Old Bailey Proceedings, 15th September 1879.
Reference Number: t18790915
Reference Number: f18790915


Sessions Paper.








Short-hand Writers to the Court,










On the Queen's Commission of



The City of London,





Held on Monday, September 15th, 1879, and following days,

BEFORE THE RIGHT HON. SIR CHARLES WHETHAM, Knt., LORD MAYOR of the City of London; The Hod. Sir HENRY MANISTY, Knt., one of the Justices of the Queen's Bench Division of the High Court of Justice; The Hon. Sir HENRY LOPES , Knt., one of the Justices of the Common Pleas Division of the High Court of Justice; The Hon. Sir CHARLES SYNGE CHRISTOPHER BOWEN, Knt., one of the Justices of the Queen's Bench Division of the High Court of Justice; THOMAS QUESTED FINNIS, Esq., Sir ROBERT WALTER Carden, Knt., and Sir THOMAS DAKIN , Knt., Aldermen of the said City; JAMES FIGGINS , Esq., SIMEON CHARLES HADLEY , Esq., GEORGE SWAN NOTTAGE , Esq., JOHN STAPLES , Esq., and EDGAR BREFFIT, Esq., other of the Aldermen of the said City; WILLIAM THOMAS CHARLEY , Esq., D.C.L., M.P., Common Serjeant of the said City; and ROBERT MALCOLM KERR , Esq., LL.D., Judge of the Sheriffs' Court; Her Majesty's Justices of Oyer and Terminer and General Gaol Delivery of Newgate, holden for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal Court.









A star (*) denotes that prisoners have been previously in custody—two stars (**) that they have been more then 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.


OLD COURT.—Monday, September 15th, 1879.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

Reference Number: t18790915-754

754. JAMES EVERETT was indicted for unlawfully obtaining 500l. of Alexander Cochrane by false pretences.

MR. BESLEY, for the Prosecution, offered no evidence.


Reference Number: t18790915-755

755. BENJAMIN DAVIS (17) was indicted fox wilful and corrupt perjury on the hearing of a bastardy summons at the Worship Street Police-court.


GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.

Reference Number: t18790915-756

756. CHARLES PILKINGTON (40) PLEADED GUILTY to a like offence.— Six Months' Imprisonment.

Reference Number: t18790915-757

757. EMANUEL DAVIS (40) was indicted for a like offence. No evidence was offered.


FOURTH COURT.—Tuesday, September 15th, 1879.

Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.

Reference Number: t18790915-758

758. THOMAS O'CONNOR (26) and EDWARD NORRIS (19) , Unlawfully uttering and possessing counterfeit coin.


THOMAS PEARCE . I am a dairyman at 13, Barry Street, Great Russell Street—on Saturday, August 2nd, at 9.30 p.m., the prisoners came in and O'Connor asked for a glass of milk and tendered me a bad florin—Norris asked the price of a glass of cream—I broke the florin in my tester, went round to O'Connor and asked him if he had any more money about him—he said "What is that to do with you?"—Policeman 471 E came in and gave me instructions and I gave him the bad florin and fetched Policeman 155 A—Norris struggled with him and they both fell down in the shop and when they got up Policeman 155 A showed me a florin which I found was bad—I heard something drop, but could not swear whether it was the coin or the policeman's hat.

Cross-examined by Norris. I was sworn at Bow Street, but did not swear I saw the bad florin drop from your hand. (The witness's depositions being ready stated "155 A and Norris had a scuffle in my shop and he dropped the coin from his hand.")

WILLIAM CRONIN (Policeman E 471). On 2nd August, about 9.20 p.m., I was on duty at the corner of Barry Street, Great Russell Street, and saw the prisoners together, and I followed them down Great Russell Street—they went into Mr. Pearce's shop and I went to the window and saw O'Connor with a glass of milk in his hand—he tendered a florin—Mr. Pearce took it up and said it was bad—I went into the shop and shut the door and told Mr. Pearce I had been watching them and asked him to fetch a constable—he gave me part of a bad florin (produced) and fetched Policeman 155 A—I took O'Connor in custody, and on the way to the station he became very violent and kicked and struck me and bit my finger, and we fell—I held him till we got two more constables—at the station I found this other bad florin upon him, and 5s. 10d. in silver, and 2s. 5d. bronze, good money.

Cross-examined by O'Connor. On the first occasion I was not sworn and the Magistrate did not ask me any question—Mr. Pearce was the only witness—on the second occasion I told the Magistrate about your assaulting me and the coin being found upon you.

WILLIAM MORRISON (Policeman A 155). I was fetched by Mr. Pearce to his shop on 2nd August and took Norris, and seeing his right hand closed I asked him what he had in it—he said "Nothing"—I said "Let me look at it," taking hold of his hand; he resisted, we had a struggle, and both fell, and I took this bad florin from his hand—I then took him to the station.

GEORGE WHEATMAN . I am a waiter at the Dublin Castle Coffee Palace, Mile End Road—I saw Norris there on the evening of 31st July—he asked for two cups of coffee and a cup of cocoa and tendered a florin—I tried it, found it was bad, gave it to Mr. Gibbons, my master; he cut it in two and gave it back to O'Connor, who passed it to another man—a constable was sent for and O'Connor was taken to Worship Street and discharged—the other two men walked out—one of them afterwards came to Bethnal Green station and was taken into custody and discharged.

Cross-examined by O'Connor. The other man did not give himself into custody—the Magistrate did not say you were discharged because there was not sufficient evidence to prove the florin was counterfeit—he said he would give you the benefit of the doubt.

THOMAS CONNOR (Policeman K 68). O'Connor was given into ray custody on 31st July, at the Dublin Castle Coffee Palace—he was taken to Worship Street police-court and then discharged.

Cross-examined by O'Connor. The Magistrate said there was no evidence against the prisoners to convict them—the other man came and asked about you and was detained.

WILLIAM WEBSTER . I am inspector of coin to the Mint—these three coins are bad—the one tendered by O'Connor and that taken from Norris are from the same mould.

O'Connor's Defence. I had been in the Grapes public-house, Seven Dials, and changed a sovereign; I was rather the worse for drink and entered the

prosecutor's shop and did not know it was bad. I had it amongst other money and did not tender it with a guilty knowledge.

Norris's Defence. I went into the shop and asked the price of cream; I had been very queer and the doctor advised me to get some cream. This man was in the shop at the time asking for some milk, and a policeman came in and sent for another constable and charged O'Connor. There was a struggle and a two shilling piece was found on the ground and I was taken in custody. At Bow Street the Magistrate asked if there was anything against me. There was nothing against me. I was taken for being in the shop with O'Connor, and on the second occasion the bad florin was produced.


O'CONNOR.— GUILTY . He was further charged with having been convicted of felony at Preston in February, 1873, to which he

PLEADED GUILTY.— Two Years' Imprisonment.

Reference Number: t18790915-759

759. HENRY MORGAN (25) , Unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.

MESSRS. LLOYD and DE MICHELE Prosecuted; MR. RIBTON Defended.

ADELADE WILLIAMS . I am a barmaid at Spiers and Pond's refreshment rooms, St. Pancras Railway Station—I served the prisoner with a glass of ale on 6th August, and he tendered a florin; I told him it was bad—he said he thought I was mistaken; I bent it in a tester and gave it him back and he gave me a good florin—I recognised him as having tendered me two bad florins a fortnight before which have since been destroyed—a waiter followed him on 6th August, and the florin which I had bent was subsequently produced—on the previous occasion I sent a waiter after him but he could not find him, and I showed the two coins to Mr. Kirby, the manager.

