that in the public-house—the prisoner was there, and his son, and when it was done the son posted it—I think it was the prisoner suggested the words, "I ordered all stocks, but if you have them loaded I can make use of the grizzels"—the letter of 15th February was written by me at the same place, stating, "I have received the barge of bricks, and have to inform you I can do with another barge the same as last"—I had not received the bricks myself—I handed all the letters that came over to the prisoner, at the time they came with the delivery notes, and he gave them to Baker—the letters passed from my hands directly I received them—the prisoner and his son were present when I wrote the letter of the 15th February—I signed the delivery notes—it was done as a matter of form; they could not get the bricks unless I had—the receipt of 23rd February is signed by me—I signed that at the tavern, in the presence of the prisoner and his son—the prisoner never came to my lodging—I always met him at the public-house—I have seen Baker at the public-house with the prisoner, several tunes—I knew Baker when he was in business for himself, many years ago—he had nothing to do, except receive his commission for selling the bricks—I have seen him bring some money to the public-house, and hand it to Feiler—I don't know how much it was—I received 8l. 7s. out of the two barges—out of that, Feiler took 2l. to pay Javey & Co.—then there was 1l. I gave for expenses, two months' rent, and postage—there was 1l. 18s. 6d. for eleven weeks' rent at 3s. 6d. a week at 18, Herbert Street, and I had 1l. 5s. 6d. for myself—that was all I received; that was my share—the writing was done in the parlour of the Commercial Tavern—I papered the shop at No. 1, Beechey Street, for the prisoner—that was before Christmas, and before I lived at 18, Herbert Street—I can't say where I was living then—I lived at so many places, I can't recollect—this letter (produced) is my writing; it is dated 20th January, from 1, Beechey Street—it was written in the Commercial Inn, and dated 1, Beechey Street, and signed John Archer—I wrote that at the instance of the prisoner—(Read: "1, Beechey Street, Leyton Road, Stratford. Messrs. James Mills & Sons. I beg to inform you Mr. Hedges is from business, and will not return for about a fortnight I am, yours respectfully, John Archer")—I wrote that at the prisoner's wish—I think Southwell was the Mr. Hedges referred to in that letter—Feiler said it was for some cutting machine that had been supplied—I only had to do with the two barges I have spoken of—before I was asked to write the letter, I knew nothing of the Cowley Brick Company—I was a traveller with readymade clothing, and had nothing to do with bricks—young Feiler first asked me whether I would write the letter—the prisoner was not present—when Baker brought the money I have spoken of, he said he had brought Hedges' money—I don't know how much that was—he handed it to Feiler, and Feiler said he should keep it for the rent in Beechey Street.
Cross-examined. My name is Palmer, not Archer—I am a commission traveller—my last employment was with Mr. Irwin, last September till January—before that I was doing business for Mr. Feiler from the beginning of April—I left there because there was no more business doing—he did not discharge me—I was only employed when I had anything to sell—I was doing business for Mr. Irwin at the same time I was with Feiler—this is the first transaction I have been mixed up with in getting goods in a false name—I swear that—I was entirely the clerk—I don't recollect that I have been in any other transaction of the kind—I don't know a Mr. Burchell—
I never used the name of a Mr. Burchell—I left Mr. Irwin's because the season was over—I was not charged with anything dishonest in Mr. Irwin's service—that I will swear—I took an order for Mr. Irwin in the name of Burchell, but Burchell did not afterwards turn out to be Palmer—the person I took the order from was a married woman—I was obliged to make inquires because I could not get the money—Mr. Irwin taxed me with this, and charged me with defrauding him, but it was not true—I did not beg forgiveness because I did not know it was a felony—I say it was not—I was very sorry there was a bad debt made, and I told Mr. Irwin so—I made inquiries of the landlady at the house afterwards, and she told me she had sent the man away—the landlady lives at 62, High Street—I can't remember her name—her husband is a tailor—this is the first trouble I have been in—I don't know of any more—I have never been in a witness-box before, if that is what you mean—I have not been in a Court before—I have been in a Police Court once; I was taken in a cab—I have not been charged with anything, that I recollect—I can't swear I have not, because I can't swear to what I don't recollect—to the best of my belief I will swear I have not been charged with any offence—the prisoner's son was about twenty-two years old—the first letter was written by the son's directions, and the father was absent—they were both present afterwards on all occasions—only four were present, Baker, the prisoner, his son, and myself—I gave Mr. Southwell as a reference when I took the room in Herbert Street—Mr. Feiler told me to do that—I knew Southwell when he was in business, and Baker also—I have known Southwell perhaps sixteen years—he was a retired publican—he kept the Salisbury, in Camomile Street—that was when I knew him—us travellers used to meet there—it was a large house—I don't know whether he did a good business, if he had I daresay he would have stopped there—I knew him as a customer, and have had glasses of ale with him—I knew about his having a room at Beechey Street, through Mr. Feiler, and I also saw them together—I papered the room at Beechey Street—Southwell bought the paper for it—Feiler was the landlord—he took the house—his name was not over the shop—Hedges' name was over the letter-box—there were two letter boxes—I can't say that Feller's name was over the other one—I can't say that Southwell or Hedges kept the key of the letter-box over which his name was—I think the name is still there, as far as I know—he was there two or three months—I am only speaking from memory—I only wrote one letter signed "William Hedges," and that was done by Feller's wish—I don't think I know Samuel Phillips—I know a potman called Sam, at the Commercial Tavern, but I did not know his name was Phillips—I never saw Southwell at the Commercial Tavern—I saw him once or twice in Beechey Street, but not more than twice—I never saw the bricks unloaded—I have written seven or eight letters to Mr. Barlee, by Feiler and his son's directions—I don't think it was more—I did not keep a copy of them.
Re-examined. I left Herbert Street some time in March, I think—it was after the letter ordering the third barge—I did not leave any address there—I left a week's rent unpaid—I had not the money to pay it—I don't think I told Mr. Feiler where I went to—I saw him often after that.
SAMUEL PHILLIPS . I am potman at the Commercial Tavern, Commercial Street, Spitalfields—I know the prisoner by seeing him at the house with his son, and the last witness, and another man—I saw them writing letters, and transacting business with one another—the last witness Palmer
wrote the letters—I heard the prisoner indite the letters for him on two or three occasions—they sometimes came in the morning, and sometimes in the afternoon.
Cross-examined. I have seen five persons there, including the prisoner and his son—I only know Palmer by name—I was not at the Police Court when Southwell, and Baker, and others, were there—I never heard the name of Southwell before—I say there were five persons engaged, it is a mistake if Palmer has said four—there were four besides the son—I have heard part of the letters dictated by the prisoner—I was in and out of the room, and I heard it—I was first spoken to about this the week before last—I knew nothing of the case at all—the detectives called at the house first—I can't remember what the letters were about—I recollect hearing Palmer say "Shall I say woollen draper," that is all I recollect—I did not know I was coming here to give evidence till a fortnight or three weeks ago—I knew then what I was coming to prove, because the detectives told me—they asked me who I had seen write the letters, and I told them—I had told them that I had seen letters written.
Re-examined. They used the parlour—I was in and out with the drink—I got the pen and ink on several occasions—Palmer went to the bar, and got the drink himself when no one was in attendance, but I went in myself scores of times.
WILLIAM WARD CAVE . I live at 18, Herbert Street, New North Road, and am a furniture salesman—I know Palmer as John Archer—he came to live at my house early in January this year—he referred me to Mr. Serle, of Forest Gate—this is the piece of paper he gave me, with the address—I wrote to Mr. Serle, and I received an answer, signed Frederick Serle—I can't find that—it was to this effect: "In reply to yours, from what I know of Mr. John Archer, I feel you will be justified in letting him a bedroom"—the room was 3s. 6d. a week—Archer said he was in the wine trade—he remained at my place about two months—he received letters there in the name of Archer—I saw the envelopes, and noticed the stamp of the Cowley Brick Company, Uxbridge—I don't remember anyone visiting him—he left without paying two weeks—he did not say where he was going—he generally paid the rent himself, but on one occasion a youth came with him, and paid it—I don't know who that was—on another occasion, another youth came, and paid it—I don't know the prisoner, or his son.
Cross-examined. He told me he gave me Mr. Serle as a reference, because it was the last place where he had lived—he did not say Mr. Serle would call on me—he saw my wife when he came on the first occasion—I did not see him when the paper was written—he came and asked whether I had an answer to the reference—he said he wanted to live near his employment.
CAROLINE CAVE . I am the wife of the last witness—in January, Palmer came to me about the lodgings, in the name of Archer—he wrote the name of the reference on this piece of paper, in my presence—I referred the matter to my husband—when he left he went suddenly, and left no address.
Cross-examined. I asked for a reference, and he wrote that without any hesitation.
—HORNCASTLE. I am the landlord of 1, Beechey Street, Leyton Road, Stratford—in January last I let that house to the prisoner—I saw him at the Railway Tavern, Fenchurch Street—the application was by letter first, and I saw him afterwards—he referred me to Mr. Fisher, of London
Wall, and to a Mr. Marshall, of Walthamstow—I wrote to them, and received these answers—in consequence of those letters I agreed to let him 1, Beechey Street—an agreement was drawn up, and signed—he took it for three years, at 30l. a year—it was a shop, with a private house—I did not know any person named Southwell or Hedges in the transaction.
Cross-examined. I don't know that there is a person called Marshall—I can't say that the prisoner was not Mr. Marshall—the name of Hedges was over the letter-box—Mr. Feller's name was not over the shop—I only received 3l. for rent while he was there—I mean I have not received my rent—the son gave up the keys—there are some fittings there now.
Re-examined. I met his son on the premises in May, 1871, and he gave me the keys—I had been to the premises before that—the shop was not open—the only name was Hedges, over the letter-box.
MARY EMILY DAVET . I am the wife of Samuel Davey, and live at 1, Beechey Place, Stratford—I know Southwell by the name of Hedges—I saw him before the Magistrate on this charge—I know the prisoner as Mr. Fuller—I took care of the premises, I, Beechey Street, for Mr. Horncastle—Mr. Fuller introduced me to Southwell as Mr. Hedges—there was a shop at Beechey Street—it was not opened, and no business was done there—there was a letter-box, with "William Hedges' Office" over it—the prisoner was in the habit of coming there four or five times a week—his son came almost every morning—I saw Southwell there only three times—the prisoner was with him twice—I found letters in the letter-box from time to time—I took them out—I had to take them up to the prisoner's house, 2, Stanley Terrace, Odessa Road—in three days, two letters came, addressed to Hedges, and two to Feiler—I took them all to Mr. Feiler's house; the ones addressed to Hedges as well—that was according to directions I had received—I have seen Palmer at 1, Beechey Street—goods have been sent on two occasions to the shop, addressed to Mr. Feiler—one was, I know, because I paid the parcel—it was sent to Mr. Feiler's house—they were parcels—I don't know what they contained—no business was carried on during the whole time the place was occupied—Palmer is the man who papered the shop.
Cross-examined. I don't know to whom this letter is addressed—I can't make out the gentleman's name—I am not much of a scholar—I can't read writing—I took all the letters to the prisoner's house—the prisoner said that Hedges owed him some money for rent, and he would not allow his letters to be delivered to him—I took them to the prisoner, but after that no more letters came—some fixtures were put up in the shop, and it was papered by Palmer—when Mr. Feiler or his son came there for letters, they took the letters out of Mr. Feiler's own letter-box—there were two letter-boxes, but the letters were all put into the box with "Hedges" over it—Mr. Feiler took away his letters, and when he did not come, I used to take them to him—I took all the letters there—I don't know where Mr. Hedges lived—I only saw him there three times—I don't know whether there were any letters in the box then—I did not live on the premises; I lived next door—they were often there when I was not—I used to hear them every morning, because I had water to get out of their house.
Re-examined. I did not know Hedges was Southwell till I saw him in custody—Mr. Feiler said it was Hedges.
was spoken of as William Southwell—he lived just opposite me, at Harriot Cottage, Odessa Road—he went there some time in August, I think—I served him with bread while he was living there, up to February—I knew him first as Mr. Serle—in January he changed his name to Southwell—I know Feiler by sight—he lived to the right of me, at Stanley Terrace—he left there six or seven weeks ago, as far as I can recollect—I have seen him and Southwell go into each other's houses, and I have seen them together, both in the morning and in the evening.
Cross-examined. I don't know a person named Marshall, as visiting Mr. Southwell—I served Feiler with bread as well as Southwell.
COURT. Q. Do you know where they went when they went away together? A. I supposed they went to business together—I don't know where they went to live afterwards.
WILLIAM PEEK (Detective Sergeant). I apprehended Southwell at Buck-hurst Hill, on 29th June—I was with Inspector Pay when he apprehended Baker, on 7th July—I held a warrant for the apprehension of Palmer in the name of Archer, and I took him on that warrant on 1st August—I took Feiler into custody at 4, York Street, London Road, Southwark—the name of "T. Fisher" was over the shop, in large letters—the shop was unopened, but had been taken as a boot and shoe shop—the stock consisted of one hamper, containing eighteen pairs of boots—I had a warrant in my possession, but I had not been able to find him—I found him in bed, about 10 o'clock in the morning—I said "Good morning, Mr. Feiler, and he said "Good morning"—I said "I have a warrant for your apprehension, on a charge of being concerned with Southwell, Baker, and Palmer, in obtaining a quantity of bricks from the Cowley Brick Company"—he said "I had nothing to do with it, and know nothing at all about it"—I took him into custody—on the way to the police-station, he said "I have known Southwell a great many years; T knew him when he kept a public-house in Camomile Street"—I know Southwell's writing—the reference, purporting to be signed by Marshall, is his writing; two of the letters signed "Frederick Serle," and two signed "W. Hedges," are also in his handwriting.
JAMES PAY (Detective Inspector). I had instructions to take these persons into custody, and had been searching for them—I found a large quantity of letters at Southwell's place, and also a memorandum book—there is a memorandum there, "Mr. Herbert Barlee, manager, Cowley Brick Company, 11/1/71," and also, "W. Feiler, jun., I, Beechey Street, Leyton Road. Stratford New Town"—I also found letters directed, "Mr. William Hedges, 1, Beechey Street, Leyton Road"—I also found a memorandum with the name of "John Archer, 18, Herbert Street, New North Road"—I was at 4, York Street when Feiler or Fisher was apprehended—I was down stairs—I found this agreement, dated 27th April, 1871, for the house at 4, York Street, and it describes Fisher as of 2, Stanley Terrace, Odessa Road—I also found an agreement for 2, Stanley Terrace, dated 11th March, 1870—there is a distress for rent attached to it—I found the agreement between Mr. Horncastle and Feiler at the prisoner's place—I also found some bankruptcy proceedings, in the name of Daniel Feiler, trading as David and Alfred Feiler, and various addresses—one was in 1868, and another in 1869—the adjudication was in the name of Daniel Feiler, trading as Alfred Feiler, shirt manufacturer; and another is Daniel Feiler, trading as David Feiler, 4, George Street, Minories, and several other addresses—there is also a County Court summons, of 12th July, 1871, in the name of "John Fielder."
Cross-examined. I asked him nothing about the agreements—I have made inquiries, and found out who Thomas Fisher is—I can prove that the prisoner has signed himself as Thomas Fisher.
EDWARD YATES . I am landlord of the premises, 4, York Street, London Rood, Southwark—I know the prisoner as Thomas Fisher—I let him the premises—this is the agreement signed by him as Thomas Fisher—he gave me a gentleman named Zencraft as a reference—I made very little inquiry, except from Mr. Zencraft, whom I have seen sometimes—the prisoner was a shoe manufacturer—the rent was 70l. a year—the shop was never opened.
Cross-examined. I knew Mr. Zencraft—he was an agent for a merchant in Yorkshire—he brought Mr. Fisher to me—I did not know Fisher's name was Feiler—he did not say when he took the shop he was going to carry on business for his father-in-law—about two months afterwards he said the shop was going to be opened by his father-in-law—I saw him, and told him a gentleman had been to me, and said that his name was not Fisher, but Feiler, and he said "It is quite true, Fisher is my father-in-law's name," and he was going to carry on business there in Mr. Fisher's name.
Re-examined. When I let the house I did not hear anything about Feiler—I inquired of Mr. Zencraft about Mr. Fisher, and those inquiries were satisfactory.
JOHN HENRY LARRETT . I am in the service of Mr. Dufois, 17A, Great George Street, Westminster—about December last a person named Javey was occupying a room there—the name up was "Messrs. Javey & Co."—he remained about six months, and then said he was going to France—he left no address—he paid 61. for two months' rent, and left the other unpaid—I have not seen him since.
MR. POLAND put in the Act incorporating the Company.
The prisoner received a good character.
GUILTY — Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
NEW COURT.—Monday, September 18th, 1871.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
634. WILLIAM GARDNER* (16) , to breaking and entering the warehouse of James Yates and another, and stealing therein fifty-two postage stamps, nine cigars, and other articles, their property— Five Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
635. GEORGE WARD (18) , to burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of John Anson, and stealing therein 6l., and other money, his property— Two Years' Imprisonment. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And
636. JOSEPH RANDALL (30) , to burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Zechariah Dawson, and stealing therein 12s. 8d., his property; also to unlawfully having housebreaking instruments in his possession by night— Two Years' Imprisonment. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
TRACEY PLEADED GUILTY *— Ten Years' Penal Servitude.
MESSRS. COLERIDGE and HUMPHREYS conducted the Prosecution.
JAMES BRANNAN (Police Inspector) I am agent to the Mint—on the evening of the 2nd, I went to 19, Old Nichol Street—the street door was open—we proceeded up stairs, and Doughty, a constable, forced open the back room first floor—I saw the prisoners there—Tracey was sitting by a clear, bright fire, with his shirt sleeves tucked up, and a florin in his hand—he detached the get from it—Gordon stood up—she had a florin in one hand, and a file in the other—the florin fell on the floor—on the table were these thirteen florins, including the one which Tracey put down, some sand and water, several files—I found the coin was very hot, and knew there must be a mould somewhere; Tracey told me it was in the cupboard, where I found it quite hot—there was a ladle on the fire, into which Tracey threw the get.
MARY ANN HOLMES . I live at 19, Old Nichol Street—my mother lets lodgings—Gordon came to lodge there about four months before she was taken up—she paid the rent, and Tracey came and visited her two or three times a week.
WILLIAM WEBSTER. This is a mould for a florin, and these thirteen florins were made in it—some are finished and some unfinished.
GORDON— GUILTY .— Two Years' Imprisonment.
MESSRS. COLERIDGE and HUMPHREYS conducted the Prosecution.
HENRY LOVELL . I am a fruiterer, of 60, Whitechapel Road—on Saturday night, 22nd July, my niece gave me a bad florin—the prisoner was in the shop, and I told him it was bad—he said that he had only a halfpenny—I said "Give me the halfpenny"—a gentleman outside the door then said "He has been doing it somewhere else"—I gave him in charge with the coin.
GEORGE LAND . I live at Dudley Terrace, Limehouse—on Saturday night, 22nd July, I was in Mr. Kipper's shop, and saw the prisoner giving a florin to Mrs. Kipper, who gave it to her husband, who gave it back to the prisoner—she said that it was bad—the prisoner said "I don't think it is," and gave it to me—I gave it back to him—I was walking down the road a quarter of an hour afterwards, and saw him go to Mr. Lovell's shop.
AMY CECIL . I keep a fruiterer's shop at 9, Bedford Place, Stepney—the name is Kipper—the prisoner stood outside and bought some raspberries, which came to 9d—he gave me a bad florin—I gave it to my husband, and asked him to look at it—he gave it back to me, and I gave it to the prisoner, and asked him to pay for the raspberries—he said that he could not, he came from a sick person who had several children ill—I served him with 2d. worth of raspberries, and he took the florin away—this florin (produced) is not it—I marked it with my teeth, and should know it again.
Prisoners Defence. Mr. Land said at the Police Court that he did not think I was the man.
GEORGE LAND (re-examined). When Mr. Cecil said that he could not swear to him, I said I could not swear to him, but I did before the Magistrate, because my wife was with me then—I swear to him at both shops.
NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. COLERIDGES and HUMPHREYS conducted the Prosecution.
SARAH HAWKINS . I am barmaid at the King's Arms, Bedford Row—on 31st August, I served the prisoner with a half-pint of porter—he gave me a bad shilling—I had seen him before, and said "I will take this into the parlour to my master"—Mr. Russell came and gave him in custody—I had seen the prisoner on the previous Wednesday, when he passed a bad florin—I gave it back to him, and told him it was bad—he said to his friend "I don't know where I took it, I suppose I must have taken it at the gate"—he paid with a good half-crown.
Prisoner. Q. Did I remain till a constable was fetched? A. No; you went out, and Mr. Russell fetched you back—I swear to you by your appearance, I took particular notice of you.
COURT. Q. Did you know him when he came in as having been there before? A. No, because I did not take much notice of him—it was the bad shilling which made me look at him, and then I recognized him.
JOHN RUSSELL . I am landlord of the King's Arms—on 31st August, the last witness brought a shilling into the parlour—I returned with her, and said to the prisoner "This is a bad shilling"—I recognized him as having been there the week before, when he tendered my barmaid a bad florin, and I followed him and his companion past another public-house—I said "This is a bad shilling"—he said "Bad, I don't think it is"—I said "You are the man who tried to pass a bad florin last week; I shall give you in custody"—he went out, and down the street as fast as he could—I fetched him back, and gave him in custody.
JAMES HAYNES (Police Sergeant G 9). The prisoner was given into my custody, and Mr. Russell gave me this bad shilling (produced)—I searched the prisoner at the station, but only found a purse and a knife—he gave his address 4, Praed Street, Lambeth, which somebody told me is false.
Prisoner's Defence. Is it reasonable that I should go into this public-house and pass bad money if I had done so a fortnight before. I earned 4s. 6d. in the Borough Market.
NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. COLERIDGE and HUMPHREYS conducted the Prosecution; and
MR. STRAIGHT the Defence.
JOHN JOHNSON . I am barman at the Silver Cross, Charing Cross—on Saturday night, 12th August, I served the prisoner with 3d. worth of port wine—he gave me a florin, I gave him 1s. 9d. change, and he left—I put the florin in the till—immediately afterwards a man like a bricklayer came in—I served him, he tendered a bad florin; I broke it, and went outside—he ran away, leaving a good half-crown—I had seen in a looking-glass the prisoner and that man talking outside before the prisoner came in—the bricklayer was not caught—I gave the two florins to the constable.
Cross-examined. This was about 10.15—there is looking-glass all over the bar, in which I saw the reflection of three people talking outside—I do not know where the third man came from—when I said the florin was bad, the man put down a good half-crown and ran off—I did not say that I was going to fetch a policeman, or that I had taken a lot of bad money.
Re-examined. When I said that the florin was bad, and broke it, the bricklayer put down a good half-crown—he ran away before I went out, and ran towards the Horse Guards, and the prisoner ran in an opposite direction.
JOHN SWEETMAN . On the night of 12th August, I saw three men outside the Silver Cross, after 10 o'clock—the prisoner is one of them—another had cord trowsers, like a bricklayer, and the third was like a labourer—the prisoner went into the Silver Cross, the bricklayer followed in closely after him—the prisoner then came out, and went towards the Ship—the third man was then standing outside.
Cross-examined. I am a watchman.
MR. COLERIDGE here withdrew from the Prosecution.
— NOT GUILTY .
MR. COLERIDGE conducted the Prosecution.
JOHN GOLDSWORTHY (Policeman T 132). On the night of 1st September, about 12.30, I was on duty near Chiswick Gate, and saw the prisoner on top of a waggon, in uniform, as he is now—he laughed as he passed—I followed the waggon, stopped the horses, and asked him where he was going—he said that he was on furlough—I asked him for his pass—he said that he had got no purse—I asked him what business he had there—he said "All right; take no notice"—I said "I shall take you to the station, on suspicion of being a deserter from the Royal Artillery"—he came off the waggon very quietly—I took him by the left arm, by the coat—he said "Leave go; I will walk quietly"—I said "I shall not leave go"—he walked a few paces, and asked me again to loose him—I refused—he stopped, looked in my face, and said "You b——sod!" aimed at my throat, and struck this knife through my helmet; at the same time he took me by the collar, broke the buttons off my coat, and tore it—I was in uniform—we struggled, and fell—I felt something against my breast, and saw a knife in his hand—I was cut through the tunic and waistcoat, but it did not break the skin—I tried to release myself—he attempted to strike me again, more than once—I got on my legs as quick as I could, and the prisoner jumped up, and tried to cut me with the knife—I struck him on the head with my staff—he came up to me a second time, and I hit him again, and he fell—when he was on the ground I saw the knife in his right hand—I took his hand, and said "Loose the knife"—he refused, and I cut my fingers in trying to get it—I hit him with my staff, and he loosed it.
Prisoner. When I got off the waggon the knife was in my hand; I had been cutting some apples and pears. I was quite qualified to walk, and did not need assistance. You hit me three blows on the head before I made any resistance. I then got the knife in my right hand, and you staggered against the point of the blade, and punctured your helmet. You gave me a fourth blow on my knuckles, and I was forced to let go the knife. I was
trying to ward off your blows when the knife stuck in your breast Witness. The knife was not in your hand when you got off the waggon. I saw you with your hand in your pocket.
COURT. Q. Why did you stop the waggon? A. I had a suspicion that he ought not to be away from his regiment at Woolwich—I am authorized to ask a soldier for his pass if I see him four miles from his regiment—we had a good many deserters to look for from Aldershot, and a good many from the Royal Artillery, and we had several in the information.
GEORGE WOODS . I live at Heath Road, Hammersmith—I saw the prisoner just past Chiswick Gate, with a van, with vegetables—when I got through the gate, I saw two men fighting—they had an up and down, and when they got nearer, they had another up and down, and the policeman got the better of the soldier—I stopped my horse, and said "Gently, mate"—he said "Hold on; can't you see that knife in his hand? he has tried to stab me with it"—the prisoner would not loose the knife, and the policeman hit him on the knuckles—he then loosed it—I saw the prisoner knock the policeman's helmet off.
Prisoner. Q. Did you see the knife in my hand when you came up? A. Yes.
RICHARD CLARK PAUTANG . I am a civil engineer, of Catspaw Road, Ormsby—on Friday night, 1st September, I was in Chiswick Lane, and saw a struggle between the prisoner and a policeman on the ground—it was 12.30, or a little before—the public-houses were closed—I saw the glitter of what I thought was a knife in the prisoner's hand—this (produced) is the knife he had—I assisted to take him to the station—he struggled a little at first—he was bleeding freely, and I washed his head—I have been in the Crimea, and the Indian Mutiny—this is the kind of knife served out to troops in the Artillery.
Prisoner. Q. Are you quite sure you saw the knife? A. Yes, in your hand.
GUILTY on the Second Count — Judgment respited.
MR. COLLINS conducted the Prosecution.
JOSEPH HELMES . I am a painter, of Battersea—I know the prisoner; he is a scalemaker—a few months ago he asked me if I was out of work—I said "Yes"—he offered me 1s. to take some bills for his master, while he did a job of his own—I took a receipted bill to Mr. McCulloch's, in Simon's Street, where I received 8s., and another to Mr. Avery's, in Fulhain Fields, where I received 8s.—I put the day of the month on the bills—I handed the money to the prisoner, and he gave me 1s. 6d. for the job.
JOHN WRIGHT . I am a scalemaker, of 186, King's Road, Chelsea—I attend to tradesmen's scales—the prisoner was in my employ twelve or fifteen months—this receipt to this bill is not my writing, nor my son's, but the initials are my son's—the prisoner had no authority from me to receive the money—he never paid it over to me.
Prisoner. Mr. Wright stopped my wages one week for these bills, and only gave me 1s. Witness. It is not true.
COURT. Q. Had you authorized him to receive money before? A. Yes; I gave him three accounts to collect some months before, and he brought
one 8s., and brought two receipts back—I got a warrant for his apprehen—I never authorized him to receive money at any other time, and never stopped money out of his wages, except the time when I got the warrant for embezzlement, when he wrote a penitent letter, and I took him back, and deducted the amount from his wages—he went down on his knees and said that he would make the best servant I ever had, and I forgave him, but I never sent him to collect money again—I have not stopped the money in the indictment out of his wages—his wages were 18s. a week, which have been paid regularly, except the two sums of 8s. which I deducted.
Prisoner's Defence. For thirteen weeks I paid Mr. Wright 3s. 6d. and 4*. a week out of my wages; the last money he stopped was just about 1l. I asked him for a shilling to get home with, but he would not give it to me. I left his service because he is a rogue.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. COLLINS conducted the Prosecution.
JOHN WRIGHT . The prisoner left my employ on 22nd July—he had no authority after that to obtain money from my customers—Mr. Gook, of West Brompton, is a customer of mine, and owed me 8s.—I did not authorize the prisoner to attempt to obtain it.
JOHN THOMAS COOK . I am a grocer, of Highfield Road, West Brompton—this bill to Mr. Cook was presented to me by Lower, and I refused to pay it—on the Wednesday before 22nd September the prisoner himself came, and said that he had called for the account from Mr. Wright, for the scales for twelve months—I said "I have not got the account sent me yet, I can't pay it"—he said "It is just like them, they put it on my list to apply for it"—I did not pay him.
Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
MR. HOLLINGS conducted the Prosecution.
EDWARD SIMMONDS . I live at 16, Duncan Place, Broadway, Hackney—on Saturday morning, 12th August, about 5.30 o'clock, I missed from my house a pair of hind quarters of lamb, a table cloth, a fowl, and a pair of boots—I had seen them safe at 11 o'clock on the night before—everything was then secure except the back door—I cannot say whether that was shut or fastened—this handkerchief was only bought on the Friday evening, my wife had partly hemmed it, and the needle was sticking in it when it was returned to me—these things (produced) are mine—they were left in the parlour the previous night.
STEPHEN COX . I am in the employ of the last witness—I fastened the slaughter-house door the night before, and came in at the back door—my master always fastened the house door himself—I cannot say whether the back door was shut—these boots are mine—I saw them in the shop the night before.
in Broadway, a few yards from the prosecutor's house—I searched his lodging, and found a table-cloth, a pair of boots, a handkerchief, twenty duplicates, and a quantity of articles which have not been owned.
Cross-examined. Two families lodge in the house—I had watched the prisoner to that lodging previous to taking him—he and a woman occupied this room—I saw the woman come away, but did not see her in the room, or the prisoner either, but I followed him to just outside the house.
NOT GUILTY .
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, September 19th, 1871.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
Laross being a foreigner, the evidence was interpreted to him.
FRANCIS VENEDEGER . I live at 200, St. George's Street, St. George's in-the-East, and am a tailor, outfitter, and boarding-house keeper—I have had business with Nelson—he is a boarding-house keeper—on Tuesday, 1st August, he brought me this advance note, marked "A"—he said he had a sailor shipped in that ship, and wanted me to cash the note for him—I said "All right, if the man goes in the ship I will give you the money," and I did give him 2l. in gold, and 5s. he paid me off an account that he owed me, and 5s. for collecting it—he gave me an I O U for 2l. 10s.; that is the custom, in case the note should not be paid—when he brought the note to me it was properly signed—there was a mistake in the name of Nelson; it was spelt with "ie" instead of "e"—I made him aware of it, and he scratched it out—I can't say whether he wrote the other part—I went into my parlour to get the 2l., and when I came out it was done—after obtaining the money he left—I saw him again next day, and said "I am under the impression that the man is shipping in another ship"—he said "Oh, no, the man is going in the ship; I shall take good care of that"—the I O U has not been paid.
Cross-examined. I have had a good few money transactions with Nelson, of a similar kind—I can't say whether sailors often ship in a different name; they may do so—I took the I O U for greater security—I did not take 5s. for cashing the note only, but for sending out a man to collect—Nelson owed me a good deal more than 5s.—the ship the man was to sail by was the Adriana—I know nothing about Laross.
FREDERICK JOHNSON . I live at 24, St. George's Street, and am a tailor and boarding-house keeper—on 2nd or 3rd August, Nelson came to me with this advance note, marked "B," and asked if I would cash it for him—I said "I have had quite enough of your notes; why don't you go down to the other tailor that you dealt with last?—he said "He charges me too much, and I can't deal any more with him"—I cashed the note; I gave him 2l. on it—he did not give me an I O U—I can't say whether this "Charles Laross, his mark" was on the note when he brought it—I know he wrote his name on it—I can't read writing—I paid away the note to Mr. Fraser, and I have had to give him back the money—the note was not paid—it is dated 3rd August—the name of the ship is the Edward, bound for America—I sent
some men on board the Edward—I know the captain—I sent Laross to the ship—Nelson begged me to send him along with my men, which I did—I sent five other men who were boarding with me.
Cross-examined. Laross was taken up the day before the ship sailed—I think it sailed on the 6th—I have been in trouble a few times—nothing about stealing watches—a person took me up wrongfully to the Thames Police—I was discharged—I did not take some foreign money from a sailor—I have not been five times in custody for stealing sailors' clothes and money; never for clothes—I have only been once in gaol—I have been twice at the Thames Police Court.
MANNS LOUIS . I live at 23, St. George's Street, and am a foreign shipping agent—Laross came to me to be shipped in a Dutch vessel—he was sent to me by the Consul almost a fortnight previous to my shipping him—I believe I shipped him on 1st August, by the Consul's directions, for the Adriana—I accompanied him to the office of the Dutch Consul, and saw him shipped—I recognize the note, marked "A"—it is the captain's writing on it—I handed it over to Nelson—that was not in Laross' presence—Nelson told me to hand it over—there are two Nelsons—to the best of my belief the seaman who shipped on board the Adriana, requested me to hand it over to Nelson—it was written out at Austin Friars, where it is payable, and was handed to me by the captain—Laross knew that he was shipping as John Nelson—he gave that name to the articles—I only knew him as Nelson—he did not call himself Laross—he told me, as near as I can recollect, to give it to his boarding master, and I did so.
Cross-examined. I never knew Laross till he was sent to me by the Dutch Consul a fortnight before.
Laross. The other prisoner told me one man had run away, and he asked me to go instead of him. Witness. That could not be; I shipped the whole crew, and no man ran away—the Adriana was bound for the Baltic.
JAMES BRIDEN (Detective Officer K). I went to Mr. Johnson's, and Laross came in while I was there—I said to him "This man says that you and another man have defrauded him of money"—he said "Nelson told me to do so"—he spoke very imperfectly—I showed him the advance note—he said he never saw one of them—he said he had not seen the first one, "A" he saw the other "B"—he said that was his note; that refers to the Edward—he said he had shipped in that—Nelson came in to Johnson's shop at the time I was there, and I told them they had better go down to the Court, and they did so, and they were charged—Nelson said, in Laross presence, that he (Laross) had shipped in two ships, and he nodded, and I believed him to assent to it—we had an interpreter at the Court—this was at the police-station—it was not interpreted to him there.
Laross's Defence (interpreted.) I did not wish to go in the Dutch ship, but Nelson pressed me. He said he had got a man who had absconded from another ship, and if I would do that he would replace him with that money. I was to go in the name of Nelson. I then did not go in the ship. I never signed that note, and never saw it; the second note I did put my mark to, and handed it to Nelson, but I never saw a farthing of the money.
NELSON— GUILTY on Second Count. — Three Months Imprisonment.
LAROSS— NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. METCALFE and MONTAGU WILLIAMS conducted the Prosecution.
