CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT
FIRST SESSION, HELD NOVEMBER 20TH, 1871.
MINUTES OF EVIDENCE,
TAKEN IN SHORT-HAND, BY
Short-hand Writers to the Court,
ROLLS CHAMBERS, No. 89, CHANCERY LANE.
SESSIONS I TO VI.
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, November 20th, 1871, and following days,
BEFORE THE RIGHT HON. SILLS JOHN GIBBONS, LORD MAYOR of the City of London; Sir GEORGE WILSHIRE BRAMWELL, Knt., one of the Barons of Her Majesty's Court of Exchequer; Sir HENRY SINGER KEATING, Knt., one of the Justices of Her Majesty's Court of Common Pleas; THOMAS SIDNEY , Esq., Sir ROBERT WALTER GARDEN , Knt., ROBERT BISLEY , Esq., Sir THOMAS DAKIN , Knt., ANDREW LUSK , Esq., and CHARLES WHETHAM , Esq., Aldermen of the said City; THOMAS CHAMBERS , Esq., Q.C., M.P., Common Serjeant of the said City (acting as Deputy-Recorder); 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.
CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.
GIBBONS, MAYOR. FIRST 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, November 20th, 1871,
Before Mr. Common Serjeant (acting as Deputy Recorder).
MR. METCALFE for the Prosecution offered no evidence.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. STRAIGHT conducted the Prosecution; and MR. BESLET the Defence.
RICHARD EDGAR CATLIN . I am a house-dealer at Leicester—in November, 1870, I was indebted to Messrs. Becker & Jung 10l. 7s.—the prisoner called on me for payment—I paid him with this cheque (produced and received this receipt from him—(Read: "07305. 14th November, 1870 Received of Mr. Catlin 10l. 7s. cheque; for Becker & Jung, Frank Chater." counterfoil in the receipt book corresponds in number, but the date is 18th November—the word "cheque" Is struck out, and "gold 10l." written—the cheque has been returned to me through my bankers.
Cross-examined. I had been a customer of Messrs. Faber several years—I first saw the defendant as their representative about two months previous to paying him the account—I had never given him an order, I know very little of him—I had received a letter from Becker & Jung to pay the defendant.
CHARLES WILLIAM SNELL . I keep the Star Hotel at Newmarket—I have dealt with Becker & Jung for some time—in April last I was indebted 'to them 25l. 11s. 6d.—I had arranged with my creditors to pay 10s. in the pound, in consequence of which I paid 12l. 15s. 9d. to the prisoner in cash, and he gave me this receipt—(Read: "07321. August 6th, 1871. Received of Mr. C. Snell 12l. 15s. 9d., as a composition of 10s. in the pound on a debt of 25l. 11s. 6d.; for Becker & Jung, Frank Chater."
Cross-examined. I first saw the defendant when I paid him the money—the account had been standing about nine months—he had nothing to do with getting the orders on which the debt was incurred—I had put my affairs in the hands of a solicitor—all my creditors knew what was proposed.
LOUIS FABER . I am a member of the firm of Becker & Jung, of 8, Rood Lane, wine merchants—I hare one partner—in October, 1870, I employed the prisoner as traveller for the Nottingham and Leicestershire district.
MR. BESLEY. Q. Was the arrangement to which you came put into writing? A. Yes, in a letter sent to the prisoner.
MR. BESLEY submitted that it was not competent for the witness to state the terms orally, as the best evidence of it was the writing.
MR. STRAIGHT said that notice to produce the letter had been given.
The notice to produce was ready and it was only a notice to produce at the Mansion House previous to the prisoner's committal.
MR. BESLEY cited "Reg. v. Elsworthy" to show that the notice to produce must be to produce at the trial. MR. STRAIGHT submitted that no notice to produce was necessary, as the indictment alleged the relationship of master and servant, and was itself sufficient notice to the prisoner to produce the letter of engagement.
MR. BESLEY again cited the "Queen v. Elsworthy". (10 Cox Criminal Cases 579), in which the point was decided that notice was necessary.
MR. STRAIGHT. Q. At what rate did you pay him? A. 2l. salary and 2l. expenses per week, and a commission of 5 per cent.—we paid him by cheque—I have all his letters here—I never received from him the 10l. 7s. paid by Mr. Catlin, or the 12l. 15s. 9d. paid by Mr. Snell—he said Mr. Catlin had paid with a bank note, and he had lost it—that was about 17th or 18th November—with reference to Snell's account he wrote a letter stating that was as much as could be got out of him, and very likely we might lose the whole lot—in August this year I had occasion to bring him to London—we had instructed our solicitors to write stating certain accounts that he had received and not accounted for, and to make arrangements with him for paying them—we were not then aware that he had received these two sums—this (produced) is the account that was sent down to him, and it came back with him—I don't think there is any of the prisoner's writing upon it—this other paper is his writing; we did not receive that, I never heard of it—when he came to our office in London he brought with him this receipt-book with counterfoils—that was in August, or the beginning of September—he had got that book from the firm—it is a similar book to those given to our other travellers—he told me that two receipts which he had torn out were employed for receipt stamps—I had called his attention to the absence of the counterfoil to Snell's receipt—I received this letter from him—(This was dated 23 rd October, 1870, in which he stated, "Any accounts I receive I shall always remit to you per first post")—This is another letter of his—(This was dated 2nd November, 1870, and stated, "Mr. Catlin tells me he will remit his account in a few days; if not, you must write him. I believe him to be all right, but very long-winded. I have 2l. of yours in hand, but shall not by any means touch it, so that it cannot at all interfere with our arrangements")—I have a large number of letters received from the defendant—he did not send accounts to us day by day—statements were sent to him—sometimes he sent up sums as he collected them, sometimes not—he did not furnish a statement every week—that was our wish and our arrangement—I mean the arrangement in writing.
MR. BESLEY received his objection that the production of the letter was necessary in order to establish the relation of master and servant, and cited"Reg. v. Montagu Taylor" (10 CQX Criminal Cases, p. 564).
The DEPUTY RECORDER said that it wet often very difficult to decide whether a person was employed at an agent or at a servant. If employed as an agent the crime of embezzlement could not be committed, and in the absence of the letter how could the COURT say that the prisoner was engaged as a clerk or servant.
NOT GUILTY .
WILLIAM SHREWSBURY . I live at Nottingham—in June last I was indebted 13l. 15s. to Messrs. Becker & Jung—I paid the prisoner with this cheque—the words on it "or order" Hare been erased; I can't say who did that; I did not—I received from him this receipt.
Cross-examined. I did not cross the cheque—I am quite positive I did not erase the words "or order" Nor was it done by any of my servants—this was the first account I paid the prisoner.
LOUIS FABER . I did not authorise the prisoner to sign the name of the firm at the back of this cheque; it was not done with our authority—I communicated with Mr. Shrewsbury with reference to his account, and received an answer from him—in consequence of which I wrote to the prisoner, and received from him this answer—(This was dated 26th, August, 1871, and stated that he had forwarded the amount of shrewsbury's account with other turns, in Sank of England notes for 25l., the numbers and dates of which he gave)—We did receive two 10l. notes about that time for a Mr. Ladkins' account.
Cross-examined. I never told the prisoner not to endorse cheques—we did not take any means to trace the Bank of England notes he mentioned, because we did not believe his statement—this 13l. 15s. was included in the amount, for which we asked for a bill of sale—the idea of forgery did not occur after we had seen our solicitor—I sent cheques to the bank by my clerks—I have not sent cheques not endorsed by me which they have endorsed—Mr. Becker, my partner, is not residing here—a Mr. Rummell has his procuration to sign cheques.
Re-examined. The endorsement on the cheque is the prisoner's writing. The prisoner received a good character.
NOT GUILTY .
There were two other indictments against the prisoner, upon which no evidence was offered.
MR. SERJEANT SLEIGH and MR. STRAIGHT conducted the Prosecution.
ISAAC BATTEN . I am a member of the firm of Batten & Co., 126, Lower Thames Street, wholesale grocers—I was carrying on business in 1859 at the same place—prior to 1859 the prisoner had been in my service as 'a traveller—in the early part of 1859, or the end of 1858, I called his attention to some deficiencies in his accounts—he made some explanation to me, and for a time I was satisfied—in consequence of some communication I had with a customer I again sent for him in reference to moneys not being paid—his explanation then was not satisfactory, and I told him that I considered it my duty to prosecute him—he appealed to me on behalf of his wife and children—I was moved by that appeal, and made up my mind not to prosecute—I obtained from him a written document, of which this is a printed copy—the original has been lost—(Read: " London, March 1,
1859, to Messrs. James and Isaac Batten. I hereby acknowledge that I have, whilst in your employ as traveller, appropriated various sums of money belonging to you, amounting to upwards of 100l., which I had collected on your behalf, and I hereby further acknowledge that I was not driven to commit this fraud by being inadequately paid, as I was in receipt of a salary of 150l. and all expenses, not exceeding one guinea a day, and I hereby authorise and empower you to publish this acknowledgment of my guilt, and to use the same in any manner you may think proper so to do; at the same time I beg to acknowledge your kindness in not prosecuting out of consideration to my wife and family, Charles Nutley.")—On consenting to forego the prosecution the prisoner signed that statement—his service then ceased with us—some time afterwards I heard that he was spreading reports about our firm, and I had that statement printed, and sent copies to various customers—he still continued to annoy us, and in 1861 I instituted proceedings against him at the Greenwich Police Court, and he then entered into an undertaking not to molest us, which was in these terms—(Read: "I beg to express my sincere regret for the annoyance to which I have subjected you by the publication of certain scurrilous and libellous placards, letters, &c., and for which you have commenced a criminal prosecution against me; I now confess that my statements in those publications reflecting on your character are entirely false and without foundation, and hereby retract and publicly apologise for the same, and I authorise you to publish this if you think proper to do so. Charles Nutley, April 1st, 1861.")—In consideration of that being given I was willing to stay any further criminal proceedings, and I did so—after that He entered the employ of Messrs. Cross & Gordon—he remained' some little time there, and afterwards I was not molested for three or four years—since that time I have received, I should think, between fifty and sixty post-cards, all of a similar character to these (produced)—before he was summoned before the Magistrate at Greenwich his house was placarded from top to bottom with documents of a similar character—these are some of the cards I received—(Read: "Sept, 1871, James and Isaac Batten, 126, Lower Thames Street, London, E.C. Your books will prove you to be two of the greatest liars, rogues, and villains in the universe;" "I Charles Nutley, having made for you a lucrative trade of nearly 1000l. a week, do hereby call on you to pay for the injuries you have inflicted on me, for which the sum of 50,000l. would be an inadequate compensation, caused by your printed circulation amongst my former business connections and friends, wherein you have falsely accused me of embezzling 100l. of your money, and accused me of the same in courts of law, whereas your books, which have not been examined in courts of law, contain a debtor and creditor account between us created by your not having paid me my salary, and entered all moneys to my account at the expiration of my two months' journey, crediting my account with the sum of 80l. twice charged, 56l., of my salary, and some journey expenses, which more than cover your advertised balance, to which you made no application to my guarantee for 300l. Again, you made an agreement in a Court of Law to remunerate me, which has not yet been fulfilled, published by Charles Nutley. How recently have you again attempted to cause my ruin for life by this false accusation?" "Inquire of a Magistrate what you can do with a family you have utterly ruined by falsehoods. You have robbed me of my character by falsehoods; you have robbed me of my living of 280l. a
year by falsehoods, and you are trying to starve my family to death by falsehoods. Your books will prove you to be two of the greatest rogues, liars, and villians under the sun. Withdraw your scandalous printed false-hoods in circulation against me. You have robbed me of my home and all our clothing by falsehoods. Produce a just statement of my accounts, as any honest man would do, Charles Nutley. You had better have taken my life at once with a hatchet, or anything else, than starve my family to death by falsehoods."
Prisoner. Q. Were you the first to commence printing against met A. We had those circulars printed when you left us, but we did not circulate them at first; we afterwards gave them into the hands of our traveller, in order that he might answer the questions of the customers who had a notion that you had been harshly dealt with—you signed that letter that was printed—there was a policeman in the next office at the time—we had him there for the purpose of giving you into custody—it was the subsequent appeal for your family that induced us to let you off—I did not say you must sign the paper instantly or be given in charge—I knew that you became insolvent, but I did not know that you owed me 80l.—you were paid your salary in cash in the ordinary way—I will swear that you were paid your salary—I remember that you represented a gentleman in Fish Street Hill, and that you were travelling over the same ground—I did not circulate these documents against you then, and break up that connection—I did not offer to pay money into Court for you at Greenwich—Mr. Turner was interested, and tried to get you a situation, and I was asked to do something, and I placed 51. in the poor-box, and said I did not want to know what became of it—I can produce any books, but it is a great many years ago, and our place has been destroyed by fire—I received a guarantee of 300l. with you from a guarantee society—I did not apply for that amount—you had your salary as fast as it was due—I sent 1l. a week to your wife, at your request, for her domestic necessities.
Re-examined. Until to day he has made no claim for salary which has not been paid—it was fully paid up.
JAMES BRETT (Detective Sergeant). I took the prisoner into custody—I told him the charge—I had a warrant, and I asked whether I should read it—he said "No, it is what I wanted, what I expected"—he handed me two pieces of card-board, and said "These are the things I have been making"—I found a quantity of similar papers on him.
The prisoner in his defence stated that he received his salary from the amounts he collected, and that the books would slow that was the case.
GUILTY — Two Years' Imprisonment.
6. JOHN SCARBOROUGH (38) , to three indictments for embezzling nine sums, amounting to 22l., of Michael Smith and others, his masters—He received a good character, and was recommended to mercy by the prosecutors— [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Nine Months' Imprisonment. And
NEW COURT.—Monday, November 20th, 1871.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
Ten Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. GOODMAN conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS
FREDERICK FULLER . On 14th October, I was with my brother, in the street—I saw the prisoner speak to my brother—he sent him for a half pound of spiced beef, and gave him a half-crown—my brother went into Mrs. Pooley's shop, in Cromer Street, opposite where we were—I saw him come out, and give the prisoner the meat and the change—the prisoner said he had not got a halfpenny, and he went away—I am quite sure he is the man.
Cross-examined. I am quite sure he gave my brother a half-crown—we Were playing in the street—it was about 7 o'clock in the evening.
SARAH POOLE . I keep a ham and beef shop, at 65, Cromer Street—on 14th October, between 6 and 7 o'clock in the evening, a little boy, who is here, came into the shop for a half pound of spiced beef—knowing his mother Was poor, I cut him a quarter of a pound, and that was 2d.—he gave me a florin—I wrapped the change in paper, and told him to take it carefully to his mother—I had to pay away the florin afterwards, and it was returned to me as bad—I am sure it was the same florin—I gave it to the policeman—some time afterwards the little boy Hunt came for two three-farthing candles—he gave me a florin—I said to a Mr. Perkins, who was there, "See if that is bad, as I have had one"—he found it was bad—I gave that florin to the policeman—there was about an hour between my receiving the two florins.
Cross-examined. I put the first florin in the till—there were two half-crowns there—I gave the boy 1s. 10d. change.
HENRY HUNT . On Saturday night, the 14th October, about 8 o'clock, I saw the prisoner at the corner of Cromer Street—he asked me to fetch two three-farthing candles from across the road—he gave me a florin—I went and paid for them with the florin—I went back afterwards to the man, and pointed him out to a gentleman.
Cross-examined. It was about 8 o'clock—I went to take the mangle home.
EDWARD WILLIAM PERKINS . I was in Mrs. Poole's shop when the first little boy came in—he was served with some spiced beef, paid with a florin, and went out—about an hour after another boy came in for two candles—Mrs. Poole called me and showed me a florin, which I found was bad—I went out with the boy, and he pointed out the prisoner to me—I asked him if he had sent the boy for two candles—he said "No; I did not do such a thing in my life"—I took him to the shop, and he said to the boy "Did I tell you it was a bad one?"And the boy said "No, if you had I should not have taken it to the shop"—I said to the prisoner "This is the second one that has come this morning"—he said it was not him; he never sent anyone in.
JOSEPH DEATH (Policeman E 66). The prisoner was given into custody between 7 and 8 o'clock on 16th October, by Mrs. Poole, for causing two bad florins to be uttered—the prisoner said it was not him—I found on him 7s. in silver, and 8 1/2 d. in bronze, all good—I received two florins from Mrs. Poole.
He also PLEADED GUILTY to having been before convicted of a like offence in August 1870.
Five Years' Penal Servitude.
MESSRS. F. H. LEWIS and THOMAS GOODMAN conducted the Prosecution; and MR. RIBTON the Defence.
JAMES MCPHERSON . I am a labourer, of 6, Claude Street, Millwall—on 27th October, about 7.30 p.m., I was in the Glengall public-house—the prisoner came in with Taylor (See next case)—they were talking together, and I saw them go away in the direction of the Kingsbridge Arms, talking and walking together.
Cross-examined. There were four or five other people there, talking together, but I knew them as acquaintances—the prisoner spoke to no one but Taylor—I do not recollect seeing a cart outside—I was reading the papers—I go there every night.
Re-examined. I know Taylor by sight—I am sure he is one of the men.
JOHN SMITH . I am barman at the Kingsbridge Arms, Millwall—on 27th October, about 8 o'clock, Taylor came in for a glass of half and half—he gave me a shilling, which I broke, and gave to the head barman—the prisoner was the next customer—he came in two or three minutes afterwards, and asked for some beer—Taylor had then left—he gave me a shilling, which I broke in the tester—the prisoners were then both in front of the bar—Taylor had returned, and I broke both the shillings in their presence—Stevens was sitting in a chair while I was studying the shillings, but I do not know whether he saw me doing so—I then accused them of giving me a bad shilling each—the prisoners said nothing—the head barman opened his band, and found another shilling in it—I got over the bar, and shut the door—I spoke to Taylor—he said he was not aware it was bad, and gave me back the 10d. change which I had given him, and he had gone outside—I gave no change to the prisoner.
Cross-examined. I did not see them speak to each other—they were sitting at opposite ends of the bar.
JAMBS HODGE . I was called, and found the prisoner and Taylor in front of the bar—Smith gave me two bad shillings—I took this shilling out of the prisoner's hand, and told him it was bad—he said that he did not think it was—I called Mr. Apsell, and gave him the two broken shillings, and one not broken.
Cross-examined. He also had a half-crown and a penny in good money.
JAMES APSELL . I am the landlord of the Kingsbridge Arms—I received three shillings from my barman, and broke one of them with my teeth—I saw one shilling taken from Taylor after he was taken to the station.
JOHN SERJEANT (Policeman H E). The prisoner and Taylor were given into my custody—I received three shillings from Mr. Apsell—I searched Taylor at the Kingsbridge Arms, and found on him a half-sovereign, two shillings,
and a halfpenny—I wrapped them in paper, and put them in my pocket, and afterwards at the station discovered that one of the shillings was bad.
He was further charged with a former conviction of a like offence, in June, 1861, to which he
PLEADED GUILTY. (See next case.)
MESSRS. LEWIS and THOMAS GOODMAN conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS defended Taylor.
The evidence in the former case was repeated.
TAYLOR received a good character.
STEVENS— GUILTY **— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
TAYLOR— NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. ST. AUBYN and THOMAS GOODMAN conducted the Prosecution; and
CHARLOTTE NALDER . I am assistant to Mr. Field, a draper, of Churton Street, Pimlico—on 21st October I served the prisoner with a yard of sarcenet ribbon, which came to 1d.—she gave a shilling—I found it was bad, and gave it to Mr. Field—I also gave him a shilling which I took up off the counter on Thursday night—it was bad—the prisoner had left.
CHARLOTTE LARK . I am assistant to Mr. Field—on 21st October, I saw the prisoner in the shop—I had seen her there on the Thursday before, and served her with a towel, which came to 7 1/2 d.—she gave me a bad shilling—the last witness took it up to put it in the till.
Cross-examined. I did not know it was bad—it was about 6.45—there are six young ladies who serve, and there is quite enough for them to do.
CHARLES HENRY FIELD . I am a draper, of 4, Churton Street, Pimlico—I saw the prisoner there on 21st October—I was called in, and told her that I was told she had been uttering another coin two days previous, and I should give her in custody—Nalder pointed to her, and said "That is the customer who gave me this shilling"—she said she was very sorry, and begged me not to give her in custody, but I did so with the two shillings which Nalder gave me.
Cross-examined. What she said was "I am quite innocent; I have only been into your shop once before, and that was to buy a little feather"—she begged me not to lock her up—I don't remember her saying that she was innocent.
COURT. Q. Here are your words before the Magistrate: "You begged of me not to lock you up, and said you were innocent "There is not a word in your deposition about being very sorry? A. She said she was innocent of passing a bad one.
The prisoner received a good character.
— NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. DEMICHELE and THOMAS GOODMAN conducted the Prosecution.
MARY ANN SAMPSON . On 30th October I was in Acton Street, and saw the prisoner—he said "Will you go and buy me a penny bottle of scented hair oil, and a penny stand-up collar, at Mrs. Tadman's shop?"—he gave me a florin—I went there and asked for the things, and offered the florin—Mr. Smith, who was in the shop, came to the side-door, and I pointed the prisoner to him standing at the corner of Swinton Street—before I got to the middle of the road, the prisoner ran away—he did not stop for me to get up to him—I was taken to the station next day and picked him out from several others—I know him by his moustache.
Prisoner. Q. Did not the policeman tell you to pick out one with a red scarf on? A. No, he did nothing to indicate you—you did not wear a red scarf when I first saw you.
JOHN SMITH . I am a decorator, and lodge at Mrs. Tadman's shop—on Monday, 30th October, I went into the shop, and she put a florin into my hand—I found that it was bad—the little girl, Sampson, who was there, pointed out the prisoner to me at the corner of Swinton Street—he ran away directly he saw me follow her—she gave me the florin, and I gave it to the inspector—the prisoner had been pointed out to me a fortnight before, and I knew him—he is the man.
MARTHA TADMAN . I keep a shop at 5, Cromer Street—on 30th October, the girl Sampson came for a penny collar and a bottle of hair oil—she gave me a florin—Smith came in, I showed it to him, and he went out with the little girl—he afterwards gave me the florin, and I gave it to the constable.
Prisoner's Defence. A young chap who I had had some words with, was talking to the constable about me, and I walked in front of them. They allowed me to get near the shop where the florin was passed, and then this chap came and asked me to go over the water, and the words were hardly out of his mouth before the policeman arrested me. I am innocent.
GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
14. ROBERT FITZPATRICK (27), PLEADED GUILTY to stealing, whilst employed in the post-office, a post letter, containing a photographic portrait and 140 postage stamps, the property of Her Majesty's Postmaster-General— Five Year Penal Servitude.
17. HENRY REED (23) , to burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of John Evelyn Liardet, and stealing therein a quantity of food, his property.—** [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
OLD COURT.—Tuesday, November 21st, 1871.
Before Mr. Deputy Recorder.
MESSRS. POLAND and BEASLEY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. DIGBY
SEYMOUR, Q.C., with MR. METCALFE, the Defence.