Cross-examined. The first occasion was I think on a Monday, the 21st I think.

WILLIAM KIRBY . I manage the refreshment rooms, St. Pancras Station, and remember the last witness sending forme on the Monday fortnight previous to the Wednesday Morgan was arrested and showing me two florins which I examined and found to be bad—they were destroyed.

Cross-examined. It was not the Monday fortnight before Bank Holiday—I gave Monday fortnight, and "Monday, July 21st" was calculated from that, but I cannot fix the date—witnesses were called to prove that the prisoner could not have been there on the 21st.

WILLIAM LINES . I am a waiter at the St. Pancras Station refreshment' rooms—on 6th August the prisoner called for a glass of bitter ale, and I heard Miss Williams say the florin was bad—I looked at it and found it was bad and saw it returned to the prisoner, who paid with a good shilling—I followed him and saw him go to a young woman near the Victoria public-house and throw something over a hoarding—I saw something pass between them—I spoke to a constable who took hold of the prisoner and took out of his hand a florin which I identified as the florin he had passed at the bar.

Cross-examined. The two bad florins were tendered on a Monday, but do not recollect the date—I think the prisoner is the man but cannot swear to him—he called witnesses before the Magistrates.

MARK KING (Policeman Y 376). On 6th August Kirby called my attention to the prisoner, who was standing with a girl in Euston Road, and

the moment I went up to him he took something from his pocket and threw it over a hoarding—I caught hold of him and told him I wanted him—he put his hand in a side pocket and attempted to throw something away—I took from his hand this florin and told him I should take him to the station—he offered me two sixpences and said "Here, go and treat yourself, don't take me in custody or it will be a bad job for me"—I took him and the other constable took the female.

Cross-examined. I searched the hoarding but found nothing—I was coming across the road when I saw him throw something over.

WILLIAM WEBSTER . I am Inspector of Coin to the Mini This flora is bad.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "On July 21st I was out on the Lea with three friends, Mr. Johnson, Mr. Norris and Mr. Wardlaw all the afternoon till 8 o'clock at night. I have witnesses."

Witnesses for the Defence.

EDWARD WARDLAW . I am a printing machine manager at 36, Rosomond Street, Clerkenwell—I was with the prisoner on Monday, 21st July, from early in the morning till late at night, and went to the river Lea with him and Johnson and a man named Norris, who has gone in the country on tramp—we started about 10 a. m. and got to Lea Bridge about 2.30, calling at a great many public houses—the prisoner paid for a boat at Lea Bridge—we got home again about 10 or 10.30—we had a deal of drink—I am sure of the date, it was a fortnight before Bank holiday.

Cross-examined. I have lived at 36, Rosomond Street four or five mouths in the name of Hughes—a policeman came and saw me at work—I am oat of employment and am working at my wife's business—she lives with me.

Re-examined. She did not wish me to have anything to do with the matter—I believe the prisoner's wife came crying to her—the policeman came to make inquiries—my wife took the house in the name of Hughe, and as we could not give a reference she borrowed a rent book and said we had been paying more rent than we had.

FREDERICK JOHNSON . I am a brass moulder, and was living at 46, Rosomond Street, Clerkenwell, when I gave evidence before the Magistrate—on Monday, 21st July, a fortnight before Bank holiday, I met Morgan about 9.30 or 10 a.m. with two other friends, and we went to Lea, calling at a great many public-houses on the way, and reaching Lea about 3.30 and had a boat—we left there about 6 o'clock and got back between 9 and 10 p.m.—we walked there and back—I have known him about 6 months.

Cross-examined. I removed from Rosomond Street because an old lady, a friend of the owner, wanted the rooms and they gave us notice.

GUILTY .—He also PLEADED GUILTY** to a previous conviction of a like offence.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.

Reference Number: t18790915-760

760. DAVID DANIEL (38) , Unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.


ALFRED KNOCK . I am barman at the Princess Royal, Stepney—on 19th August, after 12 o'clock, the prisoner came in with a woman for some gin and bitter which came to 2d.—he tendered la, I gave him 10d. change-soon afterwards he asked me for 1l. worth of silver, and tendered Hanover medal, head upwards—I said that it was bad—he said that it was a good one, and he had been paid off with ten of them that day, and he would bet me two to one that it was good—I showed it to my master and

then gave it to the prisoner and he went out—the gad had been lowered before that.

JOHN HAIG (Policeman 635 K.) On 19th August, about 12.25, I took the prisoner and asked him to show me what he had tendered at the Princess Royal—he produced a Hanover medal and then a second—I asked him where he got them, he said "I was paid off with 10 of them to-day"—I said "Where?"—he said "What has that to do with you?"—some good money was found on him—the Inspector asked him for his address and he refused it—he said "I work hard for my living, prove thai they are bad and I will tell the Magistrate all about it".

Cross-examined. I have ascertained that he is a ears taker at Wentworth Street Bagged School.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate, "It is not likely I should have stood there after the gentleman gave it me back if I had known it was bad; moreover, Sir, convicting myself by giving up another knowing the punishment that I was liable to receive. I am entirely innocent of knowing them to be bad, and during the time that I have returned from penal servitude I have been trying to lead an honest industrious life and reform myself, which I have two respectable witnesses in Court to produce my character for the last ten months back, and can bring forth more witnesses to prove my character."

Witnesses for the Defence.

JOHN GRAY . I am a gardener of Oxford Street, Crystal Palace Bead on 6th September I was at Dulwich Lane, there was an excursion of the Wentworth Ragged School there—I lost a purse in the gardens—it contained two little things that I have had 18 months or 2 years, what they call Hanover medals, and I think 1s. and 2 sixpences.

REV. ROBERT C. BILLING . I am Rector of Spitalfields—I have employed the prisoner for the last 10 months since he came out of prison—he had latterly the charge of Wentworth Street Bagged School and has been a messenger at the Rectory, and in paying bills and taking parcels—the offence he had committed had nothing to do with counterfeit coin—he had a character for honesty—he had charge el the soup kitchen, and always proved himself perfectly honest—he has had money entrusted to him week by week and day by day, and there was never the slightest inaccuracy—I believe he has really endeavoured to reform.

Cross-examined. I am aware that he was in custody four or five months ago—he wes charged with having skeleton keys which were the keys of the Wentworth Street School, and the Magistrate expressed his great dissatisfaction with the conduct of the police—the matter was referred to Colonel Henderson, who sent an Inspector from the Thames Police Court to me to say that it was altogether a wrong prosecution—the matter was dismissed by the Magistrate with these remarks so I was informed by my Curate, who was in Court at the time.

Re-examined. The prisoner has complained to me of the police following him—the fact is that it is impossible unless we can get a man away from the neighbourhood, to assist him, because he is followed so through this new Investigation Department—I saw the keys and they were my own—the workmen were in there and the prisoner was sleeping there to take charge of the premises—he went out to get his supper and was looked up with my keys in his possession, on the charge of having skeleton keys, which

were never produced, and they were not skeleton keys but the keys of my school.