GEORGE COATES CHAMBERS . I am at present landlord of the Crown at Cricklewood—prior to February, 1869, I carried on business as a wine merchant—I had fallen into difficulties previous to that, and became bankrupt in 1869—I had known the prisoner previously to that, and had dealings with him—at the time of my bankruptcy I owed him about 30l—he, with the rest, was discharged under my bankruptcy—they were money transactions for which I had been paying from 100 to 200 per cent.—to cover the 30l. that I owed him he held goods of mine to the amount of about 70l., which I have never had back; so that I owed him nothing—in July, 1870, I was travelling for a wine merchant—I again became in want of money, and applied to the prisoner—he was then living in Morton Street, Pimlico—the name of "Mr. Cooper, auctioneer, St. Martin's Lane," was also up there in an inner office—the prisoner had a ticket up, "Money Advanced"—I had interviews with him in July, and he subsequently placed some documents before me to sign, and I signed them—they were read over to me—I had applied to him for an advance of 130l.—when the documents were signed, Mr. Cooper's clerk was present; I believe his name was Harden; but they were not read over or explained in any way—at that time I believed I was going to receive 130l. through the means of the prisoner—I never received a farthing of that money—subsequently to that, by the aid of my friends and the brewers, I was enabled to take the Crown—I took it as it stood, with the furniture and things at a valuation—the prisoner never brought me the 130l., or came to me during the rest of the year 1870—about May, 1871, he came to me, and in consequence of what he said, I was induced to give him 10l.—he said "I hold a bill of sale over your head, give me some money"—he wanted about 50l. or 60l. then—I refused at first to give him any; I told him that I did not owe him a sixpence—he said he should not leave without he had some money, if I did not give him any, he had got some vans, and he should take my goods away—I said I should not give him any, but after some time, having heard what a desperate character he was, having served other people in the same way, taking their goods put of their houses, I was induced to give him 10l.—he said he would damage my credit with everybody—I asserted more than once that I had never received a shilling from him—I did not see the vans at the time, they were left round the corner—I had a policeman on the premises at the time, in consequence of what I had heard—the prisoner was content with the 10l., and went away—previously to that I had seen a man named Tanner in the prisoner's company—the prisoner introduced him to me as Sergeant Tanner—I had heard of Sergeant Tanner, and I believed him to be the man—the prisoner said he was the great Sergeant Tanner who had brought Muller over to this country—I don't think Tanner was with him at the time I gave him the 10l., I am not certain—on 18th July I was away from home—my wife was ill at the time—when I left home in the morning, I left my furniture and everything safe; when I returned in the afternoon I found all the upper rooms stripped, my wife's dressing-case broken open, and jewellery and money taken away, some spirits and cigars, and goods, altogether to the amount of between 300l. or 400l., were taken away—I made inquiries of my wife as to who had been there—some of her underclothing and some of the
children's clothes had been taken away—in consequence of what I heard from my wife, I went in search of my property, and found it at the prisoner's residence, Morton Street, Pimlico—a good deal of it was damaged and broken—the prisoner was not there—I went with the police and found him a few streets off—next day, by order of the Magistrate, I took what I could of my furniture back to Cricklewood—what was damaged and what was missing would amount to about 30l., and also a gold chain of the value of 14l.—I never got back the spirits or cigars, or the jewellery—even my razors were taken away.
Cross-examined by the Prisoner. When I came to you in Morton Street, in July, 1870, I did not bring my brother with me—I did not come several times before you consented to do anything with me, only once or twice—I believe my brother did once take a message that I wished to see you—I believe I did not ask you to ask Mr. Phillips to lend me 100l.—I never went to his house—that was three or four months before you introduced Tanner—there was no business between us at the time I saw Tanner—Tanner came down to my house afterwards, with a note demanding money—when I first came to you in Morton Street you did not say "I shall not do any business with you unless you give me some satisfaction for the amount due to me, and which I consider you have defrauded me out of"—you said nothing about what you were out of pocket by my fraudulent conduct—I had known you about three years at that time—Mr. Schofield introduced me to you—he is an agent and value in Clerkenwell, an intimate friend of mine—I saw in your shop some announcements of sales, by Mr. Cooper, auctioneer, St. Martin's Lane—I saw none of Schofield's—I believe it is a usual thing for house agents to have auctioneer's bills—I had had three or four previous transactions with you, always on bills of sale—you took a bill of sale on my furniture, jewellery, and general effects—you charged exorbitant interest, and threatened that you would take my things away if the money was not paid, and if I did not pay more interest—I did not tell you that I wanted this money for a large wine order, I told you it was to pay a former bill of sale that I owed, and you agreed to get me the money to pay that off—I forget the amount of the first transaction; there were three or four, for something between 70l. or 80l.—I never joined security with my brother, I remember wanting some money to get my brother out of trouble—I am not aware that he went through the Court—he was security with me for the money—that was settled, and everything paid—I had a transaction with you on 30th June, 1868—I did not come to you fraudulently or deceptively—I had not at that time assigned the whole of my property to Mr. Bennett, of Clapham Road Place—he was trustee for the benefit of my creditors; I forget the amount I failed for—everything was bought back, and I went on business again—on 21st February following I assigned the whole of my stock in trade, household furniture and goods, to Mr. B. B. Smith, for 500l., on a bill of sale—that was borrowed capital to go on in business again—I am not certain what I owed you in July, 1868; about that date I owed you 98l.—before my bankruptcy I paid you everything I owed you except 30l., and for that you had a cart, a phaeton, a ring and bracelet, worth 70l., as security—in November, 1868, you took possession of some of my goods—I never took you to my solicitor—just before my bankruptcy I gave you a cheque for 50l. or 60l., and that left a balance of 30l.—I don't know that the goods you seized realized 35l.—I never heard what they realized—I don't know that Mr. Schofield sold
them—I know he purchased a ring, which I bought of him afterwards for 10l.—I can't recollect when, before my bankruptcy, I paid you part of the 98l.—if I had my books I could show, not otherwise—I know I paid you all but 30l.—I believe 60l. was paid by cheque—I believe I swore on the former trial that it was paid just before the bankruptcy; I believe that was so—I filed a cash account in bankruptcy—(This being referred to, stated the balance due to the prisoner as 30l., for which he held security to the value of 70l.)—I have not my banker's book—the transaction with Mr. Phillips was settled—I have had no transaction with him since my bankruptcy—I don't know where you got the money from to lend me, but whatever I did have from you was paid all but the 30l.—this cheque for 40l., dated October 28th, 1868, bears my endorsement—that is made payable to you by Phillips—you told me you should have to borrow this money from Mr. Cooper—I went to Mr. Cooper—I never saw him in the matter, I saw his clerk there—I signed some papers there, what they were I don't know; you told me to sign them—I then went with you and signed a bill of sale—you said I was to have the money that afternoon—I went with you to the Queen's Bench Office, and there saw Page's bill of sale—you knew that this money was required to pay that off—you did not say then that I must come next morning, nor did I say I could explain all that, nothing of the sort—you did not tell me next morning that you had ascertained that I had given another bill of sale—there had been a bill of sale to Kerl before Page's, but that was paid off, and done away with, and other security was given, a promissory note—I can't recollect the dates of that bill of sale—it was destroyed—I was not served with a writ on that bill, or had execution put in under it—it was paid—it was not paid when it became due; I have paid it since—I executed this bill of sale (produced)—I was served with a copy of a writ by Mr. Abrahams—the bill of sale was not given for a debt to Bolton of 50l.—it states so, but it was not so—this other document is my writing: (Read: "Statement, July 18, 1870. Old debt, 50l.; it is agreed upon payment of 20l. every twenty days, and 5 per cent, that the bill of sale be renewed for a further twenty days.")—I wrote that—you told me to put that down, and said you could not get the money from Cooper unless that was stated, but said "Take no notice of that, that we will arrange afterwards"—I never read the declaration—I signed it, believing you were going to advance the money—that was signed at Cooper's office, about two miles from your place—I don't know whether the papers were ready written out when I went there; you told me to sign them; you said you were in a great hurry, there and then, to get the money—I signed whatever you told me—I did not when I first entered my petition in bankruptcy admit that I owed you 60l., if it is put down 60l. it is a mistake, I only owed you 30l.—you did not, before you came to Cricklewood, send a written order demanding payment, you came down yourself with a band of robbers—I did not pay you the 10l. on account—you said "Pay me 10l., and I shall want some more money of you shortly; 20l."—I made an evasive answer, and next morning I went to my attorney—you wrote this memorandum: (Read: "I have received of Mr. G. C. Chambers a cheque for 10l. on account of my claim of 50l. and costs, and I agree upon his paying the further sum of 20;. within a fortnight, that I will give up all further claim, and will deliver to him all papers in connection with his dealing with me; namely, a bill of sale and promissory note for 130l. and 50l., respectively, and all further proceedings shall be stopped. T. Bolton.")—You lett that with me—I gave
you the 10l. to get rid of you, and I took that paper, and gave it to my attorney the next morning—I knew you were coming that morning, Mr. Burke had told me so—I had received a written application two or three days before—you sent Tanner down three days before, demanding 60l.—you afterwards came down again on Whit-Monday, and said "I want some more money of you"—I told you you would not have it—I had two policemen on the premises, that day being a very busy day, to keep order—I went down my garden, and one of them followed me—I told you if you did not leave my premises I should give you in charge—you were with your friend Cooper—I came in doors, and shortly after you both left—Cooper did not say anything—Schofield was there—I don't think you played at skittles there—I believe you afterwards applied to me for payment through your attorney—I have the letter, and my attorney's reply—(Read)—you brought a City policeman with you on the first occasion, when I paid you the 10l.; I thought it was the cheapest way to pay you 10l. to get rid of you, to save legal proceedings, or prosecuting."
Re-examined. When I went to the prisoner's to borrow the 130l. he did not make any claim upon me for any balance of money due; I told him I wanted the money to pay off a bill of sale to Page, and while I was waiting for it Page came in and swept off everything I had at Brixton—the prisoner knew of Page's bill of sale—Cooper's clerk was the attesting witness to this bill of sale; at the time I signed that I also gave a promissory note for 130l.—I was sued on that by the endorsee, Mr. Morris Abrahams—I was served with a writ for that by Abrahams against Bolton and myself—Mr. Appa, my attorney, got leave to appear on that writ, and I have heard nothing of it since—I have seen Mr. Abrahams here to-day—I have not seen Mr. Cooper here, or his clerk, or Sergeant Tanner—since my bankruptcy I have never received one farthing from or through the prisoner.
FRANK CHAMBERLAIN . I am barman to the prosecutor—I was present on 18th July, when the prisoner and Tanner came to my master's house at Cricklewood—they came with a large van, a small cart, and a number of men—Bolton asked to see Mr. Chambers—he was not at home, and he asked for Mrs. Chambers; she was at dinner—he then ordered his men to proceed over the house, and take the furniture—they at once went over the house, took the furniture, and threw it into the cart in any shape or fashion—they took household furniture and fixtures—they filled a large van, and a small one—they took spirits and cigars, port and sherry, and decanters—when they came into the bar I tried to stop them, and Tanner threatened me with violence if I interfered—he was with Bolton at the time—he said he would d—soon settle me if I interfered—the van drove off—my master came home in the evening, and he was told what had happened.
Prisoner. Q. What do you mean by fixtures? A. Drawers with cigars in them; and you took the things that held the window curtains in the shop.
WILLIAM TICKERIDGE . I am a van proprietor, at Westminster—on 18th July, Bolton came and hired a van and cart—I went with the cart—Bolton went in a cab—he met me on the road—Tanner rode in the cart for a little way—we picked up a lot of men in Horseferry Road—we went to the prosecutor's place, and they loaded the furniture—they came out rather quicker than they generally do; they were put in anyhow—I should say it was about 4 o'clock in the afternoon—the prisoner gave the orders to load the van—as we were going along, the cart broke down—I did not see any
cigars—Bolton said on the road "All keep sober, and when you get home you can have whatever you like"—that was when we were going.
WALTER BARRELL (Defective Officer B.) In consequence of an order I received from the Magistrate, I went to Bolton's house, at Morton Street, Pimlico, the day after he had been taken into custody—I saw Tanner there—I endeavoured to take the things away—Tanner said something to me, but in spite of that I took the things, and returned them to the prosecutor by the Magistrate's order—I produce a dressing-case which was broken open, from which the jewellery was taken.
The prisoner, in his defence, stated that the prosecutor had deceived him by false representations as to his position, and that he had only taken proper and legal means to recover what was due to him.
GUILTY .— Five Years' Penal Servitude.
647. JOHN ROSS (24), and CHARLES COOKE (26), PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully conspiring to procure the escape of the said John Ross from the House of Correction. ROSS— Six Months' Imprisonment. COOKE— Four Months' Imprisonment.
649. JOHN JOHNSON (34) , to a burglary in the dwelling-house of Thurston Wurtz, and stealing 4s. 11 1/2 d., his moneys— Fifteen Months' Imprisonment. There was another indictment against the prisoner. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, September 19th, 1871.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
650. THOMAS HUGHES (30) , PLEADED GUILTY to stealing a watch and chain, of Paul Gault, from his person, having been convicted of felony in 1865. He had been twelve times in custody.— Fourteen Years' Penal Servitude. And
MR. HOLLINGS conducted the Prosecution;, and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS the Defence.
CHARLES COLLIER . I am a labourer, and live at Bedford Cottage, Hornsey Rise; it is my dwelling-house—on 23rd April, I went out and left the house perfectly safe—I returned about 11 o'clock, and found the door broken open, and the bedroom window broken—I missed three bottles of spirits, and this coat (produced), from a box—I had seen the prisoner that evening, about 100 yards from my gate, with two men—I cannot be quite sure he is the man, but it is not the first time I had seen him there.
Cross-examined. I lost about 6l. worth of property, and have only recovered the coat.
HENRY WEBB (Detective Officer Y.) I took the prisoner on 15th August, in Broadway, Acton—I told him he was charged with stealing a watch, a suit of clothes, and other articles, on 23rd April—he made no answer—I went to 2, Hayes Buildings, Hackney, and found this coat in the first-floor front room.
prisoner occupied my first-floor front room—there are two rooms on that floor.
Cross-examined. There are four rooms and a wash-house in my house—there are no other lodgers, I and my family occupy the rest of the rooms—a woman lived with the prisoner as his wife.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. ROLLINGS conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS the Defence.
JOHN PAVEY . I live at 80, Sunnyside Road, Upper Holloway, and am a mariner—on 12th April, about 7.30 a.m., I missed some tea, butter, cheese, two coats, and some child's tools—I had seen them safe the night before—the glass was broken, and a parrot which was on a table was moved from the window—this coat (produced) is mine.
HENRY WEBB (Detective Officer 7). I took the prisoner en 15th August, and went to his lodging, 2, Hayes Buildings, Hackney—I went into a room on the first-floor front; there was no one there—I found twenty-eight duplicates, one of which was for this jacket, pawned on 21st April—the tickets are nearly all in the name of Cole or Brown.
NOT GUILTY .
654. SAMUEL MOSS (20) , Unlawfully making to John Owen, a Clergyman of the Church of England, a false declaration concerning a marriage to be solemnized between him and Elizabeth Fry. Other Counts—varying the manner of laying the charge.
MR. F. H. LEWIS conducted the Prosecution; and MR. HARRIS the Defence.
PHILIP FRY . I live at 2, Crown Street, Soho, and am the father of Elizabeth Fry—she was born, I believe, on 10th December, and as near as I can recollect, she will be 18 next Christmas—I had a memorandum, but it was destroyed at a fire at my house—she worked at a cigar manufactory, in Oxford Street, at which the prisoner worked—from information I received I went there, and told the prisoner that I understood he was going after my daughter, and if he did not leave her alone I should take him before a Magistrate, and I removed her from the factory—on 2nd July, she was living at my house, and I was not aware of her intended marriage with the prisoner—I have been to Broomhead Street, Stepney—the highest number there is 41, on one side, and 21 on the other.
Cross-examined. I know now that my daughter visited at the prisoner's father's house—they have not been courting since I found it out—my object is to dissolve the marriage; I want to part them, to save my child from starvation and ruination—I went through Broomhead Street with a friend, Mr. Josephs, who is not here to-day; I thought there might be a Mr. Fry living there—I do not exactly recollect when I was married; it was at the great Synagogue—I have four children, and this is the eldest.
Re-examined. My daughter came home after the marriage, about 11 o'clock in the morning, and has been living at home ever since—I first knew of the marriage at the latter end of August, when the prisoner came
to my house and claimed her, he said "I want my wife"—I said "You had better go to Petticoat Lane and look for her," he said "No, I took her to church, and I want her"—I took him by the heels and threw him out of the shop.
CATHERINE FRY . I am the wife of the last witness, and the mother of Elizabeth Fry, who will be 18 or 19 on the 10th of next December, I cannot exactly say—I was not aware of her intended marriage with the prisoner—she has always lived at home with us, she was never away from home—she did not live at 56, Broomhead Street—she was sometimes called Bloomer Fry, and sometimes Elizabeth—she was as much Bloomer as Elizabeth.
Cross-examined. I shall have been married twenty-two years next May—I do not want the prisoner to be prosecuted, I only want them to be parted—I do not know that she used to visit at his father's house—he first came to our house ten or eleven months ago, and I never saw him since till lately—they used to work together six or seven months ago—she introduced him to our house ten months ago, and he came to me, and asked me whether I would allow him to talk to, and keep company with, my daughter, and I said "No."
ELLEN PRICE . I live at 18, High Street, Stepney—my husband is parish clerk of the district—this (produced) is the notice-book for the publication of banns—the prisoner came to me between the 4th and the 11th July, and said that he had come to publish banns—he gave his name Samuel Moss—I asked his age—he said "Twenty-one"—I asked the name and number of the street he resided in—he said "56, Broomhead Street"—I asked the lady's name—he said "Bloomer Fry;" that her age was twenty, and she resided at the same place—I made the entry in the book, read it over to him, and asked him if it was right—he said "Yes"—I gave the book to my husband.
Cross-examined. He did not say that his age was about twenty-one; he said "Twenty-one"—I have written Bromhead Street—I spelt it as I liked—he was not five minutes with me.
ETHEL PRICE . I am parish clerk of Stepney—I produce the register-book of marriages for that district—on 2nd July I find a marriage purporting to be solemnized between Samuel Moss and Bloomer Fry—I received from my wife the notice-book for the publication of banns—this writing in the register book is not mine, but the Clergyman's—I saw him write it—he wrote it from the certificate which I made up from the prisoner's instructions—I mean to say that I make up a draft for the Parson to copy.
MR. HARRIS. Q. Did you take down his statement from his own lips? A. Yes, and entered it here, and the Clergyman copied it—I did not take it from my wife.
MR. LEWIS. Q. Is that book the register of marriages? A. Yes, it is written by the Rev. John Staveley Owen, who is a Clergyman of the Church of England—this document purports to be signed by Samuel Moss.
COURT. Q. Did you see Mr. Owen write these entries? A. Yes, in the prisoner's presence—they were read over to him, and signed by him.
Cross-examined. These statements were inserted in the Register before the marriage, and before the prisoner made any statement, and he signed them afterwards—all the entries were made before the marriage; then they went into church to be married, and then they came back and signed the book—they all crowded into the vestry—the Clergyman did not read it
through, but it was all read over to the prisoner before the marriage, in the presence of all of them in the chancel of the church, just before the ceremony commenced—the prisoner had the original document—I have not given him notice to produce it.
Cross-examined. I am unable to swear whether he is twenty or twenty-one—I do not know his age to a year or two—I will swear he is not twenty-one—he gathers his age from what I have told him—the young woman, his wife, visited at my house three or four times a week, and I received her there as my future daughter-in-law—I do not know whether my son had a room in Broomhead Street.
Re-examined. He slept at my house every night—I did not know that he was going to be married in a church—he told me he had been forbidden to visit at Mr. Fry's house, and he never went there again till after he got married—I did not know that my daughter was a witness to the marriage till five or six weeks afterwards—she told me that she gave the name of Hannah Samuel; that was her mother's name, and she always goes by it—that is my daughter. (In custody. See next case.)
Cross-examined. I was asked to go as a witness by Bloomer Fry—I had known her for a considerable time—they had been courting about eighteen months—I cannot write, or read writing.
SAMUEL ALWRIGHT . I am a cigar maker, of 2, Stainy Street, Soho—I am married, and have children—I worked in the same manufactory as the prisoner and Elizabeth Fry, and from what I saw I made a report to the father—the prisoner said that the girl was going on for eighteen, and he would soon be the same age—that was about eight months before 2nd July.
Cross-examined. My name is Solomon Arbight, not Samuel Alwright—I told the clerk how to put down my name—I signed my right name before the Magistrate—I have known the defendant eleven months—I did not know that the young girl was visiting him—I knew that they were courting, and I told the father eight months ago.
THE COURT amended the Indictment by striking out the averment that the girl's name was Bloomer Fry.
GUILTY — Eight Months' Imprisonment.
MR. F. H. LEWIS, for the prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. COOPER conducted the Prosecution.
ALFRED POLAND PLANT . On 26th August I was passing Whitechapel Church, and somebody knocked me down, and took my watch-chain and locket, value about 7l. 10s.—I spoke to a constable, who showed me a portion of my chain half an hour afterwards, which I identified—this is it (produced.)
saw the prisoner and prosecutor struggling on the ground—I am sure the prisoner is the man—I did not know him before—there was gas-light.
FREDERICK STEPHENS (Policeman H 84). About midnight on 26th August, I met the prosecutor, who made a communication to me—I had taken the prisoner before that—he had run away, and was running back again towards the place—I told him I took him on suspicion of robbing a gentleman—he said that he had nothing—I searched him, and found nothing—I searched him again at the station, and found this piece of watch-chain—this other piece I found at the place where I stopped him.
GUILTY — Twelve Months' Imprisonment
HANNAH TRUCKLE . I am housemaid to Mr. Craven, of Spring Bank, Teddington—on Monday, 24th July, I was in the dining-room at 3 o'clock in the afternoon, and saw a quantity of plate, worth 60l., safe on the side-board—I missed it at 5 o'clock, and found the plants removed from the window sill, and boot marks on the sill.
EMMA CRAVEN . I am the wife of Mr. Craven, of Spring Bank—on the afternoon of 24th July, I saw a man leave the garden, I only saw his back—the female prisoner was in a cart against the gate of the next house—the man joined her at the cart, but I did not see the cart drive away.
FANNY MINNIFER . I live at Rose Hill, next door to Mrs. Craven—about 4 o'clock on this afternoon in July, I was sitting in my dining-room, and saw a man come in at the gate with picture frames and bread-baskets—he stopped half way and caught sight of me, but he could not see me very distinctly—he then walked on to Mrs. Craven's window, and I did not see him afterwards—I did not see a cart—the male prisoner is the man.
JANE COLLIER . I am the wife of William Collier, a gardener, and live at a lodge opposite Mr. Craven—on 24th July, about 4 o'clock, I saw the male prisoner come from Mr. Craven's house—as he passed my house, I saw him take a parcel from his coat and lay it down in the road—he then took it up again and went on, and I saw no more of him—he fixed his eyes towards Mr. Craven's window, whose grounds adjoin that spot.
MARY JAMES . I am the wife of John James, a gardener, about twenty yards from Mr. Craven's house—on 24th July, between 4 and 5 o'clock, I saw a cart, and a female in it, at the side of Mr. Craven's house—after a little time, she drove up to my gate, and a man accompanied her, but I did not see his face—they were both dressed in dark clothes—he held a box up in his hands as he came from Mr. Craven's house, got into the cart, and they drove off quickly.
HENRY SEELEY (Policeman Y 218). I am stationed at Cheshunt—on 24th August, I went to the prisoner's house at Temple Green, and found these bread baskets on a table in the back room—I took the prisoners at Puckeridge, in Hertfordshire, but did not charge them with this robbery then.
THE COURT considered that there was no evidence to go to the Jury.
NOT GUILTY .
658. THOMAS BOYCE and SARAH BOYCE , were again indicted for breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Isabella Steele, and stealing therein fourteen spoons, twelve forks, and other articles, her property.
HANNAH MUNCASTER . I am servant to Mrs. Steele, at 3, Stock Orchard Crescent, Holloway—on 7th July, I went out—I returned at 7.45, and found the side door open, and the kitchen door unbolted, which were fast when I left—I went into the breakfast parlour, and missed a plate basket, which I saw safe about a quarter of an hour before I went out—I made a communication to my mistress and to the police—I had put into it three tea spoons and a pair of sugar tongs, and there were in it twelve German silver forks, and some spoons, value altogether 6l.—these are the forks—here are some marks on them.
COURT. Q. How do you know them? A. I have been using them seven years, every day, and I have got one here—you would not find such in every ironmonger's shop—I can identify them, and have brought one belonging to the set—I know them by these marks; they are something like silver marks—they are very old, and I am certain of them.
MART ANN ALEXANDER . I am servant to Harriet Martin, of 2, Stock Orchard Crescent, Holloway—on 7th July I saw the prisoners driving down the Crescent in a cart—the man asked me if I would buy a picture frame—these are like the frames he offered me—I saw him go to the next house, Mrs. Steele's—he went into the garden, and I lost sight of him, and did not see him again—the woman remained in the cart, and I heard it drive away quickly—a fortnight afterwards I saw the male prisoner again, in Mrs. Steele's garden, and passed him—he had got as far as the gate, and when he saw me, he jumped into the cart, and drove off—the female prisoner was in the cart—I identified them at the station.
SAMUEL BRYCE (Policeman.) I took the prisoners at Puckeridge, on 22nd August—I went to their lodging, 5, Temple Terrace, and found, in a cupboard, these forks, which were shown to Hannah Muncaster, at Cheshunt Petty Sessions, and she identified them.
Cross-examined. I found this pedlar's certificate (produced) on the male prisoner.
NOT GUILTY .
(The same Counsel appeared.)
ROBERT AGATE . I am a plumber, of Hornsey, and let lodgings—on 30th June I was coming home from work, and saw the male prisoner leaving my door, with a bundle of clothes over his arm—as he went by me, he said "Fine day, Sir; good day," and walked off—the female prisoner was in a cart outside—I went into the house, met my wife, who made a communication to me, and I went into the hall, and missed three coats and my wife's cloak, value 3l. 10s. or 4l.—I described the two persons to the police.
Cross-examined. I had never seen either of the prisoners before—I saw them again at Cheshunt, at the latter end of August—I have never seen the clothes since.
HENRY OSBORNE. I work for Mr. Allison, a butcher, of Tottenham Lane, Hornsey—on 30th June I was passing Mr. Agate's house, and saw a cart outside, and the female prisoner in it—the male prisoner rushed out of Mr. Agate's garden, and jumped into the cart, threw some clothes into the back of it, and galloped away—I informed Mrs. Agate.
Cross-examined. He had some picture frames, about the size of this book, in his hand; anybody could see them.
JAMES GODDEN (Policeman R 447). On 30th June, about 4 o'clock, I saw two persons driving a cart at about fourteen miles an hour—the man called out "Is this the way to London" I but he did not stop—I should have stopped him for furious driving, if I could—a few minutes afterwards I received information from Mr. Agate, and traced the prisoners as far as Crouch End or Holloway, where I lost them.
GUILTY — Five Years' Penal Servitude each.
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, September 20th, 1871.
Before Mr. Justice Brett.
MR. RIBTON conducted the Prosecution.
GUILTY *— Ten Years' Penal Servitude.
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, September 20th, 1871.
Before Mr. Baron Cleasby.
CATHERINE QUINLAN . I am the wife of Thomas Quinlan—on 28th August, we lived at 43, Bedfordbury—the prisoner was my late husband's cousin—on 28th of August he had his dinner at our place, between I and 2 o'clock, after which he stopped a short time, and he and my husband went out together—I was in bed and asleep when they came home—I was awoke by my husband—he was very drunk, and began to knock me about—the prisoner was not with him when he first came up, but not many minutes afterwards he came up for a bundle he had left—(we live on the third floor front)—I cannot tell what took place as I went down to the first floor, and there I stopped in Mr. and Mrs. Bird's room till 12 o'clock, when I went up to bed in the dark for fear of waking my husband as he was snoring loud, and he was in the habit of ill-using me when he was drunk—(I heard nothing while I was down stairs)—I had had a drop of beer, and went to sleep, and cannot recollect anything—I was not quite sober—I awoke between 7 and 8 o'clock in the morning, and saw my husband without any clothes on—I did not see his face, his back was to me—I threw my daughter's waterproof coat over him, and ran down stairs screaming to the Charing Cross Hospital—his face was dreadfully swollen, and black and blue—he was lying on the floor; he was in the habit of doing that when he was drunk—I was afraid he was dead, and fetched a policeman—I went to Dr. Watkins, who ordered him to be removed to the hospital on Sunday, and he died there on Monday about 12.30.
Prisoner. I heard her screams of "Murder," and that took me up.
REBECOA BIRD . My husband is a tailor, we live at 43, Bedfordbury—on Saturday night, 28th August, Mrs. Quinlan came down to me about 10 o'clock, and remained till past 12 o'clock—during that time I heard a scuffling going on up stairs—Mr. and Mrs. Griffin, who work for me, were also in the room—about a quarter of an hour after Mrs. Quinlan came down, the prisoner came down—he could hear her voice and came in—she asked him for a pot of beer, and he gave her the money for it—he sat a little while, and said "I have done a thing to-night I am very sorry for; I have interfered between man and wife, I will never do it again, and I have marked him with some marks which he will have something to show for himself tomorrow morning"—my husband came in, and heard those remarks—they were made over and over—the prisoner seemed to know what he was saying, but I don't think he was quite sober—I could not hear anything said up stairs by the prisoner to the deceased—the second floor is uninhabited, and the third floor was Mrs. Quinlan's—she came down in the morning and said something.
Prisoner. Q. Was I not in your room drinking at the time Mrs. Quinlan halloaed out "Murder!" A. No, I did not hear anything of the kind—I only heard a row.
MICHAHL GRIFFIN . On the night in question I lived at 43, Bedfordbury—I was in Mr. Bird's room when Mrs. Quinlan came down—the prisoner came down and said that he had interfered between man and wife, and he was very sorry for doing so, and he would show the marks in the morning—next morning, Sunday, I went up stairs, and found the deceased there quite naked, and lying on his left side—his face was all swelled, and black, and there was some blood on it—he was quite insensible—his shirt was on the line, his boots were in a small box, and his hat was by his head—the prisoner was not sober, and he was not drunk; he knew what he was saying perfectly well—the top button of his shirt was open, but not as if it had been torn open.
FREDERICK GREENFIELD (Police Inspector E). I received information that a man had died in the hospital who I had directed to be taken there—I went in search of the prisoner, and found him at work at the Reform Club, Pall Mall, painting—I told him he must consider himself in my custody on a charge of causing the death of his cousin, Thomas Quinlan—he said "I have been expecting this, and am ready to go with you"—I said "I suppose you are aware he is dead?"—he said "Yes; I heard that at the hospital, when I went out to dinner. We were always like brothers; we had had about 4s. worth of drink, we were coming home, and had a custle in Chandos Street, and fell on the ground two or three times, afterwards came home, and we went up into the room together; he had been quarrelling with his wife, and then he commenced quarrelling again with me, and we fought. We fell together several times, and he nearly choked me, and I had to throw him. We had been drinking very much; I left him lying on the floor, thinking he would come all right"—I examined the room, it bore evident marks of a severe struggle, and there was a quantity of congealed blood in the corner where the deceased had laid, and his clothing was about the place—the prisoner's head was very much swollen, and he had to be taken to the House of Detention for his head to be treated, as erysipelas had set in.
I received a communication from Catherine Quinlan—I went to 43, Bed-fordbury, and found the deceased lying on his left side, quite insensible—his face was very much swollen, and there were marks of violence on the right side of his face and head, and on his left arm—he bled very much, and the blood ran down on his left arm, where it was congealed, and his hair was matted in it on the floor—he was quite naked—he was seen by Dr. Watkins, who ordered his removal to Charing Cross Hospital—I took him there.
FREDERICK GEORGE SLAUK . I am house-surgeon at Charing Cross Hospital—on 29th August, the deceased was brought there in a state of total insensibility, and with marks of great violence about the right side of his head and face; and after he had been taken into the ward, I found marks on his neck, and his left shoulder and arm—he continued insensible till Monday, about 12 o'clock, when he died—I afterwards made a post-mortem examination—the organs were all healthy, except the lungs, which were congested—I opened his head, and found that a blood vessel had been ruptured, which was the cause of death—that would arise from violence either from a blow or a fall.
COURT. Q. Should you say that that blood vessel would be likely to be captured by a violent fall on the ground, and the head striking? A. Quite as likely—if there had been a violent blow it must have been given with a flat instrument, because there was no wound—it is more likely to have been caused by a heavy fall.
The Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate:—"I was drunk, and also the deceased; we had drunk five or six quarterns of raw rum, besides malt liquor. We quarrelled in Chandos Street, and I shoved him, but he made it up with me. All I recollect besides is being in the room with him, and we fell together. He had hold of my shirt collar, and I threw him several times on the floor, and he threw me also down.
Prisoner's Defence. I received a deal of injury, and had erysipelas in my head. My cousin was the only relation I have, and I generally had my meals there. We have been brought up together from children. We went out, and had five or six quarterns of rum, independent of malt liquor. We quarrelled, and made it up afterwards, and had a couple of quarterns of rum together, and some beer. I went to Mr. Bird's place, and heard screams of "Murder!" I went up, and the deceased was like a raving madman, and stark naked. He laid hold of me by the handkerchief, and nearly strangled me. We were struggling together ten minutes or a quarter of an hour. He threw me on the edge of the bedstead, and I threw him down on the floor; but there was not a blow struck; first he was below me, and then I was below him. On Sunday morning I found my head cut open, and went up to know which was the worst of us, and found he had been taken to the hospital I have been under medical treatment ever since.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. KEBLE conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS the Defence.
JAMES PRATTON . I am a greengrocer, and live at Frome, in Somersetshire—the deceased was my daughter—on 22nd July I came up, intending to take her away home—I staved there till 30th July—on 30th July, about
1.30 in the night, I awoke, and heard my daughter say "Oh, lor! how can I go into the bar in the morning with my face and eyes beat like this?"—I did not go out to her—I got up in the morning, and began making my bed, as I thought it would help her—I had done so the morning before—the prisoner, who was down stairs, called "Dad"—I did not answer—he said again "Dad"—I said "Yes"—he said "Come down; Martha is down here, and I cannot get her up; I have been trying to get her up, but she is so heavy"—I found her on the floor, with her head twisted round—I put my arm round her neck, took her right hand, and said "Martha, my dear child," but she never answered me; there was no sense at all in her—the prisoner and I managed to take her up stairs—I said "We must have a female in"—he said "We will have no female here"—I took her by the feet and he by the head, and we got her up stairs, and laid her on the bed where I had slept, and went for a doctor, who came—I was there, and the prisoner was down stairs—a piece of skin was off by the deceased's nose, and another piece, I believe, off her forehead, near one eye; and on her cheek the skin was broken—there seemed to be a big knot in her throat, like a hen's egg—I felt it, but could not move it—on her collar-bone, her neck had turned dark, as if she had been squeezed, or had a blow, and it kept turning dark all round here—I heard nothing going on in the night before I heard her complain about her eyes—nobody was in the house but us three—I cannot say whether the prisoner had taken any drink or not—he knew what I was saying.
Cross-examined. I cannot tell you how long they have been married—I believe they have been together about sixteen or seventeen years—he never said to me that she had been drinking—I was examined before the Magistrate—the prisoner did say ao, but I never saw her drinking—I heard her come out of her room, and go down stairs; it was then just daylight, 2 or 3 o'clock—I did not look at my watch, I laid down on the bed—it was about 8 o'clock when I went down stairs—my daughter was a lumpy woman; she was in good order—she would have been forty-two next birthday.
SARAH SEARING . I am the wife of Thomas Searing, of 2, Charles Street, Islington, a furniture porter—I have known the prisoner and his wife for the last nine years—I saw her on Saturday night, 29th July, about 10.50—she was then in good health, and had no marks about her—I saw her next morning, about 9.15; she was then nearly dead—her face was bruised a good bit on the left side, and there were some black spots about her chest, at the bottom of her throat—I have never seen her intoxicated, and I have been in the habit of seeing her many times in the day.
ALICE DACE . I am the wife of David Dace, of 2, John's Place, Charles Street, Islington Green, a stationer—on Sunday, 30th July, about 12.40 in the night, I saw Mrs. Webb—she was then perfectly well, and perfectly sober—I saw no marks about her—I have known her nearly six years, and saw her very frequently—she was a sober woman in general.
JOHN VILES . I am a stationer, of 61, Shepperton Cottages, Islington—the deceased was my cousin—I have known her all my life—on Sunday, 30th July, I saw them both up to nearly 1 o'clock in the morning at their own house—the deceased seemed in perfect health, and was quite sober—I saw no marks about her—I never saw her the worse for drink—sometimes two or three months elapsed without my seeing her, and sometimes I saw her several times in a week.
COURT. Q. Did you spend the evening with them? A. Yes, my uncle,
the deceased's father, was up from the country, and I went to see him, and was there till 1 o'clock in the morning—I left them comfortable, all together, in the bar parlour—we had not been merrymaking—I had not much time to speak to them till after the house was closed, that was the reason I was there so late—I had something to drink—the bar-parlour is like a public parlour—there were several customers there, but they all left before 12 o'clock—the prisoner and the deceased were having their supper when I left—I don't think they had anything to drink, but I did not stop and sup with them.