JAMES EVANS . I was an able seaman on board the Star of Peace, which left Melbourne at the latter end of last July—I shipped at Melbourne to come home—one night, about a month after, while off Cape Horn (I don't remember the date) the captain (the prisoner) sang out to shake a reef out of the mizen topsail—I was on the deck-watch that night—I had come on at 8 o'clock, and our watch would be over at 12 o'clock—there were six or seven of us in a watch—I was in the closet at the time, but I don't think I was two minutes after the men got on the poop—I came aft just as the men got on the topsail halyards—the captain said "Evans, what is keeping you last?"—he did not speak too slow, and he did not speak too high—I said "My God, do you want me to fly"—he said "For the future I will keep my eyes upon you"—says I "All you can do to keep your eyes upon me"—he then sang out for the mainsail to be loosed—I went up the rigging to loose it—others went up with me—there were two to each side—I got half-way up the main-rigging, and the captain sang out to the second mate "You send that fellow up"—I sang out "I am up"—directly I got on the main-yard I loosed the sail, and I came on the midships of the yard and sang out to those below for the bunt-line to be let go—the captain said "If you don't shut up I will fix you"—the boatswain said the buntline was all gone—I took another pull on it, and could not get it, it was still taut, and I sang out again, and it was then loosed—I did all that was wanted, and came down, and went on the poop to the captain, and said "What is the meaning of your trying to shut my mouth up when I am singing out for a rope to be let go"—he said "I will let you know I am half owner of the ship," And he mentioned something else about a superior ship, or a Government ship—I said "That's nothing, if you were full owner that does not say that you are going to stop my mouth"—he said "You are a blackguard"—I said "Well, you will be the means of making me one"—says he "Get off my poop," And as I was going down he said "Here, here, stop there," And then he sang out for the boatswain to fetch the irons out—when he said "Get off my poop," I said "Perhaps it is only very lately that you have had a poop"—the boatswain brought the irons aft, and gave them to the captain to put them on me—I told the captain I would not allow him to put them on me—he said "Who will you allow to put them on"—I said "I will allow the boatswain," And the boatswain did put them on—the captain then said, pointing up the mizen-rigging, "Now up there you will go"—I said "I will lose my hands, if you put me up there"—it was about 10.15 or 10.30 at night; the wind was dying away, and it was a regular sharp, cold night, the moon was bright—I told him I would not allow him to put me up there; with that he stamped his foot, and crunched his teeth at me, and said "You will have to go," And he got hold of me round the body, and pulled my shirt outside my trousers, and tore my shirt, and I held my hands with the irons on them like that, and shoved him, and he fell down—I told him I was willing to be put in any place except being triced up in the rigging—he said "You will have to go"—the boatswain said to me "Well, Evans, it is best to go on quietly, you will not be stopped up there long"—then I went—I went to the starboard side of the mizen-rigging, and they triced me up there—my two hands were
triced up like that above my head; I had to lay my head on my arm so; I could not sit down, my breast was up against the rigging—there was a piece of rattling-line in the middle of the handcuffs—the boatswain fetched that—I had my feet on the deck—I could not sit down or incline; if the ship rolled, I had to roll with her—I was kept for two hours in that position; it was 10.15, and when I got down in the after-cabin it had just gone four bells, 2 o'clock—I could not account for the time, because I was in such agony with the cold—I was there when the next watch came up—when the captain fell I did not fall also—just as I shored him I fell up against the poop-rail—I did not fall on him—I did not fall on the deck—all this took place on the break of the poop—the men came aft, but I know nothing about that, only I heard them growling at the captain—I heard someone come aft, and put a screw of tobacco in my pocket, and one in my mouth, and said "You will not have to wait long there, the captain has found a place for you?"—when I was loosed I was taken down to the sail-room, and was kept there till 2.30 next Sunday afternoon—I had the irons on all that time, and for a fortnight after—the carpenter and cook cleared out from where they lived, and went forward in the forecastle, and I was put there; it was a deck-house; it was fitted up as a prison for me—I was kept there eight weeks and two days, till the vessel arrived in the port of London—I was kept in irons day and night for fourteen days—after that the irons were taken off during the day, and put on at night—during all the time I was in the deck-house I made no effort to break out or escape; it was no use—I am not sure of the day of the month that we arrived in the port of London; it was on a Saturday—I had the irons on as usual, from 5 o'clock in the evening till 9.30 next morning—I was shut up in the same place on the Sunday—I had the irons off till 6 o'clock, and then I was kept there with them till they were taken off by the officer, on the Monday afternoon, when I was taken away by a warrant-officer, and taken before Mr. Paget—I was convicted, and sentenced to one day's imprisonment.
Cross-examined by MR. SEYMOUR. I was put to steering the ship about a week after we left Melbourne—I said I could steer—I could do it, but I had the headache, I was sick; they would not allow me the wheel any more—the captain said I could not do it—that was about two or three weeks before I was put in irons—I did not say to a seaman named Manhood "The b——, (referring to the captain) said I could not steer; I have a good mind to go aft and do for the Scotch son of a bitch"—I don't think I spoke over a dozen words to that man—I did not say to him "If you were of the same mind as I am, you would go after the Scotch b——now;" nothing of the kind—I never said in Manhood's hearing that I would do for the captain—I never uttered any threat against the captain before the night that I was put in irons—I never said that if the captain ever said anything to me there would be a row—I never said so to James Brufort—I never said that if two or three would join me I would make a different ship of it, nor anything to that effect—three or four days before I was put in irons I had a dispute with a man named Miller—I got a belaying-pin to frighten him—I did not strike him with it—I hit him with my fist first; I and then, to frighten him, I struck the side of his bunk with the belaying-pin—I did not strike him on the body several times, nor try to do so, or threaten him—I had been in prison, in the hulks, for fourteen days, before I left Melbourne; that was for knocking off duty; that was the only time I was in prison—I was in Calcutta for four hours, for being drunk, that was
a few months before—I had left the hulks just before I joined this ship—I was four weeks ashore—I had not been sent there for following the mate of my previous ship with an open knife—I did not tell Manhood and Shields so—I was imprisoned for knocking off duty—there was no charge of threatening personal violence to anyone—on the night in question I sang out as loud as I could to let go the port bunt-line—I sang out bard enough to let them know below—I did not shout out louder than was necessary—when I sang out the second time I shouted at the pitch of my voice; not louder than I need have done—there were two boys and me and another man at the starboard side of the yard—the men I sang out to were about as far from me as this man (the foreman of the Jury)—the captain did not tell me not to call out so loud; he never spoke—he did not tell me to shut up; he said he would fix me—he said "If you don't shut up I will fix you"—I might have said "I will not"—I don't remember saying it—I had no business on the poop at the time I went to the captain—I went to ask him why he told me to shut up when I was singing out for a rope to be let go—he said I was not to let him catch me again on the forecastle—I told him I was not in the forecastle—I did not say to the captain "I will give you a better chance to fix me yet"—I did not say so in Brufort's presence—I did not raise my arm, threatening to strike the captain—I went up to him with my arms folded, so—I called him an old woman, not an old wh—,—, or a son of a bitch—I told him to p—up his leg; that was when I was up the rigging—I shouted that from the rigging—I did not at the same time shake my fist in his face, and say that I would rip his puddings up and do for him—I was ten minutes on the poop, and my knife in my pocket at the time, and if I had had any ill-feeling towards the captain—it was not after I had called him an old woman that he sang out for the boatswain—he told me to get off his poop—I know Joe Senna, he was examined before the Magistrate—it is not true that after I called the captain an old wh——, he called the boatswain to bring the irons, and said "You beat all the men I ever saw"—I did not tell the captain before I was put in irons that I was only waiting for the fine weather to do for him—he did not say "If you don't keep quiet you will compel me to put you in irons"—he said he would let me know he was half-owner, and he would 'put me where I could not see him—after the irons were put on me, I shoved at him to stop him from tricing me up in the rigging; not several times; twice; it is not true that he fell undermost and I on him, on the deck—I did not fall at all; the captain fell himself—I did not fall on him—I know the second-mate, he attended to me during his watch, when I wanted to go to the closet—he did not take off one of my irons a day or two afterwards, nor did I point towards the captain, and say "I should like to shoot the b——"—I did not use any expression of that kind—after I had been three days and a half on bread and water, the steward brought me some coffee and biscuits; it was not the morning after I was confined—I did not say to him "Take your b——coffee, you d—son of a bitch;" I was too glad of it—I did not, that same afternoon, while I was being removed across the deck, turn round and shake my fist at the captain, and say I would do for him yet—I said "You will pay for this"—I did not shake my fist at him; I was in irons when I came out of the cabin—I did not say I did not care to be put in irons, and that I would go home as a passenger—I was twice offered to go out and walk about the deck—I did not refuse to go—I went outside the door, but the boatswain and mate were
out there with a big bur, ready to hit me with it—I went so far as the door—I refused to go further than the door—on one occasion I threw my soup about the place—I refused to clear up the mess when I was told to do it—I did not threaten the mate with violence—I said "You have been torturing me in my grub all the time"—he said "Me! you are a pretty b——"—I said "Perhaps I am as good as you," And with that he swung the door in my face, and I never saw him till next morning, when I got my bread and water—I did not say I would do for him yet, as well as the captain, nothing of the kind—some beef was brought to me one day and I said I preferred bread and water, when I saw what grub it was—I was not told it was beef that all the crew were eating—my grub was brought to me about an hour after all the rest had had their meals; and it was not fit for a pig to eat, let alone a Christian—I persisted in taking bread and water for fifteen days—I told the mate I was quite content with that, before I would eat such grub as that; it was as black as ink—it was not the same that they got forward; I don't know that it was, I was locked up at the time.
Re-examined. There was soap in the soup that I threw down; there were two pieces of soap in it, a little piece and a big piece—I got a piece in my mouth, and I threw it down at the door in a passion—there was nobody in this place on deck but myself; it was solitary confinement—I did not hurt Miller with the belaying-pin; I struck the side of the bunk—he did not complain of my hurting him; he was in the watch that was to have relieved oars, and until he turned out I could not turn in—I went down, and called the watch—I struck him with my fist, but not with the iron—I struck him because he told me to ax his—there was no complaint made about it—I was ten minutes on the poop with the captain, and had my knife in my pocket, I did not threaten him in any way, I could have killed him in less than ten minutes, if I had wished, there was only himself there, and the man at the wheel.
JOSEPH SENNA . I was a seaman on board the Star of Peace, a British ship, sailing under the English flag—I joined at Melbourne for the homeward voyage—I was in the same watch with Evans—on the night of 26th August I went to the wheel from 10 to 12 o'clock—about 10.15 the captain, who was on the poop, ordered a reef to be taken out of the mizen topsail—all the men came aft—Evans was the last—the captain said to him "Why are you always the last man coming to your work when you are called?"—Evans said Why, what do you want me to do, to fly?"—the captain said "No, I want you to come to your work when you are called"—Evans did what he was called for, and the captain afterwards gave orders to loose the mainsail—Evans went up the rigging to loose it—after he got up in the main-yard he loosed the sail, and sang out "Let go the main bunt-line, and then he sang out a second time rather loud—the captain said if he did not shut up he would have punishment for it—Evans said to the captain "Why don't you do what you mean, not always nagging and growling"—he then came down from the mainyard, and went on to the poop where the captain was standing—I was at the wheel all the time—he stood before him, and said "Well, captain, why don't you do what you mean, not always growling, anything you want to do, fighting, or anything; I have been waiting for the fine weather to come, so I will have a talk to you"—the captain told him to go off his poop, he did not want to have anything to do with him—Evans said "It is lately since you had a poop of your own"—the captain said "You beat all the men I ever saw" And he ordered him off the
poop again—Evans began to use very insulting language; he told the captain to go and p—up his leg, and play with the smoke, and called him a wh——, the captain then called the boatswain, and told him to fetch the handcuffs, and put him in irons—the boatswain brought them, and at first he refused to be ironed—the captain said "If he don't let you, I will put him in irons myself"—Evans said "No, I won't let an old son of a bitch put me in irons, I will let the boatswain put me in irons," And he did so—they were iron handcuffs—the captain then ordered the boatswain to trice him up in the rigging, two rattlin lines above the rail—the boatswain went to fetch a piece of rattlin line, and put it on the handcuffs—Evans refused to go in the rigging, so the captain said he would take him in the rigging himself, and he went to catch hold of him, and with his two hands Evans shoved the captain, and they both fell on the deck—I can't say who was uppermost—the boatswain and the second-mate came, and helped both of them up, and then the boatswain took him, and triced him up to the rigging—the line was fastened to one of the shrouds of the rigging, and his hands were like that (above his head)—he was fastened, and left there—the night was fine, very little wind, but the air was very cold, it was freezing—I remained at the wheel two hours and ten minutes—the other watch relieved me about 12.10—the two watches then came aft together—I came aft myself after I had been relieved—the mate asked what was the matter, so we told him, and he called the captain up in his shirt sleeves—we told the captain that we wanted the man off the rigging—he said "What do you mean, do you want him out of the irons altogether?"—we said no, we wanted to take him off the rigging because the weather was unfit to keep a man fastened to the rigging like that—he said he should not take him off the rigging before he found a place to put him in—we asked him to take him off because it was not right to keep a man in such cold weather—he said "Well, if you like to see him off the rigging, I will take him off, and put him in the cabin"—he then gave the mate orders to take him down from the rigging, and to place him in a cabin, which was done—that was about 12.30 or 12.45, as near as I could judge—I don't know what time he was taken off the rigging, because as soon as we heard the captain give the mate orders to take him off we went forwards, and went below—next day he was put in the carpenter's house; that was a place where the carpenter and the cook had lived; they used to sleep there—he remained there all the rest of the voyage, till we got to London—for the first few days he used to get bread and water—I don't know for how many days—the door used to be looked, and there was a piece of wood across the door, fitting in with rings and a padlock—I never saw him outside taking exercise, to my knowledge; I saw him come out to go to the closet—I never heard him violent in any way while he was confined in the deck house—I did not see him do anything, or attempt to break out—we were supposed to have twelve or fourteen able seamen, and a couple of ordinary seamen in our forecastle; there were seven able seamen to each watch—after the bread and water I sometimes saw the food he got, not very often—I never took much interest in it—I saw him get coffee and bread when it was bread day, and pea soup and meat.
Cross-examined. He got the same food as the rest of the crew—I never attended upon him—I heard him sing out to let go the bunt-line—he sang out rather loud, not in the usual way—the captain told him not to call out—I don't know whether the captain did right in reprimanding him for
it, perhaps he did not like to hear him sing out loud; some men might, perhaps, like to hear them sing out loud—when he first came up on the poop I was looking at him; I could not be always looking at him, because I had to steer the ship, and watch the compass—I could hear everything that was said, but I could not look at everything—I did not see whether or not he raised his hand as he approached the captain—I heard the captain say that he wanted to have nothing to do with him, and that he had better go off the poop—he said "Go off my poop"—Evans said he had very lately had a poop, and the captain then said "If you don't go off the poop I will put you in irons"—he did not go then—he called the captain an old wh—, and used other language—one day before this when we had rather too much work to do I heard Evans say "I try to go along quiet in his ship, but I see I can't do it, being humbugged like this; I will kick up a row, and get put in irons, and go home as a passenger"—he told me that he had been sent to the hulks at Melbourne for chasing the mate of a ship round the deck with a knife; he did not tell me alone, he told all the watch on the forecastle—he said he was there eight weeks—I never sailed with the captain before this—I sailed with him from Melbourne to London, two months and twenty-five days—I have no complaint to make against him—I don't know about another man—he always treated me well.
Re-examined. It was about two or three weeks after we left Melbourne that Evans told us about chasing the mate with a knife—I did not mention it to the captain; it was not my way to tell anything I heard—he did not say what he meant by humbugging on board this ship—sailors are always saying something when there is too much work to do, or when the weather is bad—it was bad weather when he said this, rough, and blowing.
JAMES BRUFORT . I was an able seaman on board the Star of Peace on the voyage from Melbourne—Evans was a shipmate—two or three days after leaving Melbourne he was at the wheel—the captain told the secondmate to send him aft—Evans came aft, and the captain asked him what was the matter with him, and he told the captian he was sick—the captain said he was nothing but a d—loafer, and it would be best for him to go about his duty—I heard Evans say "You can do it as soon as you like"—on the night of 26th August I was in Evans' watch—I was one of the men called to reef the topsail—I was in the forecastle with Evans at the time, we went aft together—we were the two last—I was before Evans, he was just behind me—the captain said to Evans "You are last again, you are always last"—Evans said "Do you want me to fly?"—the captain said "No, I expect you to be here with the rest of the crew"—the captain told the second mate to loose the mainsail—Evans went up aloft—when he got up he sang out "Let go the bunt-line" In rather a loud tone—the captain told him to shut up—the second mate went toward the bunt-line and sang out it was all gone—Evans told the captain he should not shut up when there was anything to be done aloft—the captain said "I will fix you," And Evans said "I will give you a better chance of fixing me than this"—after the mainsail was let go, Evans came down and went on the poop to the captain and said "Fix me now, as you talk so much about fixing me"—the captain called him a d—blackguard—Evans used very abusive language to the captain, and the captain told him he would put him in irons, and called the boatswain to fetch the irons—the boatswain went—Evans was abusive to the captain—the captain was going to help the boatswain put the irons on Evans—and he said "I won't allow you to put the irons on, I will
let the boatswain," And then the boatswain put them on—the captain said he would seize Evans up to the rigging—Evans said "No you won't,"—Evans was then standing quietly on the poop—the captain said "I will," and Evans said "What, would you seize a sick man up to the rigging?"—the captain sent the boatswain for a piece of rattlin line, and when he brought it, the captain went to take hold of Evans and Evans up with his hands and struck the captain, and they both fell on the deck—Evans was uppermost; after that the boatswain was ordered to trice him up to the rigging, and he was triced up—his hands were placed about six inches above his head—it was a cold frosty night—Evans was tied up there about an hour—I was there when the next watch came to relieve us, and I asked the next watch to go aft and ask the captain to take Evans out of irons—Evans was standing quietly up against the rigging at the time, saying nothing—he had his head down—all hands went aft and told the mate that we wanted the man out of the rigging, and we did not intend to do any more work in the ship until he was out—the mate went down and called the captain—the captain came up, and I told the captain I did not consider it a fit place for a man to be in the rigging such weather as that was, and if he wanted to punish the man he was to leave it for the law to do—the captain said he was perfectly aware of that, he would take the responsibility on his own head, all we had to do was to look after ourselves and not trouble our heads about him—we still refused to do any more duty, and the captain said he would take him out of the rigging—I was not there when he was released, it was my watch below then—it was about 1.45 when I left the deck—he was still in the rigging when I left the deck—I know that he was afterwards released and put in the carpenter's house—during the time he was in the deck house I never heard him use any threats or make any attempt to get away.
Cross-examined. He could not very well create a disturbance when he was in there—I did not attend to him—when he went on the poop I was below it, about 8 ft.—I could not see all that passed—I did not see him put himself in a threatening attitude to the captain—I did not see when he did, but I heard—I heard the captain say that he would keep him in the rigging until he got a place ready for him—I did not hear him say "If you don't go off the poop I will put you in irons"—there were several remarks between his speaking of the irons and the irons being brought—the man was still standing on the poop, and using abusive language to the captain—I know a man named Miller who was on board—I saw Evans strike Miller with a belaying-pin—I don't know whether it struck him; it caught on the edge of the bunk—it is true that I said "I saw him fetch an iron belaying-pin, and strike Miller with it twice on the body"—one blow indented the bunk—that was two or three days before—it was either on the morning of the 26th, or the day before—I heard Evans say if the captain ever said anything to him he would have a row—when Evans was called away from the helm he said "You can do it as soon as you like"—I did not hear the captain say to Evans that if he did not reform his ways that he would oblige him to punish him—all I understood was that the captain would punish him in some way or the other; what the language was I did not get hold of—the captain said he would punish him for his neglect of duty, and Evans said "You can do it as soon as you like."
Re-examined. Miller had to relieve Evans on the watch, and Evans went down to arouse, him—Miller used abusive language to him, and Evans
pitched into him—he did not hurt him at all—he struck the bunk with the iron belaying-pin, but I thought it was more to frighten him than anything—Miller got up out of his bunk directly after that, and relieved him—I was close to the poop when I heard the conversation between Evans and the captain—I could see on the poop—I did not see any threatening attitude on the part of Evans to the captain.
CHARLES MILLER . I was an able seaman on board the Star of Peace—I joined at Melbourne on the night of 26th August—I had to go on the watch at 12 o'clock, and when I came on deck I found Evans tied to the rigging—he could just touch the deck with his toes, and was tied up in the starboard mizen rigging—he was in a poor condition, crying with cold and pain—I was one of the men that went aft to remonstrate—I asked the captain what he was going to do with the man—he said "He will have to remain until to-morrow, when I find a place for him"—the captain had him sent down below afterwards—during the time Evans was confined in the deck-house he did not use any violence, and I did not hear any disturbance—he was always quiet—I had a quarrel with Evans a couple of days before he was put in irons, when he came to turn me out of the bunk—he struck me with his fist in the face—he did not hurt me to speak of—I did not make any complaint till a couple of days before we got in, and then I would not have spoken about it only the second mate came and asked me about it.
Cross-examined. Evans struck me—I did not see that he went for a belaying-pin—I did not see what occurred before the ironing took place—I was in my bunk—I did not have to look after Evans or attend to him at all when he was in the deck-house.
JOHN NICHOLAS . I was an able seaman on board the Star of Peace—on the night of 26th August I saw Evans triced up to the rigging—he was in his shirt sleeves, and no cap, and a flannel outside his shirt—he was triced up to the ratlins—it was a fearful cold night.
Cross-examined. He was in his usual working clothes.
ISAAC HILL (Thames Police Inspector.) It is my duty to board homeward-bound vessels—on Saturday, 21st October, I boarded the Star of Peace, at Gravesend, at about 11.40 in the morning—I was informed that the captain had gone to London—at that time Evans was confined in the deck-house—I remained on board—the vessel came up the river, and got into the West India Docks about 5 o'clock—I saw the captain before she went in, when she was alongside the Blackball dummy—he called me, and asked me to take the seaman into custody—he asked me if I had seen the mate, and the official log-book, and I said "Yes"—he asked me to take the seaman into custody—I refused, and told him to let the man have his liberty—he said he should not, and walked away from me into the cabin—I referred him to the Magistrate at the Thames Police Court, and he then walked away—he shortly afterwards called me again, and asked me to take the man into custody, and I again refused—I told him he had no right to keep the man confined, the ship having arrived in port, and if he did so he would be responsible—he said he would, if it cost him pounds—I said, as the man had his wages to receive, there was no fear of him running away—he made no answer to that, and I left the cabin—I left the ship just after 6 o'clock—the man was still in confinement—it was not part of my duty to come up to London with the ship; but I thought it right to speak to the captain—I did not measure the house on deck—the window looking on to the deck was boarded up—there was light from the top.
Cross-examined. I could see that it was a skylight—the place was light—it was between 5 and 6 o'clock when I spoke about going to the Magistrate, after the Courts were closed—it was Saturday night—the captain said that if I could not act he must wait till he got advice.
PETER WARD (Policeman K 210). On 23rd October, about 12.30 in the day, I took Evans into custody, on board the Star of Peace—he was locked up in the deck-house when I arrived—I saw the carpenter measure the deck-house—it was 7ft. by 6 1/2 ft., and 6 3/4 ft. in height—there was a skylight, about 2ft. by 15 in., and four iron bars ran lengthways at the top, fixed in the wood.
Cross-examined. I only saw one bunk; that was not included in the measurement—it was boarded up, leaving room for a man to get into it—it was about 2 1/2ft. wide, and 6 1/2ft. long—there was plenty of ventilation—I saw the captain before the Magistrate the first thing on the Monday morning at the sitting of the Court, when he made an application for a warrant.
ABRAHAM CLAPSWORTHY . I am clerk in the Seaman's Registry Office, Adelaide Place, London Bridge—I produce the official log of the Star of Peace—it was deposited with us by the master, in the ordinary course.
FREDERICK COURTIN . I live at Brunswick House, Clapham Common—I was Coroner and Magistrate at the Castlemaine District, in Victoria, fourteen years—I returned from Australia in the Star of Peace with my wife and child—Dr. New bold was the only other passenger—I was not present when this disturbance took place, on the night of 26th August—we were in bed—next day, at breakfast, the captain spoke to me on the subject—he consulted me upon that and other occasions, during the voyage; altogether five times, I think.
Cross-examined. He told me the facts upon which he had acted, he told me the whole affair—he told me that he had had reported to him threats against his life; that Evans had threatened his life, and that he was afraid of his life—I had noticed Evans constantly, just as a man would who has nothing to do on board, and my opinion that he was the man was confirmed by the observations I had made of him—I did not know who the man was, but I picked him out—I did not see any violent conduct on his part, but he always had a sulky, sullen appearance, and when the captain told me what had occurred, I said "Was it such a man,"Describing him, I did not know his name; and I afterwards found that was the man in custody—the captain consulted me afterwards, five or six times, about the course he was taking, whether I thought he was acting right, or too harshly, or too leniently—my advice was to keep the man there, that it would not be for the safety of the passengers or the property on board to let the man go, and I myself demanded it of him for the safety of my family—I have frequently seen the deck-house where Evans was confined—I have seen the door left open—he had much more room there than I had in my cabin, and mine was supposed to be the best in the ship—I never saw any unseemly conduct on the part of the captain in any way—I never heard him use any unseemly language, and I never wish to sail with a better man as a captain.