GUILTY . He was further charged with a previous conviction of felony at Clerkenwell in August, 1872, in the name of John Williams, to which he

PLEADED GUILTY. The JURY recommended him to mercy and

MR. BILLING offered to take him back.— Judgment respited.

Reference Number: t18790915-761

761. JOHN SMITH (17), was indicted for a like offence.


HANNAH WINN . I am barmaid at the Feathers, Oxford Street—on 3rd September, between 10 and 11, the prisoner came in for two pennyworth of whiskey and tendered a florin—I saw that it was bad and put it on the counter—he said that he had another which must be bad—I said "Give it to me and let me see it"—I tried it and that was bad also—the manager gave him in custody.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You paid me with a good shilling—you had a hand full of money—I distinctly saw 2 florins, 2 sixpences, and some coppers—the potman did not go away with the florin.

FREDERICK MITCHELL . I am manager of the Feathers—I was in the parlour on 3rd September, and the last witness called me out and said in the prisoner's presence that the florin was bad—the prisoner said that he came from Barnet—I said did you change a half-sovereign there?"—he said "No, a sovereign"—Roberts, the potman, gave me a bad florin—I took the other from the prisoner and gave them both to Chapman.

JOSEPH HENRY ROBERTS . I was assisting at the Feathers, and saw Winn serve the prisoner—I saw that it was a bad florin, and asked the prisoner if he had any more—he pulled out another, and I gave them both to Mr. Mitchell.

JOHN CHAPMAN (Policeman C R 19). I took the prisoner, and Mr. Mitchell handed me these two bad florins—I found on the prisoner two good sixpences and sixpence in copper—he said that he changed a sovereign at Barnet Fair, and did not know the florins were bad.

WILLIAM WEBSTER . These two coins are bad.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I gave the landlord the pieces, both of them, and asked him if they were good or not. I did not know I had any bad about me."

Prisoner's Defence. I did not know they were bad. I gave it to the barmaid. She said it was bad. I gave her another, and said "See if that is bad." She said "It is."

GUILTY . He was further charged with a previous conviction of feloniously uttering counterfeit coin in May, 1875, to which he

PLEADED GUILTY.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.

Reference Number: t18790915-762

762. WILLIAM WILLIS (36) was indicted for a like offence.


JAMES MORRIS . I am manager at the John of Jerusalem, Clerkenwell—on August 2nd, at 8.30, the prisoner gave me a bad shilling for 1 1/2 d. worth of rum—I returned it to him and told him it was bad—he said "Here is another"—I tested that, and that was bad—he refused to give back the first one, and struggled with me—a constable came in and took it from his hand—I handed one of the coins to the potman.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not put the second one in the till. Jambs True. On 2nd August I was potman at the John of Jerusalem Mr. Morris handed me a shilling, and I saw the prisoner there—I gave it to Grummett.

SUSANNAH HART . My father keeps the Skinners' Arms, Clerkenwell—on 1st August, about 11.30 p.m., the prisoner came in for a quartern of gin, and tendered a bad shilling—I bent it and gave it back to him, and told him it was bad—he picked it up and walked out without paying.

Cross-examined. You put the coin down, and not the man with you.

JOSEPH GRUMMETT (Policeman G 276). I took the prisoner and told him the charge; he said "All right"—True handed me a bad shilling, and I took another from the prisoner's hand when the landlord was struggling with him—he tried to throw me down going to the station.

WILLIAM WEBSTER . These coins are bad, and from the same mould.

Prisoner's Defence. A master jeweller gave me two half-crowns, and I changed one of them at the Bull Inn, Holborn. The second shilling I gave this man. He threw it into the till. It does not look feasible when the man said "This is bad "that I should give him another. I have a good character for thirteen years, or I should not have got a licence for my beershop.

GUILTY .— Six Months' Imprisonment.

Reference Number: t18790915-763

763. HENRY SIMPSON (23) was indicted for a like offence.


JOHN PRICE POWELL . I am a grocer, of 8, New Turnstile—on 29th August, at 8 a.m., I sold the prisoner some eggs—he offered me a florin—I asked him if it was a good one—he said "It ought to be"—it felt rather greasy, and I bent it nearly square—I asked him where he got it; he made no reply—I went towards him, and he ran away—I gave it to a man in Lincoln's Inn Fields, and the prisoner snatched it away—a crowd ran after him—I called out, and he was stopped—I did not see the coin again.

JENKIN JONES (Policeman E 106). On 29th August, about 11.30 a.m., the prisoner was pointed out to me in Lincoln's Inn Fields—he went close to another man, who said "Give it to me, Harry"—I saw their hands go together, but cannot say what passed—the other man ran away, and I took the prisoner—Powell said that he had tried to pass a bad florin—the prisoner said "It ought to be a good one."

Prisoner's Defence. I believe it was not a bad florin. The prosecutor was not sure it was bad.

GUILTY .— Four Months' Imprisonment.

Reference Number: t18790915-764

764. EMMA PLUCKROSE (49) and JANE PRICE (59) were indicted for a like offence.


ANN HOW . I assist my brother at the Sir Paul Pindar, Bishopsgate Street—on 2nd September, between.1 and 2 o'clock, Pluckrose came in for twopennyworth of brandy—she held a handkerchief to her face, and said that she had the face ache very badly—she gave me a shilling, and I gave 6d. and 4d. change—I put it on a ledge, and afterwards gave it to the barman.

HENRY ELLS . I am barman at the Sir Paul Pindar—How gave me a bad shilling, and I followed Pluckrose to the Black Raven, and spoke to the barmaid there—I saw the two prisoners join each other, and again after

coming out—I gave the shilling to the policeman—I have seen the prisoners at the bar before.

JANE MOSS . I am barmaid at the Black Raven—Pluckrose came in between 1 and 2 o'clock for 1 1/2 d. worth of rum—she tendered a sixpence; I put it in the till—there was no other silver there—Ells came in, and I took it out and found it was bad—the policeman brought the prisoners out, and I identified them.

JOSEPH PHIPPS (City Policeman 882). On 2nd September Ells pointed out the prisoners to me, and I saw them meet and go towards the Black Raven—Pluckrose went in, and Price went a few yards further and loitered about—I sent Ells into the Black Raven—Pluckrose came out and gave something into Price's right hand—I asked her what it was—she held out her hand, and there was a fourpenny piece and a halfpenny—I said, "Keep that; I shall detain you two women on suspicion of uttering counterfeit coin"—I took them to the Black Raven, and Miss Moss recognised Pluckrose and said, "She has just given me this sixpence—the prisoners said nothing—Ells gave me this bad shilling.

NAOMI MARTINDALE . I am female searcher at Bishopsgate Street Station—I found silver money on both prisoners.

WILLIAM WEBSTER . This shilling and sixpence are bad.

Pluckrose's Defence. The money was the change which a lady gave me. I had not a sixpence in my possession. I do not know what Price had.

Price's Defence. I had 6s. 2 1/4 d. when I met her. I know nothing about what she had. I had no bad money in my possession.

GUILTY .— Four Months' Imprisonment each.

Reference Number: t18790915-765

765. HENRY ASHTON (49) , Feloniously cutting and wounding Mary Ann Ashton, with intent to do her grievous bodily harm.

MR. MOIR Prosecuted.