WILLIAM MORGAN . I am a physician, of 14, Tyndale Place, Islington—on Sunday morning, 30th July, I was called to the prisoner's house about 10 o'clock, and saw the prisoner—he said "It is all over, she is dead"—I asked him to show me the body—I went up stairs, and found her laid out in bed—her face was one mass of bruises, from the head down to the jaw—I went down stairs, and said "This is an ugly case"—the prisoner said "It is"—I afterwards received instructions from the Coroner to perform a post-mortem—I found on the upper part of the chest several blue marks about the size of a sixpence, as if the part had been gripped by pressure just by the collarbone—on the chest end of the right shoulder, by the collar-bone, was another bruise about the size of a 5s. piece, and on the upper lip, at the left side, was an abrasion nearly an inch long—the skin was broken; it was a scratch, and a little external to that was another not quite so large, and the whole of the left side of the face, extending from the lower jaw to the temple, was one mass of bruises—on reflecting the scalp I found that the bruises extended down to the bone, and there was considerable extravasation of blood—on removing the skull cap, and exposing the brain, I found on its left hemisphere an extravasated clot of blood almost as large as the palm of my hand, and on the right side I found another much larger clot—I placed the large clot in my hand, and on rough calculation it would weigh from 2oz. to 3oz.; the clot on the left side was thinner, about the thickness of a penny piece, but it was more extravasated—at the base of the brain I found another clot, much smaller, lying midway between the upper part of the spinal marrow, and the base of the brain—it was about the size of a filbert—the left temporal muscle was one bruised mass, pulpy, but the opposite muscle was perfectly healthy—the cause of death was effusion of blood, producing pressure on the brain, which must have been produced by a series of falls, or a series of blows—the bruises must have been produced from the same cause—the whole of the left side of the face was a series of bruises—they would not have been caused by one heavy fall, and besides that the condition of the temporal muscle was such that it must have received a series of blows—it was in a soft, pulpy condition—the fist is the very instrument which would produce those bruises—it must have been an instrument of a yielding kind, because there was no external sore.
Cross-examined. The marks on the chest might have been caused by the pressure of the tips of the fingers—she was not particularly stout, but she was an exceedingly well-formed woman—she was laid out when I saw her—I cannot say whether the blue marks could have been caused by her being laid hold of, for the purpose of lifting her, but I should imagine not, because in raising a person in that position you would not naturally grip the throat.
COURT. Q. Would that spot about the size of a finger be likelv to be caused by taking hold of her? A. That would be an unnatural mode of
taking hold of her; I should imagine that it was done in a struggle—I do not think it was done in lifting her, because it is rather an unnatural part of the body to plant your fingers to lift a person—I did Dot ask the prisoner any question when I went in; he was a perfect stranger to me, and I saw that it was a case which required investigation—I asked him how it happened, and I think he said that he did not know, he found her down stairs—that is so—I had forgotten that when I said that I did not ask him any question—I had very few words with him.
COURT. Q. That these clots of blood caused the death? A. Yes—the marks would be likely to be caused by a strugggle, leaving an impression on the skin—from the appearance of the place, I should not think it would be at all likely to be caused by laying hold of her when insensible—I do not think the bruises could have been made in trying to lift her.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. HUMPHREYS conducted the Prosecution; and MR. RIBTON the Defence. Upon the evidence of HOWLETT WORGER, surgeon, it appeared that the deceased died from convulsions, produced by drink, supervening upon a wound, and that the drink, and not the wound, was the cause of death.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. BOTTOMLEY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. WOOD the Defence.
JOHN NOLAN . I live at 8, Caroline Road, Goswell Road—on Saturday, 12th August, about 8.20 or 8.30 p.m., I saw the prisoner and the deceased—the prisoner asked the deceased if he was a bricklayer—Kenny said "What are you?"—the prisoner said "I am a labourer"—Kenny said "Can you serve a bricklayer?"—the prisoner said "Yes, I can serve two if I like"—Kenny called him a liar—the prisoner left him, and came to speak to the young woman who I was speaking to—Kenny followed him—the prisoner told him to go away; he refused—the prisoner told him to go away three or four times, and Higgins put his hand upon him, and said "Go away; I have told you before what I want; I want eight bricklayers"—Kenny would not go, and the prisoner said "If you do not go away from me, I will slash you in the b——y roe"—Kenny said "Maybe you would not," and the prisoner pushed him in the chest, and staggered him back—he hit against another man, and they both fell—I went to pick the other man up, and Kenny got up, and laid hold of Higgins—they struggled, and Higgins brought him down on the flat of his back again—he got up, and made a rush at Higgins—they tussled together, and Higgins flung Kenny on the ground—I then went away—they were both drunk, and so was the other man who was pushed down.
Cross-examined. I did not notice that the deceased was abusive before he was put on his back the first time—the prisoner pushed him away because he followed him—he said "Go away from me," but he would not—
I think he had insulted the other man by asking if he was a bricklayer—I was present till the struggle ended—I saw no blows with the double fist, it was simply putting his hand and pushing him back—even during the struggle I did not see fists used, and I was close, to them and should have seen it if it had taken place—the prisoner being a powerful man to what the deceased was, he gave him a good throw, and he fell very heavily on the ground and twisted himself—I did not see Mrs. Dell there, but she might have been—I went away, and did not wait till it was over.
JOHN WILKINSON . I live at 114, Golden Lane—I saw a row outside my shop, and saw the prisoner take Kenny up and chuck him down very heavily, twice—they were struggling when I saw them—Kenny got up again, and a little time elapsed—he then went up to Biggins, who laid hold of him and threw him down again.
Cross-examined. I was about two yards from them—when Kenny got up after the first throw, he did not seize the prisoner by the dress—the grapple took place as soon as Kenny got up; the prisoner took him up and chucked him down again—when a man is off his legs, a man can chuck him over his head—I saw no blow with a fist—this is correct in my depositions: "I saw the prisoner with a man in his arms throwing him over his hip"—it was as a wrestler would do, giving his body a twist—the deceased was full of drink, and his death occurred from rupture of the bladder—I cannot say whether that was caused by the twist—I did not see Mrs. Dell, but there was a great mob there—Callaghan was the other man who was knocked down.
JAMES CALLAGHAN . I live at 2, Nag's Head Court, Golden Lane;—on 13th July, I saw the deceased lying in the road on the fiat of his back, and the prisoner sitting on the pavement—as I came out, a person said to me, "Jack, he hag kicked your father."
Cross-examined. I did not see the struggle, but me and the prisoner had a bit of an encounter because I was told he had knocked my father down—I was not knocked down.
ELIZABETH JOHNSON . I am the wife of William Johnson, a shoemaker, of 3, Nag's Head Court, Golden Lane—I saw the prisoner and Kenny talking angry—the prisoner asked Kenny whether he bad carried the had, or did carry it—he said "I can carry it," and they spoke across—the prisoner said "If you don't push away I will dash the front of your face in"—Kenny said "What for I" and the prisoner went towards him, and took him by his flesh, or his jacket, and threw him down flat on his back—Kenny got up and went towards the prisoner, to contest again, and the prisoner threw him down again on his back, and he got up again, crawled up the court, and stood against the wall about five minutes—I went and asked him if he was hurt—I saw him in bed next day, and took him to the hospital.
Cross-examined. I was not there at the first—they both spoke angrily about the had—Kenny was several yards from his own door, it may be forty yards—he lives at the top of the court—he was about ten yards from Callaghan's door, who lives next door to me—Callaghan was in the lane, some yards from his own door—Kenny did not get up and go sharply towards the prisoner, he staggered.
COURT. Q. I thought you saw that Kenny got up, and went towards the prisoner to contest with him? A. I thought so, but the prisoner stood still, and they both met together, and he put him on his back again—I did
not see Mrs. Dell—I saw no blows or kicks—a good many people were standing round—after Higgins threw Kenny a second time he went away, and he and young Callaghan were together.
MARGARET DELL . On 12th August, I saw the prisoner and Kenny together—they had some words, and the prisoner knocked him down twice, and kicked him very violently on the lower part of his stomach, when he was on the ground on the second occasion—Kenny rolled over and went against the wall, and groaned heavily.
Cross-examined. Kenny did not exactly go up angrily, but the prisoner would not give him time to speak before he knocked him down again—he went up to ask him what he struck him for—I was there at the beginning, before any words or blows occurred—I did not hear what took place—I heard the prisoner say "I will throw you in the road"—I expect that Higgins went there to quarrel—I did not hear what he said about labourers—he was outside the barber's shop then, where Nolan came out of; he was not against the court then, he was a few yards further up—I was there when Higgins knocked the deceased down, but heard nothing said about carrying the had—I took Callaghan away, and persuaded him to have nothing to do with it—I do not know the prisoner personally, I have seen him once or twice—he and Kenny were both in liquor—I have seen the deceased drunk before—I had one glass with my husband and him, a share of a pot of beer—that was at 7 o'clock—I can drink a drop of beer, but not to get intoxicated—the police have not seen me intoxicated—I am not noisy and disorderly when I am in drink—I had not been drinking that evening, I was as sober as I am now—I had a share of a pot of beer, and there were four of us to drink it—I had no conversation with Callaghan—he did not tell me I was not there, and did not see it; that was when we came from Bagnigge Wells Police Court on the Monday—he said that I did not see the fight, and I said "If I was not there, how could I take your father away from the quarrel?"—Callaghan did not say that I had only just that minute come out of the Cock public-house—I was never in it.
Q. How do you account for your having seen the prisoner kick the deceased, when the other witnesses did not? A. Me and Mrs. Johnson were there, and we saw it—I saw Nolan there, but he turned and went away before the deceased received the second blow—I did not see Nolan there at the second blow.
JAMES JOHNSON . I live in Nag's Head Court—on 12th August, I was standing at the bottom of Nag's Head Court, and the prisoner and the deceased were having words—the prisoner struck Kenny on the breast and knocked him down—he got up and the prisoner knocked him down again.
Cross-examined. I heard my mother call out "Save Kenny," and I picked him up—I was by her side—she had the opportunity of seeing all that occurred, and so had I—I saw no kick from the prisoner—I cannot say whether he gave him a blow, or a push, or a shove; it was a motion of the hand to keep him back, and it knocked him backwards—I do not know why the deceased followed the prisoner, they were both rash at one another—they were talking when I went up, and I kept my eye on them all the time—I could have seen if there had been any kick delivered—I did not notice Mrs. Dell.
Re-examined. There were only two or three people at the bottom of the court.
—the deceased was brought there on the morning of August 14th—he complained of very great pain in his stomach, and it was stated to me that he had been kicked—I immediately passed an instrument, and drew off a lot of urine mixed with blood—if he had received a kick in the stomach that would produce the blood, but there was no mark on the stomach over the bladder—he had a bruise over the right ear, that was the only external mark—he died about 12 o'clock next day, Tuesday—I examined him afterwards, and found that he died from ruptured bladder, and peritonitis consequent upon it—a kick on the stomach would rupture the bladder in the way I said—all the symptoms were consonant with it.
Cross-examined. The bruise on the ear was nothing like a cut, it was all over the ear—that might be accounted for by his falling on his ear—falling across anything would produce those symptoms on the bladder—I do not think it would be occasioned by wrestling, and twisting himself with a superfluity of moisture in him after drinking, unless he received some external violence on the stomach—it could not come from the back as well as the front, because the abdomen would give—if the waistcoat was tight, it would burst before the bladder would—as to there being a superfluity of moisture in him, I did not draw much urine when I passed the instrument—I found some in the bladder after death, and I found the effect of it—he came in about 1 o'clock on the Monday morning—there was no bruise or mark on the stomach, and nothing to show any violent kick.
MR. M. WILLIAMS. Q. Was the prisoner present? A. No. (THE COURT inquired whether there was evidence that the deceased believed himself beyond all hope of recovery. MR. BOTTOMLEY replied that there was not; and THE COURT excluded the statement.
The prisoner received a good character.
NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, September 20th, 1871.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
666. WILLIAM HURRY (44) , PLEADED GUILTY to embezzling and stealing 4l. 18s. 6d., 10l. 11s. 6d., 6l. 18s. 3d., and 4l. 3s. 6d., the moneys of the Mayor, Aldermen, and Commonalty of the City of London— He received a good character— Six Months' Imprisonment.
667. THOMAS MADDEN (18) , to burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of John Deveson, with intent to steal, having been before convicted in September, 1870**— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
668. LOUISA ROBERTS (28), and MARY CORNWALL (18) , to stealing forty-seven yards of mohair cloth, the property of Samuel Lewis, having been before convicted, Roberts in April, 1869, and Cornwall in December, 1869— ROBERTS**— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment. CORNWALL— Twelve Months' Imprisonment. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]
MR. POLAND conducted the Prosecution; and MESSRS. METCALFE and
GEORGE HAMILTON . I am a constable in the service of the London and St. Katherino Dock Company—on 27th July, about 4.45, I was at the gate, and as the prisoner was leaving the Docks I stopped him—I asked him if his
name was Taylor—he said "Yes"—Tasked him to step into the office at the gate, to be searched—he went in—I asked him what he had got—he said a small drop of brandy he had given him—I took from his left hand trowsers pocket one of these bottles (producing two), and another from his side pocket—I asked him where he had got it—he said some name at "Godsell's"—I told him he would have to go to the superintendent's office, which he did, and there he said he had an order at his office on the quay—I went with him to his office, and there he showed me an order for the British and Foreign Wharf, for a sample of sherry—these two samples were not tasted then, and I did not know whether it was sherry or brandy—I found afterwards it was brandy, and he then said it was to show that he could get orders—I then went back to the office—I think the name be mentioned at Godsell's was Hinsch—anyone taking samples from the Docks must have a pass for it—Himes was with me.
JOHN HIMES . I am an officer in the service of the Dock Company—I stopped the prisoner, and the last witness took him into the office—I heard him mention the name of Mr. Hinsch, who, he said, was in the service of Mr. Godsell, 71, Great Tower Street—when he was before the Magistrate he said the person he meant was Mr. Rowan, who, he believed, was formerly in the employment of Duff & Gordon—he said Rowan had given him the two bottles of brandy, which had come from Fenning's Wharf—after that statement there was a remand for a week, and I endeavoured to find Mr. Rowan—I went first to Fenning's Wharf, and endeavoured to trace him—I was not able to trace him while the case was before the Magistrate from 28th July till 18th August.
Cross-examined. He said he did not know where Mr. Rowan was to be found, but he believed he was at Felining's Wharf—the case was remanded that the prisoner might find him.
CLIFFORD HINSCH . I live at Brixton Road, and am in the service of Mr. Godsell, 71, Great Tower Street, wine brokers—I know the prisoner as a clerk in the Docks—I did not give him any brandy on 27th July, or give him authority to sample any—the order for sherry has nothing to do with our firm.
JOHN VINCENT ROWAN . I am now in the service of Messrs. Bramble & Wilkinson—I was formerly in the service of Farley & Boyle, agents for Duff, Gordon, & Co.—I have seen the prisoner two or three times in the Docks—I can't say that I know him—I know nothing about the sampling of two bottles of brandy on 27th July—he was not employed to sample sherry for us—I never gave him either sherry or brandy in my life.
EDWARD JAMES ROWAN . I am manager of the Customs at the British and Foreign Wharf—I never saw the prisoner in my life, to my knowledge—I know nothing of sampling any brandy—I am at the Custom House, and have nothing to do with sampling orders at all.
JAMES WARREN ELLIOTT . I am principal of the brandy department in the St. Katherine's Docks—there is a quantity of brandy there, accessible—I have tasted the contents of these two bottles—they contain brandy—we have similar brandy in the Docks.
Cross-examined. I mean by accessible, that the casks are on the quay, and the bungs are open a portion of the day—in order to get sample bottles a person would be obliged to get a sampling order—it would be an unusual thing for a clerk to go and take samples without a pass. (Two other bottles of brandy were produced). I can hardly say that this brandy is the same as the other—I can't say it is not.
Re-examined. Sampling is constantly going on in the Docks—persons bring sampling orders—they draw samples out of the bulk, and get a pass at the office, so that they can pass the gate—the clerks leave between 4 and 5 o'clock.
Witnesses for the Defence.
WALTER THOMAS ORGER . I live at Camberwell—I am a member of a cricket club, of which the prisoner is a member—I always play my matches in the name of Rowan—it is an ordinary practice among amateurs—I have seen these two samples of brandy before—I brought them here—these others are the two found on the prisoner—I gave two samples to the prisoner—I can't swear that these were the same—I should say they were, but I am not a sufficient judge—I gave him two on the afternoon of 27th July, in the Docks, just opposite his office, near the bridge; the export office—I had four in my possession since the 3rd July—I did not come out until the 27th; we had an attack of small-pox, and I was obliged to be kept in—they were given to me by a Mr. Delando, a commission agent for wines and spirits, and all sorts of things—he gave them to me to effect a sale—I did not effect a sale—I could not go out, and I gave the two to Taylor, to see if he could sell—I did not know he was charged with this offence at the Police Court—I can't remember when I first knew he was charged—I met his brother in Fore Street, a few weeks ago—I fetched Delando, and went to Mr. Young's office, and made a statement—Delaudo has been obliged to leave England—he brought these two samples to me to produce to-day—he said they are the same brandy—he was going to produce them himself if he bad not been called away—he is in Paris.
Cross-examined. I live at 27, Denmark Road, Camberwell—I was living there on 27th July—I have lived in Camberwell about ten years, and have lived about nine months at the same address—I was living there in the name of Orger, with my parents—we had small-pox in the house—I did not have it—I did not say so; it is a mistake if I did—my sister had it—that wag about nine weeks ago—Mr. Crisp, of Camberwell, attended her—my mother and father were at the house, another sister, and a servant—I attended to my sister; my other sister was afraid—she is nineteen—the servant was not afraid—my mother was—I attended to my sister—I was not in any employment then, because I chopped my little finger off on Easter Monday—up to last Whit Monday, I was in the employ of Vyse & Co., shipping and general merchants, 46, Aldermanbury—they had nothing to do with wine, or brandy, or the Docks—Delando's Christian name was Fernande—he lived at 2, Lefevre Road, Old Ford—I have never been to his house—I know it is No. 2, because he gave his address at Mr. Young's office—I have known him about nine or ten months—I first met him at his brother's office, in Trinity House, Tower Street—he has failed now, but he was a woollen cloth manufacturer—Delando is a commission agent for general goods—I don't know the man's business—I met him at his brother's office—I went there after a situation, and there I became acquainted with Delundo—that was about the middle of November, I think—I did not get the situation at his brother's—I was in Mr. Vyse's service when I first had any communication with Delaudo about brandy—he and Vyse did business together—he said if I could sell some brandy he would give me some samples, and I should have a commission—I said perhaps I should be able to do it—he gave me four samples—no one was present at the conversation—it was in the counting-house, in Aldcrniaubury—I agreed to do it—he told me to
go to the office for the samples, and I went to his office at 62, Bishopsgate Street—I don't recollect the day, but it was two or three months ago—it was Delando's office—his name was up, and it is up now, on a brass plate, on the door—he gave me four samples—there were six or seven—Vyse had some—I took the four bottles home—I last saw Delando last Friday—he has gone to Paris—he is a Frenchman—I drank two of the bottles, and left two; the two I gave to Taylor—I can't remember what price I was to ask fur the brandy—I have got the proper price, but not here—I think it was 19s. 6d. a gallon—there were no labels on the bottles—I don't know what brandy it is—I don't know where the bulk is—I believe it is at one of the wharves; if Mr. Delando was here he would tell you—I had the samples about two months before my sister had the small-pox—when she got well I look the two bottles to the St. Katherine's Docks—I got there in the afternoon—I went to see Taylor—I knew he was a clerk there, for I knew him eight years at the cricket club—we used to meet at the Cook, in the Kennington Road—he lived somewhere in the Brixton Road—I don't know where; that is why I took the samples to the Docks—I got there about 3 o'clock in the afternoon—I carried the bottles in my pocket—I told him that Delando had given me some brandy—I said "I have drunk two, Taylor; can you do anything with these? I had a memorandum, but I have not got it, of the price; I am coming into the City, and I will see"—he said "All right, I will," and I gave them to him—I was not there more than ten minutes—I was in the City in the morning, and I took them there in the afternoon—I did not hear he was in custody till I met his brother—I belonged to the Nelson Cricket Club; Taylor was secretary—the ground was at Battersea Park—I was a member; I am not now—I joined six or seven years ago—I joined the club in the name of Rowan, and played in that name—I have played in the name of Smith, Jackson, and forty names—I was principally known as Rowan—I was pretty well known—I was in Vyse's service—before that I had a voyage at sea, and before that I was at Spiers & Pond's—I played a match as Rowan, at Dulwich, the beginning of this summer, but not for this club—I was to have half the commission for selling the brandy—Delando did not tell me what quantity he had to sell; I could sell as much as I liked—I played my matches as Walter Rowan, Thomas Rowan, or any Rowan.
Re-examined. It is a common thing, and occurs every day—my sister had the small pox—I had a slight attack, but not to lay me up—Mr. Crisp told me I ought not to go out—when Delando gave me the brandy he gave me a memorandum, stating the price I was to sell at—it was 19s. 6d., I think—I gave these two bottles to the prisoner, and the other two I received from Delando to produce here—I brought these here to day, and gave them to Mr. Young, the solicitor—Delando gave them to me for the purpose of showing they were the same as the samples I gave to the prisoner.
CHARLES VERNON YOUNG . I am the solicitor for the defence—a person who gave the name of Delando called at my office on two occasions, and I took down his statement in writing, on the part of the defence, in the presence of the last witness—I endeavoured to find Rowan, and the Magistrate admitted the prisoner to bail at my request, in order that he might have an opportunity of trying to find him—I heard it was accidentally found out afterwards—Delando brought two bottles to my office some few days back, and I instructed him to produce them—that is the last time I saw Delando—I next saw the bottles in the hands of the last witness, and I told him to produce them—they appear to be the same.
Cross-examined. I saw Delando twice; once when I took his evidence, and once afterwards—I conducted the case before the Magistrate on the second hearing—I did not have any description of Mr. Rowan, as being formerly in Duff & Gordon's employment, except from the witness for the prosecution, not from anyone else.
The prisoner received a good character.
Recommended to mercy by the Jury.— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
MR. KEEBLE conducted the Prosecution.
WALTER CHARLES PORT . I live at 27, Hill Street, Walworth, and am a merchant's clerk—on 31st August, about 1.30 in the day, I was on the Custom House Quay—I saw the prisoner by my side—there were some boys bathing, but I could not see them; there was a crowd in front of me—the prisoner's sleeve shaved my sleeve, and I turned round—he said "You have lost your watch"—I found my chain hanging, and the watch gone—I had seen it about three minutes before—the prisoner said "There are two gentlemen up there, I believe they have got it"—I did not see any one, and I said "I believe it is you"—he said "Search me"—he had a baby in his arms, and his wife was waiting for him—he gave the baby to his wife—I don't know what became of her—a policeman took him into custody—I saw the watch at the Police-Station—this is it (produced).
Prisoner. Q. Did I move away from you when I said your chain was hanging down? A. You moved your arm—you did not go away—you said "There are two men going out of the gate," but I did not see them—I can't say you took the watch—you were at the side of me—I had the watch before I stood still in the crowd—the crowd was in front of me.
WILLIAM TEBBUTT (City Policeman 819). On 31st August, about 1.30, I saw the prisoner coming off the Custom House Quay, followed by the prosecutor—he was running—I stopped him, and asked him what he was running for—he said "I suppose I can run if I like"—when he saw me coming he threw something to a youth, fourteen or fifteen yards away—Port came up and said he had lost his watch—I asked whether he had seen the prisoner by his side, and he said he had—I took him to the station, and while I was giving in the charge the watch was brought in, and I was told it was found in Thames Street.
Prisoner's Defence. The policeman came down and saw the mob, and the prosecutor said he had suspicion of me, and he gave me into custody. The policeman never said anything about passing the watch to a boy, till it was brought in, and then he said to the sergeant, "I saw him pass something to a boy." Why was, not the boy token. I had a child on my left arm; it is not feasible that I could take the watch. I never offered to run. I never left the prosecutor, and he said he had suspicion that I had his watch.
NOT GUILTY .
FOURTH COURT.—Wednesday, September 20th, 1871.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MESSRS. STRAIGHT and HORACE BROWN conducted the Prosecution; and
MESSRS. BESLEY and MONTAGU WILLIAMS the Defence.
Court—I produce an original summons against Thomas Crouch, of 4, Northampton Street, King's Cross, hackney carriage No. 4936—that would be returnable on Monday, 3rd July—I was not present on that hearing—I believe Mr. Humphreys was—I have a note of what passed in his handwriting—I was present at the second hearing, the 7th, and took down what the prisoner then swore—that is it: (Read: "On 20th of last month, at 5.40 p.m., the driver, hackney carriage 4936, was driving at a furious pace; on the crossing of the Tottenham Court Rood he came in collision with a cart; the man driving the cart was thrown on the wheel of an omnibus, the wheel of the cart was broken by the wheel of the defendant's cab; the defendant drove off at twelve or thirteen miles an hour, the same pace at which he was originally driving; it was on the crossing of Oxford Street and Tottenham Court Road." Cross-examined. "There was nothing within thirty or forty yards; the nearest vehicle was thirty yards off; the cart came from the public-house towards Holborn, in the same direction as the defendant; Mr. Naylor was in the cart; I was talking to him about it to-day, why he did not attend before; he fell on the step of the omnibus, and jumped back into his cart; the defendant did not pull up; the gentleman of last week's evidence is not true; I saw it from the window of the omnibus, which was between me and the cart.")—That was all—the summons was dismissed by Mr. Vaughan the same day, and a summons for perjury was applied for by Crouch against the constable, and granted the same day by Mr. Vaughan.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. There are a great many of these police summonses heard at Bow Street every day—this is not the first case of contradictory evidence as to the speed at which men are driving; cabmen generally say they are driving very slow, and policemen say they are driving very fast—of course I only took down the substance of what was said.
THOMAS CROUCH . I live at 4, Northampton Street, King's Cross, and am the proprietor and driver of a hansom cab, 4936—I was summoned to the Bow Street Police Court, on 3rd July, for wanton and furious driving—I attended at the Police Court—I don't exactly know the date—I received the summons on the Thursday, and I attended on the following Monday—the prisoner was there—the summons was called on—I pleaded Not Guilty—the prisoner was called as a witness; he was sworn—I had a witness, my fare, the gentleman who was in my cab at the time—he gave evidence on the first occasion—the prisoner's evidence was that I was coming down Oxford Street at the rate of thirteen miles an hour, galloping, and a beating of my horse; that I caught hold of a cart, and threw two men out into the middle of the road, and the only thing that prevented the cart from going over was lodging up against the side of an omnibus—he said that the cart was injured in the wheel, the spokes, and that I then set to and beat my horse, and galloped away at a more furious pace, he should say about four teen or fifteen miles an hour, and that him and four more took my number—that is all that I recollect—the Magistrate stated that he would grant an adjournment for the production of the constable's evidence; he stated that he had got four more witnesses to call—the case was adjourned to the following Friday, when I again attended—the prisoner was called again—he was sworn again—I can't recollect the exact words he used; he said that I was coming down Oxford Street about twelve or thirteen miles an hour, that the two men were thrown in between the cart and the oumibus, and that it injured the cart, and that I then set to and galloped away—I believe
he said the step and the wheel of the cart was injured—I won't be positive that he said both the step and the wheel; he said the wheel—I had not had any other summons for furious driving between the first and second hearings; I was attending on that summons—this was what the prisoner alleged had taken place on the 20th; what really did take place was this: I was coming down Oxford Street on the evening in question, about 5.30 or 5.45, in between that time, I won't be certain—I got as far as the Oxford Music Hall, and the traffic was very great at the time—I was in a line of traffic, a walking—I had just got out of a walk, between three and four miles per hour, when I got to Tottenham Court Road, from the Oxford Music Hall, a closely following a vehicle, a cart, standing on the west-ward side of Tottenham Court Road, driven by a man named Naylor, as I was passing Tottenham Court Road, drove between me and the vehicle I was following of, and forced me into the middle of the road in a slanting direction—we both went into the middle of the road together—there was an omnibus standing still at the corner of Tottenham Court Road and Oxford Street, by the brewery, with the horses' heads towards the City; it was drawn just to the corner, where they always pull up; in order to prevent a collision with vehicles coming in a westerly direction, the reverse way, I touched my horse with the whip on the off side, and being a high spirited animal, she caught the wheel of the cart on the near side, and took it straight on with me towards the City to the 'bus that was standing still at the corner of Oxford Street and Tottenham Court Road, and came into collision with its hind wheel; not very hard, a slight collision—I then drove on for about thirty or forty yards, I should say—the cart did not draw in front of the omnibus, it stopped there, and I drove on—I looked round and saw that the men had got out of the cart, and I then turned my horse and cab round, and waited until vehicles coming that way, and foot passengers on the pavement said "It's all right, go on, there is nothing hurt," and I went on then—I did not, after the affair took place, whip my horse up, and drive off at the rate of fourteen miles an hour—I did not set to and gallop away—it is not true that when I was coming along, past the corner of Tottenham Court Road, I was coming at the rate of twelve or thirteen miles an hour, nor that I lifted the cart up against the omnibus, and that two men were thrown out—I did not turn it on its side; the men were not thrown out—it is not true that the wheel of the cart was lifted off the ground, it skidded along at the time, the stones were slippy—the cart was skidded on to the 'bus—I don't know the exact distance the cart was dragged, from the middle of Oxford Street to the corner—I should say it would hardly measure more than twenty yards; from the middle of Oxford Street, as you cross from Crown Street to Tottenham Court Road, our horses seemed to go together for that few yards only on to the 'bus, that was what it seemed to me—the horses in the cart, and in the cab, seemed to go over towards the 'bus together—the cart was Watling's pork pie cart—there were a great number of vehicles about at the time—the summons wag dismissed, and I then applied to Mr. Vaughan for a summons against the defendant, and he granted it that same day—I had not called Naylor as a witness, I did not call anyone—I had no occasion for the constable, there was one.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. I did not take any notes of what occurred—I am telling it entirely from memory what occurred on the 3rd—the first time I was in the box, defending myself; the second time, there
was a solicitor defending me—I took less notice of what occurred then—in cross-examination by Mr. Ricketts, the solicitor, the defendant said that he saw this through the window of an omnibus, as he stood on the pavement—he did not say that that interfered with him—I did not say, at Bow Street, that Naylor came up so sharp that we went into the road together—he came in between—I said he forced me into the road, but I don't recollect saying "sharp"—he came right across the traffic of Oxford Street, towards Crown Street, on the opposite side—that was what he wished to do-both our wheels came in contact together, and we went on together to the 'bus—we never stopped—whether the wheel slanted or not I don't know; I was not looking down at the side, I was looking forwards—he came in contact with the omnibus wheel—when I turned round I saw Waiting's man on the ground—I did not see that he was kicking up a deuce of a row—I did not see him talking to a policeman—there were a good many persons there—I did not myself see any policeman there—I did not see my number being taken by two policemen—at the time I was coming in contact I did not hear the driver of the 'bus call out "Why, is not there room enough for you; can't you see?" nor did I hear Naylor reply, "Can't you see it is the cabman?—I stopped about 30 or 40 yards from the brewery corner, and turned my horse round, and stood still—I turned my horse's face right up towards the Marble Arch—I said that before the foreign gentleman stated it, when I was stating my case—I have never held, but one license—my badge has been changed, but not for any misconduct whatever—nine years ago I was fined, at Clerkenwell Police Court, 10s., for furious driving, when holding badge 22,463—that was at 4 or 5 o'clock in the morning, going up the North Road, King's Cross—I could have proved I was innocent if they had had an adjournment of the summons; I was the victim of the police then—I was fined at Bow Street, when holding badge 21,563—it was all under one license—I have never had my license stopped; it has only been a change of badge—it is very possible that, when holding badge 13,839 on 1st May, 1863, I was fined 3s. at Bow Street, for obstruction—on 22nd February, 1864, I was not fined at Marlborough Street for loitering; it was only the costs of the summons, no fine—that was before Mr. Tyrwhitt—on 8th November, 1864, I was not fined at Clerkenwell for having no badge; only the costs—on 13th July, 1869, while holding badge 17,171, I was fined 5s. at Guildhall, for obstruction—that was at 9 o'clock at night, in Thames Street, I was unfortunately again the victim of the police—on 26th November, 1870, at Bow Street, before Sir Thomas Henry, I had to pay costs for an obstruction; you are ranging over ten or eleven years, and those are the whole of the instances; and it would be fortunate if there was only one a year for loitering and obstruction—this affair occurred on the Monday, and I got the summons on the following Thursday—I did not know before that that my number had been taken—I did not go to Mr. Waiting's place before the first hearing—I did not know that it was Watling's cart or man—it was on the first hearing of the summons that I first learnt by the constable's evidence against me that it was one of Watling's carts, No. 6—I then went to the clerk's office, and asked what time the cart would be in; and I had an interview with Naylor that same evening—I went into a public-house once with him that evening—I did not see him any more till he came to Bow Street—he said that the constable had requested him to come up on the Saturday before, and that he had been—when I had the interview with him at the public-house, he did not directly
agree to be my witness—I merely asked him to come up, and speak the truth—I asked him to have a glass of ale, and he came and had one—he did not say he would come and be a witness for me; he said if I summoned him he would appear; not without—outside the Police Court, I think I went into a public-house with him once or twice, but not before the hearing of the case—I went to the public-house a good many times-there were a few words outside, if I recollect right, between my solicitor, Mr. Beard, Naylor, and me—Naylor was not called for me on the first occasion; he was called by the police—they bad summoned him, and so had I—I did not know before I drank with him at the public-house, that he had reported to his master that I had broken and injured his cart—I knew nothing about the step being bent; it was for them to apply to me if I had done any damage—I did not know that the omnibus wheel had some splinters knocked out of it—I believe Naylor swore at the Police Court that he had never drunk with me at all—I heard him swear that he bad not drunk with me that evening; but he was very near drunk himself before we went in that evening, I think—the cab masters and men asked me to take this case up on their behalf; I am the instrumental of the prosecution, of course.
Re-examined. The loitering I was charged with was waiting to get a fare—I did go to a public-house with Naylor—I had a glass of ale, what he had I don't know—I have not offered him any bribe to come and give false evidence, I merely wanted him to speak the truth—I want this case thoroughly investigated.
LEONI DESMOULINS . I live at 51, Margaret Street, Cavendish Square—I have no occupation—on 20th June, I took the prosecutor's cab in Great Portland Street, to drive to Great Queen Street, Lincoln's Inn—I remember being in Oxford Street, near the Oxford Music Hall—there was much traffic, a collision took place a little bit past Tottenham Court Road, nearer the City—at the time we were passing the Oxford the cab was going about three or four miles an hour—there were plenty of things in front of the cab, different cabs and other carriages, directly in front of the cab—he did not increase his pace before the collision took place—I felt the collision—I could not see it from the cab—I did not get out—he stopped three or four minutes after the collision—when he went on again, he went about five or six miles an hour—if anyone has said he drove off at twelve or thirteen miles an hour it is not true—he did not use the whip—it is not true that when the collision took place he was going at a furious rate—I had never seen the man before.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. It was 5.30 when I left Margaret Street; I looked at my watch—I had an appointment at Lincoln's Inn, not exactly at 5.30, the time was not precise, I could go at any time I liked—I go there every evening after 5 o'clock, and if it is 5.30, or 5.45, it is all the same—I was examined at the Police Court—no one told me that I was bound to appear here last Sessions—I went away to Germany, I was obliged to—I was smoking in the cab—I did not take the cab because it would go faster than an omnibus—I cannot walk, I have bad feet—I don't like going in an omnibus—I have said that I have gone quicker in a Hansom than I did on this occasion—I have always gone by the same name, I have no other—the cabman was driving the same way all the time I was in the cab; he never turned back—he stopped after the collision, at the brewery, and then he turned his horse to see what it was—nobody called to him—he turned his horse round; that is not going back—I saw
nothing of Watling's cart—I don't know how the accident occurred—I remained in the cab, and drove on to Great Queen Street—I looked at my watch when I got there, I can't remember what time it was.
Re-examined. The man stopped directly the collision took place, that was when he turned his horses' head round—I did not receive any notice to come here last Session.