Re-examined. I noticed a peculiar look about Evans before he was confined; he could never look you in the face—I never saw him guilty of any violence, or heard him use any threats—the advice I gave the captain was from what he told me—I also heard one of the men, Senna, tell the captain that he was in fear of his life; that the man was constantly getting up
quarrels with the crew—I heard that he was kept fourteen days with the handcuffs on—that was not by my advice; the captain mentioned the matter—I forget whether it was fourteen days or not—I left the ship about 6.30 on the Saturday, to get my luggage out—I was not aware that he was put in irons that night—during the voyage home I did not hear of any disturbance in the deck-house, or any attempt to get out—the captain told me of his being tied up to the rigging—he did not tell me that the two watches came aft, and he had to take him down—he told me he only had him secured there until he could get a safe place to put him in.
The entries from the log were put in and read.
The Defendant's Statement before the Magistrate was read, at follows:—"After the threats he made use of to me, and of others reported to me as having been used by him, while shaking his fist in my face, I did not consider it safe from the excited state he was in to leave him at large. He was not tied up with his hands over his head to the rigging, merely as high as his chin, with a slack rope about a foot to spare. I then consulted with my officers and passengers as to his being kept in confinement, and they agreed with me that it was not safe to allow him at large. He had the same food as the others; he was attended to three times a day by the chief officer, and occasionally by the doctor. I never had occasion to place a man in irons during the five years I have been a master."
MR. SEYMOUR submitted that there was no cote to go to the Jury. THE DEPUTY RECORDER (after hearing MR. POLAND) was of opinion that there was no case upon which a Jury could be asked to convict. At to the Counts charging an unlawful imprisonment after the arrival of the vessel in port, some argument might be urged; but the evidence showed that the captain had taken the earliest opportunity of releasing himself from the responsibility of the man's custody. With respect to the imprisonment during the voyage, the man's insolence and insubordination fully justified it; and as the acts of the crew in demanding his release amounted in reality to mutiny, the captain was fully justified in retaining the man in confinement for the protection of the lives and property entrusted to him. With regard to the tricing up, it was limited in point of time, and was not shown to have caused any pain or injury; it was a punishment for a very grave offence, but not such an abuse of authority as to justify the indictment.
NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. METCALFE and SLADE conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MONTAGU
WILLIAMS the Defence.
WILLIAM HENRY MULOCK , I am senior clerk in the General Poet Office"—in consequence of what came to my knowledge about the state of the Western District Office I made up a test letter on 24th October, containing 118 postage stamps, which I had previously marked—I directed the envelope "Mr. J. Hillman, Linen Draper, Seiner's House, Baling, W."—I posted it at 2.45 at the Western Office in Chapel Street, Vere Street—I had previously given information at the office—I went to the office about 5.30 the same day, and went up stairs to the Postmaster's room—Mr. Hewitt came into the room, followed by the prisoner, Mr. Smith, the chief clerk, and Rumbold the constable—I said to the prisoner "I am an officer of the General Post Office, you are suspected of stealing a great many letters; there
is a letter missing to day, sorted to you by Mr. Hewitt"—he said "I know nothing of any letter"—at that moment Rumbold put a quantity of stamps before me, and I identified them as the stamps I had enclosed in the letter—there were 118—these are them (produced)—I heard Mr. Smith say that he had picked them up, and that he saw the prisoner throw them away—I said to prisoner "Can you give any account of them?"—he said "No," and I gave him into custody.
EDWARD SMITH . I am a clerk in the Western District Post Office—on 24th October I followed the prisoner up the stairs leading to the office where Mr. Mulock was—when we came to the top of the stairs I saw him throw something behind the door on the landing'—I immediately picked it up and took it to the Postmaster's room—I found they were the postage stamps produced—they were crumpled up.
Cross-examined. I was close behind him—I did not see anything left in his hand—I saw the motion of his hand, and I presumed he was throwing something away.
Re-examined. I am quite sure I saw what I picked up leave the prisoner's hand.
MR. M. WILLIAMS slated that he could not contend against this evidence.
GUILTY — Five years' Penal Servitude.
MR. COOPER conducted the Prosecution.
JOHN SULLIVAN . I am a labourer, and live at 66, Baldwin's Gardens—on 21st October, about 3.30, I met the prisoner in Lincoln's Inn Fields—I had known him three or four years ago—we went and had some beer—he treated me to a pot of beer, and I gave him two—he asked me to go home with him—I went to his place—his wife was in the room—he spoke to her, and she left the room—he locked the door then—I said "I will go home"—he said "You shan't go home for a minute"—I said "I will go now"—I got up from the chair—he put his legs between mine and knocked me down, put his hand in my pocket, and took my purse and two half-sovereigns, and three shillings—he did not strike me—I cried out "Murder!" and "Police!"—Catherine Brown came up stairs and then the prisoner unlocked the door and let me out—I went home because I was afraid of my life—I mentioned it to the police at 10 o'clock the next morning.
Prisoner. Q. How was it you did not get a policeman and take me up when you got out of the room? A. I was afraid of my life—you were too young for me—I work for Bob Mann, in Jermyn Street, and get 5d. an hour—I had 1l. 4s. 7d. for my week's wages—I work from 6.30 to 5.30 and have half an hour for breakfast, and an hour for dinner—I can't tell how many hours I worked that week—I finished my work at 1 o'clock that day, but I was busy after that, loading some timber.
CATHERINE BROWN . I am single, and live at 13, Grady Place, Drury Lane—the prisoner lodges in the room over mine—on Saturday, 21st October, about 9 o'clock at night, I heard Sullivan calling out "Police!" And "Murder!" I went up stairs—the prisoner opened the door—he had a candlestick in his hand—he made a blow at me with the candlestick—I ran down stairs directly—Sullivan came down stairs and said he had been robbed.
Prisoner. She was not up stairs at all, and saw nothing of it.
the prosecutor spoke to me at the Bow Street Police Station, and I took the prisoner into custody at 13, Grady Place—I told him that Sullivan charged him with robbing him of a purse containing 23s.—he said "I know nothing about it"—I never saw the man.
Prisoner's Defence. We had several pots of beer together, and he went home with me, and we had some more beer—my wife was there—Sullivan said something, and my wife went down stairs, and said she would not come up again until he had gone away—he would not go home, and I showed him out of the door—there was no purse or money came from that man—I have never had anything of the sort against me before.
Witnesses for the Defence.
RICHARD STREET . I keep the Bull's Head public-house, in Vere Street, Lincoln's Inn Fields—I have known the prisoner about nine months—about 4.15 to 5 o'clock on this afternoon, the prisoner, prosecutor, and two other men came into my place—they said they had previously been to some other public-house—Moriarty came in for the purpose of paying me about 3s., his weekly score, and I think they had about three pots of beer between the four—my attention was called to the prosecutor beginning to quarrel with one of the four—I said "I can't have any disturbance here"—he called for something—I said "I shall not serve you," and I said to the prisoner "You had better get home"—he said "I will, Sir, and as I shan't be out to-morrow will you put me up a half-gallon of beer in a bottle"—I said "Yes"—the prosecutor said to him "Then are you going home T—he said "Yes, I am"—he said "Well, I will go home with you, make it a gallon of beer, and I will pay for the other—I said "Won't you drink it here f—he said "No"—I put it into a gallon bottle, and put it on the counter—the prosecutor immediately took it up, and rushed out—as he had not left anything on the bottle I sent a friend after him to see where he had gone—the prisoner left as soon as the prosecutor did—from what I have known of him I don't believe he would be guilty of such a thing—the bottle was brought back by the prisoner's wife two days afterwards—the prosecutor was not sober—I did not know either of the men but the prisoner.
HENRY CHABLES GRAY . I am a clerk—I happened to enter Mr. Street's house on this afternoon, about 6 o'clock—I live there—the prosecutor, prisoner, and two Irish tailors were drinking together—the prosecutor was drunk—when Mr. Street put the gallon of beer on the counter the prosecutor laid hold of it, and went out very sharply in a direction opposite to the prisoner's residence—Mr. Street asked me to run and look after him—I found him turning into Lincoln's Inn Fields, offering the bottle to a policeman—the prisoner followed me and joined him—he said "Dan, give me that"—he took the bottle from him, and they went along together towards the prisoner's home—I have known the prisoner about the same time as Mr. Street, and I believe him to be as straightforward a man as any in the neighbourhood.
Cross-examined. I know nothing against him—I don't know that he is a returned convict—I will swear that I had not the least idea of it.
MR. COOPER called:
FREDERICK KERLEY (Detective Sergeant E.) I know the prisoner—I know that he has had seven years' penal servitude for a highway robbery in Russell Court, Covent Garden—I am not prepared with the date—I did not know he was here until I saw him in the dock—I think he is on ticket of leave now.
Prisoner. I never had seven days' in my life. Witness. I believe he is the man—I was not present at his trial—Sergeant Ackrill is here—I had nothing to do with it—I am only speaking from information.
Prisoner. I can trace my time for twenty-five years—I have been living six years under one landlord—to say that I have had seven years' penal servitude is the biggest lie that ever was invented.
NOT GUILTY .
NEW COURT.—Tuesday, November 21st, 1871.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
24. JOHN HAMPDEN (52), PLEADED GUILTY to a libel on John Henry Walsh —MR. F. H. LEWIS, for the Prosecution, stated that the prisoner had made a full apology in print, which the Prosecution accepted— To enter into recognizances to appear for judgment, if called upon, and to keep the peace for twelve months. And
MR. LANGPORD conducted the Prosecution.
SAMUEL AGER (Policeman C 170). On the morning of 2nd November, about 2 o'clock, I was on duty in Orange Street, about 20 yards from White Hart Court, St. Martin's Lane—I saw the prisoner come out of Castle Street, and turn into Hemming's Row—I stopped him, and asked him what he was-loitering about for—Sullivan then came up, and said that he saw the prisoner taking some things out of a window—the prisoner said that it was not him—I took him in custody, and then went to 4, White Hart Court, and saw two petticoats, and some skirts and drawers, hanging out of the window, and some on a grating—the prisoner said that he would stab Sullivan with this knife (produced.)
WILLIAM SULLIVAN . I live at 4, White Hart Court—on the morning of 2nd November, between 1.30 and 2 o'clock, I saw the prisoner in the Court—I let him pass me, and went down the Court, and saw him pulling some things out of Mr. Robinson's window, No. 3—I said "Halloa!"And he ran by me—I caught him—another man interfered—he said that before he would let a little fellow like me take him he would knock me down, and he pulled out a knife, and said that he would stab me if I did not let him go—I said "Go on, I can catch you"—he ran, and the policeman stopped him.
WILLIAM ROBINSON . I occupy the ground-floor front room, at 3, White Hart Court—on the night of 1st November I did not fasten my window—it was shut, but it could be opened by anybody from the outside—I was
disturbed by the policeman, and found the window half-way up—I missed these articles—they were safe when I went to bed.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate: "I am innocent. I was not loitering about. It is a case of mistaken identity."
Prisoner's Defence. I can conscientiously say that I am innocent. I Know nothing whatever about it. I was walking quietly along the street, and saw the witness running very hard after a man, who escaped. He came back, and gave me in custody.
NOT GUILTY ,
MR. STRAIGHT conducted the Prosecution; and MR. GRIFFITHS the Defence.
ISAAC FINDER (Policeman S 8). On Tuesday morning, 7th November, about 2.30, I was on duty in Mary Terrace, High Street, Camden Town, and saw the prisoner go into the garden of No. 4—he remained three or four minutes, and I heard a slight noise—I looked round, and saw the prisoner just dropping from a window—he reached over, and took something from the window sill—he then ran away, and I ran after him—I did not lose sight of him—I caught him within 25 yards—he dropped this jug as he ran—I took him back to the house, and said "What was that you dropped?"—he said "Nothing"—there was not a soul near—I found the window open, and said "I suppose this is where you got it from"—he said "No, I was not in this garden at all, I was in the garden of No. 3 to seek a friend"—I called the landlady, who identified the jug—two patches of white were on the knees of the prisoner's trousers—it is a white window sill.
Cross-examined. He appeared to have been drinking in the fore-part of the day, but he knew what he was about—the sill is about 3ft. 6 in. from the ground—he told me that he was in the service of Mr. Grusaett, of the Eton Tavern, Haverstock Hill, as potman, and I believe that is true—the house is about four yards from the road—there are several houses with female servants there.
WILLIAM MONK (Policeman S 355). I heard the sergeant ask the prisoner what he had been to No. 4 for—he said that he had not been there, he had been in the garden of No. 3—he had some white on his trousers—he was quite sober then.
Cross-examined. He seemed as if he had been drinking in the fore-part of the day.
MARGARETTA BOON . I live at 4, Mary Terrace, Camden Town—this jug is mine—it was on a table in front of the window when I went to bed—the blind was down, but I cannot say whether the window was fastened—when I was called the prisoner had the jug in his hand.
Cross-examined. I generally fasten the window when I go to bed—I have a servant.
Witnesses for the Defence.
HENRY PEACOCK . I am a cabinet maker, of King's College Road, Adelaide Road. I have known the prisoner about twelve months—on this unlucky evening he called on me at 10.30, and left at 1 o'clock in the morning—he bade me good night, and said "Before I go home I shall call on my girl"—he was not sober.
The prisoner received a good character.
— NOT GUILTY , the Jury believing that the jug was not taken with a fraudulent intent.
28. WILLIAM FISHER (20) , Burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Walter Blount, and stealing a watch, a chain, and a key, the property of Eliza Reddell. Second Count—Feloniously removing the same.
MESSRS. METCALFE and F. H. LEWIS conducted the Prosecution.
ELIZA REDDELL . I live at present at 15, King Street, Portman Square—on 20th July I took some property to my cousin's house at North Bank—since then I have lost a considerable quantity of the property, and among it a gold watch and chain—the watch was worth 10l. or 12l.
JOHN ROACH . I am servant to Walter Blount, of 37, North Bank—on the morning of 5th August I found the house had been entered, and several things removed—Miss Reddell's boxes had been opened—the entry was made by the scullery window—I have seen the prisoner about the neighbourhood.
JAMES ESSEX . I am a labouring carpenter, of 16, John Street, Portland Town—on 9th August I bought a gold watch of the prisoner for 2l. 10s., and a chain for 1l., in St. John's Wood Road—he said he had found them in the Regent's Canal, and had it some time—a policeman came to me, and I told him a different story to what I have told to-day.
ELLEN ESSEX . I am the wife of the last witness—he brought the prisoner to me on 8th August, between 5 and 6 o'clock in the evening—he said he had a watch he wished to sell—I declined to have it—he said he had found it, and had it some time—they both, went away, and afterwards a man asked me to lend him the money to buy it, and I thought if the watch was good to him it would be good to me—I afterwards bought the chain also for 1l. 10s.—I pawned it in my own name, not in the name of Ann Essex.
JOHN REVEL . I am assistant to Mr. Richardson, a pawnbroker, of Portland Town—I produce a gold chain, pawned on 5th August, for 1l. 10s., in the name of Ann Essex—I don't recollect whether that was the name given.
HERBERT CLEMENTS (Policeman H 25). On 11th October the prisoner was pointed out to me by a man named Layford—I told him I took him on a charge of burglary, on 5th August, at Mr. Blount's—he said "All right!"—he said at the station that he was going along Grove Road one morning, about 3.45, and met a woman with a horse, who asked him to let her through a gate, and he then saw the watch and picked it up.
Prisoner. The policeman Capel stuck his knuckles into my neck, and I was glad to say anything. As soon as he loosed me I said I knew nothing of the burglary, Witness. I was obliged to take him by the neck, for he was violent; he got between my legs and twice threw me down—Capel was in the cab with him.
Prisoner. Here is a scar, where he struck me on the mouth. Directly I got to the station they knocked me about, and nearly broke my arm; I told the doctor.
The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate:—"As I was going to work one morning, I can't say what morning, about 5.45, in St. John's Wood Road, near the Orphan School, there was a little girl coming up with a horse, and I was passing by, and the little girl said 'Would you mind opening the gate for me?' I said 'Yes;' with that I opened the gate, and stood behind, and let the horse pass, and there was some dung up against the wall, and I caught my heel in the chain. I looked round and saw a little card box, and in the box was a little gold key and a watch. I took it
Home for about a week. I met my brother one morning; I made use of a very bad expression, and said that I bad found a watch. He said 'Why don't you go and give it up?' I made me of the expression, and said 'Would the policeman give it up if he found it?"On the night after my brother comes to me; he says 'I think I know a man who wants to buy a watch.' With that I went up to the Red House, and there I saw that gentleman (Essex). I showed him the watch. He said 'I've not got the money.' He took me to see his wife. She asked me what I wanted for it, and asked me how I came by it. I told her what I have told you, that I found it. She said she did not care about buying it, for she did not believe I had come by it honestly. I told her I had found it down there, and she said she had not got the money. She made an appointment with me at 8 o'clock, or 8.30, when I sold the watch for 2l. 10s., and the chain for 1l."
GUILTY on the Second Count.
He was further charged with a previous conviction at Clerkenwell, in August, 1869, to which he
PLEADED GUILTY.**— seven years' Penal Servitude.
29. GEORGE FOX (21) , Breaking and entering the church of Bromley, St. Leonard's, and stealing therein one clock, two metal plates, four bottles of wine, and other articles, the property of the churchwardens.
MR. BOTTOMLEY conducted the Prosecution.
HENRY WITHERS (Policeman K 413). On 19th October, about 2.45, I was near Bromley church—I heard a noise, jumped over a wall, and found the prisoner and two others in a piece of waste ground, railed in, at the side of the church—they ran into a corner, and tried to escape—I ran after them, and seized the prisoner by the throat, and knocked another with my staff—he seized my staff, and ran away—I kept hold of the prisoner, and found these two bottles of wine, and this clock by him—I sprang my rattle, but it broke—it was some time before another constable came—I took the prisoner to the station, and then went back and found that the church door and the vestry door had been broken open, two money-boxes broken open, and a clock taken from the vestry—this jemmy was found by the clock and the wine—it corresponded with marks on the church door—a cupboard and a box in the vestry were broken open—I found on the prisoner 8s. 10d. in silver, and 9 1/2 d. in copper, which was smothered with some white stuff, similar to the disinfecting fluid in the money-boxes in the church.
Prisoner. Q. Is there a gate into the waste ground? A. No, only a fence—I did not catch hold of you, and say "I will have you; if I don't have somebody I shall be in for it myself"—I never let go of you.
JAMES HORSBY . I am sexton of Bromley church—I locked up the church and vestry about 12 o'clock in the day—the boxes were then perfectly safe and fast; and in the cupboard, which was broken open, there were, I think, four bottles of wine, and two decanters—these plates and this clock were also safe—they were the property of the churchwardens.
Prisoner's Defence. I was going home past the church, and heard cries. I got over the fence, and saw two men getting away, and another wrestling with the policeman. I went to help the policeman, and he said that if I attempted to move he would knock me down. The white stuff in my pocket was tobacco ash.
GUILTY —He was further charged with a conviction at the Thames Police Court, in August, 1869, to which he
PLEADED GUILTY**— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. GRIFFITHS conducted the Prosecution.
AMELIA BRISTOW . I live at 6, Brown Street, Grosvenor Square—the prisoner is my daughter—on 26th December, 1863, she was married to Richard Payne, at Malmesbury, Wiltshire—I last saw him in the Edgware Road, upwards of two years ago—I did not tell my daughter I had seen him.
Prisoner. I told you I was married three months before. Witness. You did not.
JOHN KING (Policeman.) I took the prisoner at the Grapes public-house, Manchester Square, on 17th October—I told her the charge—she said that her former husband had married again, and had got two children, and was living in Monmouthshire, and she thought she had a right to do the same—I produce the two certificates—Russell made the charge.
SARAH PAYNE . I am a widow, and live at Malmesbury—my son, Richard Payne, was married to the prisoner in December, 1863—I saw him last in March last—I do not know that he has married again—they had one child, but it died.
GUILTY — Three Months' Imprisonment.
MR. ST. AUBYN conducted the Prosecution.
ROBERT JONES . I lived at 5, St. Hemman's Road, Westminster, with the prisoner—a man named Colson was living above us—I had some words with the prisoner, struck her with my foot, and then took up the poker to her—she took up a knife—we struggled—I was wounded in the stomach—I can't say how it happened—I was taken to the hospital.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. METOALFE conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS
GEORGE REED (Thames Police Inspector.) On the afternoon of 21st October, about 1.15, I met the prisoner on Tower Hill, coming towards the City—he was from 300 to 400 yards from where the Cologne was lying—he wore a white smock frock, which was very bulky in front—I said "You have got it this time"—he said "Yes"—I said "What ship are you from?"—he said "From no ship"—I put him in a cab, and told the cabman to drive to Wapping Police Station—on the road he took a parcel from under his smock frock, and threw it on my lap—it was 82 yards of black silk—I said "Where did you get it?"—he said "A man gave me a shilling to take it to the Subway"—I said "Who is the man?"—he said "I do not know; but he is a tall man, with carrotty whiskers, and wears a round hat"—when we got to the Gun Dock, he said "This is the place where the man gave it to me"—I said "Then why did you conceal
it?"—he said "Because the man told me to do so"—this ticket was attached to the silk—he gave me his address—I went there, and found 9 1/2 yds. of plaid woollen shirting, 15 yds. of this, 8 yds. of insertion, 8 yds. of grey lindsey, 8 1/2 yds. of satin, 5 yds. of alpacca, 4 yds. of silk gauze, and 2 1/2 yds. of canvas, which are wrapped up in three cotton hand-kerchiefs; also this French soldier's cape.
Cross-examined. I inquired about a man with carrotty whiskers and a billycock hat—I will not undertake to say that there is not such a man.
PHILIP REDIELLI (through an interpreter.) I live at 19, Rue des Alles, Lyons, and am clerk to Charles Candy and others, silk merchants—on 14th October I was present and saw twenty-three pieces of silk packed in this case (produced)—I entered them in this book—the ticket produced was on one of them—three other similar pieces of silk were put into the case—I I saw it nailed down, banded down with wood, and sent away.
Cross-examined. Here is the entry of this ticket in my book.
LOUIS JOSEPH LANGOIS (through an interpreter.) I live at Rue de la Madelaine, Boulogne, and am a forwarding agent—I recognise this case—I shipped it in good condition on board the Cologne, on 19th October.
JOHN HUBBARD . I am mate of the Cologne, which belongs to the General Steam Navigation Company—we started from Boulogne on 19th October, arrived in London on the 20th, and unloaded on the 21st—the prisoner was employed to unload the cargo on the 21st, and had access to all the cases on board, from 8 o'clock in the morning till 1 o'clock, when he finished; but we had not finished unloading then.
JOHN ROBINSON . I am wharf superintendent to Messrs. Lebeau, of 6, Billiter Street, who had a quantity of goods consigned to them—I saw this case on the 23rd, not in the state in which our clerks usually send out cases—nails had been drawn out and put back—I sent for Messrs. Candy's man.
SHILIBERT DURONGART . I am clerk to Messrs. Candy—they have a house at Lyons—I was sent for to look at this case, and found that it was not full—there were only twenty-one pieces; two pieces of black silk were missing—I never saw this piece of silk in the box; it is worth about 16l.—another piece like it is missing.
WILLIAM GIGGINS . I am warehouseman to Richard Chandler—two cases of goods from Lyons were consigned to him by the Cologne—I opened one of them, and found a space—I took two or three pieces of goods out, and found this paper (produced)—the silk or satin has been taken out of it—this satin produced is the same quality and make as we received by that consignment, and I believe it to be the same—four pieces are missing, value 58l.
GUILTY — Seven Year' Penal Servitude.
MR. METCALFE conducted the Prosecution.