SARAH ANN ASHTON . I am the prisoner's wife, but have been obliged to live apart from him for some time—on 31st July, between 7 and 8, the prisoner came in, and I said, "You are drunk"—he said, "I am not drunk—I said, "Sit down"—he said, "No, you sit down"—he struck me with a hammer on my head and hand—I was taken to the hospital, and was there for a week, and then was an out-patient.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I wanted to get away from you—you did not take me by the hands and ask me to sit down and come to some arrangement about the things you took away from me—you knocked me against the window—I could see that you were not drunk—you did not lock the door; you did not know how.

THOMAS CANLAN . I am a carman—on 31st July I was driving my van in Dean Street, and saw the prosecutrix at the window and the prisoner striking her with something—a gentleman opened the street door and the parlour door, and went in and caught the prisoner by the neck, and I caught him by the arm—he dropped a hammer on the floor, and I picked it up—she was bleeding very much from her eye and the palm of her hand.

Cross-examined. I pulled the van up and jumped out—I was going there—I heard her call out "Murder!"—the front door was on the jar, but the parlour door was shut—I don't know whether it was locked; it seemed to open very easily—your wife's head was bleeding; I bound it up with some

pag—it was a very nasty wound—I can swear I saw you strike her with the hammer—she said before the Magistrate that you were not drunk.

JOHN HARTLEY . I am a surgeon—I examined the prosecutrix at Middlesex Hospital on 31st July, and found a ragged wound on her forehead and another on her right hand—she was very faint, and had lost a considerable quantity of blood—she remained several days in a very weak condition.

Cross-examined. The wound on her forehead could be caused by any blunt instrument, or by a fall—this hammer (produced) would cause them.

Prisoner's Defence. My wife and I parted, and she broke up the home and took the things away. I went to her; we had a scuffle and she fell in the window. When the man came in I had my hands up, but I was in custody of the first man, therefore it was impossible for him to see me strike her. It is all brought on by her bad conduct and committing adultery. I saw her go into a closet with my lodger and remain there for 10 minutes, and two nights afterwards she was there again. He is just turned 20, and she is 50. I pulled the door open and saw them, and two days afterwards she tried to get me into an asylum for insanity. I never struck her with the hammer, or I should have cut her to pieces.

GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. Six Months' Imprisonment.

OLD COURT.—Tuesday, September 16th, 1879.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

Reference Number: t18790915-766

766. ROBERT ADAMS JARY (35) and GEORGE HILL (29) , Feloniously forging and uttering an order for 5l., with intent to defraud.

MESSRS. POLAND and MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted; MR. SPACKMAN appeared for Jary, and MR. WARNER SLEIGH for Hill.

ALFRED URRY . I keep the Queen's Head public-house, Acton Street, Gray's Inn Road—on Wednesday evening, 25th June, about 6.30, the two prisoners were in my house—Hill said to me in the presence of Jary, "Will you cash me this cheque?" at the same time handing me this cheque for 5l., purporting to be drawn by George Thomas on the Regent Street branch of the London and South-Western Bank, dated June 24, 1879, in favour of G. Hill or order, and endorsed by G. Hill—he had had a bottle of whisky about 3 or 4 o'clock that afternoon, and when I cashed the cheque I deducted the price of that 3s. 8d. and handed him the change, 4l. 16s. 4d.—I hid known Hill before simply by lodging opposite, and Jary by coming into the house along with him—I have never seen Hill without Jary—they usually came in of a night, and sometimes the first thing in the morning, extending over about three weeks—I used to see them mostly daily—I hesitated about the cheque, and asked who this Mr. Thomas was, and Jary drew some papers out of his pocket and said, "We have been doing some business for this Mr. Thomas, who is supposed to be living in Regent Street; it is all right, governor; it is as safe as the Bank"—next morning I took the cheque to the Bank, and a clerk wrote on it, "Fraudulent cheque"—Hill took the money and endorsed the cheque in my presence; I asked him to do so.

Cross-examined by Mr. Spackman. I know nothing of Jary except coming to the house these few times—I found out afterwards where he lived, I did not know at the time—I did not take particular notice of their condition when they came on this night—I could not say whether Jary was sober, because in our line we don't notice—after I cashed the

cheque Hill said "We will have a drink," and he asked me to join them, and we had three drinks out of the money—I really did not notice whether Jary was sober or not; he certainly was not the worse for drink; he was quite capable of standing in a position and of understanding what he said—I should say he was sober—I think he came into the house next morning with Hill, and I think he came in twice or thrice afterwards—I did not notice that Hill laughed at him when he said, "It's all right, governor.";

Cross-examined by MR. SLEIGH. I only knew Hill by his living opposite—that was the reason why I cashed the cheque—I believe he had lived there for about three weeks—the cheque was not endorsed in his name when he came; there are two endorsements on it—I asked him to endorse it, and he wrote his name and address, 35, Acton Street, Gray's Inn Road, and 25-6-79—I do not know Mr. Freemantle; I don't know that Hill has served in the Navy, through the Indian Mutiny and the Jamaica rebellion—I saw him afterwards at the station when he was in custody and spoke to him—I don't recollect what I said—I don't recollect saying I was sorry to appear against him, but that I only wanted my money—I might have said so—I don't believe I said those words—I did not say that I recollected his being an ensign in the Royal Navy; I may have said so—I really cannot say what I said—I believe he said there was no such rank as ensign in the Navy—I applied for a warrant—I believe I did tell him I knew the Freemantles well—I did not tell Hill I knew his people very well—I won't swear I did not—I told him that his father was dead and that his mother was living; that was after I had made inquiries—he did not tell me that he had the cheque given to him to get cashed; I swear that—he did not say who it was for—I did not notice that Hill laughed at Jary when he said there had been some work done for Mr. Thomas—I did not notice that Jary was intoxicated or semi-intoxicated—he was not so much intoxicated that I dared not serve him—I took him to be perfectly sober—I knew that Hill was highly connected; at least I heard him say so; he told me several times before when in my house that he had served in India and Jamaica—I cashed the cheque on my belief that he was a gentleman of honour and high connection.

Re-examined. I believed it to be a genuine cheque—it was crossed at the time I cashed it—I only knew Hill by his coming to the house as a customer and by his lodging opposite—he gave me an account of himself in chatting—I thought he was a respectable man—after the cheque was dishonoured I communicated with the police—when I afterwards saw him in custody I said I was sorry for it—I did not know at that time about the other cheques—I am not prosecuting this case; the Treasury is.

By MR. SLEIGH. The expression that Jary used was "We have been doing work for Mr. Thomas," not "I have been."

HARRIETT HURDLE . I am the wife of Charles Henry Hurdle, of 35, Acton Street, Gray's Inn Road—Hill lodged at our house from June 3 to June 26—he occupied one room—I last saw him on Wednesday 25th—I did not know that he was going away at that time—I had given him notice to leave—he owed me 1l. 0s. 5d. for board and lodging—he did not pay it before he left—I don't know where he went to—I have seen Jary there between the 3rd and 26th from time to time—he came to call for Hill very frequently, nearly daily, and sometimes two or three times a day.