ROBERT NAYLOR . I am a commission traveller, in the service of Mr. Watling, a pic-nic pie maker—I live at 76, Kentish Town Road—on 20th June, between 5.30 and 6 o'clock, I was with Mr. Watling's cart at the corner of Tottenham Court Road, going towards Crown Street, going south—in Oxford Street there were a number of cabs in a line, going east—I saw Crouch driving his cab, I was crossing him—his cab came into collision with my cart—I was coming down Tottenham Court Road, and wanted to cross Oxford Street; finding that I could not do so, I turned my horse's head round to go east, down Oxford Street, at a walking pace—the cabman in passing me then touched the off side of my wheel, which caused my steps to touch an omnibus that was standing at the corner of Oxford Street and Tottenham Court Road, on the near side, at the brewery—a lad named James Bowen was in the cart with me—before the collision with my cart, the cab was walking—the near step of my cart was slightly bent; that was the one next to the omnibus—no damage whatever was done to my wheel—after this the cabman whipped his horse and went on, I should think, at the rate of seven or eight miles an hour, it might be ten miles—he whipped his horse to get out of the ruck—there was a ruck—I stood still—it is not true that I and another person were thrown out of the cart, neither of us were thrown out—the boy was not thrown out—the off wheel of my cart was not lifted up from the ground and thrown against the omnibus—it was not turned on its side against the omnibus—at the time of the collision my cart and the cab were going in the same direction—the prisoner came to me after this had happened, I should think in a minute or two after—I could not say where be came from—he asked me what had happened, was any damage done to me—I told him "No"—I said the cabman had slightly touched my wheel and bent my step, that was all—he said "Do you want the cab-man?"—I said "No, I have got his number," and he said "Give it to me," which I did on this card (produced), and I said "If you want the number of the man's cab, I will take your number likewise, I will take the number of the omnibus"—I did not see the prisoner when the collision took place—it is not true that Crouch was driving furiously—it is not true that at the time of the collision he was driving twelve or thirteen miles an hour—the prisoner did not ask me to summons the cabman—I can't tell you the date when I next saw the prisoner, but I met him at the corner of Oxford Street and Tottenham Court Road, not by appointment—he asked if I was the man that was run against, and told me that he had summoned the cabman for furious driving and knocking up against me, and would I attend at Bow Street on the Saturday—I told him I did not want to come and have anything to do with it—he said "If you don't, I shall have to go to Mr. Watling's to ask for you to come," and I told him to save any bother I would come—nothing was said at that interview about the wheel—I next saw him on the Saturday, outside Bow Street Police Court, and he then told me that the summons would not come off till Monday—I first saw Crouch after the accident, on the Monday that he was summoned be came down to Watling's, at Pimlico, on the Monday evening after I had
done business—I can't say the time, my usual time is from 6 o'clock to 6.30—that was about the time—he summoned me to the Police Court to give evidence—I had never seen the man before.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. I went up on the Saturday, and the prisoner told me the summons was put off till Monday—he did not say I was too late—he asked me to come up on the Monday, but I did not go—I went when I was summoned by Crouch; I think on the Friday—I told the police that I was not coming on the Monday—I was not summoned by the police—I went up for Crouch on the Friday because I was summoned—I did not tell the Magistrate that I was there for Crouch, and not for the police—I told him I was there for both—I saw Crouch only about half a minute before he drove against me—the driver of the 'bus called out tame "Is there not room enough for you?"—I did not reply "Can't you see it is the cabman?"—I said to him "All right, old boy," or "Old pal; are you hurt?"—I did not mean him, I meant the 'bus, whether the wheel of the 'bus was hurt; my step knocked against the box-wheel of the 'bus—I did not jump out directly the collision took place—the boy and I did not jump to our feet directly; I got out, and so did the boy—I got down to see whether the 'bus wheel was hurt—I did not jump out pretty quick, there was no occasion for that, I got out as I usually do—I could not say whether I sat still a minute or two before I got out, I would not say to half a minute; I sat there some time, I don't know how long—I did not jump to my feet instantly to take the number of the cab—I sat in the cart to take it—I took the number of the omnibus, too—I took the numbers for fear I should get into trouble myself—I swear that nothing was said about my summoning the cabman—the prisoner said "If you don't summons him you ought to he summoned"—I mean nothing was said by me about it—that was why I gave him the card with my name and address—the prisoner said this after the collision—I reported to Mr. Bird, my foreman, next morning—he was not there that night, but it was given to the clerk at the office that night, and reported to Mr. Bird next morning—I did not report that the cabman was to blame; I will tell you what I did say if you wish it—I have drunk with Crouch—I swore at the Police Court that I had never drunk with him—I was in a public-house at Bow Street, with a lady, and he was with his brother—I was drinking with him, and I was not with him, if you can understand—I have drunk with him several times now—at the time I was examined I had not drank with him outside the Police Court—I had drunk with him on the Monday evening, I was in the public-house with him—I was with a lady when he came and asked me to go up—I don't remember drinking with him at Bow Street before I was examined—I understood it was on the Monday night when he came down to Pimlico—I said, when I was examined, that I had never drank with him—I was in a public-house with him—I know Frederick Salmon—he was not present at the time—he came running up across the road from somewhere when I gave the card to the policeman—he has known me for many years by sight—I don't remember his saying to me "Bob, have you got the cabman's number?—I won't swear he did not—I said, but not to him, "Leave that to me, old boy, that is the first thing I always do"—I said it to the 'bus man—I did not afterwards go over to a public-house at the comer of Arthur Street with Salmon; I went to a public-house—I said something to him, but not, I think, these words, "That b——fellow (meaning the cabman) turning me round on the 'bus like this"—I said something about being turned on
to the 'bus—I did not use an abusive term about the cabman; I swear I did not use the word "b——y"—I told Salmon that I was summoned, and if he saw anything of the case I should like him to come down—he came—I did not then say to him "That cabman has been to me, you will be paid, old boy, for what you do"—I did not say that, or anything of the kind, in Crouch's presence at a public-house, or stores, in Bow Street—I did not at any time, in the neighbourhood of Bow Street Police Court, tell Salmon that if he would be a witness he would be well paid for it; he knows too much for me, he is a great deal too clever—I said to Crouch "Here is a witness for you"—I could not say whether Mr. Beard was present—I won't swear he was not—I don't, know that Salmon then told what he could prove—I know that the solicitor for Crouch did not call Salmon afterwards—I was not drunk when I was examined at Bow Street—if Crouch has sworn I was half drunk it is untrue.
Re-examined. When I was examined before the Magistrate I said I never drank with Crouch—I was then re-examined by the solicitor for the prosecution, and said "I went into a public-house with Crouch on Monday night; I had some refreshment, and he also"—I was in a public-house with a lady, and I did not want it known—there is no pretence whatever for saying that I have been in any shape bribed, or promised pay, for coming here to give evidence.
JAMES BOWBN . I live at 26, New Peter Street, Westminster—I go about with Naylor, in Mr. Watling's cart—I was with Nayloron the day this affair took place—we were coming down Tottenham Court Road, to go across to High Street, on the left hand side of the lamp post—in the middle of the street there was a line of cabs, coming along Oxford Street, towards the City—we were going across the line of cabs, and the cabman just touched his horse up, and came against us, and our step just caught the off wheel of the omnibus, and then we saw the cabman driving on after this—when he came against us he was driving about eight miles an hour—there were some cabs in front of him, and some behind—he touched our off side wheel—it was not done with great violence; it was just a touch—it did not knock the paint off the 'bus—our step was bent a little bit—it is not true that I and Naylor were thrown out pf the cart—it is not true that the cabman galloped away as hard as he could, whipping his horse—it is true that he galloped away—it is not true that he drove away at twelve or thirteen miles an hour, whipping his horse; he went about eight miles an hour after he done it—after he had driven away, a policeman (the prisoner) came up, from towards High Street, where the bank is, at the corner of High Street and Oxford Street—he asked if me and Naylor were hurt, and we said "No," and then Naylor gave him the cabman's number—I saw the prisoner again, I think, on the next Friday, in Tottenham Court Road, where the Camden Town 'busses are—he told me and Mr. Naylor that he had summoned the cabman for furious driving, and that he had pushed me and Mr. Naylor out of the cart, and he said he would summons us, and he thought we should have to go up to Bow Street on the Saturday—I did not hear Mr. Naylor say anything to him, only that he would not go to Bow Street, and then the policeman said he would summons him—that was all that was said—I saw the prisoner outside the Bow Street Police Court on the Saturday, and he told us we were to be up there on the Monday—we went up on the Monday, and the policeman called me and Mr. Navlor on one side, and said he had sworn that the cabman had pushed me and Mr. Naylor out of the cart, and
that he had broken seven spokes, and that we were to swear the same—I am quite sure about that—I did not hear Mr. Naylor say anything to that—about five minutes afterwards we were called up into Bow Street—I was not called—I did not hear anything of the sort sworn; only when I was going to say it they stopped me; just as I was going to say it, they called some other gentleman.
COURT. Q. Just whan you were going to say what? A. That the policeman told us that we were chucked out of the cart—it is not true that seven spokes of our wheel were broken—we were not pushed out of the cart at all—I felt the collision just a little; it did not jerk us at all.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLEY. I have been about with Naylor ever since—I have not talked this matter over with him; never—I was not just going to say that we were chucked out of the cart—I was going to tell the Magistrate what the prisoner had told me to say—I remember being examined on the charge of perjury against the prisoner—I did not say a word then about the prisoner having said this to me—I was not examined on the charge of furious driving—I have never said a word about it until to-day—I signed my deposition—it was read over to me—Naylor did not tell me to say it—I have remembered it all this time—our cart was not dragged along 20 or 30 yards up against the omnibus, only just from where the pavement is to where the omnibus was, at the next corner—the omnibus was standing still at the brewery corner, with the horses' heads towards the City—I don't know whether we were dragged at all—we were trying to cross the traffic—the cabman did not whip up the horse—he never whipped it up—I did not see him use the whip—I don't recollect that I said he touched his horse up; I did not say it—he did touch it with the whip, to go straight in the line of the City, the way he was going—he dragged our cart away from the direction it was going, over against the omnibus—I don't know what distance it was dragged, about the length of this Court—I was not jerked on my seat a bit—I felt the collision—I did not jump down directly—Mr. Naylor got out on his own side, where he was sitting, to see whether there was any damage done, directly the collision took place—I think Naylor got out first—I was sitting on the side where the step caught the 'bus, and I could not get out on that side—that was the side nearest the brewery, the near side—I could not get out, owing to the step of the cart having struck against the wheel of the 'bus—we were right against the 'bus—Naylor got down on to the ground—I think he got on to the steps of the 'bus afterwards, to get the A R on it—that was before the constable came up—the constable could not have seen him on the step of the 'bus—he had got everything done before the constable came up—I noticed the cab till it went on to the next corner, by Meux's Brewery, opposite Arthur Street—he did not pull up at all—I did not notice him—Naylor was not put out or angry about this—I don't know what "excited" is—I did not go into a public-house with Naylor.
MR. STRAIGHT proposed to put in the notes, taken by MR. HUMPHREYS, of the prisoners evidence on 3rd July. MR. BESLEY objected, in the absence of the person who took the notes. THE COURT was of opinion that it could not be admitted.
THOMAS CROUCH (re-examined). When I said that Naylor was drunk, I did not mean that he was drunk when he was in the witness-box, at Bow Street, but on the Monday evening, when I went over to see him—he seemed rather excited by drink—he appeared quite sober when he swore that he never drank with me.
MR. BESLEY submitted that the indictment was not sustainable, the allegation being that the occurrence took place in Tottenham Court Road, whereas the evidence showed it was in Oxford Street. MR. STRAIGHT contended that it was immaterial where the collision occurred, so long as it was shown to be within the jurisdiction of the Court; but that, if it was necessary, the Court might amend the indictment. After some discussion, THE COURT directed the indictment to be amended by striking out the words "Tottenham Court Hood."
INSPECTOR ARNOTT (E Division) deposed to the prisoner's good character.
GUILTY—Recommended to mercy by the Jury, on account of his previous good character — Three Months' Imprisonment.
OLD COURT.—Thursday, September 21st, 1871.
Before Mr. Justice Brett.
MR. RIBTON conducted the Prosecution; and MR. STRAIGHT the Defence.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. BOTTOMLEY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. STRAIGHT, at the request of the Court, defended the prisoner.
JOSEPH ROWE (Police Sergeant G 3). I was on duty in the Clerkenwell police-station on the night of 30th August—the prisoner came there about 9.15, and said she had come to give herself up for poisoning her two children—I asked her where—she said at 33, Winchester Street, Clerkenwell—she then gave me a key—I immediately called for Dr. Muller, and took him with me to 33, Winchester Street—on going into the back parlour I found a young woman nursing a baby, which was then insensible—it was seven months old—on the bed I found a boy, two years and seven months old, partially insensible—on the table I found this jug and table-spoon—I handed them to the doctor, and he said they both contained laudanum—there was a small portion of brown liquid at the bottom of the jug—I smelt it and thought it was laudanum, from the smell—acting under the doctor's directions I took the children to the police-station, where he administered an emetic to them, and placed them in a hot bath—I afterwards took them to the Royal Free Hospital—the prisoner subsequently gave me a bottle, which she said she had got the laudanum in—I asked where she had purchased it; she said she had tried a number of shops where they had refused to serve her—that she bought 1d. worth in the Caledonian Road, she did not know where she got the other—I asked her if she was a married woman—she said "No"—she said "Mr. Burrows, of Red Lion Street, Clerkenwell, is the father of the children; I did it through his wife following me, and getting crowds about me"—she gave me the names of the children, Cecilia Hamilton, aged seven months, and William Hamilton, aged two years and seven mouths—I wrote down what she said—it was read over to her, and she signed it—this is it—(Read: "I have come to give myself up for poisoning my two children, at 33, Winchester Street, Clerkenwell; I gave them 2d. worth of laudanum. I bought 1d. worth in the Caledonian Road, I do not know where I got the other; I tried a number of shops, they refused to serve me—the children are illegitimate. Mr. Burrows, lamp-maker,
of Red Lion Street, Clerkenwell, is the father of them. I did it through his wife following me, and getting crowds about me.")—That is my writing; it has the prisoner's signature at the bottom.
Cross-examined. She seemed exhausted, and in a very weakly condition, so that I would not place her in the cell all night—I made her some tea, she seemed so bad—she was in a very faint and delicate state, indeed—she appeared like a woman who had been without food, and there was no sign of food in the house when I went—she is twenty-one years of age, that was the age she gave—I saw her continually during the night—I had some other conversation with her—she gave me some information with reference to Mr. Burrows—I made inquiries as to that.
AMELIA COTTON . I am single, and live with my mother at 33, Winchester Street, Clerkenwell—I know the prisoner by living in the house two weeks—she occupied the back parlour—I Have seen her with two children—I saw her about 6.45 in the evening of 21st August, when I came in from work, with her two children—about 8.30 I heard the baby crying, and about 9 o'clock I went down and knocked at the door—no one was there, and I went in and found the children on the bed—I did not notice the boy; I thought he was asleep—I took up the baby, and nursed it—it became quiet directly I took it—I kissed it, and tasted something nasty on his lips, very bitter.
Cross-examined. I had seen the prisoner with her children every day while she was there—she was very fond of them—she kept very much to herself—I saw her very little—the baby had been crying for it might be an hour—I had not heard her trying to quiet it—I heard nobody there—I had not seen the prisoner after I came in.
FRANCIS LETT . I am house surgeon at the Royal Free Hospital—two children were brought there between 10 and 11 o'clock on the night of 21st August—the elder one, the boy, had nothing the matter with him then—the younger one was suffering from opium poisoning—that was indicated by extreme paleness of the body; the face in particular—it was quite comatose, perfectly insensible in every way, the conjunctive insensible, it would not act in the least; not sensible to touch, in a state resembling deep sleep, it was almost impossible to arouse it—the pupils were very much contracted, almost to pins' points—I was told that they had both been poisoned with opium, and what I saw led me to the opinion that they had had opium—I did not administer an emetic, I used the stomach pump, as being more quick and effectual—I washed the stomach out thoroughly, and that produced vomiting by reflex irritation—every means were used, and next morning, about 8 o'clock, it evinced signs of sensibility, and eventually perfectly recovered from the effect of that opium poisoning—it has since died—the boy was not suffering at all at the time—he had had an emetic administered by Dr. Muller; he was discharged from the hospital two or three days after—he was not treated at all, there was no necessity for it—they were both kept there for two or three days, simply as a matter of charity, or convenience.
JAMES MULLER . I act both as a physician and surgeon, and live at I, Great Percy Street, Clerkenwell—on 21st August, I was taken by the constable to 33, Winchester Street—I there found two children—the boy was not so bad; he was in a semi-conscious state—the pupils were contracted, he was comatose—he appeared to be suffering from the effects of some narcotic prison; the symptoms were consistent with his having taken opium
—I administered stimulants, and emetics, and be threw up several times—the comitted matter smelt of laudanum—it is a peculiar smell, which is very easily detected by anybody who knows it.
Cross-examined. I have known persons give laudanum to cause sleep—the children were both in a very collapsed semi-conscious state—they were not at all emaciated, they were well nourished.
GUILTY—Strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury.
MR. GIBSON, the surgeon of Newgate, stated that the prisoner was in a very low condition, both of mind and body, and was also suffering from some constitutional ailment, which, would considerably lower the tone of her health; that slie had been suckling her infant up to the time in question, which, in persons of a weakly condition, was liable to affect the mind; that she was in a very dejected state, but had no delusions.
GEORGE LOCKTER , the Middlesex Sessions officer, stated that Burrows was in the habit of visiting her, and sleeping with her, her mother being in the same room at the time. SERGEANT ROWE stated that the prisoner had been charged in June, 1868, with attempting to commit suicide; and that in June, 1859, her sister had destroyed herself, and her two children.— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
For Cases tried in the New Court, on Thursday, see Essex and Surrey Cases.
THIRD COURT.—Thursday, September 21st, 1871.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
674. JAMES BIGMORE (36) , PLEADED GUILTY to stealing 300l. of John Davis Gregory, and others, his masters.—He received a good character— Twelve Months' Imprisonment and to pay 100l to the Prosecutors, by way of compensation, and the costs of the Prosecution.
MR. COOPER conducted the Prosecution; and MR. WOOD defended Isabella Musson.
GEORGE SHARPE . I manage the Falcon beer-house, East India Road—I sleep in the house—on Monday night, 31st July, I was the last person up, and before going to bed I saw that the doors and windows were fast—that was about 11.55—on coming down in the morning, between 7 o'clock and 7.30, I found the house had been broken open, and I missed a coat, and three waistcoats, some tobacco, and cigars—these (produced) are two of the waistcoats—an entry had been made through the tap-room window, which was wide open in the morning—it had been closed the night before—the window was cut, to undo the latch, and anyone could get in—the prisoners were customers, and knew the premises well.
Cross-examined. There is no private mark on those waistcoats—I bought them at a sale—I could swear to them—I went to Musson's lodgings—I did not say I could not swear to the waistcoat.
THOMAS NORMAN (Detective Officer K). On 1st August I received information, and went to the beer-shop—I found a hole had been cut in the sash of the tap window, and an entry effected—I found this knife in the back yard, lying by the side of a pane of glass, which had been taken out—on
Sunday morning, 20th August, I went to 157, Chrisp Street, where the two Mussons lived—I saw the female on the landing, close to the room door—I asked her if she had any pawn tickets—she called out, "What shall I do?"—I said "I know you have some; give them up"—she then went to a box, in her bedroom, where Musson was in bed, and gave me seven pawn tickets—I said "Here are some things which were pledged on 1st or 2nd August"—she then said "Oh, Edward, what shall I do?"—he replied "I will suffer; you shan't"—I took them both into custody—she said "I will tell you the truth"—at the station, she said "They all came to my house at 5 o'clock on Tuesday morning"—I said "Who do you mean by all f—she said "Shaw and Swanson; they brought some things, and gave them to me, and asked me to pledge them"—in Musson's house I found a knife corresponding exactly with that which I found in the yard—the flame maker's name is on each.
Cross-examined. She appeared frightened when she called out "What shall I do?"—her husband was there in bed at the, time—I believe they are married—they lived together as man and wife.
EDWARD MITCHELL . I am assistant to Mr. Braby, pawnbroker, at 31, St. Leonard's Row, Bromley—I produce a waistcoat, and a pair of trowsers, pawned on 1st August, by a woman, in the name of Mary Smith—I can't say who the woman was.
EDWARD LAMBERT (Policeman K 364). On Sunday afternoon, 20th August, I was in the cell passage at the Poplar Station—Shaw, Swanson, and Musson, were there—Shaw called out "Halloa, Musson, are you there?"—Musson said "Yes; poor Bella! I am sorry for her; do you think they can draw her into it?"—Shaw said "I don't know"—I made this memorandum at the time—Swanson said "I can't think where they got the b——clue from"—Shaw: "Why, Mr. b——Sharpe; I will serve six months for that b—"—Swanson: "Did you hear how much bacca the sods had got down? eleven half ounces; the b——never had so much in his place"—Shaw: "You was a b——fool not to get rid of them b—whites"—Musson: "Well, I can't help it now; the old girl pawned them, and put them in Bella's name"—Shaw: "Do you think they know anything about George's job; how do you think we shall get on?"—Musson: "We had better plead"—Shaw: "If we do, we shall be remanded, and then fully"—Musson: "Well, I don't care a b——about myself, so long as poor old Bella is all right"—Swanson: "The slop wanted me to split on you, but not me"—One, and then all of them, sung "I will stand by my friend"—Swanson said "I wonder whether Bella will be locked up"—Isabella Musson was here brought into the cell passage, and locked up in a cell—Musson and Swanson shouted out "Is that you, Bella?"—the female prisoner said "Yes"—Musson shouted out, "Keep up your pluck, old girl; you will be all right; they can't do anything to you"—Musson said "Did they find anything?"—the female said "Hold your noise; that is all right; keep still; don't say any more."
Cross-examined. I took that down in lead pencil at the time—I copied it in ink afterwards, word for word, and examined it—I think I could almost recollect it, without the paper—the greater part of that conversation had taken place before Isabella was brought in.
Shaw, in his defence, stated that the white waistcoats were Mutton's, and they had been pawned to raise money for them to go to Sunderland.
Swanson's Defence. I know nothing about the waistcoats, and I am entirely innocent of the robbery. I pawned a waistcoat and petticoat, to go down to the North.
Edward Musson, in his defence, stated that on the night of the robbery he was at the Dockyard, at South Woolwich, and took home some things for his wife to wash, and the next day he went down to the North, after he had pawned some of his things to get money.
SHAW— GUILTY .
He also PLEADED GUILTY to having been before convicted in December, 1868— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
SWANSON— GUILTY .
He also PLEADED GUILTY to having been before convicted in May, 1869— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
MUSSON— GUILTY — Eighteen Months' imprisonment.
ISABELLA MUSSON— NOT GUILTY .
MR. COOPER offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. BOTTOMLEY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. ST. AUBYN the Defence.
GEORGE ANTHONY SMITH . I keep the Victoria public-house, 46, Buckingham Palace Road, Pimlico—on the 5th July, about 5.10 in the morning, I found my house had been broken into—an entrance had been gained by the landing window at the back of the house—the window had been shut the night before, but I can't say that it was fastened—I missed between 15l. and 16l. in gold, silver, and copper, and a gold pen—the money was taken from a desk in the counting house, and 5l. from the bar, which had been left for the morning's use—an inner door had been forced with a chisel, and the desk likewise—I know the prisoner—I have seen him in the company of a man named White.
Cross-examined. I went to bed about 1 o'clock the night before—I do a very good business; a great number of persons are there constantly—I have seen the prisoner there several times, two or three months previous to the burglary—I can't say that he is a regular customer.
GEORGE POULTER (Policeman B 199). On the morning of 5th July, at 3.15, I was in a water closet at the rear of 62, Buckingham Palace Road—I heard something on the roof of the closet, which is eight houses from the Victoria—I saw the prisoner come off the roof of the closet into the yard, from the direction of the Victoria—he looked round at me when he got into the yard—I had a good view of him, and away he went—I am sure he
is the man—it was a very fine morning—I did not speak to him—I then saw a man named White, whom I knew, come off the roof of the same closet—I said "Halloa! what are you up to?"—he said "I can't get out," and he went back again—I took him into custody—he has been tried, and got five years for the burglary—the money was found where he was apprehended—on 21st August, about six weeks afterwards, I went to the police-station, and picked out the prisoner from several others—I found 5l. 13s. 6 1/2 d. in the area where White was taken.
Cross-examined. There were no windows to the closet; there was a door—directly I heard the noise I jumped up, and I was about a yard and a half from the prisoner—I am certain he is the man—I never saw him before—he had on a dark coat and waistcoat, but I took more notice of his face than anything—he had a moustache and a slight imperial—White was taken the same night—we never left the spot until we searched and found him—the prisoner was in my sight about a minute or a minute and a half, but I had a good view of him—I will pledge my oath he is the man, although I only saw him for a minute, and did not see him again till six weeks afterwards—he had a billycock hat on at the time—he had the same kind of hat on when I picked him out—I did not notice what trowsers he had, I looked more on the face—he had a black coat and a turn-down collar; I don't remember what neck tie—I recognize him by his face, his moustache, and imperial—I could see the imperial from where I was that night—it has not grown, it is near about the same now. Re-examined. It was daylight.
EDWARD FISHER (Detective Officer E). I took the prisoner into custody on 21st August, at the Albion public-house, Great Portland Street—I tapped him on the shoulder, and said "Sam, I want you"—he said "What for?"—I said "For being concerned with a man named White in committing a burglary at the Victoria Hotel, Pimlico"—he said nothing, but pushed me violently on one side, and tried to make his escape from the house—I said "Sam, it's no good, for I have someone waiting outside"—I took him to the station, and placed him amongst five or six others, and Poulter recognized him without any hesitation—I have known the prisoner between ten and eleven years, and White about ten years—I have frequently seen them together—they are constant companions.
Cross-examined. I have seen a number of persons with White—Poulter gave me a description of the man—he said he had an imperial—the prisoner has a very small one.
He also PLEADED GUILTY to having been before convicted in August, 1865.**— Ten Years Penal Servitude.
MR. WOOD conducted the Protection; and MR. ST. AUBTN the Defence.
LEWIS INNOCENT . I live at Great Pearl Street, and am a pipe-maker—about 10.30 on the night of Monday, 7th August, I was in Tyson Street, with my wife, who was about two steps behind me—she called out—as soon as I turned round, the prisoner collared me by the collar and forced my head back with his arm—I felt my watch was snatched—I said "He has got my watch"—we had a struggle—he then ran up a court by the side of a beer-shop—I said "I know you"—I knew him by sight before—my watch was worth 1l.—I have not seen it since—I went to the station
the next morning, and gave a description—I could not speak at first, my throat was sore—I saw the prisoner two days afterwards, on the Wednesday night, and I picked him out from four others—I am sure he is the man—my opportunities of observation were good—there was a gas light about two yards off, and my back was towards it, and it was light where he turned round by the beer-shop—I pointed the beer-shop out to the constable—I don't know the name of it.
Cross-examined. I work for Mr. Crop, at Homerton, close by the church—I have about three miles to go—I have worked there nine mouths—I was not coming from work on this occasion—I had come from the Victoria Park—I did not go to work at all that day—my wife had a holiday, and I went along with her—it would take a little more than five minutes to walk from Tyson Street to where I live—we were going towards home from the park—we had been walking about all the evening—I had a glass of ale—I was as sober as I am now—I had seen the prisoner before about the neighbourhood of Brick Lane and Church Street, but not that evening, before his arm was round my neck—I was very much frightened—my wife saw him, too.
JANE INNOCENT . I am the wife of the last witness—I was walking just behind him on this night—I could have touched him—someone touched me behind—I went "Oh!"—my husband turned to see what was the matter—before he could speak someone put their arm up so, and pulled the watch, but not without a struggle—I could not swear to the person because his back was towards me—he was taller than my-husband, and seemed younger—I beard my husband say "He has got it; I know him, I will have him."
JAMES COWLEY (Policeman H 17). I took the prisoner into custody two nights after the robbery—I met him in Shoreditch, with another man—I told him I should take him for stealing a watch from the person in Tyson Street—he said "Very well; I know nothing about it"—I took him to the station, and placed him amongst four or five others—I brought the prosecutor in, and he identified him as the man who stole his watch—after he was charged he said "I was at the Loggerheads public-house, drinking, from 6.45 till 12.45, and I never left there"—that is about fifty yards from where the robbery was committed—a very dark turning run a round by the beer-shop—I have frequently seen the prisoner, but not to speak to him—it was a light spot where the robbery took place—there was a lamp there, and the light of the beer-shop.
Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "At the time the robbery was committed I was in the Loggerheads, with a light suit of clothes on, and when the policeman took me he said 'You have had quite long enough in London, it is quite time you were somewhere else."
He also PLEADED GUILTY** to having been before convicted in June, 1866.
Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
WILLIAM BROOKER . I am a tailor, at 12, Catherine Street, Hoxton—on Saturday morning, 2nd September, I was awoke by the police, about 6 o'clock, and when I got up I missed two pairs of trousers—the fanlight
over the door was broken, and the trowsers gone—the fanlight was perfectly sound the night before—the trowsers were about three quarters of a yard from the fanlight—this is one pair—the other pair has not been found.
DAVID DEAN (Policeman N 285). About 3.30 on the morning 2nd September, I was in Britannia Street, Hoxton—I saw the two prisoners come out of a recess in Britannia Street, about twenty yards from the prosecutor's shop—Tumbler was trying to conceal something under his coat—I went after them, and they both ran away—Tumbler threw away a parcel, but I did not stop to see what it was—he was caught in my sight by another constable—I went back to where I saw the parcel thrown, and picked up a pair of trowsers.
Tumbler. I was running after the man, calling "Stop thief!" Witness. He was not—the other prisoner ran another way, and I lost him at that time.
JAMES POWER (Policeman N 64). I saw the two prisoners running, followed by the last witness—I gave chase, and caught Tumbler—he said he was running after the other man—I saw them both running together, and when I got close to them they parted, one ran one way, and one another.
Tumbler. You were talking to a man and woman at the corner. Witness. I was, and I heard the rattle sprung, and saw the prisoners run.
BENJAMIN LANGLET (Policeman N 560). On the night of 2nd September, I received a communication from 285 N, in consequence of which I apprehended Willett about 4 o'clock in Shepherdess Walk—he was coming out of a court where there was no thoroughfare—I asked him what he had under his arm when I first saw him—he said "Nothing"—I asked him what he had been doing, and he said he had not been doing anything—I had seen him go into the court with something under his arm; he had not got anything when I spoke to him—he said he had not been down the court, he had been sitting on the kerb in the streets all night.
Willett. Q. You say you saw me come out of the court? A. Yes, I was about thirty or forty yards from you—I did not say "Where is that coat you had under your arm?"—I said nothing about a coat.
Prisoners' Statements before the Magistrate. Willett: "I am sorry; I had nothing to do with it" Tumbler:" I was passing up the court at 3.30, and saw two men running. I pursued the smaller one; he turned the corner and dropped something. I did not stop running, as I saw the constable behind; the man turned the corner into another street, and the constable seized me, and took me to the station."
Tumbler's Defence. I saw two men, and ran after one of them; they turned the corner, and the policeman caught me in his arms, and took me to the station.
Willett's Defence. This man was taken, about 3 o'clock for the robbery, and I was taken at 4.15, and my reason for being up so early is, that I am engaged in Spitalfields on market mornings. I know nothing about this.
WILLETT also PLEADED GUILTY** to having been before convicted in February, 1870— Seven Years' Penal Servitude. TUMBLER.— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
MR. RIBTON conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS the Defence.
CHARLES AUGUSTUS NOAD . I am a stationer, in Carey Street, Chancery Lane—on the evening of 4th August, I locked the shop up as usual—I left the stamp-drawer locked in the usual way, leaving a quantity of stamps in it—I went to the shop about 9.55 the next morning, and found it had been broken into—every lock in the place had been broken or forced, and a quantity of stamps were stolen—I have not seen any of the property since, except some stamps which were shown to me at the Police Court, three or four days afterwards—they are Common Law stamps, and I identify them by being kept in twos and ones—there are nine one shilling Common Law stamp here, which I can swear to positively—they were kept in twos and ones in a small division—this I identify by being stuck to another one—there are four ten shilling stamps—I identify them by being kept in threes and twos, and also by the colour—the 1s. and 2s. are very much in use; the 10s. are not so common, and they have been much longer in stock, and I recognize them by the colour—I identify these two five shilling stamps by being together, and the general appearance, and being turned down at the corner—I turned them down myself—I have examined them all before—these are shilling Chancery Fee Fund stamps—I also identified them by being turned down at the corner—noone else touches the stamps but me—I identify these eighteen penny Common Law stamps by the colour, and general appearance—I saw them all safe on the night of Friday, 4th August—they were stolen between 7 o'clock in the evening and 9.55 on the morning of the 5th—I lost between 30l. and 40l. worth, besides some knives and purses—I have not the slightest doubt that these are my stamps.
Cross-examined. I sell a great many stamps in the course of the day—sometimes I sell 60l. worth in a week—there are four others who sell the same kind of stamps—I said, before the Magistrate, "You might purchase two stamps similar to these in Chancery Lane, and they might be together"—they are generally kept singly—there are not above four shops where they sell these stamps—I have made inquiries, and they have not lost any—have recovered about 4l. worth, and I lost between 30l. and 40l. worth—I had not sold many the week previous, because it was verging on the vacation—I have not seen any of the knives or purses since—they were worth about 10l.—the value of the property stolen was between 50l. and 60l.
Re-examined. We generally sell the stamps singly—a person comes in, and wants a 3s. or a 1s. stamp—sometimes I sell them to the trade—a man may come, and say "Will you let me have a lot of stamps?"—I don't suppose there are more than eight or ten who keep Chancery Common Law Stamps.
FRANCIS FRYER . I am a private constable, at Lincoln's Inn—I have known the prisoner since he was seven or eight years old—about 9th August he came to me, and said he had some stamps, which he had received from a lawyer or solicitor who owed him some money, and he had sent the stamps in payment—he said he had been to many places to part with them, but he could not, and he asked me if I knew anyone who would have them—introduced him to a man named Dawson, and that is all I know about it.
Cross-examined. There was nothing in the prisoner's conduct to excite my suspicion at all—he knew I was a constable—he showed me the stamps, and asked whether I knew where he could dispose of them—he said he had received them from a broken-down lawyer, in Bedfordshire, who had
previously lodged with, him, and owed him money—I did not hear the name.
JOSEPH JAMES DAWSON . I am a barrister's clerk—the prisoner was introduced to me by Mr. Fryer, on 9th August—he said he had got the stamps from a d—old lawyer, in the country, on the part of a bill he owed him, and if be returned them he should not get anything—I saw him again on the 11th, and he asked me if I had heard of anyone—I who would buy the stamps—I said I thought I knew a party that would—he said they had come from Sandy, I think, three miles this side of Bedford—Mr. Noad called on me on the following morning, and I made an appointment to meet the prisoner at a public-house in Chancery Lane—I met him there with Mr. Noad—I left the public-house, and saw the detectives outside—I did not see the prisoner taken.
Cross-examined. He showed the stamps to me, and asked where he could dispose of them.
WILLIAM BOYELL (Detective Officer E). On the morning of 12th August I went to the Three Tuns, Chichester Rents, Chancery Lane—I saw the prisoner there—I said "Halloa, I want to speak to you"—I knew him very well—he said "What, about some stamps?"—I said "Yes, have you got any?—he said "Yes"—I said "Let me see what you have got"—he pulled out of his breast pocket, I believe, nine 1s. Common Law Stamps, two for 6d., two for 5s., and four for 10s.—I said "Is that all you have got?—he said "On my honour, it is"—I asked him where he got them from—he said that they were sent to him by the son of a miller, in Norfolk, in part payment of a debt of 87l.—I told him it was very unsatisfactory, and he would have to go with me to Bow Street police-station—I took him, along with another constable, named Partridge—in Vinegar Yard, on the way to the station, I saw him withdraw his left hand from his trowsers pocket, and he rushed away from us, towards the urinal—I said "Tom, he has thrown something away, in my opinion; he has nothing in his hand now, and he had something"—we ran after him—he ran nothing Old Jewry public-house—I caught him, and took him to the station—I saw Hines at the station, and told him I had reason to believe that the prisoner had thrown something away, "Run back, and see what it is"—he went back—I searched the prisoner's house, and found some skeleton keys.