EMILE LASCOT . I am a bootmaker, at Boulogne—I made these boots (produced), and packed them, with four other pairs, on 18th October, addressed to a lady of title, in this country, who had an accident some years ago, and one of her ankles is larger than the other—I directed the parcel to Lebeau's office, to send to this country—the left boot is larger in the ankle than the right.
am packer to Lebeau & Co.—on 18th October Lasco brought a parcel there, which I put into a group parcel, on the 19th—I put a canvas cover over the whole, and it was sewn with a cord—I then plumbed the ends, which forms a leaden seal, and delivered it to Lebeau's cart, in good condition.
DANIEL JOSEPH (through an interpreter.) I am carman to Messrs. Lebeau—on 19th October I received a parcel from the last witness, and carried it to the quay—it was then in good condition—I saw it put into the hands of one who was there, to see it loaded.
JOHN HUBBARD . I am mate on board the Cologne—the prisoner was a seaman on board, from Boulogne to London—there was a general cargo, consisting of these things and others—the prisoner slept on board at Boulogne, and he assisted in loading and unloading—he had permission to go when we got to London—he had opportunities of going on shore during the day.
JOHN REED (Thames Police Inspector.) On 21st October, between 3 and 4 o'clock in the afternoon—I boarded the Cologne, went to the prisoner's berth—I said "Whose berth is this?"—the prisoner said "It is my berth"—I found these boots there, and said "To whom do these boots belong?"—he said "To me, I bought them in Boulogne, and gave six francs for them; I bought them for my daughter"—the captain said "At what shop did you buy them?"—he said "From no shop, I bought them from a man in the street"—the mate said "Of whom?"—he said "I don't know his name, he spoke good English, but I think he was a Frenchman."
GUILTY — Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. PATER conducted the Prosecution.
JOHN MITCHELL (City Detective.) On 8th November, about 3 o'clock, I met the prisoner in Postern Row, Tower Hill, with another man, who went into Mr. Budden's boot shop, and came out—the prisoner then took this bag from him, went into the boot shop, and came out again, and handed the bag to the other man—I ran after them—the man with the boots threw them down—I pursued him.
Prisoner's Defence. I met a man who is not in custody. I was looking into the next shop window, and he went in, and came out with a pair of boots; I never took my hands out of my pockets; he ran away, and they took hold of me, and said "Never mind, this one will do just as well. I did not touch the boots.
GUILTY — Nine Months' Imprisonment.
OLD COURT.—Wednesday, November 22nd, 1871.
Before Mr. Baron Bramwell.
MESSRS. MBTCALFE and ST. ACBYN conducted the Prosecution; and
MR. STRAIGHT the Defence.
HENRY BROWN . I am warehouseman to Mr. Alexander Ochterloney Greig and others, army clothiers, of 17, Coleman Street—the prisoner was in their employment up to about the end of September last as an occasional porter—he was then discharged because there was no work for him to do—he had a week's notice—there is a portion of our premises called the dock: at the left hand side of White Horse Yard—I believe this plan (produced) to be correct—this dock, or dust-bin, is in fact a square room shut out from the body of the warehouse, but under the same roof, and is used for refuse, and to put a truck in—a little door opens from the warehouse into the dust-bin, and it is occasionally opened to throw in the dust from the counting-house, and other refuse, and there is an outer door through which the rubbish is taken when the place is full—a plank had been missing from there for some little time, and a truck stood against the door—on the evening of 20th October, about 6.30, my attention was called to the dustbin, and I found the whole of the paper in it on fire—my son and I got water and doused it out—we had the rubbish kicked out, and then found a mass of fire, quite at the back, all burning down beneath where I thought it was extinguished—in my opinion the fire had originated behind that door—it could not have arisen by accident; there was no light, or anything, from the premises that could have caused it—the dust-bin was covered over, and was under the warehouse; the missing panel left a space quite large enough for anyone to get through; anyone could put their hand through that, and apply a light—there is a water-closet there, but that is kept locked—there is no other convenience there.
Cross-examined. I am the managing man—the prisoner came into the service about June—he had a guinea a week—I had every reason to be satisfied with him, but had no further demand for his services from slackness of work—I told him so, I believe, about 30th September—I also told him that I would assist him if I could in getting another situation, and if we had more work he might be taken on again—he was recommended to us by Mr. Hollest, who has been his bail—he left on a Saturday—I think I saw him once afterwards at the door—he made no complaint when he left—I did not see him on the day of the fire—broken brown paper and the general dust of the place is swept into the dust-bin—sometimes we employ 200 men, at other times perhaps 70—some of them may smoke—I never heard of lucifers or vesuvians being swept into the dust-bin—it is emptied as soon as it is full—ashes are thrown into it—but it is sometimes four or five days before they are put in—I don't know that rag-pickers are in the habit of coming and poking about there—I never heard of it—the plank has been missing for some time, ever since the bricklayers were at work there.
Re-examined. That would be about two months before—the closet was kept locked and the key kept up stairs in the cutting room—it was locked on this night—I sent for it, seeing smoke issue from the closet—that is 6ft. or 8ft. from the dust-bin—I know the White Swan, there is a urinal there, about two or three minutes' walk from our place.
COURT. Q. When you discharged the prisoner, did you discharge any other men? A. No, he was the last we had taken on, and therefore the
first we sent away—I was in the counting house at the time that the fire occurred, the light from there would not be visible in the dock, but a person outside could see that there were lights still in the upper floor.
BENJAMIN BROWN . I am the son of the last witness—on the evening of 20th October, about 6.30, I saw through the crevices that there was a fire in the dock—I called my father's attention to it, and assisted him in putting it out—I had seen the prisoner that day in Coleman Street, and at dinner time, about 1 o'clock, in a public-house—and at different times after that—I was endeavouring to get a place for him—I had written him to that effect about a week before.
Cross-examined. I told him to come round in passing, to inquire—he left on perfectly good terms with us all—I first saw him on the 20th, at the front loop-hole in Coleman Street—I don't know whether he was inquiring for Lancaster, I did not hear him—between 2 and 3 o'clock I saw him at the Swan—he had a glass of beer with me, at the invitation of myself and another porter—I saw him again in the evening, about 6 o'clock, outside the loop-hole—Lancaster was then down stairs—I did not hear Lancaster say to the prisoner "By-the-bye, George, I owe you the price of a pot, if you wait until I am paid I will pay you"—the firm do pay on a Friday night—when I got into the dust-bin it was all on fire; we put some water in and then shovelled it out.
COURT. Q. Could you form any opinion how it had been lighted, or how long? A. I could not, it was quite steaming at the bottom when the fire was on the top, it had communicated a certain distance down—I should say it had been lighted within five or ten minutes—there was no heap of paper lying thick together and charred through—the bin was about half full.
CHARLES HARRIS . I am a porter in the prosecutor's employ—I saw the prisoner at the Dolphin, on Friday, 20th October, from 1 to 2 o'clock—I had some beer with him—Boby, another porter, was with me—I left with him, about 2 o'clock, to go back to work, leaving the prisoner there—about 6.20 I saw him again—Roby and I were wheeling an empty truck from the factory to the dock, down Whitehorse Lane—we had to wheel the truck into the door of the dock, and up to the door of the dust-bin—as we came along I saw the prisoner coming from the dock—he was about two or three yards from the entrance into the dock—he came out sharp from the dock—he put his hand on the truck, and said "That is the way I can stop you"—we asked him what he was doing there—he said he was—about—we put the truck against the dust-bin, and went up stairs to our work—he went up the lane out in Coleman Street—he could not have got by us without our seeing him—it is a narrow place—it was nearly dark—there are gas lamps there, which would throw a light on him—about five or six minutes after we had left the truck, as we were clearing out the cutting shop, we saw smoke come up into the room—it is on the first floor—we went down and found the dock on fire, and Mr. Brown and his son were putting water on it—the truck had been moved when we got down—I had seen no one else near the dock but the prisoner—the lane is no thorough-fare—it is the access to Messrs. Burbidges' premises—there, is no urinal at the Dolphin—there is at the Swan—it would not take a minute to walk there—the prisoner was not smoking when we met him coming out of the dock—I did not smell any smoking.
Cross-examined. Our general time for shutting up is 7 o'clock—in our department they begin paying the wages before 7 o'clock, so that the men
may get away by 7—I have seen persons in the dock looking after paper and things in the dust, and have turned them away.
Re-examined. That was three months back—they used to come frequently until then, when I stopped them.
COURT. Q. When the men leave work do they come down the same stairs up which you had gone? A. Yes, the cutters do—this occurred about 6.20—I believe some of the men had left at that time—I could not say for certain.
GEORGE ROBY . I am a porter in the same employment—I was with Harris on 20th October, and saw the prisoner in the public-house from 1 to 2 o'clock—about 6.20 I was assisting Harris to take the truck into the dock, and saw the prisoner just coming out of the place where we put the truck in—he came out in a peculiar sort of way, rather quick, and caught hold of the back of the truck—I asked what he had been doing—he made some remark—we put the truck down, and went up stairs to the cutting-room—I afterwards smelt smoke—I came down with Harris, and saw Mr. Brown putting the fire out—from the time we left the truck till I smelt the smoke, no one had gone down stairs.
Cross-examined. He caught hold of the truck, as if in fun, and said "That is the way I can stop you."
GEORGE LANCASTER . I am a porter in the prosecutor's employ—it was my duty to attend to the dust-bin, the part leading into the warehouse, that is, the sweeping in, leaving other persons to take it out—it was about a week before the 20th that anything had been put into it—I then opened the warehouse door to put it in—I keep the key—the place is swept pretty nearly every day, but we don't put it in the dust-bin—we put it in a heap at the end, against the dust heap, before the door is opened—it is merely swept into a heap and put into a sheet of paper, or something, and I shovel it from there into the dust-bin, lock the door, and keep the key—at times there is a good deal of waste paper put in—I saw the prisoner on this Friday, about three times; first about 1 o'clock, again about 4.30, and again about 6 o'clock, when I was closing up—he then asked me whether the governors were gone, meaning Mr. Ritchie and Capt. Greig—I told him they were, that I should be closing directly, and I should be outside and meet him—I owed him 4d. for a pot of beer—I came out the front way, in Coleman Street—there is no other way in or out—the prisoner knew that—I went back, and was shutting up the place, when Mr. Brown came and said there was a fire—I looked, and I could see it through the crevices—I got the key and opened the door, and went in with Mr. Brown—I should think that was about twenty minutes after I had seen the prisoner.
Cross-examined. The prisoner first asked me how long I should be, and then asked me if the governors were gone—we don't shut up till they are gone—I did not tell him I would pay him the 4d. that night—he had not asked for it—he was going to meet me after I had closed up—I think he was quite sober.
Re-examined. I saw nothing more of him afterwards—I did not come out till 8.15, I stopped to assist in putting the fire out.
FREDERICK CHARLES BRETT (City Detective.) On Monday, 23rd October, about 6 in the evening, I apprehended the prisoner, at 46, Beverley Road, Bermondsey—I told him I should have to take him to Moor Lane Station, where he would be charged on suspicion of setting fire to his late employer's premises, in the dock in Coleman Street—he said he knew nothing about it,
and that was the first he had heard of it—I took him to the station—he afterwards said that he was there, that he went for 4d. that was owing to him by a man in their employ, and that he saw the two men with the truck in the gateway, that he went down there to make water, that he afterwards went into Coleman Street and sat down on the doorstep of the printer's and went to sleep (the printer's is next door to Davis's, the Swan,) and that he was awoke about 8 o'clock by a man who occasionally works for Mr. Davis—I asked if I could go and find the man—he said he would see about that himself.
Cross-examined. I had no warrant—he went with me without any remonstrance.
COURT. Q. How far is the door step from the premises that were on fire? A. It is very nearly opposite the front portion.
HENRY BROWN (re-examined.) There was no alarm created, or any fire engine there—we were able to get it out without any confusion—the public, in Coleman Street, would know nothing of it—I saw nothing of the prisoner after the fire. The Prisoner received a good character.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. ST. AUBYN conducted the Prosecution.
NOT GUILTY .
MESSRS. STRAIGHT and HUMPHREYS conducted the Prosecution; and MR. BESLEY the Defence.
THOMAS COCKSHOTT . I am a lighterman, living in Grundy Street, Bromley—on the night of 22nd October, about 12.30, I was in the Commercial Road—I heard cries of "Father! Mother! Murder!"—I ran across and saw a little girl running; and the deceased walking behind her towards a coffee-stall which he, the prisoner, keeps—the prisoner came into the middle of the road and met him, and said "Have you been insulting my daughter?"He said "I did not," And with that the prisoner knocked him down and hit him while on the ground, and kicked him about the neck or face; the deceased fell on the stone tramway—whether his head fell on the stones or not I can't say—the prisoner struck him five or six times with his right fist while he was down—he did not kick him more than once, to my knowledge—I never saw the deceased move afterwards—I went and fetched a doctor, and he was taken to the hospital.
Cross-examined. It all occurred in two or three minutes—he was down and the blows were rapidly struck afterwards—I had not been in five different public-houses that night—I would not say whether it was three or four—had not been turned out of any—there was a little disturbance at one and we were cleared out—I don't think the place where the deceased fell was forty-five yards from any lamp—it was not very dark, it was betwixt and between—I mentioned the kick when I was first examined, but it was not put down—I said the constable must have seen it if he had been looking—Henry Walker was with me at the time—a woman struck the deceased and she was taken into custody.
Re-examined. I was perfectly sober.
GEORGE LEARY (Policeman K 475). On Sunday morning, 22nd October, about 1.15, I heard a child crying "Mother! Mother!"—I ran across the road, and saw the prisoner and deceased on the ground—the prisoner
struck him with his fist—I pulled him off, and told the deceased to get up, but getting no answer, I turned on my light, and said "Jackson, you have killed him"—he said "I did it in my passion"—he assisted me in getting him on the pavement, and brought some water—a doctor came, and he was afterwards taken in a cab to the hospital—I did not see a woman strike him—I saw her close by, and the prisoner's child.
Cross-examined. I had heard the child cry out twice—she seemed excited, and in great distress—not two minutes elapsed from the last cry till I had my hand on the prisoner—I had just left his stall, and was close to him—I only saw him strike once or twice with his fist—I saw no kicking—I think I should have seen, if there had been any, if I had been looking—I did not actually see them fall—I was about 20 or 30 yards off.
HENRY WALKER . I am a seaman, and live at 12, Sarah Street, East India Road—I was with Cockshott—I heard a child crying "Murder! Father! Mother?"—I turned back, and saw the deceased following the child across the road—the prisoner came up—the child, I suppose, made some complaint to him, and he said "Is this the man—she said "Yes, father," And thereupon the prisoner knocked him down, and struck him several times; four, five, or six times—I did not see him do anything besides strike bun—I saw a woman strike him, and kick him in the back—it was a very slight kick; it would hardly leave a mark—the constable turned on his bull's-eye, and the man appeared nearly dead.
Cross-examined. I saw the whole of it—the only blows I saw the prisoner give were with his fist.
JOHN CUMMINGS . I am a surgeon, of 2, Victoria Place—I was called to where the man was lying on the pavement—he was to all appearance dead—I noticed a wound on the right temple, a swelling, from which blood was flowing over the face, and beard, and mouth—he seemed to have left off breathing, but there was a pulse; so, hoping to save his life, I went with him to the hospital, in a cab, and handed him over to the surgeon there.
WILLIAM CURLING . I am house-surgeon at the London Hospital—the deceased was admitted there on the night in question—he was dead when he arrived there—I made a post-mortem examination—there was a small laceration on the bridge of the nose, an extensive bruising over the right eye-brow, and two lacerated wounds in the middle of the bruise—those were the only external signs of violence I could find—on opening the head I found effusion of blood at the base of the brain, and in the ventricles—all the other organs were healthy, except the left pleura, which showed signs of previous disease—the wounds and bruises were such as might have been caused by blows with a fist, and a kick—either of the wounds might have been done by a kick or a blow—the effusion of blood on the brain was the cause of death—I believe that was the result of violence.
Cross-examined. All the external signs were slight—I did not come to the conclusion that there was a kick—all I saw was consistent with two blows from a fist—I could find no evidence of his having been drinking—the effusion was recent, I should say within forty-eight hours—I could not put it nearer than that—it might have arisen from a fall.
COURT. Q. Would a blow by a fist cause the laceration on the nose? A. Yes, the knuckle would do it; it is a common thing—effusion arises from the rupture of small vessels—I could not detect any that had been ruptured—they might be so small that I could not detect them—I used a microscope, but the effusion was over such a large space, it would be next
to impossible to find the exact point—it was not in the neighbourhood of the blow on the head—it was a case of centre coup—it was pressing on the medulla oblongata—a good deal of the blood was clotted—I made the examination at 8 o'clock on the Monday evening—he might have died as suddenly as has been described, from a blow—it would require a violent blow—such a blow as would knock a man down would be sufficient.
CHARLOTTE GALGANI . I live at Stamford, Lincolnshire—the deceased was my husband—his name was Peter Antonio Galgani—his age was forty-eight—I had not seen him for five mouths before his death—he came up to London to look for work, as he had been a long time out of work—he was always in good health—he was not an ailing man.
Witness for the Defence.
EMILY MARGARET JACKSON . I live with my father and mother, in Dalgloish Place—on this Saturday night I was left to mind the baby—my father was at his coffee-stall, and my mother was also out—the baby cried a good deal, and I went out to fetch my mother—I put on this jacket—as I was going along a gentleman met me—he said "Little girl, I have got a penny for you,"But I never saw the penny—he caught hold of me round the waist, and put his hands up my clothes—I got away from him, and left my jacket in his hands—I ran to the corner, and turned to see if he was coming after me—I did not see him, and I went back for my jacket, which was lying by the lamp-post, and the man came out of a doorway again on to me, and ran after me into the Commercial Road—I ran, screaming "Mother! Father! Murder!"—the policeman and my father came into the road to me—my father caught hold of the man and said "Did you insult my little girl?"—he made some answer, I could not say what it was, and my father struck him once, and he fell down, and I never saw him move after.
Cross-examined. The policeman came forward with my father—before he struck the deceased I had called out to my father "The man, the man;" that was all I said.
Re-examined. I called out "Murder!" two or three times before that.
GUILTY.Strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury. — Three Days' Imprisonment.
NEW COURT.—Wednesday, November 22nd, 1871.
Before Mr. Justice Keating.
MR. LILLEY conducted the Prosecution
ANNIE BUTCHER . I am a single woman, but am the mother of the deceased child Alice—I live in Wellington Road, Stoke Newington—the child was born on 2nd March, and I received an allowance from its father—it was a healthy child, but very small—it continued under my care for a fortnight, and I then gave it into the prisoner's charge to nurse, at 6s. a week—she lives in Arundel Grove, Kingsland Road—I used to see it once a week, but I had not seen it for three weeks at the time it was taken from the prisoner, and taken to Mrs. Wells, who was appointed by the relieving officer, and who had it nearly a month—I saw it the same morning that it
was taken from the prisoner—it was not very clean then, and its things were not very clean—it seemed very thin about the fody, but its face was the same as it always had been—I had given sufficient clothing for it to be clean, and sufficient money—I kept up my payments regularly—she always had one week in advance.
Prisoner. I had but two night-gowns and one flannel blanket to keep it clean with. Witness. You had three night-dresses, and whenever you asked for fresh things, I gave them to you—I never refused, nor did I put you off from week to week—you asked for short clothes, but it was so small that I wished it kept in long ones—there was sufficient, and if you had asked for more you might have had them.
EDWIN LEONARD MERCHAN . I am one of the relieving-officers of Islington—on 18th September I received information in reference to a neglected child, at 2, Arundel Grove—I went there about 7 o'clock, p.m., and found the deceased child, Alice Butcher, in a cradle, in a corner of a room, in a very filthy condition, on some rags, and there was excrement up to its neck—I did not see the prisoner then—a child in the room gave me information—I found in the room an empty food bottle, very sour, a jug with the top part broken off, and a little flour and water in it—there was no other food in the room, and that appeared to be the food for the baby—I informed the medical officer, Dr. Duckett, who returned with me about 10 o'clock that night, or later, the child had then been washed, and the prisoner was there in a state of intoxication—I informed the mother on, I think, the second day—the child was taken to Mrs. Wells, and remained with her till its death.
Prisoner. I was not intoxicated; I was half in Bed, and half out when they came. Witness. I am certain you were intoxicated—you did not appear to be going to bed, you had a dress round you but nothing under it, in fact I stopped the dress from falling on the floor—you had the child in your arms, and a shawl round it—I observed no other clothes which you had taken off—the child had then been washed, and there was clean clothing on it, and a lot of food had been purchased in the mean time, corn flour, biscuits, and milk.
Prisoner. I always got the corn flour and biscuits on the Monday, when I got the baby's money. Witness. This was September 18th, I forget the day of the week.
Re-examined. I made a complaint to the girl as to the state of the child.
ANDREW DAVID DUCKETT, M.D . I am medical officer of St. Mary, Newington on the evening of 18th September, between 10 and 11 o'clock, I accompanied Meecham to 2, Arundel Grove, and saw the deceased child and the prisoner, who was only partly clothed, and in a very excited state of mind—I could not form a judgment of what caused the excited state, perhaps it was her temperament—I have no distinct recollection of what she had on, but it was very little—we had to knock once or twice before we got in, and I inferred that she was going to bed—the child had a cotton nightgown on, and appeared very much emaciated, and in a state of very great debility—I listened to its lungs with my stethoscope, and looked at its tongue—I could discover no organic disease, and therefore I was led to infer that it had been badly nourished—it was removed from the prisoner's care, and I saw it some days later in the care of Mrs. Wells, where it was properly cared for and nourished—I saw it there twice—it died on 13th October—I made a post mortem examination; there were no marks on the
body, but it was very much emaciated, and there were excoriations on the thighs and buttocks—on opening the body all the organs were healthy, except the left lung, which was in a state of inflammation, and the brain, which was slightly congested—the excoriations arose from the child wetting its clothes, and the acid nature of the foeces and urine—the immediate cause of death was the inflammation of the lungs, which I have no doubt was accelerated by bad treatment and bad nursing.
Prisoner. When I had had the child three weeks she had an abscess formed on her right breast, and another on the bottom of her stomach, and breakings out on several parts of her body, and she had a gathering in her head, it ran from her ear; I sent for her mother, who came on the night the abscess broke. Witness. There was no mark on the right breast, or any external marks except the excoriations—if there had been such abscesses as the prisoner mentions they would have left marks, especially when they were so recent.
ANNIE BUTCHER (re-examined.) The prisoner sent for me a month or six weeks after she had the child, as she was afraid it might die—there was then an abscess on its shoulder, and she told me that it had two on its side—I did not see them, but she asked me for money for medicine—she told me she poulticed it with linseed after it broke, and she always behaved very kind to it, but I can only speak of the time I was there—I saw nothing the matter with it, except on its shoulder—I did not see that more than once, and it was then nearly well—I did not see her poultice it—it was a very large place on the shoulder when I first saw it, and it had just broken—I went again during the week, and she was feeding it with beef-tea—it was then nearly well—I saw no abscess on its stomach.
JANE WELLS . I live with my husband at 1, Gardner's Cottages, close to Newington Green—the officer came to me on Monday evening, and I went to the prisoner's house on Tuesday morning, and I asked her what she intended to do, and told her to look what trouble she had got herself into, and what was I to do—she said, "Do what you like"—I immediately took the baby to the aunt, as I thought, but she appears to be the mother—it was up to its neck in its own dirt and wet—it was so stinking that I burnt the coloured clothing, and this blanket, as we call it (produced) has had to be washed half-a-dozen times and bleached—I took the child home, and, being a mother, treated it with a mother's care—its bones were through its skin, and it only weighed 5 1/2 lbs.—I only wish I could have rose it—we knew that it was being starved four months ago, and I gave information to the aunt when I met her—I saw it sometimes four months ago—it was dreadfully dirty, and I went in and washed it and put it to bed—it was neglected at that time.