Cross-examined by MR. SLEIGH. I believe Hill was in want of money at

the time—he borrowed 2s. of me on one occasion and wanted to borrow 1s. on another occasion, but I would not give it to him—the last bill I pre sented to him was for 12s. 5 1/2 d., and he said he would pay me next day—he was very frequently intoxicated while in the house—I believe a person named Raven came there to see him on several occasions—I do not know his Christian name—I cannot say that he was a gentlemanly-looking person; he was not a costermonger or mechanic in appearance; he looked a respectable clerkly-sort of person; he was always very polite to me—I did not speak to him more than once or twice—Hill used to let him in—he has never called upon me since Hill has been in custody—I had not warned Hill against Raven and Jary; not before the 25th June—I told him on the 25th that I did not approve of their coming there—I believe a day or two before the 25th Raven, Jary, and Hill were there together, when a bottle of whiskey was brought in—I did not see them—I saw them all three go out; I supposed they must have come in.

Re-examined. Hill had one room at 8s. a week—he was not extravagant in his habits; he used to get intoxicated very often—it was between 5 and 6 in the afternoon that I saw the three go out together—I did not know that the other man's name was Raven—I have ascertained it since—he has been pointed out to me since at the Court here at the last Session—I have not seen him to-day.

ELIZA WETHERELL . I lodge at Mrs. Hurdle's—I lodged there between the 3rd and 26th June—I have seen the two prisoners frequently there together—on the morning of the 26th I saw them go across to Mr. Urry's together—I did not see them from that time.

Cross-examined. I have seen some other person it the lodgings once—I don't know whether it was Raven—I saw him here last Session, and I saw him in Mr. Hill's room once; it was between 7 and 8 in the morning of the 26th that I saw the two prisoners go across to Mr. Urry's.

WILLIAM FOWLER MOUNTFORD COPELAND . I carry on business at 160, New Bond Street, as a porcelain manufacturer—Prior to June this year I had known Hill by sight only for some time—on the 16th June he called and asked for my brother—he was told that he was out of town—he then said to me, "I hope you will excuse the liberty I am taking with you, but I have got a cheque which has been sent to me; it is a crossed cheque; I don't keep a banking account, and as it is not all for myself I shall be very much obliged if you will either cash it or give me an open cheque for it; you know who I am; I have married," mentioning the name of a young lady, the daughter of a gentleman at Watford—he handed me this cheque for 12l., and 1 gave him an open cheque for it, payable to order. (This cheque was dated June 14, 1879, payable to George Bill or order, the sum of 12l., signed George Henry Cole, and endorsed George Hill.) An endorsement was written on it when it was brought to me—I paid it into the Union Bank, and it was returned to me on the 18th, marked as it is now, "No account"—I never saw the prisoner again until he was in custody.

Cross-examined by MR. SLEIGH. To the best of my belief the statement he made about his marriage was perfectly true.

SAMUEL ROUGH . I am a draper, of 31, High Street, Watford—I have known Hill by sight for the last two or three years—on the 20th June he called, shook hands with me, asked how I was, and said "I want to pay my little account"—there was an account of 1l. 10s. 9d. against him at that

time—ho handed me this cheque for 12l., and said "Take it out of that"—(This cheque was dated 20th June, on the same bank, payable to "G. Hill or order." signed "James Melmoth," and endorsed "Geo. Hill")—it was already endorsed when he brought it; he asked me to give him the change in gold—I gave him a 5l. note and the balance in gold and silver—J receipted the bill—I looked at the cheque, and he said "It is all right; I have endorsed it," and he said "Now I don't owe a penny in Watford"—I sent the cheque to London, and it was returned to me marked "No account"—I never saw the prisoner again till he was in custody.

Cross-examined by MR. SLEIGH. I have reason to believe that he does owe money in Watford—I was told so by the hotelkeeper where he stayed—I believe there has been an action about it—I don't know that it was dismissed—I know the man has never had his money—Mr. Allen, the hatter, also told me that he had not been paid for goods that Hill had there—I had had a previous account paid, not by Hill, by a cheque of his solicitor's—I will swear he said "Let me have all gold," not "some gold"—the bank-note I gave him had not my name on it.

Re-examined. The goods he had were about two years ago, and the solicitor's cheque I received about six or seven months ago through the post.

THOMAS RUTLAND . I am the landlord of the Old Drury public-house, 50, Catherine Street, Strand—some time about the middle of June Hill came to my house with another man, not Jary—I had seen him once or twice before in company with Jary—he said "How do you do, Mr. Rutland? can you accommodate me with changing a small cheque?" and he produced a cheque for 3 guineas like one of these forms of the London and South-Western Bank; the name of the drawer was Holmes, I think; it was endorsed, I believe, in the name of the person to whom it was made payable—I asked Hill to put his name on it; he said it was not necessary—I said "I would rather have it done," and he did do it—I don't recollect the name of the payee—I gave him the 3 guineas—they had a glass of stout each and left—I did not see any more of Hill; I saw something more of the other men afterwards—I paid the cheque away to Mr. Saunders, spirit merchant, of 15, Charlotte Street, Fitzroy Square, and his clerk, Mr. Penfold, returned it to me marked as a forgery—I have mislaid the cheque, and cannot find it—I don't know the name of the man who was with Hill, but he was there on the subsequent occasion when the detective came to make inquiries about this cheque, and he went out directly.

Cross-examined by MR. SLEIGH. He was an ill-looking fellow; he had long jaws and high cheekbones; it was not Jary—I don't think I knew Hill's name at the time, but I am not quite clear of that—the endorsement of Wells was on the cheque; Hill did not tell me that that was his endorsement—I knew it was not because because his name transpired—the other man addressed him as Hill, and I asked him to endorse it also—I did not ask him to put his address—I had seen him about four times before that.

ARTHUR JAMES PENFOLD . I am clerk to Mr. Saunders, wine merchant, 15, Charlotte Street, Fitzroy Square—on 11th June I sent a cheque for 3l. 3s. on the London and South-Western Bank to the London and County Bank, Oxford Street—I had received the cheque from Mr. Rutland, drawn by Thomas Holmes in favour of Wells, dated 9th June—it was returned on 13th June marked "No account"—I sent it on to Mr. Rutland.

ERNEST NEWCOMB . I am a clerk in the London and County Bank, Oxford Street—Mr. Saunders has an account there—this cheque for 3l. 3s.

was paid in to his account—I sent it on in due course to the London and South-Western Bank for payment; it was returned marked "No account"—I sent it book to Mr. Saunders.

JOHN GERRINGER . I am manager to Messrs. Dietz and Co., lamp manufacturers, St. Paul's Buildings, Carter Lane, City—on Saturday, 28th June, Jary came there—I had known him some ten or twelve years before—he said "Will you give me change for a cheque?"—I think he said "Will you give me 2l. on this on account?"—I said "Yes, I don't mind"—he handed me this cheque (This was dated 27th June, 1879, for 4l. 15s., by W. Haynes, payable to R. A. Jary)—he said he would call for the remaining 2l. 15s. on the Monday or Tuesday following—he did not tell me where he was living—I endorsed it and paid it in to the Bank of England—it was returned marked "Fraudulent cheque"—on the Monday I received this letter (Read: "Sunday evening. Dear Sir,—That cheque is no good. Will call in the course of to-morrow, or by 11 on Tuesday, to take it up and explain; in the meanwhile please not do anything with reference to it, and greatly oblige yours truly, R. M. Jary")—he did not call—I never saw him again till he was in custody—I received this letter on the Monday morning by the first post, before the cheque was returned—there is no address on it.