Cross-examined. I said before the Magistrate that I found some skeleton keys—my deposition was read over to me—I will swear I said it—(The deposition contained nothing about the skeleton keys)—I did not think the skeleton keys material as regards this case—I brought them here because I keep all property found on a prisoner—I mentioned the word "Norfolk" before the Magistrate—I can't remember that I heard that read over to me—I mentioned it, and, to the best of my belief, it was read over in the depositions—I won't swear that I did—Hines and Partridge were present when I found the keys—I don't think they said anything about them before the Magistrate—they never had them in their possession.
Re-examined. I found them at the prisoner's house, 8, George Street—I did not mention the name of Norman before the Magistrate—he said he got them from a miller in Norfolk.
PHILIP HINES (Detective Officer E). On the day the prisoner was apprehended, from what Boyell said to me, I went to the urinal—I found in the gutter a little bundle containing nine stamps, seven for 1s., and two for 6d.—I went to the prisoner's house with Boyell and Partridge—I kept the door—I did not see what was found—they searched the place.
Cross-examined. It is a lodging-house—there were a number of other persons in the house.
THOMAS PARTRIDGE (Detective Officer E). I was at Bow Street, on 12th August, and searched the prisoner—I found seven 1s. 6d. stamps, and four for 2s. 6d., a pocket-book, several letters, a silver watch, and gold chain—I went to his house with Boyell afterwards, and we searched—Boyell found several keys.
Cross-examined. It was a lodging-house—I said nothing about the keys before the Magistrate—Boyell had them in his possession, and I was present when they were found.
Re-examined. The room the prisoner occupied was pointed out to us by his wife, and that was the room in which we found the keys.
GUILTY of receiving.
He also PLEADED GUILTY to having been before convicted in July, 1854. He received a good character.
Nine Months' Imprisonment.
FOURTH COURT.—Thursday, September 21st, 1871.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
681. MICHAEL RILEY (49) , (a sweep), Stealing one ink-stand, one box, one stereoscope, and other articles, the property of William David Murray, Earl of Mansfield, in his dwelling-house. Second Count—Feloniously receiving the same.
EMILY MILLER . I am head housemaid at Earl Manfield's, Caen Wood, Hampstead—on Monday, 21st August, I missed some articles from the breakfast-room—this silver inkstand has Lord Mansfield's crest on it—I placed it on the table on the morning of the 19th—it then had glasses with silver tips—these glasses are not the same.
WILLIAM COSSER . I am gardener to Lord Mansfield—in consequence of something which was said to me, I went with Sergeant Smith, on 25th August, to Mr. Clark's, a pawnbroker, in Hampstead Road, about four miles from Lord Mansfield's, and identified this inkstand as Lord Mansfield's—the other articles missed have not been traced.
ALFRED CLARK . I am a pawnbroker, of Hampstead Road—on 22nd August the prisoner pawned this inkstand for 3s.—it was redeemed the same evening—I was rather busy, and did not question him—next morning he pledged it again for 5s.—I knew him as a neighbour.
Cross-examined. I never knew anything against him.
GEORGE SMITH (Detective Officer). I received information, and went with Cosser to the pawnbroker's—I went to the prisoner's house on 28th August, and told him he must consider himself in my custody, for stealing an ink-stand from Lord Mansfield's—he said "I know nothing about stealing it; a young man came to my house, and offered me the inkstand for 10s.; I said 'I cannot buy it, but here comes Dick Jordan; he may buy it;' I recommended the man to let him have it as cheap as he could, for he was a good sort; Jordan then paid 7s. for the inkstand, and stood a quartern of Old Tom; Jordan said 'The inkstand is no good to me without the glasses;' I said 'I can get some put in for you; I did so, and took it to Jordan's house; Mrs. Jordan would not receive it; I took it back to Mr. Clark's, and pawned it for 3s.; I took it out in the evening, and kept it at home all night; I
pawned it again next morning for 5s."—I went with Cosser to Clark's, the pawnbroker's, and the inkstand was shown to me—Dick Jordan is here.
Cross-examined. It was pawned in the name of Riley.
THOMAS SERJEANT (Detective Officer). On 28th August, I went with Smith to the prisoner's house, but did not find him at home—I searched, and found this duplicate (produced) up stairs in his lodgings.
RICHARD JORDAN . I went down to George Street, Hampstead Road, to Mr. Keeble's, the cab builder's, to meet Riley, who I have known for years, and another man—I went into Mr. Keeble's, and Riley said "I want to speak to you"—I said "If you want to speak to me, wait till I have done business with Mr. Keeble"—he said "Come in here, I have got something to show you"—I went in, it was like a marine-store shop—he said "Look here, this will make you a good inkstand"—I said "I have got an ink-stand"—he said "You can put the ink in there"—I said "I am not so silly, but I know where to put the ink"—he said "We want 7s. to-day"—I have often lent him money before, and he has lent me money—he said "I work for Mr. Brooks, of Hampstead Road, a pianoforte-maker, and I can get the glasses fitted"—I lent him 7s., and we went to the Hampstead Road, and had a glass of drink—the landlord of the Lord Palmerston said "I do not like sweeps on this side of the bar"—we had a quartern of Old Tom—Riley got the glasses put to it, and he wanted some more money from my mistress—she said "I refuse to take anything in, because somebody came and took my husband's overcoat and whip the other day"—I do not know whether he paid the other man 7s., because I came out—I know him by sight as well as I know Riley, but I don't know his name—I have known him by sight sixteen or seventeen years, but not to be in his company—I have not seen him in the neighbourhood lately—I did not describe him to the police, Riley gave the description—the police afterwards came and sail that it was stolen—I forget what day that was—they took me to Hampstead, but they did not take me in charge—I was examined us a witness, and they put me on the charge sheet, but I was dismissed—I gave a description of the man to the police, as far as it laid in my power—I do not know his occupation—I have known him sixteen or seventeen years by seeing him about the neighbourhood, and standing at the corner of the Haymarket, where I live—I have never been in his company—I should know him again if I saw him, and I shall lock him up—I lent Riley 7s., as he wanted it that day; if he had asked me for 7l. I would have lent it to him—I had no idea whatever that he was going to pay 7s. for the inkstand—I should not mind lending him 7l. as well as 7s., I have known him so long, and never saw anything wrong in him.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. HARRIS conducted the Prosecution; and MR. THORNE COLE the Defence.
WILLIAM JOSEPH JESSEL . I am an officer of Worship Street Court—I remember a summons being heard on 22nd August, between Julia Isaacs and Isaac Hyams, a case of assault—I administered the oath to Julia Isaacs, and she gave evidence.
Cross-examined. I saw the father of the boy Hyams, and I think his mother and sisters—they were not in Court while the case was heard; the witnesses were ordered out of Court—I do not think they gave evidence on that occasion—Mr. Abbott, an attorney, appeared, I believe—I think the Magistrate considered that there was sufficient evidence without witnesses
being called for the defendant—he decided the case, and the boy was fined 40s.
Re-examined. I beard the explanation given by the sister, as to an assault having taken place at 1.30, and she said that the charge being laid between 9 and 10 o'clock, she knew nothing about it.
ISAAC HTAMS . I live with my father, at 131A, Middlesex Street, Whitechapel—I was summoned to Worship Street Police Court, on 22nd August, charged with assaulting Julia Isaacs—she swore that I blew a trumpet in her face, between 9 and 10 o'clock on Monday night, the 14th, the day laid in the summons—she said that I was standing at my door, and took a trumpet and a mouth full of water, and spat it in her face—that was all false—I recollect the night well; I was helping my father till a few minutes before 9 o'clock—my Hebrew teacher, Mr. Goldstein, then came, and I west indoors to my lessons—it was a few minutes before 10 o'clock before I went to sleep—I did not go out of the room from the time I left my father—my sisters were there.
Cross-examined. I never in my life had such a thing as a tin trumpet, whistle, or peashooter, like that (produced); that I positively swear—I was also charged at the Police Court, the Thursday before, with assaulting the defendant—I was not fined, I was bound over to keep the pease—I live next door to the defendant—we carry on the same business, furriers, and the families of both houses are Jews—Mr. Isaacs took my father's business, and then my father set up in opposition next door—on 14th August, the second time I was charged with assaulting the defendant, I saw James Charlton, City Policeman 917, in the day time, but not between 9 and 10 o'clock at night—my father, mother, and sisters, have not said a single word to me about this case; I am on my oath, and I will tell nothing but the truth—I was not outside the door to see the pavement wet, on that evening when the policeman was called—I know nothing about the defendant's husband sending for Charlton to take me in custody—I heard it at the Police Court—I know Mr. Veal, a butcher; he lives opposite our place—I have been into his shop, but never with a tin whistle, or anything of that kind—he swore that I did, and that I disturbed his customers—he was on his oath, and I swore that it was a lie—if Charlton, and Veal, and Mrs. Myers swore they saw me with a tin trumpet, they are telling lies—Lavondowser, the hair dresser, who lives opposite, never saw me with a tin trumpet or whistle—I never had such a thing in my life; if he swears he saw me with one, it is a lie—I was engaged with my father the early part of the evening, between 8 and 9 o'clock, right up to the time the Hebrew master came—I was outside the shop, between 8 and 9 o'clock, storing the goods into the shop—my father puts the goods in, he was outside altogether, he did not go into the shop—I go to sleep while my Hebrew master is teaching me; I do not know whether he goes to sleep, too—my father has not got him a situation in the Synagogue since this matter has been before the public; he had it before—he has got a situation there, but he had it before I was fined the 40s.—I have one brother at home, and two married—I do not know that one of them was in prison—I have never heard that my brothers have both been convicted, and in prison—I do not go to school in the day time, I assist my father in his business—my mother is in the room, which leads into the shop, and would notice me if I ran in and out of the shop.
Re-examined. I have never seen these trumpets before—I never had one
in my life—this is the first time I have heard anything about my brothers being convicted.
JOSEPH HYAMS . I am the father of the last witness—I have no boys in prison—I have a son abroad, who has been in prison—I do not know what for, but the information I received was that it was for selling a brass article for gold—that is twenty years ago—he is thirty-six or thirty-seven—from about 8 o'clock, up to a few minutes to 9, on the 14th, my boy assisted me at a stall, near my window—his teacher then came, and I dismissed him, and told him to go and take his lessons, and he went in with his teacher—I cannot tell what took place till I came home—I closed my books at 10 o'clock, and walked home from Houndsditch to my house—the teacher had then left, and the boy was fast asleep, with his bead on the table—my daughters were there—I undressed the boy, and put him to-bed myself, like a child.
Cross-examined. This is not my first appearance in a Court of Justice by many times—I have been in the dock once—that was at Hicks's Hall, thirty-five years back, and I was sentenced to one month—I never saw my little boy playing about with a tin trumpet or pea-shooter like that, nor with a tin whistle—the neighbours have not complained to me of my boy annoying them by spurting water at them; I swear that.
Re-examined. I had a month thirty-five years ago for reckless trading—I bought some goods, and could not pay for them, and I had a month; but my character is unimpeached—I am warden of a synagogue, and chairman of several societies, who would not keep me in office if there was anything against my character.
SARAH HYAMS . I am the wife of the last witness—on 14th August, from 8 o'clock to a little after 9, my son was helping his father to stall in the window, and then his master came to learn him, and he was never outside the house till next morning—I was never outside myself, so I can answer for that—I never saw him with anything like this trumpet in my life.
Cross-examined. I deliberately swear that—I never had complaints made by the neighbours of the mischievous conduct of the lad; that I deliberately swear—if Charlton swears saw my boy with such a thing, that is a lie—I keep a sharp look out after my boy—I am always sitting at the door—he often goes out, when I send him.
Re-examined. I had no complaint on the night of the 14th of my boy spurting water into the prisoner's face—she never came to my place, or anyone else—I am not on good terms with her.
ABRAHAM GOLDSTEIN . I am a teacher of Hebrew—I taught the prosecutor—on 14th August I went there at 8.45, and the boy came in immediately—I called him in to have his lesson, and he went through the shop into the room—I remained with him till after 10 o'clock—he never left my presence during the time I was there.
Cross-examined. I am not certain to a moment what time I went there—I give him lessons every night, except Fridays and Saturdays—this was Monday night—he went to sleep that night, at the latter part; I woke him, and he fell asleep again—I left him asleep when I went—his mother was in the room all the time I was delivering the lesson, and one of the sisters—I had my situation before this transaction—the father did not get me the situation; I was elected by the committee—I have not had a situation given me since these proceedings; it was before.
MARIA HYAMS . I am the little boy's sister—on the night of the 14th I was indoors, and he was helping his father—he came in at 8.45, and had his lesson—I was in the room—he did not leave the room from the time he came in, the whole evening—my father came home, and put him to bed—I did not go to the Police Court when he was charged.
Cross-examined. I was present at the time the summons was taken out for perjury, but was not present when he was fined 40s.—he was at home all day long—I never saw him with a pea-shooter or a tin trumpet, and never heard any complaints from the neighbours that he had annoyfld them—the charge was for blowing water, when he was bound over to keep the peace, and the second time was the same, but it was false—I keep a sharp look-out after him—before all this took place he could go one without being seen.
Re-examined. I did not go to the Police Court, because I was not at home, and did not know he was going to be charged.
LOUISA LEVY . I was present at the Police Court when the boy Hyams was bound over by the Magistrate to keep the peace—after the Magistrate had given his decision, Julia Isaacs said that she was not satisfied with it, and she would have the boy yet.
Cross-examined. I am Mr. Hyams' step-daughter—I do not know, whether the boy or his father were present when that was said—I was not alone with her, Mrs. Levy was with her.
CAROLINE HYAMS . I am the boy's sister—I went to the Police Court when he was summoned, on the 22nd, to give evidence for him, but I did pot do so, because we thought the summons was taken out for a few words between 1 and 2 o'clock—I do not know where my brother was between 9 and 10.
Cross-examined. I never saw him with a tin trumpet or pea-shooter of this kind, nor with a whistle, to my knowledge—there have been a few angry words between the two furriers' families, in consequenee of Mr. Isaacs taking the two summonses out, and Mrs. Isaacs and myself were bound over, one against the other—I was summoned by her, and bound over to keep the peace—it was this year. The COURT called, attention to the fact that only one witness had deposed to the defendant's statement at the Police Court.
WILLIAM JOSEPH JESSEL (re-examined). To the best of my recollection the defendant swore that the boy had some water in a tin tube, and squirted it over her—I think she said at 9 o'clock, or between 9 and 10—the Hyams and the Isaacs family are pretty well known at that Court.
Witnesses for the Defence.
ROBERT LEVONDOWSKI . I am a hairdresser, opposite Mr. Hyams' slop—I have been there thirteen months—I saw the boy, Hyams, on 14th August, all day long, and in the evening—he had a tin trumpet, like this, several times, and the last time was between 9 and 10—he was playing outside his father's shop.
Cross-examined. He was coming to every shop and blowing water, and especially at the next door to himself, Mrs. Isaacs'—the first time was between 4 and 5—I did not go to the Police Court, though I know Mrs. Isaacs was charged with perjury, but I told her afterwards—have spoken to the boy, and to his father and mother—there are a great many boys about that neighbourhood, but nobody did it but him.
between 9 and 10 o'clock, I was sitting in a chair outside the defendant's door, and she was sitting by my side, and I saw young Hyam spurt some water all over her, through a tin tube, like this, and some of the water went on the pavement—her husband was called, but I did not see him—I saw a City Policeman come, not many minutes afterwards—I went to the Police Court when young Hyams was charged with assaulting the defendant with the water, and fined 40s., but only that time—I know that the defendant went to Hyams' house on the night of the 14th, to make a complaint, but I cannot say what happened—when the policeman came, the boy had the trumpet in his hand, and he ran indoors.
Cross-examined. I am not often there—I happened to be there that night doing business with her—I did not see her till the week after—Mr. Isaacs went for a policeman—I don't know where Mrs. Isaacs went—I was left alone, but it was nothing concerning me, and I never got no off my chair—Mr. Veal saw it done, I believe; I swear that—I do not remember saying at the Police Court that nobody else was there but myself—I never saw the schoolmaster—I got there between 7 and 8 o'clock, and remained till nearly 11—I did not notice Mr. Hyams shutting up—the boy got the water out of his house—I do not know whether it was in a jug—I saw him with the trumpet in his mouth, and he blew the water over Mrs. Isaacs as he passed—I did not see where Mr. Isaacs came from, but I know he went for a policemen, because Mrs. Isaacs told me so—I did not speak to the policeman, or run after the boy; I told you I did not get up—I told Mrs. Isaacs what I would have done to the boy—I have never been a witness in a Police Court before—I know Mitchell Hyams, I summoned him to the Police Court, and that was the only time I was there—I was bound over as well as him, by my own wish, because he is my uncle—it was his wish and my wish that we should both be bound over.
Re-examined. He is not connected with the Hyams family, it is another family altogether—the Isaacs are no friends of mine, I only do a little business with them sometimes.
JOSEPH VEAL . I am a butcher, of Middlesex Street, directly opposite Mr. Hyams'—on the night of 16th August I saw the boy Hyams with a tin trumpet in his hand—a thing like this—I had seen him with it on several occasions the same day; he was making an awful noise with it, so that my customers were annoyed—I did not complain to his father or mother, because I knew it was no use—they must have seen the trumpet, because he was there the whole day long—the last time I saw him with it was after 9 o'clock—I generally shut up about 10 o'clock, sometimes at 9 o'clock.
Cross-examined. I saw nothing of the assault.
Re-examined. I noticed that the ground was wet—I saw a policeman there—I am no relation to the defendant—they were both customers of mine.
JAMES CHARLTON (City Policeman 917). On 14th August, about 9.40, I was fetched by the defendant's husband to Petticoat Lane—Middlesex Street is one side, and Petticoat Lane is the other—he made a complaint to me—I saw some water on the pavement, a yard or two from the house—I saw the boy Hyams in the doorway, with something like a tin trumpet, or whistle, in his hand—ho walked in and shut the door.
Cross-examined. I saw ten or fifteen yards from him—I have known him eighteen months—I pass the door every day—I do not pretend to say whether it was a whistle or not—it was not a stick—I know the time, because I go off at 10 o'clock.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. COLE conducted the Prosecution; and MR. WOOD appeared for Williams, and MR. HARRIS for Wade.
WILLIAM BATES . I am a contractor, and live at Fortis Green, Muswell Hill—on Wednesday night, 2nd August, about 7.15, I had five cart horses in a field there—I missed one next morning, and found men's footmarks in the field, the grass was dewy, also the tracks of a cart, which had been driven a short way into the field, and marks of horses' feet, one Bet of which were very much smaller than the footprints of my cart-horse—I distinctly traced the track of the small stranger horse out of the field, and also the track of the big missing horse, and in the dust on the road afterwards, but I cannot say which horse was pulling the cart—I saw the footmarks of a big horse a short distance below the gate, on the road going to Colney Hatch Lane—mine was a powerful light bay horse, fired on the hind legs, sixteen hands high, and worth 30l.—I was with James when he measured the foot-marks of the small horse—he took a shoe with him.
Cross-examined by MR. WOOD. I was taken down to see a horse which was in the possession of the police, on 2nd August—I have not seen that horse since; it was not mine, mine is gone.
DANIEL BROWN (Policeman Y R 32). On 2nd August, about 11 o'clock at nighty I was on duty at Crouch End, and saw two men in a cart, driving a bay horse, going towards Hornsey Road—Wade was one of them—I am certain, as I have known him eighteen months or two years, and am perfectly certain he is one of the men; I take my oath to it—it was a light spring cart, very dirty, and I noticed that the horse was too large for it—I mad* a communication to my inspector.
Cross-examined by MR. HARRIS. I was standing at the side of the road as they went past—I have never seen the horse since.
Cross-examined by MR. WOOD. I did not notice Williams in the cart—I cannot describe the other man—he was holding his head down, and had an Alpine hat—he was, I should say, about 5ft. 11in.
Re-examined. It was a bright moonlight night—I noticed Wade's drew—he had a close skull cap, and a long drab sleeve waistcoat.
JOHN JAMES (Policeman Y 216). On 2nd August, about 11.20 p.m., I was on duty at Muswell Hill, and saw Williams leading a horse—I overtook him, and asked him where he got the horse, and who it belonged to—he said, to his master—I asked him who his master was—he said "Mr. Richardson, of Middle Lane"—I asked him where Middle Lane was—he said "Just down here"—I said "I will go with you"—on reaching the foot of the hill, he said "I have made a mistake; I was going to take it to Jack Wade's"—I said "Where is that?"—he said "9, Atman's Place, Hornsoy Road"—I said "You have given two different statements; I shall detain you, and take you to the station"—I took him there, with the horse, and asked him who knew him—he said "Jack Wide, and if you go to Jack Wade, he will tell you I bought the horse at the Caltle Market"—that was not this horse—I found the address, and saw Wade—I then returned to the station, and saw Williams—he said "If you go up to Champion's, in Goswell Road, he will tell you I bought the horse of him for 3l. 10s., last Friday"—I went there, and took a shoe off the little horse, which I found with Williams—on the following Friday, I went into Mr. Bates' field, and compared the shoe with the footmarks in the clay, both inside, and outside, the gate—it
exactly corresponded with the small footmarks, which were both in and out of the field—there were large footmarks as well.
Cross-examined by MR. WOOD. I have sold horses when I can turn a shilling—I am not a horse dealer—if I have a horse, and it do not suit me, I have a chop—I sold a horse for 3l. 10s. one Friday, in the Cattle Market—It is a very common thing for a man to buy a horse, and chop it directly afterwards.
Cross-examined by MR. WOOD. Wade lives at Holloway.
HENRY WEBB (Detective Officer Y). On Friday, 4th August, I saw Wade in Hornsey Road—I asked him if he had sent a man to buy a horse on the 2nd, at Finchley—he said "No"—I said "Are you sure you did not?"—he said "Well, I did send a man"—I said "Who did you send?"—he said "I sent a man, named Bass, of Gospel Oak Fields"—I said "You had better go with me; you will be charged, with another man, with stealing a horse"—he made no answer.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. THOMAS conducted the Prosecution.
MART ANN BRYANT . I am a servant, of 9, London Terrace, St. George's—on 22nd August, about 12.15, I was coming down London Terrace, and the prisoner stood at her door, and her sister at her door—I had a few words with her sister in the evening, and the prisoner said "I will pay you for what you said to my sister," and she attempted to strike me, and I attempted to strike her, but Mrs. Bennett rushed into her sister's room, and said "You b——cur!"—she looked round at me, went to the table, took a jam pot, struck me in the face with it, and I became insensible—when I came to myself, two policemen came, and I went to the London Hospital.
Prisoner. Q. Did not you come into my place, and break open my door? A. No—I did not frequently have your husband at my place—I did not strike you first.
Prisoner's Defence. She has been up And down to my husband some time, and I told her not to do so; she told me I was an old cow, and I was not to be jealous of her.
GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. — Six Months' Imprisonment.
MR. BOTTOMLEY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. WARNER SLEIGH the Defence.
SUSAN THRESHER . I am the wife of William Thresher, of 31, Caledonian Road, a baker's assistant—on 13th September, about 10.45, I bade my friend Mrs. Little "Good-night!" in the New Road—the prisoner passed us, and said "If I had a knife I would cut her b——guts out"—my friend said "Does she mean me or you?"—I said "I don't know"—when I got to the corner of Tonbridge Street she must have been hid somewhere; she said "You have locked my friend up," and gave me a blow in my eye, and knocked me off the pavement into the road, and I became insensible—when I came to I tried to get my hands to my head, and found my clothes all over my head—I missed my purse, with a half sovereign and 18d. in it, also a pencil-case, and my hair, which was worth 15s., was torn from my head—I told a policeman, and described the prisoner—I lost a great deal of blood, and am not well now, something is the matter with my stomach, but whether she kicked me I do not know—I was examined by a doctor—the prisoner lodged with me three or four years ago, and I am positive of her—I identified her at the station at 3 o'clock in the morning.
Cross-examined. I knew her quite well for years—she lodged in my house, 160, Ossulston Street, not quite a week—it is a confectioner's and milk shop—it is not a brothel, and she is not a prostitute—her husband is a musician, and she took the room—her husband did not come to complain that it was a brothel—I never kept a brothel, only a coffee-shop; ladies and gentlemen have slept there—I do not know who they were—I have had six months for an assault—I do not know that the prisoner is a prostitute—she did not owe me a half-crown on that night—my friend was Mrs. Little, of Great Portland Street, where I have done washing—I live with my husband—we had had a pot of porter between three of us for supper—I had bad tea at my friend's house—I have not got my chignon back—I have never seen it—I know Mr. Lewis, a shoemaker, of the Pentonville Road—a person in his shop has not given it back to me, or told me anything about it—the doctor saw the mark on my eyebrow, and bruises about my body—I undressed before him—I told the policeman that the prisoner had lodged with me—I did not tell him her name, I did not know it—I have nodded to her, but I did not do so this night—I have never spoken to her in the three years, only nodded—I had the six months for an assault on the wife of a tradesman who made a complaint against me for keeping a brothel—I had eight months.
Re-examined. I was innocent of it—I never heard of my being indicted for keeping a brothel—there is no money owing for rent—it is between three and four years since she was at my house.
ELIZABETH LITTLE . I am the wife of Christopher Little, a traveller, of 142, Great Portland Street—I was with the prosecutrix on this night about 10.45, and heard the prisoner say "If I had a knife I would rip you up"—I bade her "Good night," and went home, and she went towards King's Cross—I paid her a half-sovereign, a shilling, and a sixpence that night, for washing.
THOMAS WEBB (Policeman E 110). I was in Euston Road, and saw the prosecutrix leaning against the rails, crying—she gave me a description) in consequence of which I took the prisoner, who said that she knew nothing at all about it—she was subsequently identified.
Cross-examined. I told her she was charged with knocking a woman down, and robbing her.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. BOTTOMLEY offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
688. CHARLES JOHN HUBBARD (26) , Unlawfully converting to his own use certain documents, with which he had been entrusted as agent; upon which MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS , far the Prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Justice Brett.
MESSRS. RIBTON and MEAD conducted the Prosecution; and MR. BOTTOMLEY the Defence.
MINNIE WILSON . I live at 4, Little Thames Street, Greenwich, and am a single woman—I knew the deceased and the prisoner, and on the 13th July I saw them at the North Woolwich Gardens—when on the boat I heard a conversation between them which attracted my attention—the prisoner said to the deceased that he was going to Birmingham, and she said that he should not—I left them, and walked to the other end of the boat—I joined them afterwards, and we all three went together into the Gardens—we took some refreshment there—I left the prisoner and the deceased together, and went to the square platform—the deceased came there, too, and commenced dancing with a gentleman—in about ten minutes my attention was again called to the prisoner and to the deceased—I was walking down a path, and heard a scream of "Murder!"—I went to the place, and saw the deceased, bleeding very much from the nose, mouth, and left eye—I asked her who had done it, but she did not answer—the prisoner turned round, and said "I have done it; it was quite an accident"—he was holding her round the neck, and had a handkerchief up to her eye—I made one remark, which I cannot recollect now, and a policeman asked me to move on, or he would take me—the prisoner again turned, and said "Leave her alone; she's her sister, and is a little excited; I will look after them"—I went with the deceased to the hotel, for the purpose of having her eye dressed—the prisoner went with us—the deceased said that her eye was nearly into her head—when the prisoner was following her, she said that he was her husband, and they were not to hurt him—after her eye had been dressed by a doctor, we returned by boat to Greenwich—we went to South Woolwich first, where the prisoner tried to get a cab, but could not; and ultimately we engaged a little boat, and so got home—the prisoner stayed with us all night and next day—the deceased was attended by a doctor—I heard the prisoner use threats to her about two months ago—they were having a few words—they used to live as husband and wife—I have known her for about three years, and the prisoner for about three months—about two months ago I heard were quarrelling—I was in the next room at the time—I heard him say also, "I will murder you"—I never saw him strike her.
Cross-examined. I went to the prisoner's house in Curzon Street, about 2 o'clock in the afternoon, on the day in question—the deceased was there—I had lived with her for a little time—I afterwards had something to drink with them at the Prince of Orange Inn, London Street, where we stayed for
about an hour—we were drinking most of the time—then we went home, and subsequently to Deptford—we asked the prisoner to take us to North Woolwich Gardens, and at first he declined—the deceased persuaded him to go, and on our way we stayed at Mr. Beach's, the Mariner's Arms, I believe, in North Woolwich—we had had some drink before that at the Ship Tavern, in Greenwich, just before we crossed the water—we had some refreshment, too, on the boat—we stayed at the Mariner's Arms for about an hour—the prisoner wanted to remain there a little longer—I did not see him give the deceased any money, or tell her to go by herself—I saw them separate in about an hour after we got there—I went with the deceased, and she began dancing with a gentleman on the square platform—I think she danced with two—there were four or five gentlemen together, and she took refreshment with them—I did not hear the prisoner say anything to her about it—I went away with a gentleman to another refreshment bar—I saw her drinking five or six times in the Gardens—when I heard the cry I was walking down one of the avenues, towards the square platform—the avenue was lighted with gas—I believe it was the chief avenue—I was very near the end of it, going to the square platform, and furthest from the gate—I was with a gentleman—he is not present to-day—there were no persons in that part of the Gardens—the cry came from the right—it was a cry of "Murder!"—I was about, a dozen yards from the place—the deceased and the prisoner were standing at the corner of the avenue—it was quite light there—I saw them before I heard the cry—several young ladies and gentlemen came up, and a crowd collected—I have not noticed any of the persons present to-day—the deceased was bleeding from the nose, and mouth, and left eye—she had a handkerchief up to her eye, and I removed it—the prisoner was holding the handkerchief—when I asked who had done it; he said "I was swinging my umbrella across my shoulder, not thinking that she was near me; I think she must have been behind me at the time"—he said this as we were going towards the hotel—someone fetched a doctor—a gentleman came up the avenue, and I was going to take her away, when he said "I am a doctor; let me see her"—someone brought a little cold water, and he bathed her eye with it—then we went across the river—the deceased did not say anything to me as to how she had been injured—when we got to South Woolwich we went to a public-house, and waited there, whilst the prisoner tried to get a cab—we had something to drink there—we had to get a little boat to take us to Greenwich—the deceased lay at the bottom of the boat—I think it leaked a good deal; at all events, we had to get out, in consequence of the water coming in—I heard the prisoner say that he was sorry for what he had done, and he hoped she would soon get better—I attended to her up to the Monday—the prisoner was at the house constantly—she was then removed to the hospital—he nursed her when he was at home—it was about two months ago when I heard him threaten her—I was in the front bedroom, and they in the back—I did not hear the cause of the quarrel, nor did I think he would injure her at" the time—they lived together for about three months—they became perfectly friendly after their quarrel in the boat—when the prisoner said he was going to Birmingham, the deceased replied, "You shall not go, Bill."
COURT. Q. You say that you drank something before you started from Greenwich, and that you drank at several places afterwards? A. Yes, and the prisoner seemed to be very drunk indeed, when we entered the Gardens—the deceased was a little the worse for drink, but not very much—her age
was thirty-one—the prisoner seemed to be sober after the occurrence—I think it was about 10 o'clock when we went to the Gardens—the deceased was injured about 10.45, as near as I can recollect, about three-quarters of an hour after we entered.
FREDERICK CLACEY . I am a professional singer—on the 13th July I saw the prisoner at the North Woolwich Gardens—I had known him for some time as an engineer—I had done my business, and it was about 9.15—he scorned to be all right, and not intoxicated—he was standing on the platform, and I said "Well, old pal," and he replied "Well, Fred."—I said "Where's Lizzy?" or something like that—she was dancing with a young person on the platform—the prisoner observed "Yes, the b——bitch; I will be the death of her; I will give her one in the b——eye"—I did not see any more.
Cross-examined. It was about 9.15 when this statement was made to me—I have never been in a Court of Justice before, but I was once at the Sessions, after I had some money stolen from me—I have sang at Covent Garden Theatre:—I first saw the prisoner at Greenwich, about twelve months ago—I knew that the deceased was living with him—I did not see the prisoner again that evening, as I left the Gardens, and came to town—I came by the 9.35 train—I heard nothing of the affair till the next evening, and then I mentioned the conversation I had had with the prisoner—some person came to me about a month afterwards, and placed a summons in my hand, and told me that I was to attend as a witness—I had not noticed the person in the Gardens—I am well known at the Gardens, and several people had said to me that it was a cruel thing, and I then told them what the prisoner had said—they said "Fred., what do you know about it?" and I told them—they did not speak to me in a jocular way—I saw the deceased at Guy's Hospital, prior to her death—it was after she died that I told the people what the prisoner had said to me.
THOMAS DAVIS . I am gasman at the North Woolwich Gardens—I had not known the prisoner before the 13th July—about 11 o'clock that night I saw him speaking to a young lady, and I heard him say that if she wanted other men she had better go with them—they were standing about 15ft. from the square platform, and about 2ft. from the wide centre want, going down the Gardens—the young lady said "No, Bill, I don't want any other men," and he answered, "You do; if you want them, go with them"—those words were repeated about twice—he then said "Go on," pushed her with hid left hand, and added "Or I will poke you"—at the same moment he raised an umbrella he had in his right hand, and struck her with it—he raised the umbrella higher than his hand, in this way (illustrating)—the point of the umbrella was upwards—the young lady exclaimed "Oh, Bill! you have poked my eye out," and the prisoner said "Oh, no, don't say I have done that"—I was sitting down at the time, and when I saw the blow struck, I got up, and was walking towards them—the young lady said "Send for a doctor," and he tried to quiet her, and said "It is not so bad as that"—the prisoner went for a doctor, and a young man came up at the time.
Cross-examined. I have been employed at the Gardens since the commencement of the season—I was on duty at the time, having to wait to put all the gas out—I was sitting on a form about 10 ft. from the squate platform—they were standing in a little walk leading from the centre walk—my attention was first attracted to them by his saying "If you
want other men you had better go with them"—I recollect being examined before the Coroner—I did not say that the distance from the form to his platform was fifteen yards—I was about 5ft. from them at the time, and they were about 2ft. from a walk, and just by a tree—they were not in sight of the people in the central avenue, except those who might be within 20ft. of them—I did not see anyone there at the time—the deceased said nothing more than the words "Oh, Bill, you hare poked my eye out"—I heard no scream of murder—if there had been a scream I should have heard it—the central avenue was lighted with gas—the avenue in which I was sitting was not so lighted, but there was a very good light from the gas on the platform—the time was between 10.50 and 11.10—it was rather a slack night, still the Gardens were well lit as usual—I never saw the prisoner before, to my recollection—someone came up and said he was a doctor—I cannot state the names of any of the persons who were there—I did not hear the prisoner say that he had done it by accident—when the prisoner ran away, another person ran after him—when a, young man said "I will go for a doctor," and rah off, the prisoner ran after him, and he was followed by a commissionaire, and the master of the platform—they stopped the prisoner, and brought him back, and then I had to go away—the prisoner ran with the other man for a doctor—they seemed to run off together—I did not see the deceased taken away—I made my statement first at the Coroner's Inquisition—I told two or three people the next morning what I had seen and heard—I told them that the prisoner said to the deceased "Go on, or I'll poke your eye"—the deceased made no reply to that—the words were scarcely uttered before the blow was struck—I am quite sure that he poked the umbrella at her—he was standing in front of her, and pushed her, before the umbrella was used—the umbrella was in his right hand—he pushed her back towards the edge, or the left hand side, of the walk, where I was sitting—he did not turn round to leave her after he pushed her away—he stood quite still—I did not see him put the umbrella over his head—the words the deceased used were "Oh, Bill, you have poked my eye out"—the umbrella was poked upwards—she want about one step backwards when he pushed her, and then came back towards him—she must have been 2 or 3ft. from him when he struck her.
COURT. Q. Did she shrink back from the push, or the blow in the eye? A. From the push.
JOHN COSFORD (Policeman K 512). I waft on duty at the Gardens on the night of the 13th July—I was called to a disturbance between the prisoner and the deceased, about 10.15 or 10.30—I saw the woman bleeding from the eye, and the prisoner standing by the side of her—I asked who had injured her, and the prisoner replied "I have; she is my wife; I have done it quite by accident"—he was not sober, and seemed to be excited—he went for a doctor, and Mr. Vince came—I saw them go away in the direction of the hotel, and about 11.30 they left it together.