Prisoner. I always kept the baby well fed, as much as it could eat; it was never taken to Mrs. Wells to be washed; it is a complete piece of spite; Mrs. Wells did not want the baby at first, because she thought she should not get paid for it, but when she found I was paid for it she wanted it. Witness. I could have had the baby at first, but I could not take it, and I recommended the prisoner—the mother had rather that I should have had it, but I am not capable of nursing myself—I have not combed my own hair for six years—the baby was brought home first, and I saw its clothing—I did not say that I was afraid to take it, because I did not know that I should get the money.
prisoner has lived next door to me eight or nine months—the child was brought to her about eight mouths ago, and I saw it just afterwards—it was then a very nice, healthy baby—I afterwards saw the prisoner's two daughters nursing it outside—it looked then very neglected—I saw it once or twice a week until it was removed of 19th September—it was always very neglected—you could see it wasting away—I told the prisoner that it was being starved, and I was abused for saying so—I never saw the prisoner very sober—when she came home she would abuse everybody.
Prisoner. Q. Did you ever see me intoxicated? A. Yes; I never hardly saw you otherwise.
EMMA MILLS . I am married, and live in the same house as the prisoner—she was there before I came—I was not living there when the baby was brought to her—I have, I think, been in the house seven months—I was there about six months before 19th September—I have five children—this child, Alice Butcher, was very much neglected day after day, and it was left in the charge of two girls, who used to be out all day long and leave the poor little thing to itself—I never saw it fed—it was in a very bad and dirty state when I saw it—it used to cry more often than infants generally do—it has been left for three hours at a time, and I have heard it cry nearly all the time—on 16th September, the Saturday before it was taken away, it was crying till I felt I could bear it no longer, and I went up into the room between 9 and 10 in the morning, and found it in a cradle, wet to its little neck, and in a most dirty condition—it was most heart-rending to see it—its eyes were quite gummed up for want of washing—it had nothing on but a bed-gown, and you could not tell whether that was a bed-gown or not, because it was so dreadfully dirty—I put it in my skirt and brought it down stairs, and then I did not know what to do with it, for I was afraid Mrs. King would come home and see me with it, for when I have told her about it she has only abused me—I have told her that it was neglected, and asked her why she let the girls leave it—during the whole time I was there its treatment was the same as I have described—I took it out at the back door, and called the last witness to look at it—she fetched the police to see it, and he came, but, owing to the prisoner's vile temper, Mrs. Watson persuaded me to replace it in its cradle—I saw the prisoner five or six times a week, and I do not think she was hardly ever sober.
JURY. Q. Do you know the child's mother? A. No, but there used to be two come on Monday night; one was represented as the mother, and the other as the aunt—I told Mrs. King that I should tell the mother, but she ceased to come after that, and the money used to be fetched—I Could never ascertain where the mother or the aunt lived.
JOHN HENRY KELLY . I live at 14, Suffolk Place, Stoke Newington, and am a milkman—I supplied the prisoner with milk morning and afternoon—I usually saw a girl—I very seldom saw the prisoner; only twice, or three times; but when I did see her she was always the worse for drink—I served her with milk from the time she had the child till the time it was taken away—the elder girl is not more than twelve years old, and the younger looks between seven and eight—I saw the prisoner on the Wednesday, the day after the child was taken away, and she smelt very strongly of rum, as if she had just had some—I saw the baby two or three days before it was taken away—I had seen it before, but the last time I could not help noticing it; the sight of it was enough to make you sick—it was in a most filthy state; it did not seem to have a bedgown on, and the face was all
begrimed with dirt—its flesh was very dirty, and it was nothing but skin and bone, regularly emaciated—I ran over to the other side of the road.
JURY. Q. How much milk did you leave? A. A 1d. worth a day the first part of the time, and 1 1/2 d. worth afterwards—the most it came to was 11d. a week—the girl paid me—they were fire in family, besides the baby.
Prisoner. I did not use the milk for my own purposes; I used it for the baby. I do not take milk, nor do the younger members of my family; and my son was not at home. Witness. I believe he used to go home every night; in fact, you said that it was his home—the girl brought me the milk jug, and said that her mother was troubled with indigestion, and was advised to take rum and milk in the morning, and that when she put the nun in, it used to fiz up.
Prisoner's Defence. I am not guilty. I have no witnesses, because no one knows anything about my affairs. I do not make myself sociable with anybody.
GUILTY — Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
GUILTY of the attempt — Two Years Imprisonment.
MESSRS. MONTAGU WILLIAMS and HORACE BROWN conducted the Prosecution.
JAMES JOHN ILETT , M.R.C.S. I am resident surgeon at Whitechapel Workhouse—on 24th October the deceased was brought there, and placed under my care—he died on 6th November, from inflammation of the brain—he was paralyzed in his left side, while under my care—in consequence of the Coroner's order I made a postmortem examination within thirty hours after death—he died from inflammation of the membranes of the brain, owing to violence or a blow—nothing else would cause that form of inflammation—there was a quantity of pus and lymph on the base of the brain, which is always a sign—there were no signs of fracture—I found all the organs healthy except the right lung, which was slightly adherent, and a little inflamed; but it had nothing to do with the death—I should not expect to find external marks if it was from a blow, as, if the scalp had been lacerated five months before, the scar would have healed—the blow was on 29th May, when he was taken to the London Hospital with concussion of the brain, and was an in-patient twenty-seven days—he came into the workhouse five months afterwards—concussion of the brain will leave effects for many months, especially with an intemperate person; and there was very strong evidence of his being a man of intemperate habits—a fall against a flag-stone, or any kind of blow, would do the same thing—it is impossible for me to say when the injury which caused death was received—it might have been some time before, or it might have been a second blow.
COURT. Q. Between the 24th May and the time he died you mean he might have met with another blow? A. We have evidence of concussion of the brain on 29th May, which might at any time have brought on the appearances I saw without any fresh blow; even taking too much stimulant would cause it, but the original cause must have been a blow. He
might have recovered from the concussion, and received a second injury in the head.
JULIA IRVIN . I am the wife of a coachman, of 34, Hare Street, Bethnal Green—on Whit-Monday, 29th May, between 6 and 7 o'clock in the evening, I went to 24, Montague Street, Spitalfields, and as I went up into a gateway I saw the deceased, and knew that he was in charge of the yard—two men were standing in the gateway, making water—I did not hear the deceased say anything to them, or see him speak to them—the prisoner, who was furthest in the yard, went down the yard, and struck the deceased, who did not see him coming—he was behind him—the blow knocked him down—the deceased was sober—three coachmen came out of the stable—there was no fighting before that blow, and not a word was said by either—the deceased did not strike at the prisoner—he was not sensible after he was knocked down—two men told the prisoner to run for it.
Prisoner. Q. You say you were in the yard at the time the deceased was struck, did not I meet you coming in as I was going out? A. As you were running out I was going in at the entrance of the gateway; you came running down and knocked him down—he was sober—I had seen him twice that day—the last time was about 2 o'clock, he was sober then—you hit him with the back of your hand as you passed by.
JANE CRADDOCK . I am the wife of Alfred Craddock, an engineer, of 18, Brandon Street, Old Ford—I was at the entrance of this yard, talking to Mrs. Irvin; she screamed, and I turned my head, and saw the man lying on the ground, and the prisoner running away from him as hard as he could—when I first saw him he was a little farther from him than you are from me—he turned up Montague Street—I only saw those two men, the prisoner and the deceased—Mrs. Irvin went after the prisoner, and I went up to the man—blood was pouring from his mouth, nose, and head furiously—I did not know him previously, but I have seen him a great many times since, and know that his name is Jacobs—he got up of himself—I saw him next when he came out of the London Hospital—the last time I saw him was in the Blue Lion public-house, about two months ago, I think—he seemed then to be much about the same as he always was.
Prisoner. Q. Were you not at the entrance of the yard when I came out running? A. Yes, when I got up to the man he was standing up and was leaning with his head against the harness room door, because I did not go that very instant, I spoke to a man first—I did not see another man coming to strike you when you ran away—I said at the inquest that there were three men, you and two others, we could not see you till we got into the yard, because of the position of the yard.
ANN BLBNKHORN . I am a night-nurse, at Whitechapel Union Work-house, attached to the male inmates' ward—on 24th October, Jacobs, the deceased, was brought there in a very destitute state, and very bad—he died on 6th November.
RICHARD LOFT . I live at 2, Hard Road, Stoke Newington, the deceased was my brother—his name was Luke Loft—I am a bank note stamper, in the Bank of England—I had not seen him for two years before his death, but previous to that, his character was good in every respect except one failing, intemperance—his position was unknown to his family.
EDWIN CHAPMAN . I live at 26, Gun Street, Spitalfields, and work in a City warehouse—I am one of the men who was making water in the gateway, I was perfectly sober, but I should hardly think the deceased was—the
the prisoner was sober, he and I and his father went up the yard—the prisoner went round the corner to the right, and his father and I stopped about half way up the gateway—I saw the deceased throw a brush at the prisoner, and the prisoner came round the corner and asked what gentleman it was threw that brush at him—they did not speak for a second or so, or it might be a minute, and then the deceased said "I did"—I said to my friend "Come along, Bob!"And the deceased followed us down the yard—(I was not so far down as Clifford was) he commenced fighting with Clifford, and the deceased got knocked down—the prisoner then walked out of the gateway, they picked the man up, and I think they took him to a chemist's shop, I do not know, but he came back with a handkerchief up to his head—a policeman was there then, and one of the men in the yard wanted to give me in custody—the constable asked the deceased if it was me or the prisoner's wife, he said it was not either of us, and he did not wish to swear any man's life away—the prisoner's wife came back to us after it was over—the man seemed very bad and was taken away in a cart—I did not see Mrs. Craddock there—the deceased was bleeding when he got up—the prisoner walked away, but not for a minute or so after the man fell—I am positive he walked out of the yard—I am a friend of his.
The Prisoner in his Defence requested that the Jury might, read his statement before the Coroner:—this was that he was making water up the yard, when the deceased threw a piece of wood or a brush at him which hit his hat; that they had one round and both fell, and the deceased who was not sober struck his head upon the kerb-stone.
NOT GUILTY .
THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, 22nd November, 1871.
Before Mr. Deputy Recorder.
41. HARRY BESCH (19), PLEADED GUILTY to feloniously forging and uttering a receipt for 60l., and stealing a warrant for 60l., from the Inland Revenue— Strongly recommended to mercy— Four Months' Imprisonment.
42. THOMAS WELLER (22), FREDERICK HENDERSON (28), JOHN ENEVER (29) , Unlawfully conspiring together, with others, to obtain eleven bundles of paper-hangings by false pretences, and to forge and utter an order for the payment of 17l. 17s. 6d., with intent to defraud.
HENRY SWEETING . I am in the employment of Messrs. C. and J. Potter, paper-hanging manufacturers, 5l., Cannon Street—on August 23rd Weller called at the warehouse with an open letter, which he handed to me it was signed J. R. Glennie—I read it, and asked him who Mr. Glennie was, and he handed me this card, "J. R. Glennie, late Weller and Co., stationer, 5, Edgware Road"—this is the letter—(Read: "5, Edgware Road, August 23, 1871. Gentlemen. Will you please let bearer have samples of the numbers mentioned, as I have some houses to paper, and oblige yours truly, J. R. Glennie.")—I believe I said "Is Glennie in the trade?"—I saw "stationer" Was on the card, and agreed to let him have the patterns, and charge him trade price—I called Sutcliffe, another warehouseman, and he took him round the warehouse to select the patterns—after they had been gone some time, Weller came back to me, and showed me the patterns, and
I I told him the prices—he then left—it was an understood thing that it was I to be a cash transaction.
Cross-examined by MR. WRIGHT. There are eight or ten men employed by the firm—I can't say that I was the first person that saw Weller that morning—I was engaged at the time he came in—I won't swear that he had not shown the letter to somebody else, who may have opened it—I saw him standing with the letter in his hand—I did not see any envelope—I can't say whether the card was inside the letter or not.
Re-examined. I was just in front of the warehouse when he came in—I saw him standing there—I looked at him and he handed me the letter.
BENJAMIN SUTCLIFFE . I am an under warehouseman to Messrs. Potter—on 23rd August Sweeting passed Weller over to me, and I took him round the warehouse to see the patterns—I asked him who they were for, and he said they were for his governor—I chose some patterns for him, and they were subsequently shown to Mr. Sweeting—I saw someone on 25th August—I should not know him again.
Cross-examined by MR. WRIGHT. I see a large number of persons in the course of the day—I did not make a note of the conversation—I mean to swear he used the word "governor."
EDWARD TIBBS . I am an under-warehouseman to Messrs. Potter—I remember a person calling at the warehouse on 25th August—that is a photograph of the person (produced)—I had not seen him before, and I have not seen him since—he produced some patterns of paper-hangings—they were the same patterns that had been obtained from our place—the quantity required was written on the back of those patterns—I spoke to him when he produced the patterns.
Cross-examined by MR. M. WILLIAMS. It was in the house of Mr. Wallace, in the butler's room—the man's name is Grattan, but he goes by several names: Green, Hill, and Palmer—I don't know him personally.
Cross-examined by MR. WRIGHT. They are our own distinct patterns—other firms do not have the same patterns, except they are supplied by us.
Re-examined. I saw the patterns on the 20th, and 25th, and they were the same—I should think there were about a dozen.
EDWARD TIBBS (re-called.) When the person whose photograph that is called at the warehouse, he asked me whether I could send them up on the same day—I said no; we had not got them in stock at Cannon Street—he said the papers were for his father, and he produced a card similar to the one which has been read—I told him he should have the paper in three or four days—he said he would call the next day and let me know whether that would do, as he frequently went by—he called the following day and said it would do—he asked me for part of the patterns, and I gave him half of each pattern—on 29th August I gave Hillyer, the carman, eleven bundles of paper-hangings, of the value of 17l. 17s. 6d., and an invoice—when he came back he handed me this cheque for 17l. 17s. 6d., and I gave it to the cashier.
from Mr. Tibbs, to be delivered at 5, Edgware Road—I went there and went into the shop, and asked for Mr. Olennie—there was a little boy in the shop—Henderson came from the back of the shop, and said "Bring them in, it is all right"—I gave him the invoice, and he said he would give me a cheque—I then brought the eleven bundles into the shop, and Henderson gave me this cheque, and 2d. for a glass of ale—I gave the cheque to Mr. Tibbs—this is the counterfoil of the invoice—Henderson took it from me and brought it back signed—while I was delivering the goods he left the front shop, came back, and gave me the cheque.
Cross-examined by MR. MOODY. Henderson came forward at once when I went in—he said "Bring them in, it will be all right"—he gave me the cheque when the goods were delivered—he came from the back of the shop when he gave me the cheque—I did not see any other person in the shop at that time—I signed the bill after receiving the money—I had no view of any room at the back—when he signed the counterfoil he took the book—he did not leave the shop—he had his back to me and gave the counterfoil back with "Henderson" on it.
JOHN RONALDSON LYELL . I am the Magistrate's clerk at the Marylebone Police Court—on 30th August, I was present when Weller gave his evidence against Henderson and Enever—I took his statement down in writing at the time—I heard him sworn—this is the statement—I did not hear the Magistrate say anything to him before he made it.
MR. W. SLEIGH proposed to have Weller's statement read. Counsel for the defendants objected, as it could only be evidence against Weller himself, and not against the other defendants. THE DEPUTY-RECORDER considered it was not receivable as a deposition, as there had been no committal on the charge upon which he was examined. It was urged that Weller's statement, as would appear by further evidence, was made under such threats and inducements as to render it inadmissible, even against himself. THE DEPUTY-RECORDER did not however express an opinion on this point, as MR. WRIGHT, who appeared for Weller, waived his objection, and requested that the statement should be put in. It was accordingly read, as follows:—
"I carry on business as a stationer, at 5, Edgware Road. I know the prisoner Enever, and have done so for nine or ten months. I was anxious to dispose of my business; the prisoner Henderson introduced himself to me, and wanted to buy the business; this was from three to four weeks ago; a few days before the 29th I saw Enever speak to Henderson in the shop, and so I knew that they were acquainted; this was after Henderson had proposed to buy the business of me. It was arranged between us that Henderson should have possession of the shop, and that an agreement should be signed between us on payment to me of 10l. by Henderson, on account of 80l. It was arranged that the money should be paid on the 23rd August. The agreement was signed. On 23rd August the prisoner Henderson came to me, but he did not pay me the money. The two prisoners and myself had drunk together after I had seen the prisoners speaking to each other in the shop. Between the 23rd and the 28th, Henderson made excuses for not paying the money—on the 28th, in the morning, Henderson and I were in the New Inn public-house, Edgware Road. He asked me if he might have some goods brought in on the Tuesday, the 29th; I said 'Yes,' believing he was going to have the business; he said that the 10l. would be ready in a day or two. On the afternoon of the 29th, some skins of leather and bundles of paper-hangings arrived at the shop; these goods
might be worth from 50l. to 60l. The goods came at different times, and apparently from different places. After some of the goods came, I saw the prisoners together in the shop. In the evening, at 9.45, I shut up the shop, and went to have a glass of ale with both the prisoners. A few minutes after I parted from the prisoners, from what I was told, I asked Mr. Barnes to go back, and stop in the shop all night. About 2 o'clock next morning I was at the police-station, and I there saw the skins of leather, some silver-plated articles, some pipes, 14 packets of note-paper, 3 boxes of envelopes, 36 lead pencils, and 12 quill pens. I identify the note-paper, envelopes, pencils, pens, and 2 books, and 2 packs of cards, as my property. The prisoners had no right to take these things. I had given the prisoners no authority to come to my shop at night The articles which are mine are worth 14l.
Cross-examined. Enever came first to the shop as a customer; he occasionally bought a newspaper. Enever came into the shop in the afternoon of the 29th, but made no purchases; he did not say in the evening that he had bought plate-powder in the afternoon. I was in an inner room of the shop when the goods were delivered. I had nothing to do whatever with the ordering or obtaining of the goods. I have misted a latch-key; the key produced is it, to the best of my belief; I did not lend it to Henderson at any time, or authorise them to have it."
Cross-examined by MR. WRIGHT. Barnes was examined as a witness in that case, and also the officer Tomkins—the Magistrate did not commit the two prisoners for trial—he expressed his intention of doing so—the formal committal was made out, but Weller was afterwards made a defendant, and therefore those proceedings did not go on.
Cross-examined by MR. M. WILLIAMS. The fact was, that both the men were to be committed on the charge of larceny, and the end of it was that Weller was ordered into the dock.
Re-examined. The Magistrate said that he would commit the two prisoners for trial on a charge of stealing the articles belonging to Weller, but just before the actual committal, the prosecutor in this case stood up and said that he had a charge to make against Weller—the Magistrate stopped the case, and asked what the charge was, and then he said he would try this charge, and the charge that Weller had made was to be brought after this was disposed of.
JOHN LINDSAY . I am manager to Messrs. Potter—I was at the Police Court when Weller prosecuted Henderson and Enever—I subsequently gave Weller into custody—I have seen a portion of the paper-hangings that were found on Weller's premises—they are our property—I received this cheque from the cashier, and paid it into the bank—it was returned in its present state marked "No account."
Cross-examined by MR. WEIGHT. I gave Weller into custody, acting for Messrs. Potter.
THOMAS FRENCH LAWRENCE . I am cashier at the London and County Bank, Covent Garden Branch—we have no customer of the name of Glennie—this cheque was issued on 27th November, 1869, to A. Whitty, 335, Strand, and the account was closed on 18th December, 1869.
GEORGE RICHARD GLRNNIE . I live at 4, King Square Avenue, Bristol—at the time of the examination at the Police Court, I lived at Eldon Cottages, Woodside—I did not give anyone authority to have these cards printed—at one time I carried on business at 5, Edgware Road, as a stationer, bookseller, and newsagent—I parted with my interest in that business
new about eighteen months ago—this is not my signature to this cheque—I did not authorise anyone to sign cheques in my name—I have no account at the London and County Bank, Covent Garden Branch—I had at the Edgware Road Branch—I did not give anyone authority to order paper-hangings from Messrs. Potter & Co., nor did I authorise anyone to carry on business in the name of Glennie, late Weller & Co.
Cross-examined by MR. WRIGHT. I know Weller's writing—I should certainly say that the signature to the cheque is not his writing, nor any part of the cheque—I don't think this letter is in his handwriting—I knew Weller when he was apprenticed to Mr. Creed—he used to bring books to my shop—that would be six or seven years ago—I sold my business to Mr. Creed—Weller was apprenticed to him, and Creed sold the business to Weller—it was a good business when I had it—during the six or seven years that I hare known Weller be has borne a very good character.
Cross-examined by MR. MOODY. I never saw Henderson till I saw him before the Magistrate.
HENRY BARNES . I live at 24, Lothian Road, Brixton—I have known Weller ten or eleven years—I knew he was apprenticed to Mr. Creed—about eight months ago I left the service of the Brighton Railway Company—I went to visit Weller at his shop, in the Edgware Road, in a friendly way—T subsequently agreed to invest 25l. in the business, and paid 15l. 10s. deposit—I was to have an interest in the business—the agreement was not signed—I have not had the money back—I paid the 16l. about three or four months back—the business was proceeding first-rate at that time—it continued to proceed in that first-rate manner for a short time, and then it was neglected—I spoke to Weller in consequence, and he said he would dispose of the business, and pay me the money back—I knew Enever by sight, by coming to 5, Edgware Road, perhaps about five or six months ago—I have seen Henderson there once or twice the latter part of the time—on 28th August I was in the shop—Henderson and Weller were there—I had not seen Henderson and Enever in the shop together before that—on the 29th, the day before the paper-hangings were delivered, Henderson was at the shop—Weller was there as usual; and in the latter part of the day Enever came in—that was after the goods were delivered—Henderson was there at the time the goods were actually delivered—I saw the goods delivered—they were directed to J, R. Glennie—I was at the back part of the shop, a kind of partition, when the paper-hangings were delivered—Weller was with me—when the carman brought the paper-hangings, Henderson left the back part of the shop—he came back and asked for a pen and ink—the carman was waiting in the front shop when the pen and ink was being looked for—I did not see what Henderson did with the pen and ink—there was no one in the shop at that time but Henderson, Weller, myself and the carman—it was between 3 and 4 o'clock—Enever got there between 5 and 6 o'clock—Henderson did not tell me how he had paid for the paper-hangings—just before they were delivered, we were all three together, at the back of the shop, playing cards and drinking beer—I asked Weller the meaning of goods being delivered at the shop in the name of Glennie—I can't remember what reply he made—he evaded it in some way or other—I can't give you any more detail of it than that—after the paper had been delivered, Henderson, Weller and myself, went to a public-house, about 9.45—some other goods had been delivered besides the paper-hangings—I made a communication to my
father the same night, about the goods being delivered in the name of Glennie—I was with my father in Park Lane that evening, and we saw Weller—that was after Henderson and Enever had parted from Weller and I—my father made a request to Weller about my going back to Edgware Road, in consequence of which Weller permitted me to go in order to take care of the place—I was to remain the night—I went back with my brother—I opened the shop, and lit a candle and the gas—I then found Henderson and Enever in the shop, behind the counter—I asked them what right they had got there—Henderson said "I have bought the business of Weller, and I hare a right here, and I have got some property here"—a struggle took place between us—we tried to turn them out—I said they had no right there, and I should give them in charge, and a struggle took place—the door was burst open by Enever; the shop-door, leading into the street—I had fastened it when I came in—a cab was called, and Henderson and Enever got into it—I told the cabman that they had taken some property out of the shop, and he would take the prisoners at his peril—he then refused to take them, and they got out and called another cat)—I ran after that cab, calling out "Stop thief!"—it was stopped by Sergeant Tomkins, and I gave the two prisoners into custody—it was between 10 and 11 o'clock when we got to the station—between 2 and 3 o'clock in the morning I saw Weller at the station.
Cross-examined by MR. WRIGHT. I know that Weller did try to sell the business—I don't know anything about an arrangement between Henderson and Weller by which the business was to be bought by Henderson—I was present at the Police Court when Weller was examined—I heard him say that it was so then—I did not know it was the case before that—I went back to the shop, at Weller's own request, to take care of his things—Weller told my father that he was very uneasy about what other persons were doing, and that that was the first day his suspicions had been aroused, and then he asked my father if I might go back there and stay all night—he did not mention any names when he said his suspicions were aroused—he mentioned about the goods—he told my father that a large quantity of goods had come in that day, and that he did not understand anything about it, and I went back at Weller's request—I have known him ten or eleven years—ho has borne an excellent character during that time—we had been drinking that afternoon.