Cross-examined by MR. SPACEMAN. I knew that Jary was very poor at this time—he told me he had a sick wife at home entirely dependent upon him lor support—he applied to me two or three weeks before—he then told me where he lived—he said he had been out of employment, and he thought of getting a situation of 200l. a year, and wanted me to be guarantee for him—he produced this form—I said I would do all I could to forward his interests—when he brought the cheque he asked for 2l., and said he would come on Monday for the rest—I have since ascertained that he was in custody on Monday—he might have said he would come to see if the cheque was cashed.

SAMUEL HENRY WESTON . I am a clerk in the Regent Street branch of the London and South-Western Bank—these four cheques are on the forms that we issue to customers—they are all out of the same book, which was given put to a customer named Thomas Sidney Raven—his account stopped working on 16th March, 1867, with something less than 1l. balance, and has never been operated upon since—a cheque of his was paid on 16th March, and nothing occurred since—I don't know the amount of the cheque—we have no customers named George Henry Cole, James Melmoth, George Thomas, W. Haynes, or William Holmes—I do not know the writing on these cheques—they were presented in the ordinary way, and marked as they now appear.

Cross-examined by MIL SLEIGH. The first three look in the same handwriting, those of the 14th, 20th, and 24th June—I don't think the other is in the same hand writing—I did not know that the reason that Thomas Sidney Raven's account was closed was that he was doing seven years' penal servitude—I heard at the police-court that he was. doing seven years' penal servitude—I did not know him by sight; I never taw him to my knowledge—I did not know Frank Raven—I don't think any other cheques have been presented out at this book since the account was closed—the whole amount represented by these five cheques is 36l. or 37l.,—the writing on the cheques is not like this written statement of Hill's; there is not the slightest similarity.

JOSEPH WAKEFIELD (Police Sergeant G). On Monday night, 30th June, about 9.45, I took Jary into custody at the Argyll Hotel, Argyll Square—I said, "I have a warrant to apprehend you for being concerned with a man of the name of Hill for obtaining 5l. from Mr. Urry by means of a false cheque"—he said, "I know the man Hill; I have known him for a few weeks; I was with him at the Queen's Head when he got the 5l. cheque cashed, but I can't see what I have got to do with that"—on the way to the station he said, "Have you got the warrant"—I said, "I have"—he said, "Will you let me see it?"—I said, "Yes, and welcome"—I showed it him, and he read it under a lamp-post—I said, "Are you satisfied?"—he said, "Quite satisfied as to your authority"—I searched him at the station, and found on him this guarantee form—on the back is written in pencil, "5l. 3s. 8d. 4l. 16s. 4d."—he said, "I made that memorandum in Hill's room"—from information I received I went on 3rd July to Dundalk Barracks in Ireland, and there found Hill—he had enlisted in the Scots Greys in the name of George Stevens—I arrested him and read the warrant to him—he said, "I know no Jary"—on the way to London he said, "Did Mr. Urry apply for the warrant himself"—I said, "He did"—he said, "I have a complete answer to the charge; I suppose if he had received 10l. for the 5l. he would have said nothing about it."

Cross-examined by MR. SPACKMAN. I arrested Jary at the Argyll Hotel—I went to watch for him—I knew he lived there—I saw him come out.

Cross-examined by MR. SLEIGH. I read the warrant to Hill—I can't say whether I read the whole of it—part of it is struck out—the words "a certain man named Jorham"—I can't say whether that was struck out before I went away or since I came back—I read those words out to Hill—I don't know whether I pronounced the name Jary or Jorham—I don't know that I altered the name—I might have said Jorham—I don't know whether I did or not—I have been in the force 20 years—I did not understand him to say "I know no Jorham"—I would not swear whether he said Jary or Jorham—I understood him to say Jary—he said he courted every inquiry—he conversed with me in coming to London—he did not say he would give me every information in his power; he did not give me any—he did not tell me of Kaven and other cheques—he never mentioned the name of Raven to me.

WILLIAM PEEL (Police Inspector G). I was present on 30th June when Jary was searched at the police station—I saw this memorandum and said "Why here is the account of the cheque and what you paid for the whiskey"—he said "Yea, I wrote that in Hill's room, what of it?"—on 16th July I saw Hill in the gaoler's room of the police court—as I was passing through he said "If you get Raven you will get the man that drew the cheques"—on the 23rd July, in the gaoler's room, in consequence of something that had been said to me, I said to Hill "I understand that you wish to make a statement"—he said "Yes"—I said "If you make any statement it may be use I in evidence against you, if you wish to make a statement you had better write it and I will call for it at the House of Detention at 2 o'clock to-morrow"—he said he would have it ready—he said "You allow Raven, who is connected with a notorious gang of forgers, to be at large"—next day I called at the House of Detention and received this statement—he read it over—I called his attention to the fact that it was' not signed and he signed it in my presence. (This statement was here read;' it contained a very lengthened account of his acquaintance with Frank Raven, from whom he alleged he received the cheques in question and to whom he gave the proceeds.)

Cross-examined by MR. SLEIGH. I asked him to write Frank Raven's address, and said "You write a very good hand"—I said "If you want to make a statement you had better tell all you know"—I have not made any inquiries about Raven having some furnished houses in Chelsea—I do not know that he has some furnished houses in Chelsea—the statement was written without erasure and without alteration—there is a person named Frank Raven—he has a brother in penal servitude, named Thomas Sidney Raven—I could find Frank Raven any day—I could find both the Ravens any time I want them

GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.

The following prisoners who

PLEADED GUILTY before MR. ALDERMAN OWDEN, on Monday, September 15th, were sentenced by Mr. Common Serjeant

Reference Number: t18790915-767

767. SAMUEL GOUGH (22) , Stealing whilst employed in the Post-office 2 post letters, containing stamps, the property of Her Majesty's Postmaster General— Five Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

Reference Number: t18790915-768

768. THOMAS WILLIAM HOGG (34) , to a like offence.— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

Reference Number: t18790915-769

769. HENRY MOON HODSON (36) ,. to a like offence.— [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] Judgment respited.

Reference Number: t18790915-770

770. JOHN CHARLES SIMONS (33) , to a like offence.— Five Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

Reference Number: t18790915-771

771. FREDERICK CHATHAM ROBINSON (49) , to a like offence.— Five Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

Reference Number: t18790915-772

772. WILLIAM VINE (24) , to stealing 70 yards of velveteen, of Samuel White and others, having been before convicted of felony.— Twelve Months' Imprisonment. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

Reference Number: t18790915-773

773. WILLIAM HENRY EWINGTON (21) , to stealing 2 Post office orders and a banker's cheque, and feloniously forging and uttering the same.— Twelve Months' Imprisonment [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.], And

Reference Number: t18790915-774

774. HENRY MC DONALD (26), to embezzling 16l. 15s. 9d. and other sums of Thomas Tapling and another, his masters.— Fifteen Months' Imprisonment. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

Reference Number: t18790915-775

775. JOSEPH BUCKWORTH feloniously forging and uttering receipts for money. No evidence was offered.


OLD COURT.—Wednesday, September 17, and part of Thursday 18,1879.

Before Mr. Justice Manisty.