Cross-examined. There were only about three or four persons when I saw the deceased first—I heard no cry whatever—there was a female with them, but I cannot say whether it was the witness Wilson, or not—I saw Davis there; when the prisoner said that the deceased was his wife, and that it was done accidentally—Davis made no observation to me respecting the prisoner's statement—prisoner had his handkerchief up to her eye—she made no remark at all to me, but said that she did not wish him to be hurt—she made no charge against him—she made no reply when the Prisoner said that she was his wife.
ANN HEAL . I live in Gillett's Court, Silver Street, Greenwich, and the wife of Thomas Heal—the deceased was my daughter—her name was Elizabeth Burnett—she had been married—I hare known the prisoner about seven years—he lived with my daughter from last February till July—I do not know whether they lived happily together—I heard him threaten her on one occasion—it might have been two or three months ago, but I cannot say exactly—I saw the prisoner the second day after the occurrence, when he told me she had got a very bad eye and that it was done by an accident—I said I could hardly believe it was an accident—I was with my daughter, when she died, at Guys's Hospital.
Cross-examined. I used to visit my daughter occasionally—she had lived with me for years—she went to her own house on the night of the accident—it was on the Thursday night, and I saw her on the Saturday following—she was then lying very ill in bed, and a doctor was attending her.
COURT. Q. Did the prisoner dome to you, and talk about your daughter? A. Yes, on the Saturday night.
ELIZABETH BARKER . I lodge at No. 2, Chapman's Buildings, Greenwich—about six or seven weeks before the occurrence I was charwoman at the house of the deceased, the prisoner was in a passion one day, and then I heard him use threats towards her—he said "I will do for you if you aggravate me"—he has struck her once or twice when he has been in the height of passion—on another occasion when he came home he was much excited—the deceased was not well, and was lying down, and be demanded her to get up, but she said she would not, and then be kicked her in the side, and sat her in a chair, when she exclaimed "You have broken my ribs," and he replied "I will break your b——head"—he struck at her, and his hand caught the wainscotting instead.
Cross-examined. He threatened to break her head, but did not do it—the threat was "I will do for you if you aggravate me much more"—he frequently used that remark "I was asked by an attorney to come here"—I had spoken to her mother of his ill-usage.
COURT. Q. Were they friends again after he had made these threats? A. Yes.
THOMAS SHAW VINCE . I live at 16, Albert-Road, North Woolwich, and assist my cousin as a surgeon—I am not legally qualified myself—on the night of 13th July, I was at the North Woolwich Gardens, and recollect being called to a disturbance between the prisoner and the deceased—I found her sitting on a chair, crying—she was suffering from a flesh wound under the left eye—it was an ordinary flesh wound, which might have been caused by the end of an umbrella—I dressed the wound, and had nothing to do with the ease afterwards.
Cross-examined. I cleansed the wound, but did not probe it—I saw nothing that indicated to my mind that the orbital plate was broken—the wound had taken a downward direction.
COURT. Q. Do you mean that the blow bad been struck upwards or downwards? A. It might have been either way—the furthest point at which the puncture entered the head was downwards.
Re-examined. A blow struck in the way that Davis has described would have caused the wound.
COURT. Q. I understand you to say the wound was downwards—do you mean that the umbrella struck upwards might have gone downwards? A. It might have done so, by catching against the upper part of the bone—
I dressed the wound in the ordinary manner, some sticking plaster was all that was required—I examined the wound simply by opening and looking at it—it was not bleeding much when I saw it.
JOHN STURTON . I am a surgeon, living in Berners Street, Greenwich—I was called to attend the deceased on the 14th July—she had a wound under the left eye, near to the nose—there was strapping on the wound, which had nearly healed—I removed the strapping, and ordered fermentations to it—I attended her until Monday the 23rd July—she had no serious symptoms of lock-jaw until the Wednesday after the injury—the symptoms after that time began to increase, and on the Monday she was taken to the hospital—I had seen the wound from day to day, but had not made any special examination of it—a blow, in the way described, would have caused the injury.
Cross-examined. I am a Member of the Royal College of Surgeons, and a Licentiate of the Apothecaries' Company—the deceased was not brought to me, but I was called in to see her, on the day after the accident—I did not at that time make any examination of the wound—I prescribed salines and purgatives, as she complained of pain about the wound—there was nothing to examine—there was inflammation of the white of the eye, but she could see out of it perfectly well—the wound, whatever it was, was healed up, and on that account I did not probe it—she complained of nothing else, except the eye and the wound—I asked her if she was injured anywhere else—I did not examine the eye to see if there were any bones broken—she said that the wound was accidental—I did not know that the orbital plate was broken—had I bare known it, I could not have done any more—I think my treatment would have been the same—I could not know that the plate was broken—supposing that the plate was broken by a blow of this kind, there would, in all probability, have been an infusion of blood internally.
CHARLES EDWARD STEELE PERKINS . I was formerly house-surgeon at Guy's Hospital—I remember the deceased woman being admitted—she had a mark on her left eye, from a wound that had healed—it was just beneath the eye-lid, and was about three quarters of an inch in length—she was suffering from lock-jaw, and I treated her accordingly—she died on 1st August—I made a post-mortem examination of the body—I opened the head, and found a fracture of the left orbital plate of the frontal bone—some of the plate of bone was broken off—it is a thin plate of bone, that runs behind the foremost and upper border of the orbit.
COURT. Q. Supposing that an umbrella had been struck upwards, would that have fractured it? A. It would, and in this case considerable violence must have been used—the cause of death was tetanus, brought on by the injury she had received—had it been an eighth of an inch higher, it would not have been so dangerous, because it would have passed outside, where the bone is much thicker.
Cross-examined. The wound was closed up at the time the' deceased was brought to the hospital—I formed an opinion as to its direction merely from the wound and the fracture together—the thin plate extends below the eyebrow; it is in the same level with it, and slopes slightly downwards—if the umbrella had been pushed in a horizontal direction, and the woman had put her head back at the time, the bone, in all probability, would have been broken by the blow—she did not say anything to me as to the way in which the injury had been caused—I do not think I asked her the question—the prisoner and the deceased's mother were with her, and they gave me a
history of the case—the prisoner said that it was done by an accident—I traced tetanus to the wound, from the manner in which I was told it had been inflicted—there is some cause generally for tetanus—exposure to a current of air, or damp, might cause it—in case of a wound, tetanus generally arises within four and ten days—I did not know the deceased, and therefore I had no knowledge of any symptoms of another kind which, might have developed themselves into tetanus—the length of time in which tetanus was coming on in this case, led me, in one respect, to suppose that it, arose from the wound—tetanus did not show itself until nine days afterwards—then there were violent spasms, which generally accompany tetanus—I did not examine the body all over, but I inspected the head, the brain, and all the viscera, with the exception of the uterus—I did not examine the feet, and therefore do not know whether there was any wound or mark upon that part of her person—I saw the body oil over, and I think if there had been any other wound I should have seen it—she did not complain of any wound on her feet.
Re-examined. I have seen several cases of tetanus—I have no doubt that in this instance, it was caused by the wound.
COURT. Q. Did you find sufficient in the wound for tetanus? A. Yes, and that was the cause of death.
The prisoner received a good character. Eighteen Month Imprisonment.
GUILTY of Manslaughter.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
690. HARRY SWANSON (20), and DAVID SAMPSON (22), Feloniously placing a wooden pole on the Great Eastern Railway, with intent to obstruct the engines and carriages, and endangering the lives of the passengers on the railway.
MESSRS. METCALFE and WARNER SLEIGH conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS the Defence.
JOHN CHAMBERLAIN (Policeman K R 22). About 12.40, pa the morning of 23rd August, I was on duty in the North Woolwich Road, and saw the prisoners there—I saw a telegraph pole which had been sawn down by the side of the railway wall—I saw the prisoners take hold of that pole, and pull it across the North Woolwich Road—the pole was about 25 or 30 feet long—they walked down the road, and I removed the pole back to where it was lying first—I then saw police constable Scott, and made a communication to him—the prisoners came back again, and put the pole on the top of the wall—a man and woman came across the railway bridge, and the prisoners moved the pole back again—they placed the pole on the top of the wall again—Sampson jumped over the wall, and took hold of the this end of it, and Swanson shoved it further over the wall—Swanson was in the road—Sampson got over the wall again, and they ran into Swanson's house, which is almost opposite—I went with Scott to where the pole was—it was straight over the platform and across the line—it was on the platform, and about 3ft. above the line; it extended about 7ft. over the line—subsequently I went to Swanson's house—both the prisoners came to the door—I charged them with placing the pole across the road, and took Swanson into custody—Sampson ran through the back of the house, and male his escape—Swanson was sober—he said they only did it for a lark.
Cross-examined. I was about 30 yards from them when they placed the
pole on the wall—they might have seen me—I knew them perfectly well—the pole was not resting on the rails—the end of it protruded over them—the prisoners live almost opposite the station—there is a signalman's box a little way from the station—I don't know that they were friends of the signalman—I did not ascertain whether there was a train due over those rails—it was 12.45 in the morning.
Re-examined. The pole was across in such a way that an engine coming up must have struck it—the trains run all night at that point—I communicated with the signalman, and the danger signals were put on.
ALFRED SCOTT (Policeman K 273). About 12.45, on the morning of 23rd August, I was on duty in the North Woolwich Road—I saw a pole lying by the side of the railway wall—I saw the two prisoners take up the pole, and place it across the road—they went down the road—I went after them, and met the last witness, who had just removed the pole to the side of the wall again—we came back to the top of the road, and watched them—they came up the road again to where the pole was lying—they got it near the top of the wall, some persons were coming, and they put it down again, and sat on it—when the persons had passed they took the pole up again, and put it on the top of the wall—Sampson jumped other the wall, and took hold of the end, and Swanson had hold of the other end; and in that way they carried it forward, and left it in the position We found it—Sampson came over the wall again, and they went into the house—we went up, and found the pole was lying at right angles with the line, extending over it 7 ft.—the height of the platform is about 2ft. 6 in.—an engine coming past would hit it—it extended over one rail, and was about 6 in. short of the other—we went to Swanson's house—they both came to the door—Sampson ran out at the back—I took him the next day, near the Stratford Police Court—Swanson said he only did it for a lark; he did not think it would be so serious.
Cross-examined. The signalman's name is Bevan—he is here—I did not hear the prisoners call out "Tom, Tom; Bevan, Bevan"—I was twenty-five or thirty yards off—I was looking on for the or three minutes—I thought there was danger.
THOMAS SEVAN . I am a signalman in the service of the Great Eastern Railway Company—I was on duty at the Barking Road-Station, on 23rd August—I heard something fall on the platform, and a communication was made to me by a policeman, and I put the danger signals on—I went with the policeman, and found a telegraph pole on the platform, about 7ft. foul of the down line—we removed the pole, and I put the signals right again—engines are running all hours of the night—my signal box was about forty or fifty yards from the pole.
Cross-examined. The prisoners have spoken to me at my box—I was on friendly terms with them—no train was due at that time—I can't tell when a train would be due—there was a goods train due at 4 o'clock.
Re-examined. I am dependant on the telegraph for knowing when trains are coming by—it is a common thing for trains to come along there from the North Woolwich Gardens, of which I know nothing—there was one down on the previous night at 1.20.
THEODORE HALSTED FOULGER . I am an inspector on the Great Eastern Railway—between 11 and 12 o'clock on the morning of 23rd August, I went to the Barking Road Station, and made some measurements—the length of the pole is 25ft. 5 in.; width of platform 20 ft,; height of platform
from line 2ft. 6 in the pole project over the permanents way 6ft. 5 in.; it, was 6 in, thick.
The prisoners recevied good characters.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MESSRS, COWBRIDGE and HUMPHEYS conducted the Prosecutrix.
RICHARD GAMMON I keen the Rising; Sun, Rushey Green, Lewkham on 21st August, about 8.30, my barmide Kate Barnard, served the prisoner with a pint of ale—gave a half-crown, which she handed to me; it was had—I asked him how he got it—asked for it hade, I would not give 11 to him—he ran out of the house and I ran after him—a constable helped to stop him—he, found to cut us down with a bill-hook—I gave him in charge with the half-crown—the barmaid was not at the Police Court.
JOHN MOORE (Policeman). On 21st August, at 6.30, I stopped the prisoner rushing down the road with a reaping-hook, in his hand—he struck right and left, and said would chop the first b——is head off who came near him—Gammon same up and gave him in charge with this half-crown—I afterwards received these two other half-crowns (produced), one from the Black Jinirso and, the other from Mr. Fry—I searched him directly and found these three shillings and two sixpences in good money.
Prisoner. Q. Did I do any damage with the hook? A. No, he took it from you by force.
DAVID, FRY I am a narman—I saw Moore running after the prisoner, and afterwards, saw him in custody—I saw him stop to ease himself opposite the George public house that spot at 4.30 next morning, and found this bad half-crown—I marked it, and gave it to the sergeant.
MARY ANN SAYERS I am barmaind at the—on 21st August I served the prisoners with a pint of ale—he gave a half-crown—I put it in the till; there was no other half-crown there—I am him his change and he left—five minutes afterwards my master took out the half-crown, examined it, gave it to me, and I found it was bad—no other half-crown had been put in since—I marked it, and gave it to Moore.
Prisoner. Q. Did not you say at the police-station that I was not the man? Q. Yes, because I was not sure—I did not appear till the last day, because Mr. Bray could not spare me, and I did upto to prosecute—the sergeant did not give me drink, and put me up to appear against you.
Re-examined. Looking at him now, I say he is the man.
BRAY. I am landlord of the Black Horse—on 21st August, at 8.30, I emptied my, till, and took out a half-crown and some small change—there was only one, half crown which was bad, and I handed it to my barmaid.
The Prisoners' Statement, before the Magistrate, "I had two halfcrowns one I gave for the half-pint of ale, believing it to be good the other I lost I cannot say whether out of my pocket or while running away in the
excitement I received four half-crowns from Mr. Fry, who was here yesterday, and he lent me another half-crown."
Prisoner's Defence. I have been twenty-four years in England, and never was charged. I am innocent.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Justice Brett.
MR. BESLEY conducted the Prosecution.
ELIZABETH RICHARDS . I am the landlady of 40, Bermondsey Square—the prisoners lodged there from October, 1865, until 12th August, last year—a child was born on 28th February, 1870—it was a very beautiful baby—I never saw such a remarkably fine child—it continued exceedingly healthy and strong up to the tenth or eleventh month; then it began to fall off—it was weaned between the twelfth and thirteenth month—I told the mother if she had not sufficient milk for the child, to feed it; it was too long to go on nursing it, the milk was of no benefit to it—after it was weaned I saw it three or four times a day—up to fifteen or sixteen weeks ago, the mother had gone out to day work at a firm in Bermondsey Street, furring—before that she was at home—she did not go regularly to work she did not take the child with her—at times, for a short time, it was taken out for a few hours, and there Was a girl had for a week to attend to it, but she did not do so as she ought—the mother frequently left the child; I have known it to be left from 10 o'clock or 10.30 in the morning until 5 or 6 o'clock in the evening, with no one to attend to it, except I have gone in and out, or perhaps one of my lodgers—sometimes there would be a little bit of dry bread left for it, and on many occasions nothing at all, except what I or my lodgers have taken—I have many times given it food, it has taken it very ravenously—I have repeatedly told both the father and mother that I was satisfied the child had not sufficient food given to it—I repeatedly spoke to her about it up to the time of her being takes into custody, and about the child being so neglected—I have repeatedly told him of her being so drunk as she has been, and the child being so neglected—he said he was out at his work, and he did not know what was going on at home, and she has told me to mind my own business—she would be drunk for three or four days at a time—I have seen her in that state when she has come back at 5.30 in the evening—her husband knew that she was an habitual drunkard—I have known them on many occasions sit down to meals, and the child lying on the bed crying—if anything was given to it, it would cease crying, when it was hungry—it was more often crying than not, both before and after it was weaned—when I have spoken to her about it, she has said "It is such a hungry little hog I can't satisfy it, give it what I will"—I always considered her to be an extremely dirty, neglectful, and cruel mother to it, in every respect—I have heard her say she had no love towards the child, and she wished it was dead—on the morning of 12th August, she told me that she was then going into the workhouse, and when the child was dead and buried she should come out again, for it would save a wonderful deal of trouble and bother in my house—the husband left about 5.30 or 6 o'clock in the morning, to go to work; sometimes it would be 8 o'clock before he went out, and he would return in the evening.
George Knight. Q. Do you think I should willingly allow such a thing to be done? A. You were a sober, hardworking man.
Elisabeth Kinght. Q. Hare you not remarked that it would be a good job if he was dead. A. Never—I did not say it would be a happy release, and that when he was dead the best thing you could do was to keep as quiet as you could—you were the eruelest mother I ever knew.
COURT. Q. Have you been the mother of children? A. Yes, of sixteen—if a child is nursed by the mother too long, it is like to full off, unless it has sumcient food besides, which 'this child had not.
MR. BESLEY. Q. Do you remember the husband saying anything to his wife about another child? A. Yes, on many occasions: "This win be the same occurrence as it was with Bell; we had a wonderful deal of trouble to get the child buried, the Coroner's Inquiry was several times held, and if the people in the house had gone against you then, you would have got into a great deal of trouble; but remember your landlady now is not of the same disposition and habit you are, and if this occurs here, you will get into wrong quarters"—I did not hear her say anything upon that—I have heard him repeatedly say that.
CAROLINA BROWX . I am the wife of Stephen Brown, and have lodged at this house seven months, on the same landing as the prisoners—I saw the child from day to day—it was a fine healthy child when I first went there—it never got the respect that a father and mother would give to a child, not in-doors—for the last two months, after I began to make a row and complaint, it was thoroughly neglected—I reported it every day, continually—it has been left in the house three, or four days—there was dry bread in the cupboard, but it was not able to get it—there was nothing the mother would go out, perhaps at 5.30 in the morning, come in at 8 o'clock, go" out again, and not return till between 5 and 6 o'clock, and sometimes 7 or 8 o'clock; and all those hours the child was lying there—it cried; I have got a head-ache many a time, listening to it—I have many times spoken to her about it, and said "You are neglecting your child; it is cutting its teeth; give it a little sago or arrowroot,* and she has said "Mind your own business, and go to your own country; you would he better off"—slie was not sober, but very quiet—she would go out, and live well herself, both her and hers, and drink and you might treat a dog better than they treated this child—I have spoken to the husband, and "Are you aware your child is thoroughly neglected, and your wife is not giving it proper care?"—"Mind your own b——business"—I have spoken to the police about it, and asked what I should do to get the child protected—it never had sufficient food provided for it, not even a halfpenny tart—I have many times given it food—when the doctor visited her, she would throw the medicine away, and go out, and get drunk.
HUGH CODLHAN, M.D . I am Medical Officer of Bermondsey Workhouse—on Saturday, 12th August I was called to see the prisoners child, at 40, Bermondsey Square—it was lying up some dirty bedding, on a broken-down bedstead, looking very dirty and pale; the eyes and cheeks sunk, the surface of the body cold, the pulse indistinct, and the skin had a shiny appearance, as though it had not been washed for some time—there was rather laboured breathing, and inanition; the abdomen was collapsed, quite soft—the body generally was very much emaciated—it weighed 131/2 lbs. with its clothes on; it ought to have weighed about 24lbs.—it was a large child, with a bony outline—I asked the woman what food she had given the child
that day—she said "A pennyworth of milk, half a pint"—this was between 2 and 3 o'clock in the day—I asked her if she had ever given him food on any day—she said she had given only a halfpennyworth on a certain day—she was partially intoxicated, and I thought it unnecessary to question her more—the child was then removed to the workhouse, where I attended it till it died the next day, on Sunday, the 13th, about 4 o'clock—everything was done for it; it had food every two hours—I could not detect any disease—I made a post-mortem examination fifteen hours after death, and came to the conclusion that there was no disease, but that it died of starvation.
COURT. Q. You don't mean by that, that it had not bad anything to eat, but not enough? A. I should think it had had scarcely any food before it was received into the workhouse—I can't say for bow long before—it most have had a small quantity—a woman, not strong, continuing to nurse a child, might account for the beginning of emaciation, but then some disease would have shown itself, I found no trace of any—insufficient and bad food might account for the whole thing—bad milk would produce disease—it might produce starvation, if it went on long enough—a child of that age, if it had nothing but milk, should have two pints in twenty-four hours, but it ought to have had more than milk; a little mutton, finely out up, bread, potato, and gravy—if people are not able to provide it, they could get it from the Relieving Officer, or the Medical Officer—he would not give it to persons earning 15s. a week—if they were earning 8s. a week, I think he would relieve them with meat, if they had children.
WILLIAM PINE PARKER . I am one of the Relieving Officers of St. Olave's Union—if I was called in by poor persons, where a child was emaciated from want of nourishment, I might, in some cases, give relief at once, independent of inquiries—it would depend upon whether the child's life was in danger, as it was in this case—I wanted to take this child into the workhouse, to save its life, if I possibly could—I first saw the female prisoner about the child some six weeks before I gave her into custody, and then I warned her respecting it—I saw her at the workhouse—she applied to me, with the child in her arms, for an order for the doctor and seeing the condition the child was in, I told her she had better come into the workhouse, or she might get herself into trouble—she said she would—the child was almost starving then—I gave her an order for the doctor he gave her nothing on that order—he might have given her physic; that I know nothing of—she came again about a month afterwards, and got the medical order renewed—I did not see the child then; she came with out it—I saw her again a month or three weeks after, and the doctor then gave me an order to give the child nourishment and wine—I mean Mr. Marshall, and on that day I went about an hour afterwards, and visited the case Dr. Coulhan happened to be passing at the time, and went with me—I found the child in a frightful condition—the doctor said it was a clear ease of starvation, and I gave her into custody—she had not applied to me for nourishment for the child, only for the medical order—I offered her an order to come into the house, six weeks ago, and she would not accept it.
JOHN MARSHALL . I am one of the medical officers of the Union—I first saw the child on 17th June last, at my surgery—the female prisoner brought it there—she stated that it had diarrhoea—I did not verify that statement—I gave her medicine, and attended the child For a little time it improved—I saw it again some time in July, she merely, brought it to
show me—it required a little operation—on 10th August I saw it again—she come to fetcl) me to her lodging—it was in a very feeble state, emaciated, and very dirty—she said it had diarrhoea—I treated it for diarrhoea—I did not examine it—I took her word for it—next day I found it weaker—if it had had diarrhoea for a considerable time that would account for its emaciated appearance when desad—I did not see it after death.
SARAH EASTMAN . I attended the child when it was brought to the work-house on Saturday afternoon, till it died on the Sunday afternoon—there was no trace of diarrhooa—there was plenty of nourishment provided for it, but it was too weak to take it.
DR. COULHAN (re-examined). I don't think the state in which I found the child after death was caused by diarrhoea—I saw no evidence whatever of diarrhoea—I don't think diarrhoea would lave caused that extreme state of emaciation; I don't think it could have lived till it arrived at that state of emaciation, from diarrhoea, besides we should have had other symptoms.
WILLIAM ELLIOTT . I am manager of the furring department at Messrs. Christy's—the female prisoner was employed there from the first week in February till the first week in August, when she left—she worked piece work—I have, the wages hook here—her average earnings during the twenty-one weeks would be about 5s. a week, or a trifle under, 4s. 11d.—she could have done much more work if she had been there the whole of the time—she was absent five weeks-some weeks she earned 5s. 10d.—she could have earned 6s. or 7s. if she worked a full week; that would be seven hours a day—it was her own choice not coming to work—I never saw any impropriety in her conduct.
GEORGE PBARCE . I am foreman at Hartley's Wharf—I have employed the male prisoner as a casual labourer for about two years past—he was paid by the hour—his average earnings were about 10s. a week—he was not employed every week—I don't think he was ever away for more than a week at a time—the largest amount he would make would be 3s. 6d. in twelve hours—he would not make six days of that, very seldom five—the average was 10s. a week—I always found him a sober respectable man.
RICHARD KINBER (Policeman M 32). I know the female prisoner—I have seen her with her child all hours of the day—I have been posted on a special point near where she resides, and I have seen her at all hours, early and late, with the child, and without—I have seen her drunk, and I have seen her sober—I have generally seen her under the influence of drink—I saw her on the 11th August, she came to me for advice—she said Mrs. Brown had been abusing her—I said "About what?"—she said "About the child, my child here is very bad"—I said "It looks so; hold it up, it looks to me dead"—she held it up—I said "Is it under doctor's treatment?"—"Yes, it is"—"Who?"—"Dr. Marshall"—"When did the doctor see it?"—"Yesterday morning"—"Has he seen it this morning?"—"No"—"Take it at once to the doctor, as it seems near dead," and she did so—next day, the 12th, I was directed to take her into custody.
COURT. Q. Did you know that she worked at Messrs. Christy's? A. Yes, she has not been at work there recently—she was not drunk when she went there in the morning the first thing—she has, on several occasions, complained to me about Mrs. Brown—I should say I have seen her drunk some ten, twelve, or thirteen times—I have known her five, six, seven, or eight months—I have seen her drunk, and under the influence of liquor, both, in that time.
The Prisoners' statements before the Magistrate. Elizabeth Knight: "I did all that lay in my power for the child." George Knight: "I have always acted as a man to my wife, and a good father to the children. I have always looked for work, and brought the money home, and it was distributed in for the rent. I gave my wife all the rest."
George Knight's Defence. I should like you to understand that it was not my practice to deduct 8d. if I earned but a shilling or two; I never went to that extreme unless I was pretty sure of making a full day's work; that would be 3s. 8d. I had to purchase a breakfast and dinner, and then I waited till I got home. My breakfast would be a pint of coffee and three slices of bread and butter; sometimes for dinner, bread and coffee, or bread and cheese, and at other times I might have a small meat pudding. I have never seen my wife ill treat the child. There were various complaints made to me from time to time; in fact it was a burden to me to come into the place; but I could never find there was any truth in the complaints. With respect to the eldest child, she was very fond of it. In spite of the mystery concerning her character, she did not neglect religion, and never allowed the child to sit at table without thanking God for providing for it and her, and how could I judge her of wilfully starving the other child.
Elizabeth Knight's Defence. My husband gave me the money, and I used to lay it out as well as I could in the house. I did my best for the baby; any accident I could not help.
NOT GUILTY .
The Jury stated that they were of opinion the female prisoner was guilty of neglect, but not of criminal neglect.
MR. KEBLE conducted the Prosecution.
ELLEN LEAHY . I am single, and live, at 92, Lancaster Street, Newington Causeway—I am barmaid at Mr. Chandler's, in Suffolk Street, Borough—on 27th June last, about 12 o'clock in the day, I was in Blackman Street, and saw the prisoner—he was about two yards from me—he met me face to face, came at me, and snatched my chain, which was doubled twice round my neck, and dragged it, and with the force of dragging it he dragged me down, so that I fell—ing neck was very much injured, and my finger put out of joint—the chain broke, and the prisoner ran up Dodson's Court with it, and a gold watch at the end of it—a locket that was attached to the chain fell off, and that was picked up afterwards—I called fur assistance, and a police-constable came up—I went to the station and gave a description of the prisoner—I am positive he is the person, I can tell by his features—I did not see him again till seven weeks afterwards, when I went to recognize him—I saw him with seven or eight more, and identified him.
Prisoner. The policeman told you which it was. Witness. No—I picked you out—you had not the same clothes on, nor the same hat, but I am positive of you—you nearly choked me, I could not swallow anything for nearly a week—my throat was Mack.
JAMES BRADLEY (Policeman M 209). I took the prisoner into custody on 16th August—I brought the prosecutrix the station, the prisoner was placed among seven, or eight others, and she picked him out without any hesitation.
He also PLEADED GUILTY** to a previous conviction in November, 1869— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
SAVORY PLEADED GUILTY .
ANN LOVELL . I am the wife of William Lovell, of 6, St. James Street, East Street, Walworth—on Sunday night, 13th August, I went to bed at 11 o'clock—before I went to bed I saw that all the windows and doors were fastened—I got up at 6 o'clock in the morning, went into the parlour, and missed same white petticoats, a blanket, two sheets, three scarfs, two baby's frocks, one baby's petticoat, and a piece of bed tick—I had seen them alt safe on the Sunday afternoon—I found the parlour window unfastened, if a knife had been put in from the outside, and the catch forced—these things (produced) are some that I lost, not all—on the Wednesday afterwards Spurrett came to me and said if I would not prosecute he would bring all my things back to me—I said I would not prosecute if he brought all my things back—I had never seen him before—in the evening he brought this blanket, two scarfs, a shirt and a piece of bed tick; he said the two girls' jackets were stopped at the pawnbroker's, and would I go and get them if he gave me the money to do so—I said "No."
SUSAM SPURRETT . I live at 21, Brandon Street, Walworth, and am the wife of William Francis Spurrett—the prisoner "Spurrett is my husband's father—I got these two jackets and this frock from Savory—he asked me if I would be kind enough to go and pledge them for him, and I did so—I gave this frock to the prisoner Norton, my sister-in-law—I had seen Savory before, I don't know what he is, I don't know much of him, only seeing him—I have known him a goodish bit—I am a collar ironer by trade—my father-in-law is a puller down—Savory asked me to pawn the jackets and several ether things, and he gave me the frock and 6d. for doing it, and I gave the frock to Norton for her baby—I did not tell her where I got it from—she did not ask me—I did not know the things were stolen.
THOMAS NEVILLE (Detective Officer P). In consequence of information, I went to a lodging-house in Mint Street, Borough, on the morning of the 18th August, and there took Savory into custody—on the 17th I went to Norton's house, in St. James Place, Walworth, and took with me this little frock, which I had found at the house of a relation of hers, not the last witness—I told her I believed it had been stolen, and I had traced it to her—she said it was lie" frock, and she had had it in her possession some time, she had had it in pledge, and her father (the prisoner Spurrett) could prove it—I saw Spurrett and Norton together, and they said they would go to the pawnbroker's with me—we went, but the pawnbroker Was not in—Spurrett said he had taken this frock out, with a pair of boots, on the 12th, that was two days before it was stolen—on the same evening I went back to Norton's house and asked her if she still persisted in saying this was her frock—she aid "Yes"—I told her I should take her into custody charged with receiving it, well knowing it to be stolen—she laid "Oh, it is not mine, I had one in pledge very like it"—after that I went to Spurrett's house, in Brandon Street, I told him I should take him into custody for receiving a
quantity of things—he said "I have taken a portion of them back, and I intended to take the whole"—I asked him if he had any duplicates in his possession—he said "No"—I found one on the mantelpiece, relating to the three petticoats produced, pledged at Blizard's in the Borough, in the name of Ann Walton—he said he did not know how it came there—he had one room.
WILLIAM BOWEN . I am foreman to Mr. Wharton, pawnbroker, 241, Walworth Road—I produce a girl's frock, jacket, and cloak, pledged at our place on 14th August, by a female, in the name of Ann Norton—I have seen the woman at our shop before, but could not swear to her as pledging these—she usually pledged in that name.
Spurrettt Defence. I wish you to deal mercifully with me; I am innocent of all that is against me; I only did it out of kindness to the parties to get the woman's things back. I knew nothing of Savory.
Norton's Defence. When the policeman came to me, and asked me the second time about the frock, I owned that it was mine, and I went to my sister-in-law and asked where she got it from; she said "Don't say anything; I will go to the young chap, and see how he got it," which she did, and he said if the person would be satisfied with having her things back, he would send them back, and he got my father to take them back.
GUILTY of receiving.
SAVORY*— Fifteen Months' Imprisonment.
SPURRETT and NORTON— Nine Months' Imprisonment each,
Before Mr. Baron Cleasby.
MESSRS. MONTAGU WILLIAMS and HUMPHREYS conducted the Protection; and MESSRS BESLEY and HOLLINGB the Defence.
HENRY STEPHEN RIDLEY . I am a surveyor, living at 31, Vincent Square, Westminster—on the 15th August, from instructions received, I went to the Greyhound Inn, Streatham, and there made a plan of a portion of the premises, lately occupied by the prisoner—the plan produced is correctly detailed.
EDWIN DAVIS ESTALL . I live at 17, Sutherland Place, Cold Harbour Lane, Brixton, and am manager to Messrs. Carter, Wood, & Co., of the Artillery Brewery, Victoria Street, Westminster—the prisoner was lessee and occupier of the Greyhound Tavern, Streatham Common—on 10th April he was adjudicated a bankrupt, and on the 28th of the same month I was appointed trustee and receiver of the estate—William Ward and George Rae were the inspectors—the next day, or the day after, I went to the tavern to take possession of the property—I saw the prisoner and his wife, and they asked to be allowed to remain there—I said that I would consent to their doing so, but that I must place a barman there as my representative, to conduct the business—in the month of June the prisoner signed a memorandum, agreeing to give up peaceable possession of the premises, and to with draw when desired to do so—on the 7th August, from what I heard, I sent a man named Perkins to watch the premises, and in consequence of a notice,
which I received from the inspectors, I wont there myself on the 9th, about 3.45, accompanied by Mr. Armstrong, a clerk to Messrs. Burchell, solicitors, Mr. Brett, an accountant, Mr. Powell, and others—I saw the prisoner, and read to him the notice I had received, which ordered me to insist on his immediate withdrawal from the tavern, and to take such measures as I should think fit it to effect it—the prisoner was in the bar-parlour on the ground floor, and asked me to wait until to-morrow—I appealed to the clerk, and he said it was necessary that the prisoner should leave at once—I said he could have half an hour, or an hour, to pack up his things, and if he would give me an address I would send the remainder to him—he said that he had only few shillings—I replied that he should not go away penniless, and I gave him 10l., and promised to pay him weekly the cum which the Court of Bankruptcy might allow—he then said he would go, and proceeded up stairs, followed by Brett—I went in about half an hour to see where he was, and I found him in a little sitting-room on the left hand side of the stairs—I asked him when he was going—he hummd and had for some time, and then went to his bedroom, and I followed him, there about two minutes afterwards, and saw him standing by the mantelpiece, on the opposite side—there was a case like a pistol case before him—shortly afterwards a friend of mine, Mr. Jamieson, entered the room—he had spoken to the prisoner previously, and had appealed to him masonically to leave the promises in a peaceable manner—the prisoner went into the bedroom for a certain purpose, and shut the door—the pistol-case, was open, and the prisoner took a revolver from it—in a moment he turned round, and pointed it at me—I jumped back, and slammed the door to hard as I could—Mr. Jamieson, was at the head of the door, said in front of me—we both made down stairs as last as possible—the prisoner rushed out of his bed-room, and fired at us—I had descended alert seventh stairs, when I heard a cap snap—I was turning a part of the stairs; when he fired again, and a bullet passe'd about 3 or 4 in. from my head—in a moment or so the prisoner fired a third time, and the bullet entered the wainscotting—it would have gone through me if I had kept straight down the stairs—it lodged in a part of the wall, about 6 in. above my head—Mr. Perkins, and two policemen, rushed up, secured the prisoner, and took the revolver from him.