Cross-examined by MR. MOODY. I believe Weller mentioned about my going back before my father had spoken to him—I was present when the paper was brought in—it was afterwards taken up stairs—Weller assisted, I did not—I was away for a holiday about a week before that—I came back about 21st August—I might have seen Henderson once before that, but I can't say, I have no distinct recollection—when I went back he was assisting in the shop, serving customers—that was on the 20th, and a day or two before—I saw the cheque before the Magistrate, and I said then I did not think it was in his (Henderson's) handwriting—I did not see him write anything when the carman was there.
Cross-examined by MR. M. WILLIAMS. I did not see the cheque given—I was at the back of the shop with Weller—Henderson was in the shop—there was no one in the shop to use the pen and ink but Henderson, Weller, and myself—I am a great mend of Weller's—the business that was so successful and gradually collapsed was that of a stationer and bookseller—we bought waste paper and so on—persons had letters left there to call for, and wrote
letters there—I did not know the name Glennie before, I am certain of that—the afternoon the things arrived I was playing cards and drinking beer with Henderson and Weller, in the back room—it was merely for amusement—it was not a solitary instance—it was very often the case—I have played cards with Weller in the evening after the shop was shut up—it was a solitary occurrence to play in the afternoon—I can't say that we never did it before, but it was not usual—I am quite certain I did not know the shop when Glennie had it—no betting went on there, to my knowledge—I have heard so since—I did not know anything about it personally—Mr. Weller and I used to sleep there till a month or two prior to this—sometimes we slept there and sometimes not—it was a little before 11 when I went into the shop and found Henderson and Enever under the counter—the shop was not open—I opened it—Weller went home that night—he did not sleep at the shop at that time—I had an interest in the business at that time—it was my own property and Weller's that I went to look after—Weller went home, and did not bother about it.
Re-examined. I don't think the cheque is in Henderson's writing, but I have not seen him write above three times—I had seen him write a receipt in the shop once, and I took upon myself to form a judgment upon that—when I met my father and Weller in Park Lane, the conversation was between my father and Weller—Weller asked advice of my father—he said he was dissatisfied, and my father advised me to go and look after the property—I don't know whether he advised Weller to go as well.
THOMAS TOMKINS (re-called.) On 29th August, about 10.30 at night, I was on duty in Connaught Square—I heard a disturbance, and saw Barnes running after a cab, calling out—I stopped the cab, and found Henderson and Enever in it—I directed the cabman to drive to the police-station—Barnes went to the station—I found eighty-five skins of leather in the cab—I showed them to Spindler, and he identified them as Mr. Cooper's property—there were also two plated rings and a small key in the cab—I went back to the Edgware Road, and found another cab at the corner of Seymour Street—that cab was taken to the station, and the cabman identified Henderson and Enever as the persons who had hired him—in that cab was a carpet-bag, an umbrella, and stick—the small key which I found in the first cab fitted the carpet-bag I found in the cab at the corner of Seymour Street—I went to No. 5, Edgware Road, and found eleven bundles of paper-hangings, addressed to "G. R. Glennie," three in the shop behind the counter, and eight up stairs—I found a door-key on Henderson at the station—Weller claimed it as his door-key—Barnes gave Henderson and Enever in charge first—Henderson said he had bought the leather, and was going to take it to Mr. Weller's place, at 5l. Millbank Street, Westminster—I went there, and received some letters and papers—there was no name up at 51, Millbank Street—"Weller & Co."Was up at 5, Edgware Road—I went to the house of a Mr. Wallace, St. Petersburgh Place, Bays-water—Enever gave me that address as his place of service—I saw Mr. Wallace, and he showed me a room where there was a cupboard, which I opened with a key Enever gave me—I found two parcels in that cupboard—this photograph was on one of the parcels, and these cheques were in another—the cheques were on different banks—six of the cheques are taken
from this book of cheques of the London and County Bank, Henrietta Street—I fetched Weller to the station after Henderson and Enever were taken there, and he identified a quire of writing-paper which was found in the cab as his property—we asked Weller if he was going to charge the two prisoners with stealing the things from his shop—he seemed rather reluctant, and hesitated—I said to him "These things are come by dishonestly, and if you don't charge them I shall put you in the dock with them for the unlawful possession of them, for I have seen the paper which is at your shop"—he then charged them—they were taken before the Magistrate, and remanded, and then committed for trial on that charge—I don't know whether the commitment was made out—as soon as they commenced going on with Potter's case the former one was quashed.
Cross-examined by MR. WEIGHT. I have never told anyone before that if they did not charge someone else I would take them up—I did not say anything about that before the Magistrate when I was examined as a witness on the charge when Weller was the prosecutor, and Enever and Henderson were prisoners—I said it when Weller was a prisoner.
THOMAS FRENCH WALLACE . I am an independent gentleman, living at St. Petersburgh Place, Bayswater—Enever was butler in my service—Tomkins called on me one day some eight weeks ago—I took him to the butler's pantry, and showed him a cupboard—Tomkins had a key in his possession—I think the cupboard was open—it was the butler's cupboard—he had the sole charge of it.
Cross-examined by MR. M. WILLIAMS. Enever has been about twelve months in my service, and gave me every satisfaction.
HENRY MOLT (Police Sergeant D 12). I was at the Molyneux Street Police Station on 29th August, and saw Henderson and Enever there—Inspector Austin made a communication to me, and I watched Enever—I saw him put his hand in his breast pocket, pass something to his right hand, and put it down in the fender—I went to the fender, and found this cheque-book.
Cross-examined by MR. M. WILLIAMS. I was four or five yards from him—it was about 12 o'clock at night—it was in the reserve room, and there was plenty of light—he did it slily, so that I should not observe him—I don't know whether he thought I was looking at him or not—Henderson was sitting nearest to me, by the side of Enever—he did not touch Enever—I was not in the room when they were brought in—I came in some time after they had been there—the inspector was at the desk—he is here—he had not the same opportunity of seeing as I had—he has not told me that he saw it.
JAMES AUSTIN (Police Inspector D.) I saw Henderson and Entver in custody on 29th August—I remember Molt being there, and I communicated with him—Enever was very uneasy in the station, and wanted to go outside, and so did Henderson, and I directed Molt to keep an eye on them—I did not see the cheque-book passed away.
Cross-examined by MR. MOODY. The cabman did not identify the prisoners the same night, he said they were very like them, but he could not identify them—I have not given evidence at all till to-day.
Cross-examined by MR. M. WILLIAMS. The prisoners had been in the room some time before Molt came in—not by themselves—the Reserve men were there—I will undertake to say that they had not been in the room three hours before Molt came in—they might have been an hour—I was in the
room when the book was found, at the desk, about three yards from where Enever was standing—I saw nothing.
COURT. Q. Did you see the cheque-book produced? A. Yes—Molt handed it to me, and said it had been put in the fender by Enever.
MR. WRIGHT to THOMAS TOMKINS. When Weller claimed the key that was found on Henderson, as the key of his door, did not he say that Henderson had no right to it? A. He did.
Cross-examined by MR. M. WILLIAMS. Q. Was it you who found this cash-box? A. Yes, that was found in the pantry, in the cupboard—I found some of Mr. Grattan's cards in that box—I forced the box open—I did not find the key.
Re-examined. I also found some cards of "Glennie, late Weller & Co."—Weller and Enever received good characters.
WELLER— Twelve Months' Imprisonment. —HENDERSON and ENEVER Two Year's Imprisonment each.
FOURTH COURT.—Wednesday, November 22nd, 1871.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
43. JAMES GOODRICH (24), JOSEPH WARD (24), and JAMES McKENZIE (26) , Feloniously breaking and entering the Holloway Congregational Church, and stealing two chalices and other articles, of Josiah Bishop and others
MR. TURNER conducted the Prosecution.
ALFRED MOUSEY . (Policeman Y 45). On Sunday night, 24th October, I was on duty, in the Caledonian and Camden Roads—I passed the Holloway Congregational Chapel, which is at the corner of those two roads, about 12.30—I saw the glimmer of a light in the chapel—I waited a short time and then I saw it again—I jumped over the wall and tried the south door, opened it and went in and saw the three prisoners—they ran back in the church—I ran after them and collared Goodrich—I was then hit by Ward, with a life presever or a wooden stick, I could not say which, and Goodrich and I fell—McKenzie and Ward then dragged me into the church-yard—I called out "Come round here, here they are"—McKenzie threw his jemmy at me and ran away—I got the assistance of another constable and took Goodrich to the station—I found on him 1s. 2 1/2 d., a knife, and ten keys—I went back to the church with Samuel Green—I found a bottle of aqua fortis, this centre-bit and this holland cover and towel, by the vestry door—and these wedges and the jemmy were afterwards picked up where McKenzie flung the the jemmy at me—I examined the chapel door and found marks on the inside—entrance had been gained by a window, about 10ft. from the ground—it was pulled out—the vestry door was burst open and also the door where I went in—I found the chalices in the cellar of the vestry" Which had been burst open—one of them had been used for drinking wine out of—they had been taken out of the bag—I went to Marlborough Street Police Court, last Monday week, and saw McKenzie—I indentified him as being one of the men who were in the chapel—I saw Ward in custody and identified him as one of the men.
Goodrich. Q. You swear I was in the chapel when you went in? A. Yes, I confronted you with my lamp on full in your faces.
Ward. Q. I want to know how you identify me as one of the men? A. From your general appearance and height—I can't say that I ever saw you before—you had a Imperial—you had a large brown coat.
McKemie. Q. How do you identify me? A. I can identify you by your very prominent high cheek bones, and also being closely shaved as you are now, and your general appearance and dress, your hat in particular—I had my lamp on in your faces when I opened the door.
SAMUEL GREEN . I live at 2, Hornsey Road, and am keeper of the Congregational Chapel at Holloway—I was in the chapel on Sunday, 29th October—I closed it at the usual time—afterwards I went to the chapel with a policeman.
WILLIAM McMATH (Detective Sergeant D) On the 13th of November I was in Pentonville Rood with Sergeant Abberline—I there saw Ward—I had seen him about a fortnight previous—at that time he wore a long brown overcoat—I had had a communication from Mousey about him—I apprehended him—I told him I wanted him for being concerned with two others in breaking and entering the Congregational Chapel in Hornsey Road—he said I had made a mistake—he made resistance—the sergeant came up directly, and we took him to the station.
Ward. Q. Have you ever seen me before? A. Yes, I have known you two years.
FREDERICK ABBERLINE (Detective Sergeant 7). I was in Pentonville Road on 13th November—I assisted in taking Ward into custody—he was struggling with McMath and resisting—I found on him this large screw-driver, a candle, a few matches, and a knife.
Ward. I wish you would show these matches and knife. Witness. It is a small pocket knife, a candle, and three matches.
Mackenzie also PLEADED GUILTY to a preview conviction at Clerkenwell in July, 1862, in the name of James Garrett.
GOODRICH. and WARD— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment each. MACKENZIE**— Seven years' Penal Servitude.
MR. HARRIS conducted the Prosecution; and MR. COOPER defended White.
HENRY RANDALL (City Detective.) On the 3rd of November I was with two other officers in Bishopsgate Street—I saw the three prisoners there—they went towards Aldgate Church—they remained there a few minutes—a lady came along—not the prosecutrix—she was going towards Aldgate—White placed himself in front of her, Coppin on the right hand side of her, Bryan close behind her—Coppin put his hand into this lady's pocket three times—the lady appeared to notice that, and she looked at him—they all three left her and came back again to Aldgate Church, where they remained a short time—Mrs. Mullis then came along, going in the direction of Whitechapel—Coppin went to her right hand side, and White alongside of him, and Bryan following him close behind them—I saw Coppin put his hand into her pocket and take out something and give it to White—he did so a second time and handed it to White again—I immediately rushed up and took Bryan and Coppin into custody—the other officers seized White—the prisoners struggled to get away—I searched them—I found some money and a knife.
Bryan. Q. How far were we behind? A. White sometimes ten yards;
on the last occasion only six yards, when I apprehended you, about three yards—I saw something paw, I cannot say what it was—the woman was in front of you when Coppin made the attempt—I was not on the same side as you all the time—I saw you make the attempt on the prosecutrix—I saw plainly enough what passed—you were not so close but I could see that—I saw you look round.
MR. COOPER. Q. How far were you from White and the rest? A. White was about 3 1/2 yards—there were a great number of people passing at the time.
FREDERICK DOWNES (City Detective). I was with Randall on the afternoon of the 3rd November—I saw the three prisoners and Mrs. Mullis—they went along Houndsditch into Aldgate—the lady was coming towards Whitechapel—she stopped to look into an oil-shop—Coppin went alongside of her, and felt in her pocket with his left hand—something appeared to pass from him to White—I ran round, and got hold of White's collar, but he got away—I pursued him a short distance, when he came into collision with a man, and I caught him—he had something in his hand—Lightfoot came up, and seized his hand, and said "What have you got there?"—he said "Money"—I said "How much?"—he said "Eight and sixpence"—I saw Lightfoot open his hand, and take out three half-crowns and a sixpence—I did not search him—I searched Bryan.
Bryan. Q. How much money did you find on me? A. I believe about 2s. 0 1/2 d.—I did not see you go into a public-house—you had passed the public-house before I saw you.
MR. COOPER. Q. White said it was his own money he had in his hand? A. He had 8s. 6d.—the lady had not so much by 6d.
SARAH MULLIS . I am the wife of Frederick Mullis, of 39, Lambeth Walk—on the afternoon of the 3rd November I was near Aldgate Church—I did not see these three men near me—I did not see them until evening—I found I had lost some money—I had four half-crowns when I left home, and I spent one in going along—it was in the right side pocket—it was an open pocket.
Coppin's Defence. I did not take the money out of her pocket.
Bryan was further charged with a previous conviction of felony.
Bryan. Q. What sentence had I? A. Twelve months'.
COPPIN— One Month in Newgate, and Five Years in a Reformatory.
WHITE— Eighteen Month' Imprisonment.
BRYAN— Ten Years' Penal Servitude.
LEVI PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. R. N. PHILIPPS conducted the Protection.
JOHN EDGAR (City Police Sergeant). On the morning of the 26th October I was sent to the shop of Mr. Alton, pawnbroker, 184, Bishopsgate Street Without—I saw the elder male prisoner and the female prisoner there—the assistant gave me these two bundles of linen (produced)—I asked the female about the bundle—she said it had been given to her—the male prisoner said it was given to him by his wife to pledge—not feeling satisfied
with these explanations, I took the prisoners to the station—I searched the male prisoner—I found four duplicates relating to linen and other things, and one relating to a silk dress—I found a pistol and five razors in a case—there were two bundles—in the bundle of the female prisoner I found these pieces of red flannel, these pieces of Japanese silk, and a piece of fringe—I went afterwards to the house of the male prisoner, 11, Bell Court, Gray's Inn Road—I found two towels, which have since been identified—at the time the male prisoner said his wife had given him these things to pledge, he said she was waiting for him at a public-house—he said he did not know what public-house—I asked him how his wife became possessed of them, and he said he did not know.
JOHN BARR . At the time of the robbery I lived at Catherine Cottage, Lewisham—about a fortnight before the 26th of last month I left home—our house was fastened up securely—there was no one in charge—I and my wife went away—we returned home on the 25th—we found the kitchen window broken open—inside the house I found everything in confusion—I have had that pistol (produced) for twenty years—these razors were in the back kitchen drawer—my wife will speak to the other articles—they were all safe when we left.
MARY ANN BARR . I am the wife of last witness—we left our house about a fortnight before the 25th—when we returned we found the house broken into, and everything in confusion—I identify those sheets, that towel, those three night dresses are mine, and those table-cloths—these were safe in the house before I left—that counterpane was on the bed—I identify that silk dress, those six sheets, that ivory thimble case, and those earrings are mine—those other articles were taken from our house—there was some fringe that I know, and that jacket also.
ESTHER INGWOOD . I am the female searcher at the Bishopsgate police-station—on 26th October last I searched the female prisoner—she was wearing two white petticoats—I found a thimble, one piece of red flannel, one piece of Japanese silk, one pair of scissors, one pair of earrings, one scent bottle, one piece of black fringe, a purse, and 7d. in coppers.
JAMES PATNE (Policeman T 19). I received information of the robbery, and went to the premises—I found the kitchen window had been broken—one square of glass had been broken, and in that way an entry had been made—things were thrown all over the house—on Sunday, 26th, I saw the prisoners at the police-station—on leaving the station I heard White make an observation to the prisoner Levi—he called out "Are you there, George?"—Levi said "Yes"—he said "You must mind what you are about. You must duff this on our mother Jones; you can do that you know; mind, I know nothing about it; mind what you are about"—Levi replied "When I get beyond that, I shall tell the truth."
Morrit White's Defence. I know nothing whatever of the robbery. The things were given me to pledge by the girl's mother. I was at work every
morning; I have been at work for the last eighteen months for Mr. Thomas Boultou, Gray's Inn Road.
Martha Wright's Defence. I was not at home when the things were brought in, and I had nothing to do with it on that morning at all. Afterwards I went into the public-house, and said "When are you going home?" My mother had given me the petticoats I had on. When I came home he was in a public-house, and I could not find my mother, and I asked him where she was. He said "You must not go up stairs." I said "I shall break the door in. "He (Morris White) said, "You must not do that; there is a lot of things in there."I met my mother, and I told her Mr. White was in the public-house, and he wanted her. I did not see my brother (Levi) till next week.
GEORGE LEVI . White was not with me when I committed the robbery. He knew nothing about it till next morning. He was at home when I brought the things, five minutes afterwards. I brought them about 1.30. Things were given him to pledge by my mother, but he wanted to take them of his own accord. When I came home from sea, my clothes were given to him to pledge to get his own out.
Wright. I should not have been here if it had not been for him. He came and threatened my mother's life. Witness. There is another young man in it, but he has not been taken yet. He lives in a house close by.
MORRIS WHITE— GUILTY .
MARTHA WRIGHT— NOT GUILTY .
Constable T 19 stated that Levi had been sent to a Reformatory from a Foundling Hospital, and from there to sea. Since that he had been in trouble twice; once for assaulting his mother, and another time for tearing his clothes in the workhouse. White had been several times in custody for drunkenness.— Judgment respited on White and Levi.
MR. COOK conducted the Prosecution.
JOHN RAYDON GILL . I am a hosier, at 117, Fleet Street—on the 20th October I had some railway rugs hanging just inside the door—those produced are the rugs—I saw them two or three hours before—after that I happened to be coming down Shoe Lane, and I saw the prisoner, or some man, running away, and a policeman following him—they were hanging up on a hook, and it was torn down.
Prisoner. Q. Was I not drunk, and did not know anything at all about what I was doing? A. I cannot say—I should say that he knew what he was doing.
JOHN BARRETT . I am a clerk—I was passing Mr. Gill's shop—I saw the prisoner take a rug from the door, in a rather suspicious manner, and walk away with it—I went into the shop, and asked Mrs. Gill if she had lost any thing—Mr. Gill came in, and I apprised him of it.
Prisoner. Q. Did I lift them off, or pull them down? A. You lifted them off, and ran away with them.
DAVID HAWKINS (City Detective 548). On Friday, the 20th October, I saw the prisoner running down Shoe Lane, carrying these two rugs—I pursued, and got up to him—he dropped the rugs—I afterwards saw Mr. Gill—the prisoner had been drinking, but he knew what he was about—he gave me an address in Fulwood's Rents, and I understood he had been at work as a costermonger.
Prisoner's Defence. I got drunk, and next morning I did not know where I was. I asked what I was charged with.
He further PLEADED GUILTY to a previous conviction of felony at Clerkenwell, on the 5th December, 1870— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
MR. TURNER conducted the Prosecution.
MARY FOBSTEIN . I am the wife of Jacob Fobstein, and live at 34, Fashion Street—on the morning of the 24th October I had locked all up, and gone to bed at 1 o'clock—at 3 o'clock I saw the prisoner holding on by the window sill, and jump down into the yard—I went out into the yard, and told a policeman—I saw something in the prisoner's hand when he was on the window-ledge—the clothes in the room were safe when I went to bed—a policeman afterwards brought something back.
Prisoner. She said before the Magistrate that she saw some one. Witness. No, I said I saw him, because he had a light in his hand—I did not identify him before the Magistrate.
JAMBS FRANCIS (Policeman H 138). On the 20th October, at 3 o'clock in the morning, I was on duty in Fashion Street—I heard screams from last witness—I ran towards the screams, and when I turned the corner I saw the prisoner come out of the garden of 34, followed by another man—the prisoner had a coat with him—he threw it away—the other man was close behind him—he had a coat and three petticoats—he threw them down just before me—they turned sharp round the corner, and I turned sharp, and being a slippery morning, I fell and broke my arm—I saw them go into Flower and Dean Street—I picked up the coat and three petticoats on my way back, and the coat which the prisoner threw away—a woman was standing at the door of 34, and I showed her the things I had picked up—those are them (produced)—I examined the room—one square of glass had been broken in a window at the back of the house, and in that way an entrance had been effected—a man could hare put his hand in—he could not have got in himself—I made a communication to another constable.
Prisoner. I have to say he is speaking false when he says he saw me running out of the house—the reason he says it is me is he has seen me several times already about the streets. Witness. I have known him some time—I saw him that morning with these things—they must have lifted the window up to get in—the window was not open.
GEORGE CONQUEST (Policeman H 55). On the morning of 20th October I was called to the house of the prosecutor—I examined the square of glass spoken of—it was in such a position that a man could unfasten the bolt and get into the room where the prosecutrix was lying—I afterwards saw the prisoner in Flower and Dean Street, about half an hour after the burglary was committed—I said "Did you hear of a man breaking his arm?"—he said "No"—I said he had better go to bed—from further information I went with H 119 and apprehended the prisoner the same morning at 8 o'clock—Francis had given me a description of the prisoner before I saw him in Flower and Dean Street.
FRANCIS ROBINS (Policeman H 119). From something I heard I went to Flower and Dean Street, where the prisoner was, on the morning of the 20th October, just upon 8 o'clock—I found him in bed—I said "Now
Punch, I want you!"—he said "What do you want me for?"—I said I wanted him for burglary—he said "Strike me blind if I won't go."
Prisoner. I am innocent. It is entirely a made-up charge.
MARY FOBSTEIN (re-called by the Court). The clothes were close to the window—I and my husband and three children were there—I mean to say a person came in and took our clothes while we were sleeping there.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. LANGFORD conducted the Prosecution.
EMMA BUCKLEY . I live at 74, Grove Street, Commercial Road, East—I was married to the prisoner on the 6th of September, 1871, in Bishopsgate Church—I was then a widow—I have not the certificate with me—he described himself as a baker's tool-maker—he did not describe himself as a bachelor—Elizabeth Reynolds was present at the marriage.
JEREMIAH ROBINS (Policeman H 66). I went to the church of St. Botolph, Bishopsgate Street, and got this document—(Copy of marriage entry read)—on Thursday evening, the 6th of September, I took the prisoner into custody for bigamy.
Prisoner. When you took me I told you my wife had left me, and taken everything away from me. Witness. You said that at the station, but not at the time I took you into custody.
EMMA EDWARDS . I am the wife of William Edwards, of St. James's school-house, Bethnal Green—I am sextoness at the church of St. James the Great, Bethnal Green—on the 12th October, 1870, I was present at the marriage of Samuel Mills and Catherine Sullivan—I saw this certificate made—(read).
Prisoner's Defence. Catherine Mills, my first wife, was the wife of my brother for twenty-one years before she had me, and she had nine children by him—my brother died about a year and ten months ago.
ELIZABETH COLE . I am the wife of James Cole, of 69, Charles Street, Globe Road—I saw this man married at the church of St. James the Great, Bethnal Green, with Mrs. Sullivan—I had known her before—she was his brother's wife—I knew him—he was a pail-maker—I heard they were living as man and wife—there were six children.
NOT GUILTY .
MR. TURNER conducted the Prosecution.
On hearing the opening of Counsel, the Court held there was no case.
NOT GUILTY .