Reference Number: t18790915-776

776. SIR FRANCIS WYATT TRUSCOTT was indicted for unlawfully publishing a libel of and concerning John Kearns.


JOHN KEARNS . I live at 9, Hyde Side Terrace, Edmonton—I was formerly a wharfinger, in business at Red Lion Wharf and 3, Crane Wharf, Upper Thames Street—I was for ten years a member of the Court of Common Council—I have known Sir Francis Truscott about 22 or 23 years—I helped to get his father into the Court of Common Council, and afterwards himself—he was in the Court with me for the same ward, and afterwards he became an alderman—in 1867 I went abroad—I was in great difficulty with regard to some company; not money difficulty—I left Sir Francis Truscott

to manage my affairs while I was away, and he had 10 per cent. for doing it—he had the control of my property entirely, and of my house and furniture—while I was away I received letters from him—I returned to this country in August, 1877—in the mean time I had been made a bankrupt by the connivance of Sir Francis—I have had no personal dispute with Sir Francis since my return—I ceased to be on friendly terms with him long since, when I discovered him—I was not on friendly terms with him; that is, hardly strong enough—on 25th July I was living at 9, Hyde Side Terrace, Edmonton—Miss Smith was living with me—it is her house—she is not my housekeeper now; she was formerly—she retained from Spain with me—some time in the evening of 25th July there was a knock at the door—I went to the door, and took from the postman this post-card—I read it—it was just in the same state as it is now, but a little dirtier—I noticed the handwriting almost instantly, astonished at the card—an instant after, having read it perhaps twice through, I saw it was Truscott's—I took it to where Miss Smith was sitting and held it before her—she made a statement about it—I then ran out of the house to find the postman, angry—I did not see him; he had passed—I saw Mr. Ryde, and had the post-card with me—I showed it to another person as well on the instant—that same evening I went to the police-station and made inquiries—I showed the post-card to three persons that same evening—I showed it to a Mr. Baker and a Mr. Green—after showing it to them I went immediately to the post-office and showed it to Mr. Wragg, who keeps the post-office at Edmonton—I noticed that there was a portion of a red mark over the flourish on the card; Mr. Ryde and Mr. Baker and myself talked of it—I noticed that at the time—I called Mr. Ryde's attention to it—after showing it to him I went and inquired at the police-station, and I then on that same night compared the post-card with one letter of the defendant's—on the 29th I took the post-card to the Mansion House to Sir Charles Whetham—I afterwards went to Guildhall—a summons was not granted there, and I preferred a bill of indictment here at the last Session—from the knowledge I have of the defendant's handwriting I have not the slightest doubt that the post-card was written by him. Q. Is it in an ordinary handwriting or a feigned hand in your judgment A. Mixed—some of the letters are perfectly distinct, others are a little holder than he usually writes—there are one or two letters that I cannot speak positively to, but the bulk of them I can—I had not the least doubt from the time I received it up to the present time that it was written by the defendant—I produce some letters signed by the defendant—this is the one thai I first examined, dated 25th September, 1868 (marked C)—that is written by the defendant and signed by him; it is addressed to Mr. William Clark—I don't think I have got the envelope of that letter—here is one envelope without a mark on it—there is nothing to identify it as the envelope of that letter—it came to me from Mr. Kay, the Queen's Counsel—this letter of the 5th August, 1868 (marked A) is in the defendant's handwriting and signed by him; it is addressed to Mrs. Clark, the wife of Mr. William Clark; this is the envelope of that letter (marked x)—I also produce a letter of 17th August, 1868, addressed to Mrs. Clark (marked B)—I don't think this is the envelope, there are so many; I do not know whether it is—the letter is written by the defendant and signed by him—I also produce a letter, dated 7th November, 1868 (marked D), addressed to Mr. Clark—I have not got the envelope—the letter is written and signed by the defendant—there is another letter, dated

13th July, 1868, to Mrs. Clark (marked E)—that is Written and signed by the defendant—here are three envelopes—I cannot identify them—one is without a date (marked J, H, and G)—they are written by the defendant—two of them are addressed to Mrs. Clark and the other to Mr. Clark—those documents were all in my possession on the night I received the postcard—I compared it with other letters on the Monday, the 29th, and on the 29th I went with them and the post-card to the Mansion House to Sir Charles Whetham—having made the comparison I have not the slightest doubt that the post-card is in the same handwriting—if necessary I can point out various instances of similarity—after the signature of the defendant I find a flourish in all his letters—besides the letters I had in my possession when I was abroad I received very many letters from the defendant—some of them are in the possession of Mr. Clements, the solicitor to my trustee in bankruptcy. (Mr. Clements here produced a number of document.) Amongst these there are a number of letters written by the defendant to me—here is one of July, 1868—I ceased writing to him at the end of 1868—the most recent is a letter of 15th February, 1869—there is not a great deal of writing in it—it is signed by the defendant, and is addressed to me—here is one letter of 24th, June, 1867, from the defendant to Miss Smith—that is in the defendant's writing—it is signed with initials—it has a bit of flourish at the end, but not similar to what he signs to his letters. (The post-card was addressed to the witness, and contained the words, "Excuse an old friend mentioning to you, to put you on your guard, but you are being watched by the police."

Cross-examined by the ATTORNEY-GENERAL. I have not had any correspondence with the defendant since 1869—I have frequently seen his writing since; a seven years' law suit has brought his writing almost every day before me to be copied—I have none of his writing written by him since 1869—it was about 7.30 in the evening of 25th July that I received the post-card—later in the evening I compared it with this letter of 25th September, that comparison tended to convince me that the post-card was the defendant's writing—I was convinced before, but on that comparison I had not the least doubt about it—before I made the comparison I showed the post-card on the instant, first to Mr. Ryde, a neighbour, who lives a few doors from where I was residing—I also showed it to Mr. Baker, a neighbour, and to Mr. Green—I then went to the post-office—I showed it to Miss Smith before I went to the post-office—I was very angry at having imputed to me that I was watched by the police—under all the circumstances, considering that he has robbed me considerably, it was a most serious imputation to say that I was being watched—it angered me; I felt angry—I was exceedingly reluctant that anybody should suppose I was being watched by the police or anybody else—I showed the post-card to Mr. Green, Mr. Baker, and Mr. Ryde because they knew from me how I had been treated by the defendant; that was the reason; to convince them how shamefully he was treating me; not satisfied with my. money he attacks my character—Alderman Cotton was presiding at Guildhall at my first application there—Mr. Martin, the clerk, was there—Sir Robert Garden was the Alderman presiding on the 31st, when the summons was refused—they did not tell me that they declined to grant the summons because in their opinion the writing was not the defendant's—Mr. Martin did not tell me that the writing was not the defendant's—the first person I saw on the Tuesday morning was Sir Charles Whetham, the Lord