Cross-examined by MR. BESLET. I have known the prisoner for about six years—I remember his taking the Castle public-house, in Chapel Street, Westminster—that was in 1859 or 1860—I never heard say, at that time, that he had been in America, and had received a sunstroke when there—I never entered into the details of his past life—I do not remember his having an apoplectic fit whilst living at the Castle—I have heard that a Mr. Bryant has been his solicitor of late—I did not advise the prisoner as to taking the Greyhound—he was out of business for some time before he did so—I saw him probably once a week, whilst he lived there—I used to go there as a collector for my firm—I never observed that a small quantity of alcoholic drink had an effect upon him—Messrs. Wood have a' mortgage upon a certain sum of money, secured on the house at Streatham—I think when the prisoner entered it, he paid 3500l. as the premium—the ground rent was 120l.,—the prisoner had money of his own, to the amount of 1500l., find borrowed, I believe, 2000l.—Messrs. Vickcrs, I think, lent him 700l. or 800l.—the prisoner has exception of money—my firm supplied him with malt liquors—I do not remember his having an apoplectic fit whilst at the Greyhound—I continued on freindly terms with him, the exception
of a little brush or two, till the present year—I was not aware that he signed bills for the accommodation of other persons—I knew of his being involved in a Chancery suit—Mr. Wood, at the wish of the prisoner, was the petitioning creditor in bankruptcy, and I was appointed receiver of the estate—Mr. Bryant was the solicitor—it was a business and not a friendly bankruptcy—Mr. Brett is an accountant, employed by Carter, Wood, & Co.—Mr. Ward was the previous tenant of the Greyhound, and he acted on behalf of Messrs. Tickers, the distillers—I did not undertake that the prisoner and his family should not be turned out of the house—the memorandum as to the withdrawal was obtained, because I wished the transaction to be conducted as orderly as possible—I think the Chancery suit was tried this year—I went to his house about once a week after the bankruptcy proceedings were commenced—I placed a barman there, to take the money, because, after the first week, the prisoner did not bring to me sufficient cash for what I believed he had sold—I put in two men with authority—I had some rough men on the common, on the 9th August, to net if force was required to eject the prisoner—Mr. Jamieson was there accidentally—he saw my cab at the door, came in, and offered to mediate between us—I never have been engaged in any forcible expulsion of a tenant—I heard on the 5th August that the prisoner was much incensed against me—ho was, in fact, bound over to keep the peace—on the 8th August I had occasion to go to the Police Court, in consequence of his violent conduct and demeanour—I was led to suppose that he had firearms about him, and I watched him—Mr. Cooper had told me that he had walked about with a revolver in his pocket, and had threatened to shoot anyone who interfered with him—I went into his bedroom simply because I had a duty to perform, and was determined to do it—I knew he had piles, but he did not go to his bedroom for the purpose that has been stated—he went there certainly, and I followed in about three or four minutes—I had a presentiment that he meant to do something wrong—when I heard Jamieson cry out that the prisoner had a pistol, I ran down stairs as fast as I could—when I got to the bottom of the stairs, I turned sharply to the right, and the second bullet missed my head—I had told the prisoner that I was prepared to use violence if it was necessary—Mrs. Mills left after the shooting—no money was given to her, because she had the takings of three or four days—more than 10l. certainly—the prisoner had threatened the men in possession with violence, and they were afraid of him, and complained of his conduct.
Re-examined. Mr. Jamieson was ahead of me when we ran down stairs—I think the prisoner's wife took with her about 16l.
HENRY JAMES JAMIESON . I am a surveyor, living at East Briston—on the 9th of August, I reached the Greyhound Inn, on my way from Croydon Assizes, and from something which I heard, I went up stairs, and saw Mr. Estall on the kinding of the first-floor—he explained to me the position in which he stood, and pushed at a bedroom door, and opened it—the prisoner was inside, and Mr. Estall introduced me to him—I told him that Mr. Estall had informed me that he was trustee under the bankruptcy, and that as he (the prisoner) would have to leave his house sooner or later, I hoped he would take my advice, and go quietly, for then Messrs. Carter, Wood & Co., might get him a smaller house, and place him in business again—I told him also that Mr. Estall had offered to give him 10l., and that I would use my persuasive powers to get him another 5l.—the prisoner said that he wanted to perform an act of nature, and that he was suffering from piles—he
had a night commode in the room, and then I closed the door and left—I met Mr. Estnll on the landing, and told him what had occurred, when he said that he did not believe the prisoner, and would see what he was doing—he looked through the crack of the door, and saw Mills capping his pistol—as Mr. Estall stood at the door, the prisoner presented the revolver at his head, and I exclaimed "Good heaven, he is going to fire!"—I jumped down the first flight of stairs as quickly as I could, and was followed by Mr. Estall—as I turned round the landing, the prisoner appeared at the door of his room, took a dead level at us, and fired the cap, but the barrel did not explode—had it done so, the bullet might have gone through my head, so close was I to the man at the time—when half way down the second landing, I heard a bullet whiz close by my head, and it lodged in the: wainscoting, about a foot above my right eye—when I reached the bottom, and was looking for the nearest way to escape, I heard a second explosion, and another bullet passed close by Mr. Estall, and lodged in the door frame—the prisoner was then taken into custody.
Cross-examined. I had nothing whatever to do with the public-house—I have valued the property of publicans—this was the firth occasion of my being in a public-house when the landlord was to be turned out—I remember the case to which you allude—you withdrew from the prosecution, one of the prisoners pleaded guilty—the prisoner was a perfect stranger to me—I had not the slightest idea, when I called at the Greyhound, that Mr. Estall would be there was not told there was to be a spree at the house—I should not consider it a spree, but as a serious piece Of business—I did net see the roughs collect, but there was a very full bar—I told the police all that occurred, whilst the facts were fresh in my memory—I said a good many things at the Court which dire not in my deposition—they said they were not material to the case—I told the Magistrate about the prisoner cappingrthe pistot; that does not appear in my deposition—two barrels only were discharged—I advised the prisoner to leave without making a disturbance, as it would be better for him afterwards.
JOHN HENDERSON PERKINS . I am a clerk to Messrs. Carter, Wood & Co., and on the 8th August was instructed to go to the Greyhound, Streatham—there were two men, named Cooper and Haven, in possession there, but they were obliged to go to Surbiton Police Court, to support an information against the prisoner for his violence—Mills returned about 6 o'clock in the evening, and seemed" to be much annoyed at my being there—he asked me what I had come for, and I replied that Mr. Estall had sent me to look after the premises in the absence of the two men, and that I must stay until they returned—the prisoner then said "I will put some b——lead into the b——charity boy"—I asked him what he meant, when! he said "Into Estall, the charity boy, your master!"—he used other words, and said that if he were a corpse that moment he would give him a bit of b—lead—on the 14th June, the prisoner declared he would shoot the b——b——before he had done—I' was in the bar parlour when the shots were fired on the 9th August, and I and two policemen immediately ran up stairs, and the prisoner was taken into custody.
Cross-examined. The prisoner appeared to be under uncontrollable passion at times, and appeared very unlike a sane man—I heard that he was in great trouble about his affairs, and that he was involved in a Chancery suit—he was very violent on the 14th June—I had heard that he had travelled very much, but nothing about a sunstroke or an apoplectic fit.
Re-examined. I noticed his violent temper—he drank freely.
FRANCIS JOB GOODERHAM . I aid the landlord of the Woodham Tavern, Upper Norwood—I know the prosecutor and the prisoner—on the afternoon of 1st August, Mills came to my house, and we had some conversation about the Greyhound—he said he had not sold it, and thought he ought to have at least 2000l. for himself—he then said he thought the b——s, Mr. Eatall and the others, would rob him of it—I said I thought Mr. Estall would not do that—he replied there was no tolling what they would do—they wanted him to leave, or to get him out, but he would make it hot for them before they did—he said "Before they turn me out I will put something through the b——'s heads."
Cross-examined. The prisoner did not want me to take the Greyhound—no doubt he had been drinking when he called upon me—he had driven over from Streatham—I have noticed that a small quantity of intoxicating liquor would affect him—he was excited when talking about the house, and appeared cross at the way he was being treated—I can't say whether his bankruptcy was a friendly one—I think the Greyhound was an improving property—I did not think any more about his visit until I read an account of the affair in the newspaper—when he was not under the influence of drink he was a very kind hearted, well spoken, and well behaved man, and was much respected.
Re-examined. I never took him to be a madman.
WILLIAM COOPER . I live at 8, Philip Street, South Lambeth—on the 15th June, I was sent by Mr. Estall to manage the business at the Greyhound—on the 2nd August, I heard him say that if Mr. Estall interfered with him in any way, he would "shoot the carroty b—"—on the 6th August, he called his servant as a witness that he had taken possession of the premises, and he said that we had no right there whatever—we had to complain to the police of his conduct, and he said that as we had left the house we should not have a re-possession of it—I was frightened at his conduct, and went away—on the 9th August, I was there, and heard the reports of the pistol—I saw nothing to lead me to suppose that the prisoner was insane.
Cross-examined. I have not written a treatise upon insanity—I am merely a barman—the prisoner's wife frequently asked him to go to bed, and not to remain up drinking—he used to say that he would keep the house open as long as he liked, and sometimes he would take a chair and sit outside the door—Mrs. Mills never complained of our drinking with her husband—we had the usual glass at night, and nothing more—drink did not seem to affect him more than it did other men—some became insensible from drink, and others were like madmen.
JOSEPH NEWBERRY (Policeman W 317). I was sent for to the Greyhound on the afternoon of the 9th August, and remained outside for a time—I heard the report of firearms, and ran up stairs, and saw the prisoner in a bedroom, with a pistol in his hand—another constable was with me, and he took the prisoner into custody—I asked him what he was doing, but he made no reply.
ALEXANDER JEWELL (Policeman W 227). I went to the Greyhound public-house about 4.30, on the 9th August, and heard the report, of firearms—I saw the prisoner on the landing, with a pistol in his hand—I followed him up stairs, and he tried to fasten his bedroom door—a man named Keys, a brother officer, and myself, however, forced it open, and I caught hold of him by the right arm—a pistol fell from his hand on to the bed—it was a
five-chambered revolver, and three barrels were undischarged—he said there were only two shots in it, three caps were discharged, one in the bedroom, and the others on the staircase.
DAVID SAINES (Potice Sergeant W 17). I was at the police-station when the charge was preferred against the prisoner—he was charged with shooting at two gentlemen, at the Greyhound, and he replied "At ten yards off though*—Mr. Jamieson was there, and the prisoner added,' "Not at you, I didn't."
JAMES GOLLOP (Polite Inspector.) On the evening of the 9th August I went to the Greyhound, and found that a bullet had been lodged in the frame of a door, and a second in some wainscotting—I sent for a carpenter, and had some of the wood, with the bullets embedded, removed, and I produce them to-day—the bullet in the wainscotting was 5ft. 7 in. from the floor, and that in the door-frame, 5 ft 8 in.
Witnesses for the Defence.
MICHAEL POPE . I am a solicitor, and was formerly concerned for the prisoner—I have known him for nearly nine years—Mr. Bryant, who was articled to me, took him as a Client, in 1864—I always considered the prisoner as a very excitable man, and I have seen him the worse for drink, and violent—at those times he was not fit to transact business, and I have advised him to go home again—I know that he has been involved in litigation, and that there is a Chancery suit from which he expects some money—I have heard him say he would serve people out—the have not seen him since his bankruptcy.
A. E. BRYANT. I am a solicitor, in Old Broad Street, and have been the legal adviser of the prisoner for six or seven years—he was always a nest excitable man, especially when he was worried with business—if he had drink in him he would become like a madman, and would be incapabld of taking care of himself, or of behaving in a proper manner—he had been very much worse daring the last three months—I strongly advised him not to take the Greyhound—I have heard that he met with some accident when in America, and that he had received a sun-stroke, or something of that kind—a small quantity of alcoholic liquor would take a great effect upon him—when sober, he was a quiet, well-conducted man, and exceedingly good tempered—he has two Chancery suits pending—I was solicitor for the bankruptcy, and acted for the trustees as well—I know nothing of the memorandum of withdrawal—I should never have advised him to sign it under the circumstances—the arrangement was, that so long as he acted properly he was not to be turned out—Mr. Wood said he was a very rough diamond, no doubt, but that he should never want a house, or be ejected from the Greyhound—the prisoner came to me on the 7th August, and left the matter entirely in my hands—he seemed to be a little worried, and not in drink, and he evidently understood what he was about—on the morning of the 9th, he was in such a state as not to be fit for outsines at all, and I entirely failed to make him understand what I meant—he went off in a huff, and said that he should do as he liked—I did not see him until the next day, when I heard of the affair.
Cross-examined. He was a most excitable person, but I never thought he was a fit subject for confinement in a lunatic asylum for & rest of his life.
SAMUEL CHAPLIN . I am a chemist, living in Tothill Street, Westminster—I knew the prisoner—he previously kept the Castle Tavern, in the Broadway—he has consulted me medically—he had an epileptic fit, and was ill for a
long time afterwards—I understood that he had received a stmstroke when in America—he became very excited when anything irritated and annoyed him, and occasionally he would drink to a considerable extent—I have never seen him violent, but he has been moody—I consider there is an indication of a softening of the brain, and I believe that the softening exists at the present time—I formed that opinion two years ago, and I thought that ultimately it would be necessary to place him under restraint—he was abrupt and coarse in his manner at times, but was always open and obliging—I thought if he continued to drink he would go mad—I saw him on Good Friday—he was then the worse for drink, and excited, and I did not care to stay with him—there was a peculiar dilation, of the pupils of the eye, and at times he appeared as if he was wild—he was totally ungovernable at times.
Cross-examined. I should not consider him a man who ought to be confined in a lunatic asylum for the rest of his days.
Re-examined. I think he was not conscious at times of right or wrong.
J. A. BROWNRTGG. I am a doctor of medicine, practising at Streatham, and have attended the prisoner professionally—there has been a great change in his conduct of late, and he has seemed not to be perfectly sane—stimulants excited him greatly—his brain was not healthy—I believe that at times he was not conscious of his own acts—I have attended him during the last eighteen months for apoplexy, delirium tremens, and paralysis—persons suffering from delirium tremens alone would be perfectly unconscious of their acts—in his case I should say that paralysis indicated disease of the brain—he had an apoplectic fit about six months ago, and I attributed it to diseased brain—it is a permanent disease, I think—when excited by losses, and stimulated by drink, he would not, I think, be conscious of his acts, and would not be able to distinguish between right and wrong, as an ordinary person would—I have seen him in these fits of excitement a dozen times, probably—he has frequently been in a low despooning state, indicating brain disease in its incipient stage—I have heard that he met with an accident when abroad—I saw him two days before this occurrence—I think his condition may be accounted for by the injury be received in his head.
COURT. Q. And by drink, too? A. In a measure—the delirium tremens. were brought on by drink.
THOMAS TACE . I was potman at the Greyhound Inn for about nine months—I was there when Cooper and Haven had possession—I have seen the prisoner very rational, and very excited—at times he was very restleas—I should think he is not in a proper state of mind—he walked about and interfered with people in the place—I should think that he did not know what he was doing on the 8th August—on the morning of the 9th he was just the same—he went out, and returned in a trap, about 4 o'clock, apparently off his head—I remember Mr. Estall coming, and the bar being fall of people.
ALICE SHERRIFF . I was employed as cook at the Greyhound, for eight or nine months—the prisoner appeared to be very much excited since the 16th June, and not in a fit condition to transact his business—subsequently he has appeared like a madman—a small quantity of liquor had a great effect upon him—he got worse before the 9th August.
Cross-examined. Cooper and Haven attended to the business in the bar—Mrs. Mills went in occasionally, and I was frequently in and out of the
bar parlour—my master was scarcely, if ever, sober—I have, taken; up a pint of champagne to his bedroom in a morning, by 7.30; and sometimes he would lie till 10 o'clock—I think the business decreased after Cooper and Haven came, because they were not liked—my master must have been intoxicated on the 9th, from what he said to me.
FREDERICK BRYANT . I drove Mr. Mills in his trap on the 9th August—on the 7th and 8th he was in a very excited condition—on the 9th he was quiet until about 4 o'clock, then he got excitable, and I don't think he knew what he was about.
JOHN CKIBB . I am landlord of the Crown and Sceptre, Brixton Hill—I know the prisoner, and have seen him perhaps two or three times a mouth—lately I have observed a very considerable change in him—he was more excitable than formerly, and at times he has seemed as if he did not know what he was doing—I saw him on the 9th August—then he, was calm and quiet, and talked rationally on different subjects, but as soon as I mentioned the Greyhound to him, he became very excitable—whenever the subject of his house was spoken of he became wild, so much so on one occasion that I shifted away from him—when sober he was a very good man indeed—I never saw him in a greater state of excitement than he was on the 9th—I don't think he was able to judge of the consequences of his actions, and I made a remark to that effect when I left him.
THOMAS CATOC . I am a draper, of Streatham—I have seen a great change in the prisoner's demeanour during the last twelve mouths—I was afraid of him almost, and did not like to get too near him, he was so excited—the excitement has been greater since his bankruptcy, in April—I saw him on the Sunday before the 9th, and he was excitable indeed, so much so that I believe he was not able to distinguish the nature of his own actions—when not under excitement he conducted himself very gentlemanly indeed.
COURT Q. What do you mean by not being able to distinguish the nature of his own actions? A. Well, he was either insane or tipsy.
JOSEPH GRONTE .—I am a farmer, living at Streatham—I have known the prisoner about three years, and have seen him frequently during that time—I believe that three parts of his time he was mad drunk—I saw him on the 8th August, he was tipsy and seemed to be half out of his mind—he has been in a desponding state for the past three months; it times he is very excitable, and would quarrel with anyone—I don't think he was able to distinguish right from wrong.
Cross-examined. I have seen a good many people quarrelsome drunk.
Re-examined. His drunkenness was such that he did not seem to know what he was about—I have told him, several times, that he would have to go to Garrett Lane (Police-station) if he did not alter.
WILLIAM COWDEROY . I am a grocer, living at Streatham, and have known Mr. Mills since he has lived at the Greyhound—I have seen him about five times a week—he seemed at times partially insane, hardly conscious of what he was doing—any conversation about his house excited him greatly, and he did not talk like a reasonable man—at other times his conduct has been like that of a rational being—I don't think lie was at all given to coarse language when self-possessed—he bore, generally, a good character when he was not excited—his neighbours wish these facts to be placed before the Jury.
Cross-examined. I have seen him the worse for liquor, and I should not to surprised to hear that his barman has said that he was always drunk.
GEORGE CLOUSEN . I am a builder at Streatham, and have known Mr. Mills since he has been at the Greyhound—he has certainly been more excitable since his bankruptcy—the subject of his house always had a great effect upon him—I saw him on the 9th August, and I don't believe he was at all accountable for his actions.
Cross-examined. I have seen a change in him during the three or four years I have known him—he was in the habit of taking a little more drink—I have seen him in an excited state—he was very much excited on the 9th August, and when in that condition he did not appear to know what he was doing—he was in the same state on the 8th.
GUILTY on the Second Count. —MR. HUMPHREYS stated that the Prisoner was convicted before Mr. Selfe of an aggravated assault in 1866, and fined 20s.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. POLAND conducted the Prosecution.
HENRY HONEY . I am clerk to Messrs. Waltham & Co., Brewers, at Stockwell Green—I know the prisoner—he lived at Bythorn Terrace, Brixton—on the 19th June last he was indebted to our firm in the sum of 14s. 3d.—on that day he brought this cheque (produced) drawn on the London and County Bank, Victoria Street Branch, dated 17th June, payable to Thompson, and signed S. A. Goodyer—he said he wished to pay the account, and asked me to give him change for the cheque—I asked him if it was a safe cheque, and he said "Yes, he knew it was all right"—I gave him the change—I told him to endorse it, and he put "John Martin" upon it—I gave him a receipt—the cheque was returned a few days afterwards marked "No account"—I went to the prisoner's house several times, but could not see him—I afterwards received this letter from him (Read: "2, Bythorn Terrace, Brixton. Gentlemen, I regret to hear that the cheque I paid to you; has been unpaid. I took the same from Mr. Thompson for an account, and as I found the office closed to-night I will go to-morrow, Friday, and see him with reference to it, and see you in the course of the day; as I do not know the drawer of it, that would be the quickest way, I am, yours truly, John Martin.") I afterwards received a telegram saying he could not, come—he never called to give any explanation.
Prisoner. Q. Was not the cheque left at the tap of the public-home? Witness. A. It was left there one night, I believe, I can't say that you did not call there—I understood your wife called.
Re-examined. I got no information about Mr. Thompson, his christian name, or anything.
RICHARD ILSLEY . I am a butcher, at Stockwell Green—I know the prisoner by sight—in June last he owed me 15s. 7 1/2 d.—he called with this cheque about the latter end of June, it is drawn on the London and County Bank, payable to S. T. Powell, and signed Thomas Browning, dated 24th June, for 8l.—my nephew gave him the change in my presence, and receipted the bill—I paid the cheque away next day, and it was returned to me afterwards, marked "No account"—I endeavoured to find the prisoner after that, and I went to Bythorn Terrace after him several times—ft friend of mine made an appointment with him, to see me; but I
have not been able to see him—I received, a telegram from him the same as Messrs. Waltham did.
Prisoner. Q. Did you put the cheque out of your hands after it had been returned? Witness. A. Yes, to Mr. Jackson—I know you wrote to Mr. Jackson—I don't know that you called.
Re-examined The endorsement on the cheque is "Thomas Wyle, Newgate Market, salesman, "I paid it away to him.
EDWARD PURCHASE . I live at 17, Bridge Road, Bettersea—in June last I had an account at the Louden and County Bunk, Victoria Street, Westminster Branch—on 10th June I got a saw cheque-book—this is it (produced) the cheques are lettered "S 5145"—I saw the prisoner after that—he is a friend of mine—he asked me if I could let him have a couple of cheques, as he wanted to pay an account—I, said I did not like to do it, but I let him have them—I tore two cheques out of the book, and gave them to him, and he took them away—I don't know what date that was—the first cheque I drew was on the 17th, and he had the two following cheques—to the best of my belief this letter is in the prisoner's handwriting.
Prisoner. Q. How long have you known me? A. About two years—we have had a great many business transactions together—have given you a form before—I believe you had an account at Kennington—I did not know you had one at the London and County—you paid me 10s. on 25th June, or the day before—there was he bill, you gave me 10s.
CHARLES EDWARD BLATDON . I am a clerk in the Victoria Branch of the London and County Bank—we have no customers of the name of S. A. Geodyer, or Thomas Browning—these twcrcheques are numbered S 6145—I can't see the figures very plainly, an attempt has been made to scratch them out—fefease cheques were given out to Mr. Purchase—the same number is on each cheque in that book—no other customer would have that letter and number.
WILLIAM WOOTTON WESTLEY . I am a baker, at Stockwell Green—on 28th July, the prisoner owed me 7s. 1 1/2 d. for bread—he gave me this cheque for 4l. 10s. 9d. on the Central Bank of London, Dooley Street Branch, payable to W. Reeves, signed James Burrell—I gave him the change, and receipted the bill—he endorsed the cheque "W. Murtin"—I paid the cheque away in the course of business, and it was returned, marked "No account."
Prisoner. You never made any application to me for the money. Witness. I went to your house when the cheque was returned, on the following Friday—I was not able to see you—I saw your wife.
BRISTOW POTTER . I am a clerk in the Toile Street Branch of the Central Bank of London—we have no customer named James Burrell—I have ascertained that this cheque belonged to a book issued to a gentleman named Charles Williams, of the Old Kent Read, wroose account is closed.
MICHAEL. BOVENGER (Detective Officer. I took the prisoner into custody on the morning of 6th August, at 2, Bythorn Terrace—I charged him with passing a forged cheque on Mr. Leighton—he said "If the money has not been paid, I will pay it on Monday"—at the station he said "I know I have done wrong, give me time till Monday; I will pay the whole."
Prisoner. You said before the Magistrate, you were looking after me for a, week, Witness. I said several days—I went to your house with Mr.
Loighton, and remained outside while he went in and enquired for you—I went on 5th August—I searched the house—I had no warrant—I also enquired in the neighbourhood for you.
GUILTY .— Two Years' Imprisonment.
MR. METCALFE, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. RIBTON conducted the Prosecution.
RODERICK SUNDERLAND (Detective Officer F.) On 5th August, from information I received, I went to the Grapes public-house, shortly before 2 o'clock—I saw the prisoner sitting in the back parlour, with this portmanteau (produced) near him—I went out, and walked at the corner of the street, going in now and then, till shortly after 10 o'clock at night—he was there all day—he left shortly after 10 o'clock, with the portmanteau, and I followed him to a public-house in Maiden Lane—he was there about ten minutes—he came out with the portmanteau—two women met him at the corner of Tavistock Street—they went into a public-house, where they remained from five to eight minutes, and one of the women came out, carrying the bag—I observed one of the women put her hand into the prisoner's coat pocket, while the other one covered her—I got another constable, and we took them all into custody—I told the prisoner I should take him for having a portmanteau in his possession, supposed to be stolen—he said "How dare you, sir?"—I said I stopped him because I knew he was a suspected persoor—he said nothing to that, and I took him to Bow Street—he was the worse for drink—he was locked up—he handed me a key, which opened the portmanteau, and with which I saw him open it in the public-house, and take something out—I found a pill-box in the port-mantean—I saw the chemist, and he told me who the gentleman was, and I communicated with Mr. Wark—one of the two women was a license holder, and she was sent back to do three years, the other was discharged.
Prisoner. Q. Did you hear that a portmanteau had been stolen from the South Western Railway Company? A. I did not know it at the time—I knew you, and I believe you knew me—I know now the portmantean was missed half an hour previous to my seeing you—you had sufficient time to get to the Grapes—it is nearly opposite the police-station—I don't think I have seen you in that house before—I know you by having been at the Middlesex Sessions when you were acquitted for stealing another port-mantean—you were in the Grapes till 10 o'clock—I kept close watch on the house the whole time.
FREDERICK GREENFIELD (Police Inspector E.) I first charged the prisoner with being drunk, and afterwards with the unlawful possession of a port-mantean—he said it was his own—I asked him to enumerate the articles that were in it, and he could not do it—a number of keys were found on him—he gave me one off a bunch, which opened the portmantean.
ANDBEW WARK . I am a member of the Stock Exchange, and live at Highgate—this portmantean, and the contents, are my property—on the 5th August I was going down the South Western line—I arrived at the station about 12.25. for the tram at 12.45—I had appointed to meet a
friend there—I took my ticket, and stood at the door between the booking-office and the main line platform—I observed the prisoner standing close by, as if he was waiting for somebody—I put my portmantean down by the side of the door, and walked backwards and forwards on the platform—the prisoner was then standing close to my portmantean—I stood by it again—I saw my friend come up—I went up to him, and when I came back the portmantean was gone, and the prisoner as well—I saw no more of it till the officer communicated with me.
WILLIAM SEEKINS . I am landlord of the Grapes—on this morning the prisoner tease in with a boy who was carrying a portmantean, which he put down, and left there—the prisoner asked me for sixpennyworth of coppers, he gave the boy 3d., and the boy went away—the prisoner was perfectly sober when he came in—he was there the whole day, drinking—I was asked by the detective, Sutherland, not to turn him out.
Prisoner. Q. Are you aware I was intoxicated the night before at your place? A. No—I heard you were drinking rum and milk at 4 o'clock in the morning, but you were sober when you came to my place—you had a tumbler of claret in the parlour, and put the bag under one of the tables.
Prisoner, in his defence, stated that he went to the Waterloo Station with a portmantean similar to the one produced, that he misted the train, and put the portmantean in the cloak room, and that when he went to get it another and must have been given him by mistake, which he took to the Grapes, thinking it was his own.
GUILTY — Eighteen Months Imprisonment,
There was another indictment against the prisoner.
MR. WOOD conducted the Prosecution; and MR. ST. AUEYN the Defence.
ANN TAPLEY . Previous to this robbery, I was cook at Sutton Court, Sutton, Surrey—I left on 9th August—between 3 and 4 o'clock in the afternoon, I was looking into a shop window in the Borough Road, when McCarthy came up with another woman, who said "It is a vary het day"—I said "It is"—I looked at her, and said, "Do you know a respectable person who will write me a letter in English I"—I am Welsh—she said "Yes, my friend here," and pointed to McCarthy—I said "Where do you have?"—she said "Come with me"—she went down a narrow Street from the high road, and into a public-house—I said "I don't like being here"—she said "No one will interrupt us"—she took me into a little room—she said "I will borrow a pen and ink, and we must have something to drink"—I said "I do not want anything, I will pay you a shilling for writing the letter"—she went and got the pen and ink, and brought a pint of beer in—they drank it, and McCarthy wrote the letter—I said "I want one night's lodging"—McCarthy said "I have a splendid house"—I did not have any of the beer—McCarthy and the other woman drank it—we left the public-house, and McCarthy took me to a house in a narrow street, and up one flight of stairs—when I went into the room I said "Oh, what a den"—there was a bedstead and' two chain—Sullivan was in the room—she put something before my face, and I became insensible—I could hear but not see—I heard them walking about, and transating about my money—there was 2l. 5s. in my purse—to the best of my knowledge I was on the floor—
I could not lift my hand—after that I became quite insensible—when I came to myself I was alone with Sullivan—I said "You have robbed me, you have also taken a pair of new boots out of my bag"—she made use of fearful language, and took a weapon like a penknife and stabbed me under the eye several blows—I bled profusely all about my face—I was quite stunned, even worse than before—she dragged me on to a bedstead—I heard two or three come in and out of the room, and say "Is she dead?"—the next that took place, was a constable took me off the bedstead and shook me very much, and I came to my reason again pretty well—Sullivan was in the room—she was wearing my hair-net—I recognized it directly, and seized it from her—this is it (produced)—we went to the police-station with the constable, and I charged the two prisoners with robbing me—they denied it—I had a small packet of tea in my bag—I was with the policeman when he found it at the house—the prisoners said they knew nothing about it—I lost 2l. 5s. out of my purse—this is the purse—there was 2d. left in it—I have recovered the hair-net, the tea, and 14s. of my money.
Cross-examined. I lived with Mrs. Knight of Sutton Court—I was there two months—I was going home to my country—I was quite a stranger in London—I left Sutton by the 1 o'clock train, and booked to London Bridge—I left my luggage there tin the next morning—it is at the Newington work-house new, in the care of the master, where I have been ever since—I wanted a letter written, particularly before I left—it was posted and sent—there was nothing particular in it—it was not for a situation; I did not require one at the time—I should think it was 2 or 3 o'clock when I met McCarthy—the letter was written in a little room at the public-house—I went with them after the letter was written, because she said I must sleep one night in the house, to go next morning by the Great Western to my own country—we went straight to her house from the public-house—I should not think the letter was more than half an hour being written—I gave her 1d. to get a stamp from the landlady, and 1s. for writing the letter—I was only in the room a very short time when something was put before my face—it was broad daylight then—it might have been as late ns 6 o'clock, but there was no clock in the room—I heard them talking about money—I did not tell the Magistrate that, because he never asked me—my evidence was read over of 19th August, and I signed it—there are several things I never named—I did not say that she cut me on the neck; it was on the eye, because I can scarcely see out of it How—I don't remember ever saying it was on the neck—she stabbed me under the eye once—it was a very severe stab—I did not go to any doctor about it; I was sent to the union—nothing has been done to me—I bled very profusely for hours—it was not sewn up or touched—there is the mark now—I remember the constable coming in—I heard Sullivan tell him to turn me out, as I was drunk—I had had one glass of beer that day—I was not walking between the two prisoners, drunk, between 5 and 6 o'clock—I know you have witnesses and I have been threatened by them—this is a very common kind of net—I only paid 1 1/2 d. for it—I know it by the elastic, I put it on myself—I heard some persons saying "Is she dead?"—there could not have been more than three, it might be two—that was before the policeman came—I saw a bottle in the room afterwards, and smelt it—there was not the same smell to it—the constable took me to the house afterwards—I can't swear that it was 6 o'clock when I got to the room—the handkerchief was put over my face very shortly after I went—I should think I fell away insensible in a minute—I think there was a
fire-place in the room with fire-irons—the doctor saw me in Newington Union—I told the master of it, and they have been exceedingly kind to me—I have come from there this, morning.
GEORGE WRIGHT (Policeman M 259). Sullivan came to me in High Street, on the evening in question, about 7.40—she said "I want you to come and turn a drunken woman out of my house"—I said "How did she come there?"—she said "It appears two girls had taken, her there, and robbed her, while I was on London Bridge, selling flowers"—as we were going along, someone called out, in the crowd, "That is one, of them"—McCarthy was coming towards me, and Sullivan was walking by my side—I said to McCarthy, "You will have to come back with me"—she said, pointing to Sullivan, "That woman knows nothing about it; her sister had 8s. of the money"—I took her to the house in Harrow Street—Sullivan led the way up stairs, and I found the prosecutrix lying on the bed, apparently insensible, and bleeding from the left eye—I shook her several times, and she came to her senses—I could not detect any smell—her breath did not smell of drink—this black bag was lying by the side of the bed, open—there was a book, a pocket handkerchief, and a few coppers, in it—when the prosecutrix came to her senses, she said "You b——, you are one of them that knocked me down, and robbed me"—Sullivan said "If you say that, I will knock your b——eye out"—blood was running down her face at that time—Sullivan went to arrange her hair net—the prosecutrix said "That is my net," and she snatched it away—the other constable took possession of it—I asked her how she knew it, and she pointed out a knot—it was mixed up with another one at the station, and she picked it out—she said she had lost 2l. 5s., and a pair of boots—McCarthy was not in the room; she was left at the bottom of the stairs, with another constable—I afterwards took McCarthy to the station, and the other constable took Sullivan—Sullivan said she had been on the bridge; it was not her, but her sister—her sister has been apprehended, but the prosecutrix did not identity her—she has one eye, and is a very different looking person.
Cross-examined. Sullivan sells flowers and oranges, on London Bridge—I have seen her there all hours of the day—I found the prosecutrix insensible—she looked very bad—she was bleeding from one eye—I did not find any knife on either of the prisoners—there was a fire-place in the room, with iron bare—there was a wooden bedstead, I think could not say that the cut on the prosecutrix's eye might have been caused by falling against the fire-place—it looked like a out, three-quarters of an inch long—when she came to, she said to Sullivan, "You b——, you are one of them that assaulted me, and knocked me about, and robbed me"—she said "She put a handkerchief in front of my face"—I don't think I said that before the Magistrate, but she did say it—that was about 7.40—the bag was lying by the side of the bed, not concealed at all—Sullivan arranged her hair quite quietly, till she took up the net, and then the prosecutrix jumped up, and said "That is my net"—Sullivan said "It is mine; I bought it'—Sullivan has got a sister—she was apprehended a day or two afterwards, but the prosecutrix could not identify her—she said she was not the person that did it—she is not so tall as that one, and has only got one eye—on the way to Harrow Street, I met McCarthy—a female voice said "That is one of them coming there," and I stopped her.
her, whilst the other constable had gone up stairs—I afterwards went up, and saw the prosecutrix with this net in her hand—I took possession of it, and took it to the station—while the charge was being taken, I saw Sullivan drop this net in the dock, from her right hand—I put the two together, and the prosecutrix picked out her net—I went back to the room afterwards, and in a drawer I found this packet of tea, which the prosecutrix identified—she said "That is my tea"—there were no fire-irons or fender in the room—I found seventeen duplicates in a drawer, in McCarthy's room, at Orange Street, Southwark Bridge Road—I found 2s. 6d., and 4d. in coppers, on Sullivan, and 11s. on McCarthy—I have not seen Matilda Meredith with the prisoners, but I had some conversation with her, and she told me if I wanted to know anything, I must summon her to the Police Court—she lives at the house where the robbery took place, 5, Harrow Street, Borough.
Witness for the Defence.
MATILDA MEREDITH . I live at 5, Harrow Street, and am a widow—Eliza Sullivan lived in the room over me—she went out with a basket in the morning, and sometimes came home in the course of the day, and went out in the evening—about 6 o'clock on the evening of 9th August I saw three women pass the house—McCarthy was one, and Mrs. Tapley, and the other one was a person who stopped two or three days with Sullivan, but she had gone away—I was standing at our door—all three seemed as if they had been drinking—the prosecutrix was in the centre—they came into the house, and went up stairs—I told the prosecutrix to hold up her dress, or she would stumble—they all three went up into Sullivan's room—Mary Sullivan was in the room when they went up—she came down, and afterwards somebody called her, and she went up, and they, McCarthy and the other woman, went out—her name was Cockrane—they left the prosecutrix in the room—Eliza Sullivan came in about three-quarters of an hour afterwards, and I heard her talking up stairs, but I took no notice of it—she afterwards came to me, and said "It is a b——fine thing, that a strange drunken woman should be brought into my humble home. I will go and see if I can find them that brought her in"—she went out, came back again, and went up stairs—I heard a scream, and went up—I saw the prosecutrix on the landing, and I said "My good woman, why don't you go home, you have no business here"—there was some blood on her cheek, and a mark under her eye—Sullivan told her she could not have her there, and she must go out of doors—she said she would not go—I said "Why don't you go?—she hit her hands, and said "I shan't, I won't"—I could hardly understand her—she fell into the room as if she had no power—Sullivan went out, and came back with a policeman—I saw McCarthy with the policeman, and I said "That is one of them"—I have no interest in coming here to-day to give evidence.
Cross-examined. I have lived in that house since last October—the two Sullivans and Cockrane had been there about six weeks—I had not seen McCarthy before—the prosecutrix was walking between the other two—they all seemed muddled with drink—Mary Sullivan was up in the room—she has lost one eye, but she is very much like her sister—I saw Eliza Sullivan go up about three-quarters of an hour after—when I heard the screaming, and went up, Sullivan had her hand on the door, and the prosecutrix was on the landing, screaming—the policeman did not come till about 8 o'clock—I did not call the attention of the police to it, rows are so common
down there—I was rather surprised to see the woman with her eye cut, but it is nothing there to see them with their heads cut.