JONES PLEADED GUILTY .
MR. TURNER conducted the Prosecution.
HENRY RANDALL (City Policeman 168). On 19th October, I was on duty in Bishopsgate Street, at 11.30—I saw the two prisoners together in Bishopsgate Street Without—the prisoner Smith was carrying this bag on his shoulder, with something bulky in it—I followed them twenty or thirty yards—Smith handed the bag to Jones—I seized Jones—he struggled violently to get away—I told him I was a police-officer, and said "What
have you got in that bag?"—he said "I do not know yet?"—I conveyed him to the station—Smith was apprehended by 71 M—at the station I examined the bag—it contained that roll of cloth—Jones said it was given him to carry by a man in the road, he did not know whom—Smith said it was given to him by Jones, and he did not know what it was.
Smith. I was not carrying the bag.
WILLIAM RAYNE (Policeman M 71). On the 19th October I was in Bishopsgate Street, at 11.30—I was called by the last witness—as soon as Smith saw me he commenced running—I ran after him about twenty yards—I caught him—he struggled violently, and got away—he ran about five yards, when I caught him again, and took him to the station—on the way to the station Jones said to Smith "Did not I see you about three years ago in John Street Road, Clerkenwell?"
Smith's Statement before the Magistrate:—"I was taking a walk up London Bridge, and I came home by Bishopsgate Street. I ran against a gentleman, and he spoke to this policeman. I know nothing about it."
Smith's Defence. I am a hard-working young man. I was taking a walk in the morning, and I met this young man with a bag. He said to me "Young man, have you got work yet?" I said "Yes." I was in a hurry, and was going to work the same night. I was running across the road, and as I ran I felt a piece of my coat torn off. I did not turn round, or I should have got run over. I was caught, and I says "What is this here for?"That policeman said he had seen me carrying the stuff. I know nothing about it; the young man is quite a stranger to me. I leave the case to you.
Smith also PLEADED GUILTY to a previous conviction on 18th July, at Clerkenwell.
JONES*— Twelve Months' Imprisonment. SMITH**— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. R. N. PHILIPPS conducted the Prosecution.
ANN LOWDEN . I am a wholesale haberdasher, carrying on business at 149, Cheapside—the prisoner has been in my service since July last, as traveller, soliciting orders—he had authority to receive money on my account—his duty was to hand it over to me the same evening, or next morning—his duty was to come to me every morning, to ask for fresh samples, or anything that I might ask him to take out—I told him at that time what accounts he was to collect—Abbott, of Forest Hill, is one of my customers—Best paid over to me 5l. he had received from Abbott on the 2nd of last month—he did not pay me any more at that time—I produce a receipt which purports to be signed by Robert Best—this is his signature—I have another receipt for money paid by Mr. Abbott to the prisoner on the 26th October; 1l. 2s.—he told me he had lost some money—I have a customer of the name of Shill, and also one of the name of Ferme—this (produced) is signed by the prisoner—I have got a receipt of Mr. Ferme's for 19s. 4d.—the
prisoner has not accounted for it—he left about a fortnight since—he did not give any notice—this letter I received from him. (This stated that about two months ago he had lost a bag containing 20l.; but he had had so much illness that he had not had confidence in himself to tell her. He hoped soon to hear from his solicitor at Birmingham, and to be able to repay the amount.)
Prisoner. Q. You have stated just now I was expected in the warehouse every morning; but when I first came, did you not give me to understand that I need not come every day? A. If you did not come in the evening it was your duty to come in the morning, because sometimes I wanted some of the samples—you did not stay away for two or three days together, and send your order-sheet by post; not till lately for about a month.
THOMAS ABBOTT . I am a draper, living at 4, Park Street, Forest Hill—I knew the prisoner as traveller for Mrs. Lowden—on the 7th October last I paid him a sum of money for Mrs. Lowden, for goods supplied—on the 26th I paid him a further sum—I have got a receipt for it.
EMMA SHILL . I am the wife of Richard Shill, of Shearer Terrace, Bow, Middlesex—I produce some receipts for money I paid to the prisoner on account of Mrs. Lowden—I have a receipt, 26th September, for 6s. 4d.; 28th, 1l. 0s. 10d.; also 16th October, 7s. 6d.
Prisoner. I sent my wife to Mrs. Lowden on the Thursday morning.
MRS. LOWDEN (re-called). He did send his wife to me on the Thursday morning, with his order-book—she stated that he had gone from her, and she did not know where he was.
Prisoner. I sent her the following morning. I admit I did a wrong thing in not informing Mrs. Lowden, but I was afraid I should lose my situation. I went three days after to see Mrs. Lowden, and she promised to take the money if I could get it. Witness. You know very well you absconded from home and from your wife—he gave me to understand he had friends who would pay the money—no such person has been found—I agreed to take the money rather than he should lose his character and lose his name.
Prisoner. I have a letter from my solicitor saying he will be here tomorrow morning to pay the money—I am entitled to 200l., and 200l. more in six months—Mr. Mash is Mrs. Lowden's adviser.
MRS. LOWDEN. (Re-examined.) I gave instructions to Mr. Mash to see about this.
THE COURT considered as this matter had been treated as a debt, the Jury should find the prisoner
NOT GUILTY .
52. MORRIS HART (21), PLEADED GUILTY to a burglary in the dwelling-house of Elizabeth Morris, and stealing 2 pairs of trousers, her goods, having been before convicted of felony.— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
NEW COURT.—Thursday, November 23rd, 1871.
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
MR. LILLEY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. THOMAS GOODMAN defended Clark.
WILLIAM BATEMAN (Policeman E 379). On the morning of 2nd October, I was on duty in Chancery Lane, and about 2.45 I heard the breaking of wood at No. 22, Mr. Harris's premises—I obtained the assistance of another constable, and found marks of persons having passed through the area grating—the mortar was scraped off the wall—I aroused the prosecutor, and searched the premises—I found the prisoner Webb in the cellar, under the house, in a closet where there were some coals—the door was closed; it closes outwards—I fetched him out, and said "What are you doing?"—he said "I have gone in there to have a sleep"—I took him to the station, and then returned and found that three doors had been forced open—I found these wax matches where Webb was laid.
Cross-examined. This was a cellar under the basement story—they had actually broken into it—they got in through the area grating—the cellar is not inside the house, but it is under the first floor, just as kitchens are—there was no door between the area and the cellar—there was no way into it without going into the house, and going down stairs—you could not get into the cellar from the outside except by forcing the door.
Re-examined. Having got through the area grating they could get into a small passage, and there are doors right and left into the cellars—those are the doors that were broken open—Webb was found in one cellar, and Clark in the other.
Webb. Q. Was not the area broken? A. Yes—there is no window in it—you broke the doors to get into the cellars, and you broke a hole through the floor two feet wide—here are the locks which were broken off the doors—you got through a railing which was open—you got into the passage without breaking anything.
GEORGE BOOKER (Policeman E 373). I accompanied Bateman—we got in, not through the area railings, but at the back door of the house, and then down stairs—Symond's Inn is behind the house, and from there we went through a gateway, and through some folding doors, which were open—I searched the lower part of the house, and found Clark concealed on some coals in a cupboard in the coal cellar—we went further, and found Webb concealed under a board in the lumber room—there were no coals there—this jemmy (produced) was found under a hole 3ft. long and 6 in. wide, which had been made into the room above, and there was another small hole—Webb said he was having a sleep—I took him to the station.
Cross-examined. I did not take Clark to the station—the jemmy was found on the coals in what might be a third cellar, not where either prisoner was found—I did not tell the Magistrate that it was found in the cellar in which Webb was found—it was found in an adjoining cellar.
Re-examined. There was a way from the cellar where Webb was to the cellar where the jemmy was; it was, in fact, open.
JAMES HARRIS . I am occupier of 22, Chancery Lane, and am a refreshment-room keeper—on Sunday morning, 22nd October, between 2 and 3 o'clock in the morning, I was called, and saw the constable bring up Clark—there was a hole in the floor, which came into my neighbours' shop, Messrs. Everson and Bridger, law stationers—both the cellar doors were locked when I went to bed.
Cross-examined. My house is a portion of No. 22, Chancery Lane, and a very extensive cellar, under my shop and under the shop of my tenant,
Mr. Saunders, a watchmaker, belongs to me—it goes under four shops—the upper portion of the house is chambers, and the lower portion shops, and there is a passage to the water-closet, in which are several small coal cellars for the use of the occupiers of the chambers—my house consists of a shop and a dining-room on the ground floor—I should not have to go out into the open air to go to where Webb was found—the entrance to the house is similar to those in Lincoln's Inn and the Temple.
Webb. Q. What time did you examine the premises on Saturday night? A. Soon after 10 o'clock—I saw nothing then—I think it impossible that anybody could have been concealed there from the afternoon without my knowing it—it is most improbable, considering several parties went there—we had to look over the premises twice before the policeman found you.
Re-examined. The area grating by which they entered is under my window, No. 22—a portion of the iron work of the grating was defective—it does not open.
FREDERICK KERLEY (Detective Sergeant E). I examined Mr. Harris's premises on the morning of the 22nd—the back abuts on Symond's Inn, and there is a door, which is shut at night, but is unfastened—at the back of the house was a grating with a hole in it, big enough for a man to go through, and there were marks of persons going through—when you get through you are in an open passage, on the left of which is a door leading into a coal closet—that door had been forced open by this jemmy—I compared the marks—you then go on again through the passage, and there is another door, which had also been forced open—it had marks corresponding with the jemmy—that led into the cellar under No. 22—in that cellar there was a hole made in the boards, about 2ft. 6 in. long, into the shop of Mr. Bridger, and the marks corresponded with the jemmy.
Cross-examined. The passage to the cellars under the house is not an open-air passage.
HENRY BRIDGER . I am a law stationer, in partnership with Mr. Everson—we only occupy the shop—on this Monday morning, about 8.30, I opened the shop and found that an endeavour had been made to break up the floor—there was a breakage in more than one place—they had entered the coal cellar underneath and wrenched the floor up—I left the premises at about 6.30, on Saturday, the floor was then perfectly sound—the shop contained stamps and stationery.
Webb's Defence. I was on the premises before 7 o'clock in the evening.
WEBB— GUILTY . Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
CLARK— GUILTY . He also PLEADED GUILTY**† to a former conviction at this Court in July, 1862, and it was stated by Ackrill, T R 4, that the gentleman who was assaulted and robbed on that occasion afterwards died from the effects of the violence. Ten Years' Penal Servitude.
JANE WHITE . I am a widow, and live at 5, Henry Street, Gray's Inn Road—on the night of 30th October, about midnight, I was with the prosecutrix, in a public-house, in Holborn—the prosecutrix left first, and I left two or three minutes afterwards and looked for her—I saw three women running away, and she said "My dear, my watch"—the prisoners are
two of them, I am certain; I ran after them calling "Stop thief"—I overtook Saunders, held her, and gave her in charge—I had seen the prosecutrix with the watch before she went out—I saw Saunders reach her hand at the corner of Chancery Lane to the third one, who has got away, so as to touch her—Inwood came voluntarily to the station.
Saunders. Q. Did I try to get away? A. Yes, and if the policeman had not come up you would have, because Inwood threatened me that if I did not leave go of you she would knock my b——eye out and she then ran off.
Inwood. Q. Did you see me steal the watch? A. No, but you were with them, and you were running as well as the others—I gave you both in charge, but the policeman only took Saunders—I knew you again at the station.
ELIZA FRANCISCO . I am the wife of Francis Francisco, of 24, Winchester Terrace, Caledonian Road—on the evening of 30th April, I was in a public-house, in Holborn, and left about 12.45—the minute I was outside the door, three women surrounded me and struck me a violent blow on the temple—I cannot tell who that was, but Inwood held my arms and Saunders put her hands under my dress and tore my watch away from my watch pocket—it was a very violent blow, my arms were black and blue all over—I called out "Oh, my watch?"—it was safe when I left the public-house—it was worth 8l.
Saunders. I did not steal the watch. Witness. You did, and you said you would beat my brains out if I screamed—I was not so drunk that I fell off my chair—I did not say that a dark man stole it, but there certainly was a man standing there, I noticed them all looking.
EDWARD WILKINS (Policeman E 10). On 31st October, at 12.50, I was on duty in Holborn—I heard a cry of "Stop thief!"—I ran to the corner of Chancery Lane, and saw Mrs. White holding Saunders—she said "I give this woman in charge for robbing a lady of her watch, with another woman who has run down Chancery Lane—I took Saunders to the station—some little time before the robbery I saw the two prisoners and another woman walking up Holborn, in the direction where the robbery took place—Inwood came voluntarily to the station with the constable who took the prosecutrix there, and was identified by Mrs. White—the prosecutrix was the worse for liquor—the blow might have had something to do with that—the watch has not been found.
Saunder's Defence. I admit that I was with Inwood half-an-hour before it happened. I saw a crowd, and saw a girl lifting up the woman. I was by the side of the girl, and the lady said that she had lost her watch; then she said "I think you are one of them." I said "No, I am not."Inwood came down as a witness for me; there was no other girl there.
Inwood's Defence. I was selling flowers, and saw a girl snatch the watch. The lady fell on her face, and was lifted up and sat against the wall. I admit that I was with Saunders and another in Holborn. The young woman who has got away got the prosecutrix under the arms, and made a snatch at her side, and I saw her chain rush out, and she said "Oh! my watch."She could hardly walk; they very nearly had to carry her. I went to the station, and they asked me what I wanted. They did not say that I was the girl then. The policeman told me I need not come back, but I did, and went into the waiting-room, and this woman said "I think that is one of them."I said "Do you think if I had anything to do with it
I should have come here? "She did not say that I was one, but "I think you are one."
SAUNDERS— GUILTY . She also PLEADED GUILTY** to a previous conviction at Clerkenwell in September, 1870. Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.
IN WOOD— GUILTY .*— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.
THIRD COURT.—Thursday, November 23rd, 1871.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
MR. BESLEY conducted the Prosecution; MR. STRAIGHT defended Edwards, and MR. ST. AUBYN defended McGrath.
HARRY ACKERS . I am a van boy employed by Messrs. Pickford and Co.—about 6.30 on Wednesday evening, 15th November, I was with a van in Houndsditch—I was standing on the pavement, close to the van—McGrath spoke to me, and said "That cellar is very dangerous, I nearly slipped down"—I had not said anything to him—I shut down the cellar-flap, and I saw the other prisoner jump off the shafts of the van with a truss on his shoulder—I went to run round to catch him, and McGrath caught me by the throat and stopped me—I struggled away from him, and halloaed out "Stop thief!"—I ran after the man with the truss, and he dropped it against the kerb—I saw a gentleman, whom I know now to be Mr. Linnell, run after Edwards—I went back to the van, and Edwards was brought back by Mr. Linnell—I have seen both the prisoners together in Houndsditch before—McGrath had a round hat on—I was taken to the police-station, and showed a number of men, I think five or six—I was asked which was the person, and the one that held me, and I picked out McGrath—he had his cap off then.
Cross-examined by MR. STRAIGHT. I have often seen Edwards, but not regularly—I did not lose sight of him on this night—it was 6.30 last Wednesday evening—I was close to the man when he jumped off the van—I ran round before the horse's head—he ran up a court, and I lost sight of him—he dropped the truss a goodish bit from the court—I saw Mr. Linnell run up the court after him.
Cross-examined by MR. ST. AUBYN. The cellar was open about a foot from where I was standing—I had to look after that as well as my van—McGrath was not on the shaft at all—he was on the footway.
JOHN LINNELL . I am an Excise Officer in Her Majesty's Customs—on Wednesday evening, 15th November, I was in Houndsditch—I heard a cry of "Stop thief!"—I saw Edwards drop the bale and run away—I followed him up a court, and he was caught by a gentleman named Leighton—I don't think he is here—I only lost sight of him as he went up the court—I saw him stopped when I got into the court—he is the man I saw drop the bale.
Cross-examined by MR. STRAIGHT. I was five or six yards from him when he dropped the bale—it was 6.30 in the evening—I lost sight of him as he turned round into the court.
WILLIAM CROSS (City Policeman 870). I have seen the two prisoners before together in Bishopsgate Street—on the evening of Wednesday, 15th November, about 6.30, I saw Edwards being held by a gentleman—I took him into custody—I took him to the station—I searched him, but found
nothing on him—he said he lived at 17, East Street, Walworth Road—I went there—he said he knew nothing about the bale.
Cross-examined by MR. STRAIGHT. No one brought him to me—he was being held at the corner of Cavendish Court.
JOHN DAVIS (City Detective). I know the two prisoners, and have seen them together—on Wednesday evening, 15th November, I saw them together in Houndsditch—I watched them for about a quarter of an hour—there was a heavy traffic there, and I lost them about 50 or 100 yards from where the van was robbed—I saw Cross five or ten minutes afterwards—he had Edwards in custody—I went after McGrath the same night—I apprehended him at the Hoop and Grapes, in Widegate Street—I called him out, and said "Jimmy, come here, I want to speak to you"—he came out, and I told him I should take him into custody for being concerned with Edwards in stealing a parcel from a van—he said "In Houndsditch you mean"—I said "I never mentioned the place to you"—another officer, named Jones, was with me—I took him to the station—the inspector said "What is he charged with?"—the prisoner said "He charges me with stealing a parcel from a van in Houndsditch"—I told the inspector I had not mentioned anything of that—I told him the time was about 6.30, as near as I could guess—he said "No, I can prove where I was"—first he said he had been lumping with another man, and then he said he was in a public-house, across the water, with Walker, from 7 till 9 o'clock—Ackers was sent for, and I saw McGrath amongst others, and the boy picked him out—I found a cap in McGrath's pocket, and 3l. 14s. 0 1/2 d.—he was wearing a wide-a-wake hat when I took him—I saw the truss opened—it contained six blankets and twenty pairs of leggings.
Cross-examined by MR. STRAIGHT. Both the prisoners knew I was a detective—I saw Edwards that evening—I don't know whether he saw me—I followed both the prisoners for about a quarter of an hour—it was 6.20 or 6.25 when I lost them, and about five or ten minutes after I saw Cross taking Edwards to the station.
CHARLES JONES . I was in company with Davis, and took McGrath about 12.30, at the Hoop and Grapes—Davis called him out, and said "McGrath, I want you for being concerned with another man in custody for stealing a parcel"—McGrath said "In Houndsditch, you mean?"—at that time the place had not been mentioned—he said he had been lumping at the waterside, at Lambeth, from 5 to 6 o'clock that afternoon, and afterwards he had been drinking with a man till 9 o'clock in a public-house.
JAMES SAUNDERS . I am the carman of the van—I was in the cellar—I heard a cry from the boy, and rushed up and saw the bale in the road—it was my bale taken off the van—I saw the prisoner Edwards brought back by Mr. Linnell, and then the constable took him.
Cross-examined by MR. STRAIGHT. It was 6.25 exactly.
The following witnesses were called for McGrath.
GEORGE WALKER . I live at Leonard Street, Whitechapel, and am a waterman and lighterman—I have known McGrath five or six months—he has worked for me occasionally, as porter to railways and hotels—I saw him last Wednesday night week—I met him in Bishopsgate Street, at 4.45—I had to bring some sailors' things ashore—I told him to get his truck, and go with me to Dock Head, Bermondsey, to bring some sailors' luggage on shore—we went to the house of Margaret Smith, and got a truck—that was about a mile and a half or two miles from Bermondsey—we called at the
Three Coopers, and had a pot of beer—it was 5.30 or 5.40 then—we went afterwards to a public-house, at the Dock Head, where the ship was—I left the prisoner in the public-house, while I went to fetch the things ashore—I was away twenty or twenty-five minutes—it was as near as possible about 6 o'clock then—I went and fetched the things ashore, and then I fetched the prisoner out of the public-house—he brought the barrow to the stairs, and we took the sailors' things to the London Bridge Station—I went with him, and got to London Bridge about 8 o'clock—I paid him 5s., and left him at the London Bridge Station—he has often done jobs for me in that way.
Cross-examined. I never saw Edwards before—I was not at Lambeth at all that day—I have never been in trouble for felony in my life—I was fined 100l. by the Board of Customs, and I got a mitigation—that was for smuggling—I was not imprisoned for six months—the ship was lying off Hull Stairs, Bermondsey—she was a North Country brig—I don't know the port she came from—I had six sailors' kits to take to London Bridge Station—there were-two boxes and five bags—I did not try to get a cart—I met the prisoner in Bishopsgate, and went to Spitalfields to hire the truck—that was about five minutes' walk—it is about a mile and a half from Spitalfields to Bermondsey—I went and fetched the sailors ashore myself—they are not here; they went away by rail—I did not go into the place where the truck was hired—I saw the person who lent the truck—I had not seen her before until that night—I did not know that she lived within two or three doors of McGrath—I did not try to get a truck at Bermondsey—through knowing the prisoner I gave him the job—I never knew where he lived.
Re-examined. I was fined for smuggling—there is nothing against me but that—I was bound over by the Magistrate to come and give evidence here.
MARGARET SMITH . I am the wife of John Smith, and live at 12, Paternoster Row, Spitalfields, and let out barrows—I have been in the habit of letting barrows to McGrath—yesterday week he came and hired a barrow, a little after 5 o'clock—Walker was with him—I let him have the barrow—he brought it back a little after 9 o'clock at night—I should think it would take a quarter of an hour to get from London Bridge to my place.
Cross-examined. He has had barrows before—I did not let them to Edwards as well—I don't know where McGrath lives—I did not know that he lived within two doors of me—I did not know that he had 3l. 14s. in his pocket—he owed me 3d. for a barrow the day before, and 3d. for this barrow—he did not pay me the 6d.—it was a little after 5 o'clock when he came—I was having tea—he has hired of me for three or four months, at 3d. a time—I did not make a note of when he had barrows of me—sometimes he pays me when he has had them twice, and sometimes three times—I went before the Magistrate last Monday—McGrath sent somebody for me—I know it was on a Wednesday, because he had a barrow on Tuesday, the day before—they were two following days—the hiring previous to that was Saturday, and he paid me for that—he generally comes every day except Sundays—I have got four barrows—my husband is a porter in Billingsgate.
THOMAS JONES . I live at 17, Bennett's Court, Borough, and am a labourer—I know McGrath by sight—yesterday week I saw him with Walker, at the Prince of Orange, Dockhead, about 6.10 or 6.15—he had a barrow outside—Walker went out, and came back in about twenty minutes—McGrath was in my company while Walker had gone.
Cross-examined. I had seen him once or twice before, down at the water-side—I
don't know the days—I don't know where McGrath lives—I have seen him at the water-side with a truck before.
Edwards also PLEADED GUILTY to having been before convicted in April, 1870**— Seven Years Penal Servitude , MCGRATH**— Five Years Penal Servitude.
MR. MOODY conducted the Prosecution; and MR. HOLLINGS the Defence.
ALBERT VICTOR SPURIN . I am a Doctor of Medicine, and live at 22, Caledonian Road—about 12.30 on the morning of 14th November, I was going home with a friend—I went into the Peacock, near the Angel, Islington, to have a glass of ale—as I came out I was surrounded by four men; my hands were pinned to my side, and my hat was knocked over my head—I felt my watch go from my pocket—I saw the prisoner run away, through an alley—I was speaking to a man on the pavement, and the prisoner came back through the alley right into my arms—I held him until Detective Dudley came to the rescue—the three other men came up, and I thought Dudley would be overpowered—a policeman came up then—Dudley asked the prisoner for the watch—he denied having it—they took him to a lamp-post—he was very violent, and they threw him on his back—I saw the watch taken from his hand, under the lamp post—this is the watch.
Cross-examined. It was about 12.45 when I went into the public-house—I had not been drinking before—I did not see any of the men in the Peacock, to my knowledge—I am quite certain there were four men—I was completely surrounded, and my arms pinned down, and my hat was crushed on my head—I don't know which of them did that—it was all done momentarily.
GEORGE DUDLEY (Detective Officer N). On the night of this occurrence I saw Dr. Spurin come out of the Peacock—four men fell on him as he came out—the prisoner was one of them—the prosecutor had not got four yards from the door when the four men jumped on him, and I saw his hat smashed on his head—the prisoner got hold of his watch, and ran away with it up a passage called Field Place into High Street again, turned to the left into Chapel Street, Clerkenwell, and there he crossed the road and ran through the passage again—he ran against the gentleman, and they went across the road together—I got hold of the prisoner's right hand, and the other officer got his left—as I closed on him he pulled his right hand out of his pocket—I seized his hand—we conveyed him to a lamp-post—I got hold of his fingers, and the gentleman took the watch out of his hand and gave it to me—I had asked him to give me the watch, but he would not—he squeezed it so that the glass broke in his hand—I took him into custody.
Cross-examined. I had been standing close to the Peacock watching the four men—I was about four yards from them—I saw the prosecutor's hat crushed—I did not see his arms held down by his side—I believe the four of them crushed his hat—I can distinctly say I saw the prisoner crush his hat—the prisoner is no stranger to me, and I am able to say he was one of the men—the other three men ran away—I did not follow them—I ran after this man because he had the watch.
GEORGE DEVONPORT (Policeman N 298). I was in Chapel Street, and saw the prosecutor and the prisoner together—I heard him accuse the prisoner of taking his watch—I seized the prisoner by the left arm, and
Dudley by the right—I asked him if he had got the watch—he said "No"—we took him under a lamp-post and threw him on his back, and I took the watch out of his right hand—the glass was broken in his hand.
GUILTY . He also PLEADED GUILTY** to having been before convicted. Fourteen Years' Penal Servitude, and Thirty Lashes with the Cat.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
RICHARD HICKS . I live at 5, Adman's Road, East Greenwich, and am store-keeper and time-keeper to John Stockwell, a ship-builder—on 1st November I had some straw for Mr. Stockwell in his mangold-wurzel field, and on 11th November he had some more bundles put into the same field—about 7.30 on the same evening I watched the straw, by Mr. Stockwell's direction—I was about fifteen yards from it, and my wife was with me—we had just reached within fifteen yards of the straw when I saw the prisoner, who I have known about three months, cross the road, pick up a bundle of straw, put it on his back, and walk away with it—his half-face was to me—he lives 300 or 400 yards from there—it would take me about six minutes to walk there—he came in a direction from his home across the field towards the straw—I saw his face by the light of the furnace, which shone in the direction of the straw—I left my wife there, jumped over the railings, and pursued the prisoner, but missed him, because, when I got out of the light of the furnace, I could not see my hand before me, and the thistles were two feet high—I examined the ground next morning, and saw thirty or forty bits of straw lying for about 200 yards in the direction he went in—it was littered right along—I went to his house, and saw a large piece of straw in the back yard—he keeps a stable—I was present when it was searched, and saw three or four bundles of straw in one heap, which I should say had been there three months, and another fresh bundle, which looked clean and tidy—that was the same kind of straw as Mr. Stockwell's—it was wheaten straw.
Prisoner. Q. Was it not all wheaten straw in the stable? A. I did not take notice, I only noticed this bundle—I could not overtake you before you got to your house because it was so dark, and there were lots of bushes, which I ran against—I had to get over a fence two rails high, and there are some dry ditches—I made sure you were in one of them—there are two roads from that place to your house, but there are plenty of other ways to go—I did not say at Greenwich that I did not wish to press the charge, nor did Mr. Taylor press me to do so to do you an injury.
COURT. Q. Why could not you have gone on, and been at his garden when he came? A. I thought I was just upon him—I had no idea I had missed him—he was allowed to work all the next day, paid off on Friday evening, and given in charge on Saturday.
minute there before we saw the prisoner take up the straw on his back, and take it away—I had known him by sight for three or four months—a light from the furnace was shining right on the straw, and I could see very plainly—it was wheaten straw—I knew that before.
Prisoner. Q. How far was the fire from the straw? A. Not more than 100 yards—you were not dressed as you are now, you wore a dark, close fitting jacket.
ROBERT MARTIN (Policeman R 210). I took the prisoner in his yard, and said "Dixon, I am going to apprehend you for stealing a truss of straw on Thursday evening"—he said "I know nothing about it, I was not out of the house"—a female there said in his presence that he was not out of the house more than ten minutes—I took him to the station, and then examined the premises—I found one truss of clean straw put up on some rafters under the roof, and three trusses of old straw put by themselves.
Prisoner. Q. You did not search the place till I was locked up? A. No—I looked into the stable when you were with me—I did not go into the house till I came back from the station—you said that I had no right to search the house.
Prisoner's Defence. Mrs. Brewster is my first witness, but she is ill in bed, there is a certificate from the doctor that she cannot attend; this is a conspiracy altogether; this man has determined to do me an injury because I have converted the place into a little dwelling-house. I have been eighteen years under one employer, but he cannot come to give me a character. I have had thousands of pounds in my hands to pay men, and never stood before a bar before. Hicks is connected with Taylor, and they want to get this plot of ground from me without buying it, and they injure my character in every way they can. I worked all day on Friday, and nothing was said about this till Saturday, when I was having my dinner, they then took me, and I could not get bail, and had to lay in the station all Saturday and Sunday. There was loose straw in my yard, because I have pigs and fowls, and give them beds nearly every day. I do not notice whether I drop a straw in the yard.
Witnesses for the Defence.
JULIA POWER . The prisoner came home at 5.45, and did not go out all the evening except for five minutes to the stable for some firing, just out at one door and in at the other—I was there the whole evening—Mrs. Brewster, who is ill, was there—I have got a doctor's certificate (produced)—I left her in bed.
Cross-examined by MR. COLE. I am the prisoner's sister-in-law—I have lived there a month—the coals are kept in the stable, which adjoins the dwelling-house—it is in the back-yard—the prisoner was gone no time.
The deposition of Topsy Brewster was read as follows:—TOPSY BREWSTER sworn. "I am the wife of Francis Brewster, and am staying now at Kenilworth Lodge, East Greenwich, with the prisoner, who is my brother-in-law. Mr. Dixon was at home at a quarter to six last Thursday evening; he went out for less than five minutes to get some firing, and he came back and was plaiting some rope until 10 o'clock, when we went to bed. I remember the police coming on Saturday. They did not say they had a warrant; they said they did not want our advice and told us to go away, and said they should take what they liked."
NOT GUILTY .
MR. ST. AUBYN conducted the Prosecution.
RICHARD WEBB . I am a jeweller, at 65, High-street, Gravesend—in September last I was travelling from Strood about 10 o'clock—I got out at Gravesend for the purpose of speaking to the guard—I was not in time to get into the same carriage again, and got into another compartment—I had left a bag in the carriage containing various articles—when the train stopped again I got into the same carriage—I found the bag there, and the prisoner and another girl—I examined the bag afterwards, and missed a ring, some pieces of crystal, a ring without stones, a breast-pin, and other things, of the value of about 20l.—I have seen the ring and a piece of crystal since, which I have recovered—I lost a mourning ring with an inscription on it, "John Steddolph,"With the date of the death.
Prisoner. I was not in the train with him—I never saw the gentleman in my life.
MARY LITTLEWOOD . I am the wife of Benjamin Littlewood, and keep a watchmaker's shop in Church-street, Greenwich—a young woman came with the prisoner and purchased a watch of my husband—they had not enough to pay to it by 3s., and they left a mourning ring, with "John Steddolph, died aged 22," And a date on it—the prisoner came the next day and paid 3s. for that ring and took it away.
Prisoner. Q. Can you swear to me buying the watch? A. You did not buy it—you came for the ring the next day about 1 o'clock—I think it was the 19th September.
JANE WARREN . I am the wife of Robert James Warren, a jeweller at Woolwich—the last week in September the prisoner and another girl came into the shop and left this ring to be repaired—they left this piece of crystal to be cut into four stones and put into the ring—they never called again for it—the prisoner was in the shop, but the other girl left the ring—a stouter and bigger girl than the prisoner—I am not quite certain that the prisoner is one of those two girls, but I know she has been to my shop.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Common Serjeant.
WILLIAM CLEAVE . I am a sergeant of militia—on 1st November, about 5.30, I was going into the North Pole, Greenwich Road—the prisoner and another man went in with me—I then felt a hand in both my pockets, and found my wrists pinned from behind, by I think, the man not in custody—it was the prisoner who had his hands in my pockets—the landlord had just gone from behind the bar—the prisoner withdrew his hands and some money fell on the floor—he and the other man scrambled for the money and ran away, I ran after them, I stopped the prisoner, he got away, but I did not lose sight of him—the landlord asked me to step back so that he should not see my uniform—he then caught him and I kept him.
Cross-examined. I am a recruiting sergeant, and the prisoner took me to this public-house to see a young man—I had not been at any other public-house
that day except the Prince Arthur Inn, next door where I live—I had passed ten recruits that afternoon—it is not usual for a sergeant to have a glass of beer with a recruit—I had taken perhaps two glasses of ale that day—I was not the worse for drink, if anyone gets into the box and says that I was he will not speak the truth—there were only those two men present and a French-polisher who was decorating the upper part of the bar—the man left go of me and he and the prisoner scrambled for my money, and then went out together—I pursued the prisoner two or three hundred yards, and did not lose sight of him—I did not know the men before, but they got me to go there to recruit some man.
HENRY GORDON . I am landlord of the North Pole—on 1st November, about 5.30, Cleave came in with the prisoner and another man, he called for a pot of ale—I served him and went away to my tea—I heard money fall on the floor, went into the bar, and saw Cleave following the two men out of doors—I ran out and caught the prisoner, he got away and took his white jacket off and appeared in the blue Guernsey he has on now,—I caught him again without losing sight of him—Cleave was sober.
Cross-examined. They all drank of the ale—I am positive the prisoner is the man—he got among a good many people, but I never lost sight of him.
HENRY FOSTER . I am a French-polisher, of 6, Garden Bow, Deptford—I was in the North Pole public-house polishing a cabinet behind the bar—the sergeant came in with the prisoner and another man much bigger—they drank together, and seemed as if they had finished, when the prisoner suddenly ran behind the sergeant, seized his hands behind, and held them crossways—it was the prisoner who did that—the sergeant screwed himself about, and put on a little more energy, and the other one dived his hands into the sergeant's pockets—they, shook him this way, and the money fell on the floor—the prisoner and the other man picked it up and ran off, and the sergeant and Mr. Gordon ran after them—I have not the slightest doubt of the prisoner.
Cross-examined. When the prisoner pinned the sergeant the other man seemed half in and half outside the door, and as soon as he saw that the prisoner had got him fixed he made a pounce on him, and dived his hands into his pockets—I am quite sure that was the other man, because there is such a contrast in their size—the other was a tall man of thirty-one or thirty-two, with a tuft of carrotty hair—I was not on a board raised up—I had just come from my tea, and had scarcely resumed my work—the prisoner had not been in the bar more than three or four minutes—he had a white jacket on—I will pledge my oath that the prisoner is the man who pinioned the sergeant's arms—I recognise him by his features and his face.
HENRY JAMES FOSTER . I am a son of the last witness—I was working with him in this public-house, and saw the prisoner go behind the sergeant and pinion his arms—a man then came from the door and put one hand into his pocket—his money fell on the floor, and they picked it up and ran away.
Cross-examined. The prisoner had a white smock on—the other man had a black coat.
Cross-examined. I was on duty when the prisoner was brought to the station—the sergeant and the landlord came with him—both the prisoner and the prosecutor were the worse for drink, but the landlord was not.
He was further charged with having been convicted of felony at St. Mary's, Newington, in July, 1869, to which he
PLEADED GUILTY.**— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.
MR. DE MICHELE conducted the Prosecution.
JOHN THORNTON . I am a hawker, of King's Alley, Red Hill, Surrey—on 21st October I went into the White Swan, at Charlton, at 9.30 p.m.—the prisoner was there—I had a half-pint of beer, and had just drank it, and put the pot on the table, and immediately received a blow on the mouth which made me insensible—the prisoner did it—we had had no conversation before that—he was standing at a table not a yard from me, and I put the pot on another table—he has lost a hand, the left, I think, and he has got a hook screwed on, which struck me on my lower jaw, and it went through, and tore my upper lip completely through—I have had three doctors—I had had no conversation with him—he said nothing, to my knowledge, before he did it.
HENRY TULL . I am a labourer, of 10, Princes Street, Woolwich—I was in this tap-room on 21st October—Thornton came in, and had a half-pint of beer, and a pipe, and went to the table—the prisoner was on the other side of the table, kicking up a disturbance, and he struck him a smack across the mouth with his hook, and it went into his mouth, and while the hook was in him the prisoner closed with him and hugged him—there had been no quarrel between them—they were sitting at different tables, and there was a fire-place between the two tables—the prisoner dragged him towards the fire-place by the hook.
THOMAS FRANCIS (Policeman R 26), I was called to the White Swan, and saw Thornton standing by the door, and another man holding him up—his head was down, and he was bleeding very much from his mouth—I asked who had done it, and the prisoner was pointed out to me—I took him to the station, and charged him—he made no reply—his left hand is off, and there is a piece of wood there with an iron ferule and a hook screwed in, but he had not got the hook then—he was intoxicated.
ALFRED PEEBLES . I am a furniture-dealer, of 2, Miller Street, Trafalgar Road, Greenwich—I was in this tap-room acting as waiter—I was standing at the bar when the prisoner came in with two or three other men—I heard a disturbance in the tap room, and saw that the prisoner had got hold of the prosecutor—he forced his head down on the fire-place, but there was no fire there, down on to the bars of the grate, drew his arm back in this way, and rushed his hook into his mouth—the prosecutor got up, and he was in a stooping position with the hook in his jaw, but I could not see whether it was the upper or lower jaw—the prosecutor screamed "Murder!" And "Take it out!"—I fetched a policeman.
WILLIAM CARYLE . I am a surgeon, of 3, Park Place, Old Charlton—on 21st October, a little after 10 o'clock, I was called to the prosecutor, and found him exceedingly faint from loss of blood—I examined his mouth, and found it was entirely cut on the left side of the upper lip, extending from the side of his nostril down to his teeth—the lower part was rent through—on the lower jaw there was a large hole externally, which appeared to have been inflicted from the inside, it was right through—I sewed up the wounds, and since then there were signs of an abscess coming, which has not healed yet—he
went on very well for the three days he was under my care—I have not seen the hook, but I know the sort of hook a man wears who has lost a hand—that would inflict the wounds, and they might also be inflicted by the edge of the stump if he had been struck with it here, and it had jammed up against the bone—he will recover entirely.
Prisoner's Defence. I went to Charlton Fair, went into this tap-room with two or three friends, and we were going to have a drop of gin together—I put my right hand in my jacket pocket, and this man came and nudged my hand, and knocked my money out for a scramble in the room, which I had to pay for the gin—I asked him what he was doing that for, and I was knocked down twice before I retaliated at all, and I had a good deal of blood on my shirt.
COURT to J. THORNTON. Q. Did you nudge his hand and knock his money out? A. No—I did not see any money in his hand, and I did not knock it out for a scramble—I was quite sober.
COURT to HENRY TULL. Q. Did you see the prisoner take any money out of his jacket pocket? A. No—I did not see the prosecutor go behind him and make him drop the money; there is not the slightest foundation for it—the prosecutor was on one side and the prisoner on the other—it is all false—the prisoner was not knocked down two or three times.
COURT to THOMAS FRANCIS. Q. Had the prisoner a coat on over his own? A. I did not see it—I saw no blood on his shirt.
Witness for the Defence.
DAVID SEDFORD . I am a carman, of Charlton—I was at the White Swan on the night of 21st October, from about 8 o'clock till 10—I saw the prosecutor and the prisoner there—I knew the prisoner; he is not a friend of mine, but I worked with him two or three days in the summer—they were in the same room—I found the prosecutor standing up against the fire-place, and about five minutes after I was there the prisoner came in and asked me what I would have to drink—we were friends enough for that—we sent for a quartern of gin between us—he pulled his money out of his pocket and was counting it out with his thumb to get 6d. to pay for the gin, and the prosecutor deliberately got up and knocked the money out of his hand, and there was a scramble for it, and the prisoner was knocked down by the prosecutor, and after the money was picked up there was a scramble, and the prosecutor and prisoner punched one another, and somehow the prisoner got the prosecutor round the neck and chucked him over the grate and leant on him, and that is how the injury was done—I did not see the hook, but there was an iron ring—I cannot swear that there was not a hook—neither Tull nor Peebles were in the room at the time it occurred—it happened about 8.30—a policeman was fetched, and the man was given in custody directly—James Kelly was with me in the room—his master gave me a note to say that he could not come.
Cross-examined by MR. DE MICHELE. Q. On your oath were you in the room at all? A. Yes—I was not standing outside the door, I was inside—the prosecutor knocked the prisoner down with his hand—neither Tull nor the other man were there at the time it happened.
COURT. Q. Were you there when the prisoner was taken? A. No, but I was standing inside—I did not tell the policeman he had been knocked down and his money taken, and that he had been seriously ill-treated; not a word of that, they led him away too quick for me to speak.
COURT to T. FRANCIS. Q. At what time did you take the prisoner?
A. About 9.30—there was no complaint that he had been ill-treated—nobody complained.
COURT to HENRY TULL. Q. You have heard what this witness says; was the prisoner knocked down by the prosecutor? A. No—I am sure I was in the house—it happened at 25 minutes past 9, and Sedford was not in the room.
He had also been convicted of an aggravated assault with the tame iron hook, in August, 1870, upon a woman on whom he attempted to commit a criminal offence.—Eighteen Months' Imprisonment and Twenty-five Strokes with the Cat. The Jury stated that they did not believe Sedford's evidence, upon which the COURT committed him to prison to take hit trial for perjury at the next Sessions.
Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.
63. HENRY HANN (20), and WILLIAM CONWAY (22) , to unlawfully attempting to burglariously breaking into the dwelling-house of James Mannering — [Pleaded guilty. See original trial image.] Nine Months' Imprisonment each.
MESSRS. POLAND and THOMAS GOODMAN conducted the Prosecution; and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS the Defence.
SAMUEL COLLIS . I am barman at the White Hart, Walworth Road—on 16th October, about 7 p.m., I served the prisoner with a half-pint of half-and-half, it came to 1d., he gave me a bad shilling—I broke it with my teeth, and told him that I hoped he had no more about him—he said that it was not the same as he gave me—I told him it had not left my hand—he said that if I would give it to him he would give me a penny, and pulled out two halfpence—I said that I would give it to the constable, but not to him—I marked it and give him in charge, with the shilling—he gave his name and address at the station—he was searched and then allowed to go—I knew him before—he had been there six months before, with another man, and tendered a bad florin—I broke it and we had to turn them out.
Cross-examined. I did not give them in custody then—mine is not a very large trade, but it would puzzle me to count my customers—I told them at the station that I had seen the prisoner before, with a man with a bad florin, but in spite of that they let him go.
WILLIAM GLAZIER (Policeman P 382). On 16th October, about 7 o'clock, the prisoner was given into my charge at the White Hart—I took him to the station, searched him and found 10s. in silver, good money—he gave his name and address and was allowed to go—I received two pieces of a shilling from Collier, and marked them.
ALFRED WOOD . I was barman at the White Hart—about five months ago the prisoner came there for a glass of ale, and tendered a shilling—I broke it and gave it to him, and told him it was bad—he paid me with good money and kicked up a disturbance—I am positive he is the man.
Cross-examined. I had never seen him before—I do a pretty brisk trade.
of cooper and a 2d. cigar—he gave me a half-crown—I put it in the trier, bent it, and passed it to my master, who told him it was bad—he said that he was not aware of it—he was given in charge.
Cross-examined. A very brisk trade is done at the house—I am sure he is the person.
WILLIAM TREAGLE . I am landlord of the Flying Horse—I saw the prisoner there on 20th October—he gave the last witness a coin, and she passed a half-crown to me—I told him it was bad—he abused me, and I gave him in custody with the half-crown.
Cross-examined. I searched him at the station, and found 9s. 6d. in silver, and a halfpenny, all good.
GUILTY .**— Two Years' Penal Servitude.
No evidence was offered against Thomas and Dennis Aylie and Mary Ann Baxter.
NOT GUILTY .
JOHN WILLIAM FIELD . I have been a waiter—I live in the country with my father, who is a farmer—I was staying, in October, at 9, Devonshire Road, Old Kent Road—about 6 o'clock, on the evening of 27th, I was talking to a Miss Atkins—Matthews came up and asked me to treat him—I took him into a public-house and treated him—as I was leaving, two of his friends came in and I treated them—the young lady had been in as well, but she went out before me—when I came out she had gone—one of the men said he would see me home—he asked me to treat him to another drop, and we then went towards the Waterloo Road to see what had become of Miss Atkins—as we were going along, Matthews tripped me up, and put one knee on my breast—I had nineteen sovereigns in my pocket, and a gold watch and chain—I had my hand in my pocket—they tried to pull it out, and got one sovereign—Matthews said "We can't get that, take this," and he snatched my watch and chain away, and they ran up the street—I seized hold of Matthews, and clung to him—he struck me in the eye and on the nose, and kicked me—two gentlemen came up, or I should have been killed—I was in bed for a week afterwards—they seized hold of Matthews, and held him till a policeman came—he got away from them a step or two, but they caught him again—the policeman came, and he was taken to the station—he was very violent indeed.
Prisoner. He was drinking with eight or nine women. Witness. No, I was not, I was drinking with you alone—you followed me out of the public-house—as soon as I left the house I was on my back, and you were on the top of me—you did not pick me up, I got up.
CHARLES NETTLEPOLD . I am master of the Newington Workhouse—about 7.30, or 8 o'clock, on the evening of 27th October, I was passing through Sidney Street, Waterloo Road, with a Mr. Snowden—I saw a crowd, and heard cries of "Police!" And "Murder!"—a woman came out
of the crowd, and said "Come and assist that man, he has been robbed, and they are going to murder him"—I saw the prosecutor clinging to the prisoner, who was struggling violently—the prisoner was trying to kick him and shake him off—with the assistance of Mr. Snowden I released the prisoner from the prosecutor—the prisoner ran at the woman who had come to us, and kicked her in the abdomen—I said to Mr. Snowden "Seize him, and let us hold him till a constable comes"—he squared up, and offered very violent resistance—we succeeded in holding him, but we received a great deal of punishment—my legs were bruised for some days afterwards—we got him to the station when a constable came.
WILLIAM SNOWDEN . I was with Mr. Nettlefold—we were coming up Sidney Street, about 7.55—I saw a crowd—a woman came out and said "For God's sake, gentlemen, render assistance, there is a young man robbed of his watch"—we pushed our way into the crowd—the prosecutor had hold of the prisoner, and the prisoner was striking him—we got the prisoner away, and he ran at the woman and kicked her in the abdomen—Mr. Nettlefold said "Seize him"—he squared up with his fists, but we closed on him and held him—ho kicked and struggled very violently—we held him till the policeman came—he fought and kicked all the way to the station.
GUILTY —He was further charged with having been before convicted.
GEORGE COX . I am a warder at Lewes Goal—I produce a certificate—(Read: "22nd October, 1867. William Jones and William Smith were convicted for stealing one brooch, of James Johnson, and for a common assault on the same person; imprisoned six months, and six months for the assault")—The prisoner is the man who was then convicted as William Jones.
Prisoner. I was never at Lewes in my life, and I was never locked up for felony in my life.
Seven Years' Penal Servitude, and forty Lashes with the Cat.
MR. GOODMAN conducted the Prosecution.
EMILY WATERS . I am the wife of William Waters—I lodge in the house of Robert Harle, on the ground floor—the prisoner would have to pass the room in which the watch was—he came to put in a pane of glass in the first floor front room.
SUSANNAH HARLE . I am the prosecutor's wife—on the 17th I left my house a few minutes before 12, leaving my watch on a desk in the corner of the back parlour—I returned between 12 and 1—I missed the watch between 2 and 3, when I went in to dress—no one could have got into the house without the occupants knowing it.
EMMA HARLE . I am the prosecutor's daughter—I saw the watch safe on the mantelpiece of the study at 12 o'clock, when the prisoner was in the house—he was left alone—there is no other lodger in the house beside Emily Waters.
NOT GUILTY .
Before Mr. Baron Bramwell.
GUILTY — Eight Year's Penal Servitude.
ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, 11TH DECEMBER, 1872.