COURT. Q. Do you know this Mrs. Cockrane? A. I have seen her—I did not know her before she came to lodge in the house—Mary Sullivan lodged there, too—they all three lodged in the same room—Cockrane has gone hopping—she lodged there about a week before the occurrence—I saw her once afterwards, in the Mint—I saw Mary Sullivan this morning in the Mint.
ELLEN DONOVAN . I am married, and live; at Faloon Court, Borough—between 5 and 6 o'clock in the evening, on 9th August, I was going for some beer, and I met McCarthy, and a woman named Cockrane, with the prosecutrix, who was between the two—they all seemed as if they had been drinking, but the prosecutrix seemed more drunk than the others.
Cross-examined. I looked at Cockrane, and she turned her head on one side when she saw me—I stood, and looked after them—they crossed the road towards Harrow Street—the prosecutrix was being led by the other two—I only knew McCarthy by sight—I did not know her as a friend of Cockrane's—I don't know where McCarthy lives.
ELLEN BRYAN . I am married, and live at 9, George Street, Borough—I saw the prisoner Sullivan several times on 9th August, but between 6 and 7 o'clock I met her in Red Cross Street—I asked her what was the matter, and she said "Cockrane and McCarthy have taken a woman into my room, and she is there now, and I don't know what to do with her; she seems as if they had robbed her"—I told her to go to the station—she went, and got a constable, and went back to her house afterwards.
Cross-examined. I know Cockrane, 'but I don't know McCarthy—my house is about a quarter of a mile from Harrow Street—I have known Cockrane five years, and Sullivan about fifteen years. GUILTY
SULLIVAN also PLEADED GUILTY to having been before convicted in December, 1863,— Seven Years' Penal Servitude. McCARTHY— Two Years' Imprisonment.
MR. BOTTOMLEY conducted the Prosecution; MR. T. GOODMAN appeared for the Pearmans, and MR. MOODY for Cox.
JANE CHADWICK . I am the wife of George Chadwick, of 2, Alpha Cottages, Sheepcote Lane, Battersea—on Saturday night, 12th August, David Chapman and his wife were supping with us—I went out, with Mrs. Chapman, about 11.55, to fetch a half-gallon of beer—we met Mr. and Mrs. Brown in Henley Street—he asked me for a drop of beer, and I gave it him—we were coming down Henley Street, and saw Mr. Pearman, and his brother-in-law, Cox—Pearman said "There goes the b——Irish w——, and false witness," meaning me—he got pushing me and Mrs. Chapman about—Brown said "Who do you mean? do you mean me and my wife?"—he said "Yes, the b——lot of you, and specially Mrs. Chadwick, the Irish musk"—he still continued pushing us about, and with that, Mrs. Chapman called out "Murder!"—Mr. Chapman overheard the cries, and rushed from my house, to see what was the matter—he no sooner came up to us than Mr. Pearman said "Here comes the b—b—," and Chapman was knocked down over a heap of dirt—he got up again, and was knocked down against the fence, and Pear
man was on him, and Cox had his head between his legs, against the paling—Mr. Lumsden came up, and was pulling Pearman off Chapman—I saw the blood rush from Chapman's neck—Mrs. Pearman had got her hands over Chapman's face, and was scratching him—I saw no more till he was carried home.
Cross-examined by MR. GOODMAN. This was the first lot of beer we had that night—we bad been in our place all the evening, with Mr. and Mrs. Chapman—they came about 8 or 9 o'clock—I can't answer for what they had before—they had no drink in my house, to my knowledge—they were smoking—it was a starlight night, twilight, neither dark nor light—it was not so very dark—we met Mr. and Mrs. Brown in Henley Street—after giving him a drink of beer but of my jug, he followed us home—he lives in the same lane—he was close behind us when we met Mr. and Mrs. Pearman—he did not do anything to help me, no more than he said "Get away from me; I know nothing of your affairs, neither do you of mine"—Mrs. Chapman did not go up, and spit in Mrs. Pearman's face—Chapman did not run out, and strike Mrs. Pearman on the nose, and run up to Peatman, and knock him down—the only time I saw blood was when Mr. Lumsden pushed Pearman off Chapman, and then I saw the blood spurting from his neck—Mrs. Chapman tore Mrs. Pearman's hat off her head, by taking her off Mr. Chapman—she was scratching his face, and she pulled her by the back hair—she did not get her on the ground, only pushed her on one side, to get her off Mr. Chapman.
Cross-examined by MR. MOODY. I live close by the Chapmans, and have done so about twelve months—I was a witness for Mrs. Chapman once—she summoned the Pearmans—I don't know whether they summoned her—my husband is a porter, at Eley Brothers, in Gray's Inn Road—he was not at home—I don't know whether the Pearmans are market gardeners—I have seen no more of them than passing and re-passing—I had never seen Cox before—I believe he does not live near there—I don't know anything about him—I did not hear the Pearmans say that they had been waylaid by the Chapmans.
MARY CHAPMAN . I am the wife of David Chapman, of 4, Alpha Cottages—I was with Mr. Chapman on this night—we went out to fetch some beer—Mr. Brown asked us to give him a drop, and he was in the act of putting it to his mouth when Pearman and Cox came behind us—Pearman said "There goes a b——Irish lot of false witnesses"—Brown turned round and said "Who do you mean, do you mean me or my wife? If you do, we are not Irish"—Pearman said "The b——lot of you, and the b——Irish w—there," meaning me—I said "Oh, Mr. Brown, do you hear what that mail says to me"—Brown said "Yes, I do"—Pearman said "What did you say?" catching Brown by the collar of his coat—Brown said "Never mind what I say, keep your hands off of me, I don't want to have anything to say to you, nor to do with you; if you don't, I will spend a pound upon you"—Pearman said "I can spend 5l. upon you, and as for that dirty muck there, I could spend more upon her"—I never made any answer—he kept shoving us down the street and abusing us; when we came to the bottom of the street, he collared me by the neck—I screamed, and my screams brought my husband out from Mrs. Chadwick's, without his shoes—Pearman said "Here comes the b——man," and when he came up he faced my husband, and threw him over a heap of dirt, and as soon as he rose on his legs, I saw Mrs. Pearman put her hand in her
right pocket, take something out of it, and hand it to her husband—I could not say what it was—as soon as she handed it to him, he faced my husband, and struck at him in the breast, and I saw the blade of a knife glitter in his hand—my husband fell, and Mr. and Mrs. Pearman were right atop of him as soon as he fell—my husband said "Mary, for God's sake take them off me, for I am a dead man," with that, I faced Mrs. Pearman, and got held of her by the head and shoved her on one side—she went at him again; he was lying down bleeding, the blood was coming right out of his neck—she tore him in eight different places, all over his face, with her finger nails—I tried to pull Mr. Pearman off of him, but he stood there and hit me, and tore me right back and went at my husband again, and my husband's head was between Cox's legs—I did not see him do anything more—I saw no more after that till my husband was taken home as a dead man—I saw Mr. Lumsden and Payne there, they kept Pearman away from home.
Cross-examined by MR. GOODMAN. The Pearmans have sometimes been very aggravating to me—we have not been on bad terms, for I have not spoken to them till lately—Mr. Pearman has been the worst, he always began it—I did not quarrel with him much, I always shut my door up—I took out a summons against them for abusive language, and he took one out against me afterwards—this occurred a fortnight after that—Mrs. Chadwick and I went out to get a half-gallon of beer for supper—we had only had a pot between five of us, above 9 o'clock—I think they brought that from a beer-shop, but I was not there when it came—Brown was not a friend of mine, I don't suppose I ever spoke half-a-dizen words to him—he asked for a drop of the beer, and we did not refuse, he only met us coming down the street—he had nothing to do with us—I did not come out and spit in Mr. or Mrs. Pearman's face—my husband did not run out and strike Mrs. Pearman on the nose, or knock Mr. Pearman down—I did not see any blood on Pearman's face; the only blood I saw on Pearman was the blood on his clothes, from my husband, where he laid on him—I did not see that he had received a severe injury on his face—I did not go to Mrs. Pearman and pull her hat off—I did not pull her ear; I never touched her ear—I did not pull her back hair down—I caught her by the head, and pulled her off my husband, and shoved her back—I don't know that a piece of an earning was found at the spot—I saw it in the Court, at Wandsworth—I don't know that it belonged to Mrs. Pearman—I did not pull it off—on my dying oath, I never touched it—I swear that I saw her put her hand in the right hand pocket of her frock, take out a knife, and hand it to her husband—I should not know the knife if I saw it—the policeman has told me that he found a knife; I have seen that, I could not say that was the knife—the first stab I saw was when Pearman stabbed my husband towards the breast; I could not say what part of the breast it was—I have seen a girl named Graham up here—I did not see her on this occasion—I did not see her about an hour afterwards and say to her "Will you go up to the Court and say that you saw Mr. Pearman stab Mr. Chapman?"—she did not reply that she would not go up, nor did I say, if she would, I would give her sixpence; I can be on my dying oath that I never spoke to the girl—I did not send her for a doctor, it was an elderly woman, living in Henley Street, that fetched him—I don't know Martha Wills (Wills was called in) I know that woman by sight, but I never spoke to her—I did not shortly after this occurrence come into the garden with that woman
and say "Where is she (meaning Mrs. Pearman) is she among you? I saw her take the knife out of her pocket and stab my husband"—I said "Mrs. Pearman, you are the woman that took the knife out of your pocket and gave it to your husband, and he stabbed my husband"—I did not say that Mrs. Pearman had stabbed him—I do not know Jane Nicholls (she was called in)—I never saw her, or spoke to her—I did not say, in her presence, that I saw Mrs. Pearman take a knife out of her pocket and stab my husband—I did not see her stab him, it was Mr. Pearman.
Cross-examined by MR. MOODY. At the time of this summons and cross-summons I did not know Cox at all—I had only seen him once before that night, and that was about six months ago, close to Pearman's house—I never spoke to him in my life—Mrs. Brown is not here to-day—at the time the stabbing took place, there were Mr. and Mrs. Chadwick, Mr. and Mrs. Brown, and myself, on our side, and the Pearmans and Cox on the other, and Mrs. Pearman's little girl was there; she is about ten or twelve years old—we had only had one pot of beer among five, that I saw—I don't think there was any more in the house; I am certain there was not—Mrs. Chadwick's brother, and a friend of his, told us to go and get a drop of beer for supper—we did not go into the place, it was shut, and we waited outside till they gave it us—I did not see Cox strike my husband at all—my husband is not Irish, I am.
Re-examined. Brown was there when the stabbing took place—his wife pulled him away—he was not doing anything, that I know of.
DAVID CHAPMAN . I was in Mrs. Chadwick's house—I heard my wife call out "Murder!" and I came out—Pearman had got my wife by the throat—before I did anything, he shoved me over a heap of dirt—Cox and Mrs. Pearman fell on the top of me, and when I rose to my legs Cox struck me on the left side of the neck with a knife; as I staggered from Cox, Pearman stabbed me in the left breast—that was also done with a knife—I have the wounds to show now—I saw the knife in Cox's hand—I did not see a knife in Pearman's hand, but I felt the smart of it in my breast—I fell on the ground, and received three other wounds while I was down—I said to my wife "For God's sake, Mary, keep them away from me, I am a dead man!" and then Mrs. Pearman fell on me and scratched my face in eight places—I don't recollect anything more till Sunday morning, at 8.30.
Cross-examined. Cox stabbed me first—I can't say where he got the knife from—I say that Pearman stabbed me in the breast—I don't know whether he stabbed me more than once—I received three after I fell, but I lost my eyesight, and don't know anything more after that—Cox bad the knife in his right hand, and he stabbed me on the left side of the neck.
Cross-examined by MR. MOODY. Cox was almost a stranger to me till that night—I had seen him once before, and he threatened my life then—that was last February—he took no part in the cross summonses, that I am aware of—I remember nothing after I called oat to my wife till the next morning—some of the wounds were inflicted while I was on the ground; two or three at the same time—I did not feel the cuts then, but I found them on my body next morning.
JAMES LUMSDEN . I live at 35, Parkside Street, Battersea—on Saturday night, 12th August, I heard the cry of a young girl—I went up and saw five or six persons—I saw a man on the ground with his head between Pearman's legs—I took hold of Pearman and pulled him off—he was leaning over the man's body—I pulled him back several yards, and told him to
stand there, and asked him what he was doing with the man—he said he had been waylaid—I put my hand down, and my fingers went into the wound in Chapman's neck, and said "They have been cutting the man"—Mr. Payne came down with me to the spot—he took his handkerchief out, and we bound up his neck, and with the assistance of two others we got him home, and a doctor was sent for—I did not leave Chapman until I saw him into bed—after we got the neck dressed, we stripped his clothes off, and there were other wounds on the body—we afterwards went to the police-station—we were there examined—Pearman was in the dock when I went in—his wife was there—depositions were taken—he said he was innocent, he did not do it, but he knew who did—he said he had no knife—we were about to leave, when he asked for Benjamin Cox to be called in—the inspector asked us to wait for a minute or two to see the other party—Cox came in, and the inspector asked him what he knew of the case—he said he had been listening to Mrs. Chapman giving her evidence, and it was all a parcel of lies; that Pearman did not do it, and that it was he, Cox, that had done it, and he only—the inspector told Pearman to come out of the dock, and he said to Cox "And you go in"—as Pearman came out, he said "I threw the knife away, coming across the field," and he described the knife—he said it was a white bone handled knife, with a piece off the end of it—he said they threw it away over the park, as they came across the field; he could take them and show them the place—Cox was asked if he had a knife, and he said that was to be found out—we then left—it was about 5 o'clock in the morning.
Cross-examined by MR. GOODMAN. I am perfectly sure it was Pearman who gave the description of the knife—this knife (produced) answers the description perfectly—Cox said "I did it; Pearman had nothing to do with it. I was knocked down, I took out my knife, and used it freely. I should know the man again who knocked me down."
Cross-examined by MR. MOODY. I did not see Cox till I got to the station—after I had attended Chapman, I found that the prisoners were already at the station—they said they were waylaid, and they went to make a charge for assault against Chapman—Pearman said, when I took him away, they had been waylaid—I did not know the names of the persons till I got into Chapman's house, and then I knew Chapman—Pearman was standing over Chapman, and his head was between Pearman's legs.
HENRY WILLIAM PAYNE . I was with Mr. Lumsden—heard screams, and we ran down to the bottom of the street—I saw three or four persons engaged in a struggle—I heard a little girl say "They have killed my father"—there was a man on the ground, and a man on the top of him, and two women—one woman was trying to pull the other one off the man who was on the ground—Mrs. Pearman was the woman on the top of man, who I have since discovered was Mr. Chapman—one man was on the top, and, as far as I can remember of it, that man was at the man's head, which was lying towards the lamp-post, and his feet toward the palings—Mrs. Chapman's back was towards the lamp-post—I have since discovered that Pearman was the man at Chapman's head—Mr. Lamsden pulled him off, and I pulled Mrs. Chapman on one side—she was pulling at Mrs. Pearman—Pearman was placed against the fence; and he said "You know me very well"—I said "Yes"—I knew him by sight, and have spoken to him several times—I said "Whatever have you been doing? you have killed this man"—he said "I have not done it; I have been waylaid by take persons"—I
did not know at that time the man was stabbed—I stooped down, and found he was groaning very heavily—I called for a light, and on looking at him, I found he was bleeding in the neck—I said "The man is dying; go for a doctor"—I saw three or four men at the corner of Henky Street, and one man standing by himself—I tied a handkerchief round the man's neck, and assisted in carrying him home—I bathed his temples, and placed some goldbeaters' skin on, till the doctor arrived—I don't know who went for the doctor.
Cross-examined by MR. GOODMAN. I did not see that Mrs. Pearman was trying to pull her husband away—Mrs. Chapman was trying to pull Mrs. Pearman away—Cox said, at the station, "I did it, and no one else," but previous to that, the charge had been entered against Mr. and Mrs. Pearman, and I never saw Cox, to recognize him, till I saw him sitting in the station, and then I discovered he was the man I had seen standing by himself—he was entirely away from them—his coat was thrown a little way off Jus shoulder, and he had no hat on; but he was not engaged in the struggle, or seem to be connected with it—it was about 3 o'clock in the morning when Cox gave himself up at the station.
Cross-examined by MR. MOODY. When I got to the spot, the only persons I saw together were the two Pearmans and the two Chapmans—I did not see the Chadwicks or the Browns—there were some persons struggling at the corner, but I don't know who they were—I can't say that it was Pearman's little girl who said "They are killing my father"—I only saw one little girl there—Chapman only had his trowsers and shirt on; he had no boots—I did not see Mrs. Chadwick there at the time—I saw her afterwards, at Mrs. Chapman's, because she fetched the water—I saw Mr. and Mrs. Brown at the house, afterwards—I saw some beer there, and I had some of it, some time after—it was on the kitchen table—I did not see any beer in the road, or anyone carrying any—they told me they had been for the beer, but I don't know that for a fact—there was about a half-gallon of beer in the house—I had a glass—it was poured from a small jug.
JAMES BROWN . I live at 9, Gainsborough Cottages, Sheepoote Lane—I was with my wife on this night, and I saw Mrs. Chapman and Mrs. Chadwick—I asked Mrs. Chadwick for some beer—she gave me some, and we went down the street together—I saw the prisoners coming behind us—Pearman said "There go the b——Irish lot"—Mrs. Chapman went up, and said "You villain, what do you mean?"—Pearman turned round, and called her ab——Irish we—she said "You hear that, Mr. Brown?" and I said "Yes"—Pearman came behind me, and caught hold of me, and said "What do you say?"—I said "Never mind what I said; I can say what you said again"—he kept pulling and hauling me about—I told him to get away from me; I did not want to have anything to do with him—he kept pulling me about right down the street, and I said if he did not get away I would spend 1l. on him on Monday morning, and he said "I can spend 5l. on you," and turning to Mrs. Chapman, he said "I can spend 10l. on you"—Mrs. Chapman called him a vagabond—he collared her in his two hands by the neck, and I thought he was going to strangle her—she called "Murder!"—people ran up from all parts of the field—Mr. Chapman came up, without any shoes on, and no waistcoat or hat—Pearman knocked him down—I ran to see it, but my wife pulled me away—I got away from her, and went back again—I saw Mrs. Pearman on, the top of Mr. Chapman—my wife came, and pulled me away the second time, and I went down across
the fields—when I got to the end of the field, I heard that Mr. Chapman had been stabbed.
Cross-examined by MR. GOODMAN. I am not a friend of Mrs. Chapman, we only pass the time of day as we meet—we went down the road talking, after she gave me the beer, and these persons came up—I said if Pearman did not get away, I would spend 1l. on him—I meant to take him to Wandsworth, and take out a summons against him—I did not mean that I would assault him—I did not want to aggravate him at all—I did not see the knife used at all.
Cross-examined by MR. MOODY. There were a lot of them on the ground together, after Pearman knocked Chapman down—I left before Mr. Lumsden and Mr. Payne came up.
SARAH TALBOT . I am married, and live at Edgar Street, Battersea—on the night of 12th August, as I was coming home from market, I heard cries of "Murder!" at the bottom of the street where I live—I saw one woman having another one down by her hair, and I saw one man run at another, and as he was going to strike, I saw the glitter of a knife in his hand—the man who had the knife had a Leghorn hat on—I saw the man fall, and he never rose till he was carried a way—a policeman came up, and a woman asked him to go for a doctor—the policeman said "No, I shan't you go," and the woman went for a doctor—the man was taken up, and carried away, and I came away."
Cross-examined by MR. GOODMAN. I am quite sure the man who had the knife, had on a Leghorn hat—I mean a straw hat.
Cross-examined by MR. GOODMAN. I can't say whether it was a straw-hat Pearman had—it was a light hat—it may have been felt, I can't swear.
H. W. PAYNE (re-examined). I had a white Leghorn hat on on this night—Pearman had no hat on, neither had Cox—at the station Cox had a black hat, to the best of ray belief—I could not say that Pearman had a straw hat—he had no hat when I saw him taken off Mr. Chapman.
HENRY STERLING (Policeman V 71). On Sunday morning, 13th August, about 12.15, I went up and found Chapman lying on his back, with a wound gaping open in the left side of his neck—there were-about twenty people there then—I saw him raised, and carried home—after we got him home Pearman and his wife came close to the gate, and wanted me to take Chapman and his wife into custody for an assault on them—I was at the gate to keep the crowd out of the yard—I told them I should do nothing of the kind till the doctor had attended to him—I found them all at the station when I went there—I heard Pearman say the knife was thrown over into Battersea Park—he did not say who had thrown it—I went to look for it—I came back about 8.30, and said I could not find it—Peannaa said, "I know it is there, for I saw it thrown over"—Cox said "Yes, I know it is there, I threw it there myself; it is about ten yards over the park constable's box," and he described the knife—I found it on the Tuesday this is it—it answers the description Cox gave me—he said a piece was broken off—there were smears of blood on it when I found it—laboured the knife to Cox, and he said it was his.
Cross-examined. I found the knife, from the description Cox gave me—Poarman only said he saw it thrown away—he said he believed it was a block handled one, and Cox afterwards said it was a white handled one, and a piece broken off—I did not hear of any other knife, and I could not find one—Pearman had a light Leghorn hat on, with a broad brim, and a light suit—after he was allowed out on bail he went away with it, and I have not seen it since—I have a bit of an earring which was given to me by a lad named Boyd—it was found in a pool of blood—I noticed a piece was missing from Mrs. Doorman's earring, and the piece corresponds, and fits the centre part of the earring.
JOHN HENRY HARRISON (Police Inspector V). On the morning of 13th August, about 1.30, the three prisoners came to the station, but before that I had heard that a man had been stabbed—Pearman told me that he had been assaulted across the fields by Mrs. Chapman—I said "Very well"—we had some conversation upon it, and then he was going away; but when he said a man had been stabbed, and persons about there said that he had done it, I said "Very well, then you had better stop, as I have received information that a man has been stabbed"—he wished to go away—I told him he could not go; I should detain him till the officers came back—Cox said there had been a fight, and he corroborated what Pearman said, that Pearman had been assaulted—Mrs. Chapman came to the station afterwards—she said in the prisoners' presence that her husband had been stabbed by Pearman, and that she had seen Mrs. Pearman take a knife out of her pocket and hand it to her husband—after the charge was taken against Pearman and his wife, Cox said "Now I have heard what that woman has said about my sister giving the knife to her husband, Pearman did not stab him at all, I am the man that stabbed him."
Cross-examined by MR. GOODMAN. When I say Pearman wanted to go away, I mean they all three wanted to go—Pearman had evidently had a severe blow in the face—he was covered with blood in front, and I sent for a surgeon—his nose had been bleeding—there was a good deal of blood on his face, caused by injuries on himself—the surgeon said he had received a blow, and it was his own blood—Mrs. Pearman had been struck—Cox said afterwards that Chapman took him round the waist and threw him, and he struck Chapman with a knife without thinking, and he was sorry for it—he took the blame of the whole thing on himself—Mrs. Chapman heard Cox say that, and she repeated what she said before—I think it was a straw hat Pearman was wearing—I can't say whether it was a Leghorn—I think it was a light coloured straw—I heard the description of a knife given at the station by Cox, and I saw the knife when it was found—I think Mrs. Chapman said she saw the blade, and it appeared to be a short knife.
Cross-examined by MR. MOODY. Cox said there was a regular fight; that they had waylaid his brother-in-law, and assaulted him—I did not hear that Cox was injured—I heard that he had been in Poplar Hospital some time previous, on account of illness.
WILLIAM GOODSON . I live at 247, Lower Wandsworth Road, and am a Licentiate of the Associate of Apothecaries—on 12th August, about 12.40, I was called to see Chapman—I found five incised wounds; one in the
neck, two on the front part of the chest, one on the back part of the chest, near the spine, and another on the back part of the arm—the wound on the neck had taken a direction from behind, forward—it commenced about an inch below the ear, and took a superficial course for a short distance, and appeared to stop at the jaw—it was in an oblique direction—the one on the chest was also oblique from left to right—the wounds were all in dangerous situations, but they tunied out not to be dangerous—he seems to have recovered now—I think a knife of this description would afflict the wounds on the chest, but I can't say about the neck and the arm—they were rather different, but they might have been done with this knife—the wound on the back was a plain stab—I should imagine it was given when the man was down.
Cross-examined by MR. GOODMAN. All the wounds might have been caused by this knife—my opinion is, that those on the chest and back were done by a knife of this description—the others might have been—the wounds were not dangerous in themselves, but they were in dangerous parts—the wound on the neck was just over the jugular vein—if it had been a little deeper the man must have died—I could feel the artery beating when I put my finger in the wound.
MR. GOODMAN called the following Witnesses for the Defence.
CATHERINE MARTHA RACHEL GRAHAM . I am twelve years old, and live with my mother at 11, Bagley Street, Calvert Road—I remember the Saturday night when the row took place—I saw Mrs. Chapman hit Mrs. Pearman, and knock her down—Mrs. Chapman spit in Mr. Peatman's face—Mr. Chapman came out, and he hit Mr. Pearman on the nose, and knocked him down—he hit Mrs. Pearman first, and then he struck Mr. Pearman on the nose, and knocked him down—I saw Mr. Pearman's nose bleeding—he was smothered with blood—Mrs. Chapman hit Mrs. Pearmaing, and tore her hat off her head—I was quite close—I did not see any cutting take place—I understood afterwards that Mr. Chapman had been stabbed—I saw Mrs. Chapman at her gate after that, and she wanted me to go up and swear that it was Mr. Pearman stabbed Mr. Chapman, and she said she would give me 6d.—I said I would not go and tell a story.
Cross-examined. We have known the Pearmans seven years—I have not known Cox—I was coming home from meeting mother from work—she works down the road, washing at a public laundry—she was not with me then; she was coming after me—I was coming down Henley Street, and I saw Mr. and Mrs. Pearman—they were going home—Mr. Cox and Mrs. Cox were with them—I met them—I first noticed Mrs. Chapman hit Mrs. Pearman—I had my back to Mrs. Pearman then, but I looked round after—that was about five minutes after I passed them—I had been walking on the whole time—I can't tell how far I was off—it was awful dark—I turned round, and stood still, and went towards where the stab was done—I was Mrs. Chapman hit Mrs. Pearman then—I had not met Mrs. Chapman—she said some language, but I could not make out what it was—I heard her talking—I did not hear what anyone else said—Mw. Chapman spoke to me about the 6d. at hor gate—I don't know what time it was—it was them same night—I knew Mrs. Chapman, but I had never spoken to her before—I went past her house, because we live over that way—mother was not with me when she spoke to me—she said she wanted me to go and swear it was Mr. Pearman stabbed Mr. Chapman—I don't know how she began—she called me—she said "If you will go and swear that it was Mr. Pearman
stabbed Mr. Chapman, I will give you 6d.," and I said "No, Mrs. Chapman I won't tell a story," and Mrs. Rowe wanted me to take it from Mrs. Chapman—she was there at the time—there was a good crowd of people there when the row began—I have not spoken to anyone about this—I told Mrs. Pearman that Mrs. Chapman had offered me 6d.—I have only told the solicitor about the fight.
COURT Q. Do I understand that you saw Mrs. Chapman hit Mrs. Pearman? A. Yes—she spit in Mr. Pearman's face—I did not see him do anything, and then Mr. Chapman hit him in the nose, and knocked him down—that was just against Henley Street—Mr. Chapman was with his wife when she hit Mrs. Pearman—he had got no coat on; he was in his shirt sleeves, just against his gate—I was standing still there—I was not as far off as this room—Mr. Pearman was bleeding after he was struck on the nose—I did not see him do anything—he stood perfectly still—Mr. Cox did not do anything—Mrs. Cox screamed "Murder!" that was all—I saw that there were two men on Mr. Cox, and one was Mr. Chapman, punching him, and I can't tell you the other—Cox was standing in the middle of the pathway, and Chapman and another man were punching him—he was knocked down, and they kneeled on him—I did not see Mr. Brown there—I did not see any cutting—I stayed there a good time—I think Mrs. Pearman went home after that—I don't know where Chapman went—I could not say whether Mrs. Pearman went in the direction of the police-station, or whether she went home—I did not see how it ended—I walked on again, towards my own house—I saw Mrs. Chapman not long afterwards; before I went to bed—she was at her gate—there were a good many policeman there—I did not see a policeman at the gate—I did not see Mr. Chapman when Mrs. Chapman was speaking to me—she was standing at her gate, crying—there was no policeman standing at the gate; he was inside.
MAHTHA. WILLS . I am the wife of Joseph Wills, and live at 23, Henley Street, Battersea Park—on the 12th August, about 12 o'clock, I heard cries of "Murder!"—I went up—Mr. Pearman had just pulled himself away from a crowd that seemed to be struggling together—he was bleeding from the nose and mouth—he said "You see, Mrs. Wills, how I have been treated; I have been waylaid; you saw me going home quietly" and I said "Yes"—he had no hat on—I saw one on the ground, and picked it up and said "Is that your hat?"—he said "I think not, it is my brother's, I think"—it was a black hat—I did not see any of the cutting—I saw Mrs. Chapman, the same evening, after the row was over, come out of the garden and she said "Is she among you?—some one in the crowd said "Who?"—she said "Mrs. Pearman; I will In her if I get her, for she stabbed my husband; I saw her do it, she took a knife out of her pocket, it was a penknife"—I have known Mr. and Mrs. Pearman, some time, as neighbours—I have found them quiet, inoffensive persons.
Cross-examined. The solicitor sent for me to come here—I saw Mr. Pearman, a few minutes before 12 o'clock, going down the street with a man and three women—I did not see the row.
JANE NICHOLLS . My husband's name is Frederick William Nicholls, and, we live at 21, Henley Street—about 12 o'clock on this night, I saw Mrs. Chapman strike a man in front of my door—I should know the man again—I saw her some time afterwards come out into the garden, she said "Where is she? I will limb her; is she amongst you; for I saw her take
the knife from her pocket and stab my husband"—"A penknife" she said—that was between 12 and 1 o'clock on the Sunday morning.
Cross-examined. I saw the fight in the street, opposite my door—I saw Mrs. Chapman fall on Mr. Pearman three distinct times—Mr. Pearman moved away from her—I did not see Mr. Cox—I saw Mrs. Pearman, but I had never seen her before.
COURT to HENRY STERLING Q. Did you see Chapman carried home? A. I did—I followed him up—I stood at the gate, to keep away the crowd, as soon as the wounded man was taken inside—I saw his wife in the yard, she said her husband was stabbed—there were a number of persons there who wanted to know what was the matter, and she said "He is stabbed"—she did not go outside the yard at all, and was not out of my sight till 4.30, when I was going away to look for the knife—I did not see tie little girl Graham that night—I was standing close to the gate, leaning over it—there were four or five other constables there, outsider—Mrs. Chapman was standing back from me, and I was close to the gate.
JOHN PEARMAN and COX— GUILTY of unlawfully wounding.—Five Years' Penal Servitude each.
EMMA PEAKMAN.— NOT GUILTY .
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
LOUISA WHITE . I live at 4, Upper Marsh, Westminster Bridge Road—my husband is a smith—I let unfurnished loggings—on 7th August the prisoner came to my house, and asked what apartments I had to let—she looked at them, and said they would do—she said she had been walking all the morning, and was very tired—I asked her into my own apartment, and made her some tea, as she seemed very weary—she said she had come from Working; that she had travelled with Mine Nightingale, as one of her sisters, in the Crimean war, and that she had an engagement at the New St. Thomas's Hospital, as one of the sisters there; that when she came up from Working on the Sunday, as she came to me on the Monday, she brought 25s. with her, 5s. she spent for a bed on the Sunday night, and the other 20s. she had spent in charities, which was a sister's duty to do—slie took out a pair of earrings, and a brooch, and asked me if I could make money of them for her—I said I was not in the habit of frequenting pawnbroker's shops, neither did I know anyone that was—she then said would I let her have 10s. until the morning—the said she was going to receive 30l. from the Post Office Savings' Bank in Westminster Bridge Road, and she would pay me hack again then—upon that representation I let her Have 10s.—she told me that Miss Nightingale had made her a present of the earrings, and she valued them very much, indeed—she took the apartments, and said that of course she had hitherto lived in the hospital; that she had so much money allowed her to furnish her place, and directly she got her post-office order would I go with her to Atkinson's and order her furniture—I said "Yes," which was done, but before that she had 40s. of me, 10s. on the 7th, and 20s. on the 9th, and another 10s. on the 10th, making some excuse about not being able to get her money because she ought to have given longer notice—I saw the outside of a letter that she had—this it—it has on it "On H. M. Service, Savings' Bank Department, G. P. O., Mrs. L. Vincent"
—(This being read was an acknowledgement of 1s. deposit.)—I did not see the inside till I went to the police-station—she said she had a large amount, 350l., to receive on the Thursday, on account of a railway accident that she had met with.
Cross-examined. I had never seen her before the 7th August—she did not tell me that a friend would find her some money—she said she was receiving a pension that her husband had left her, that she had plenty of money to live upon; only she travelled as a nurse voluntarily; she did not require it; she did it because she felt inclined to do so—I did not lend her the first money before she spoke of the money in the bank—she said all the banks were closed, and she did not know what to do, she was penniless—I lent her 10s. first—that was on the brooch—I don't know the value of it—she said she had met with a serious railway accident, that her leg and arm were smashed, and on the Thursday she would be in receipt of 350l., and then all she had of me she would repay—she told me that on the 7th, during the time she was having her tea—she told me who she was before I got her tea—directly she came into my room, she sat down, and said "Now I will tell you who I am"—if she had not promised to pay me again, I should not have let her have the money—I quite believed about the accident and the 350l.—she showed me her arm, where it had been injured—it was her promise to repay me which had induced me to lend her the money—she was a perfect stranger to me—I lent it her, believing she had 350l. coming, and that she had money in the Savings' Bank—she told me about the Savings' Bank first.
HENRY SPENCER WELLS . I am a clerk in the Post-Office Savings' Bank—I have searched the books, and find that on 11th August 1s. was deposited at Lambeth, in the name of Louisa Vincent—there is no account in the name of Foley.
SUSAN PLUMSTEAD . I live at 134, Stamford Street, Waterloo Road—on 11th August the prisoner came to me and asked for apartments; I had a bill in my window—she gave the name of Foley, and asked how much a week the apartments were—I said 10s.—she took off a jacket and pledged it for 4s., to get some little articles in that she wanted—she showed me a bank book, and said she could not get the money because there was a mistake in the name, that she had no money, and could not get it till Monday, when she would receive 10l.—and on the Monday she sat down and gave an order for the whole amount, which was 73l. 3s., payable at Stamford Street, on the Thursday—on that representation I lent her 12s.—on the Thursday she went after the money, and said she could not receive it till Saturday, from some mistake, or she would have to forfeit 3l. 3s.—I said "You had better not lose that for the sake of a day, I will make some money;" and I went and pledged some things of my own, for 12s., and gave her the money—she told me that she had lived with Lord Chief Justice Bovill, and made herself generally useful, as nurse to her ladyship.
Cross-examined. Altogether I let her have about 2l. 10s. in different sums—she came on the 11th August—she did not have any money that day—she sent her jacket to pledge for 4s.—she told me she would repay me the money I lent her, if she had not said so I should not have lent it her—she said she had got 550l. for railway damages—I believed her story.
would be charged with obtaining 2l. from Mrs. White, by false pretences—she said she was very sorry—I said "You were pleading poverty, and you have money in the post-office savings' bonk—she said "No, it is false, I have none."
She toot further charged with having been before convicted.
GEORGE JACOB HOWLEY (Policeman B 228). I produce a certificate—(This certified the conviction of Elizabeth Welsford at that Court, in September, 1868, for forgery, sentence five years penal servitude )—The prisoner is the person there mentioned—she was also tried at the Clerkenwell Sessions, in 1865, for fraud, and sentenced totwelve months' imprisonment; and on 16th October, 1866, she had three months', from Westminster Police Court, for obtaining a sovereign by false pretences.
GUILTY— Fifteen Years' Penal Servitude.
702. WILLIAM LEGROVE (46) , PLEADED GUILTY ** to feloniously uttering counterfeit coin, after a conviction of a like-offence in November, 1861— Ten Years' Penal Servitude. He had been three times convicted of uttering.
Omitted from last Sessions.
NOT GUILTY .
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, 23RD OCTOBER, 1871.