Mayor—he said that he had no jurisdiction, but he did not say it was not the defendant's writing—Alderman Cotton did not tell me that in his opinion the writing was not the writing of the defendant—Alderman Carden said "I don't know that it is Truscott's writing"—Mr. Humphreys said: "We come for a summons, Sir Robert, and not to ask your evidence"—Mr. Martin was then the clerk—I was not told that they had documents signed by the defendant; that they were perfectly familiar with his writing and that that was not his writing—they did not show me documents signed by the defendant; nothing of the sort; I saw those statements in the paper, but they were untruthful—Mr. Martin was there the whole time—the summons was not granted—I preferred my bill of indictment before the Grand Jury on the following Wednesday, 6th August, and a true bill was found against Truscott for libel—I was before the Grand Jury; I was the only witness as usual when I asked for the summons—I only appeared before the Grand Jury with Mr. Humphreys—I swore to the writing of the postcard and the Grand Jury found the bill—I did not personally inform the defendant that I was about to prefer the bill—on my first application at the Mansion House in trying to get the summons I told the clerk that if he could not give it that day I knew Truscott would be off, which he was once before—that was the only thing I could do—I did not inform the defendant, or cause him to be informed, that I intended to go behind his back and prefer a bill of indictment against him; he was in London; I never went near him; I heard Mr. Humphreys suggest to the Lord Mayor that he near him; I heard Mr. Humphreys suggest to the Lord Mayor that he should be immediately informed of the charge against him—you know better than I whether I ought to have informed him that I intended to prefer the bill; I did not see that I ought; I did not know that it was necessary, and it was rather out of my hands—I have heard that there was an application to a Judge at Chambers for an order to inspect the post-card—I was not present—I have seen in Mr. Humphreys's office affidavits by the defendant and others on this subject—I knew as soon as I saw the affidavits that he denied the post-card being his writing, and I knew that Mr. Thomas Flight Smith swore that it was his—(referring to a book) looking at this memorandum, it enables me to correct the statement I made just now: I said I knew it when I saw the affidavits, but I knew it on the 29th August from Mr. Smith, the father—I saw the affidavit of the defendant and the affidavit of Mr. Smith some time in the beginning of this month—I don't know that it occurred to me when I consulted my solicitor about this matter that I might bring a civil action against the defendant for this libel—I don't think it did—it did not occur to me, my impression was that it was improper to do so—I won't say that I knew it could be done, I never asked the question—I have heard of many an action for libel—Q. Did not you know that if you proceeded against the defendant civilly he would be permitted to give his evidence on oath, and that if you proceeded against him criminally he would not be permitted by the rules of law to give any evidence at all—did not you know that?—A. It did not occur to me, it never crossed my mind, on my oath; nor had I any conversation on such a subject; I went away to Mr. Humphreys—I really don't think I thought much about it, only that I was very much annoyed—I know Mr. Thomas Flight Smith and his father, Mr. Thomas James Smith—they are wholesale stationers, and carry on their business in Queen Street, Cheapside—Sir Francis Truscott introduced them to me about 15 years ago as near as

I can guess—I have not been intimate with them, not out of their business—I don't know where they reside—I know their place of business, that is all—I have been in the habit of calling there pretty frequently and talking to them about my affairs—there was that sort of friendship—I considered they were friends of mine; that they were friendly to me—I called on them on 12th August, and again on the 15th—on 28th August I received a letter from the father to call when I was next in town, and on the 29th I called in Queen Street; and Mr. Smith, senior, said "Kearns, if I were to say my son wrote that card what would you say to it?"—I said "I should say it was a conspiracy between him and Truscott"—he told me that his son had written to him from Germany—he told me he was told to say by his son that he was the delinquent, that his son was in Germany, but not with Truscott, and that he had written to him two days ago, which would make it the 27th—that was what passed—I did not ask to see the letter, but he said "I can show you the letter," and he turned as if to show it me—I held my hand for it, and then he said "No, I have not got it"—he said "Then you don't believe it"—I said "No, I don't, I know the handwriting too well; it must be a question for a jury"—a day or two after that I saw the affidavit of Mr. Thomas Flight Smith, swearing that it was his handwriting; still I did not believe him—I never saw the handwriting of Mr. Thomas Flight Smith—he never wrote to me—it occurred to me to get to see some letters of his, but I did not know how to get them—I had no opportunity of getting them—I did not know his friends—I did not ask his father to show me some of his son's handwriting—I have not seen them since—if he wrote it, would he not have come to me, instead of going to the solicitor of the defendant?—the card is exactly in the same condition as it was when I received it—I do not observe any alteration. Q. Are you in the habit when you receive letters from people of underscoring some of the words; now, just think? A. I need not think, I never did such a thing—I think I may swear that I never did such a thing in my life—I went among other persons to Major Bowman, of the City police—Col. Fraser is the head, the Commissioner, and Major Bowman is the second in command under him—I showed the post-card to Major Bowman and a letter as well; that was on Saturday the 26th, as I received it on the 25th—on the Saturday morning I went to Major Bowman and showed him the card and one of Truscott's letters—when I showed it to him it was exactly in the same state in which it is now—on the Friday when I first received it I went to the local police and showed it to them—I suppose it was to some inspector—I don't remember his name—in my view this is like the style of the defendant's writing—it is not very much disguised—it is hardly disguised—it was not disguised from me, not so as to deceive me for a moment—I have expressed myself strongly against the defendant—I did not tell Mr. Thomas Flight Smith that I had been waiting for vengeance for 11 years, and I would have it now; nothing of the sort—I have said that as lorg as I had life I would take every legitimate and legal course to obtain the property he had robbed me of, and that when the time came I would prosecute him for perjury that he had committed in the Court of Bankruptcy—I told Mr. Smith that—I did not tell him that if I could help it the defendant should never be Lord Mayor—how could I?—you would not perhaps wish me to explain what occurred—I left England on 26th March, 1867—I was chairman of the Anglo-Danubian Navigation Company—at the time I left I was,

not indebted to a considerable extent—that is one of my hardships—I was made a bankrupt on 20th May, 1867, my agent not appearing for me and having destroyed or intercepted the notice of adjudication, which I never got, I never surrendered under my bankruptcy—I was not a bankrupt, and I have not surrendered—I can't answer whether I was declared an outlaw, unless you allow me to explain—I don't know whether I was declared an outlaw—a gentleman named Burke said he had a considerable claim on my estate—he had been connected with me in the business relating to the Anglo-Danubian Navigation Company—he has been seeking to prove on my estate—the amount for which he should prove was referred to Mr. Clegg, a member of the firm of Messrs. Quilter, Ball, and Co.—I did not attend a meeting before that gentleman in July—I was there—the order of the Registrar was in February, and they have done nothing but once up to to-day—I think the meeting was about 25th July—I was not informed by anybody at Quilter, Ball's, that my proceedings would be watched, or that I would be watched—there was not an angry discussion between me and Mr. Crawford, the solicitor for the defendant—there was a discussion—I showed him a paper—he did not tell me that he would have me watched or anything to that effect; nothing of the sort, nor did anybody else say anything about it—a clerk of Mr. Burke's was standing in the room at the time—Mr. Hayling was there—Mr. Williams, a clerk of Mr. Clement's, was not there—he had left—it was a long time before I received the post-card that the discussion with Mr. Crawford took place—there was no angry discussion—I only told Crawford that he was a clever little fellow—that was months before I received the post-card—Mr. Crawford represented Mr. Burke and Sir Francis Truscott—he did not say anything to me to this effect, "I know you have money and I intend to have some of it, and I will watch you till I ascertain where it is"—I did not say "I know that I have and I intend to stick to it"—on my oath nothing of the sort—no such discussion ever occurred—I was joking him about his bye play; about what had occurred with Mr. Burke, in perfectly good feeling—when I went away I went to Spain—I did not remain there entirely from March, 1867, till I returned to England, I did principally—I returned to England in August, 1877.

Re-examined. During the whole time I was in Spain till I returned the defendant had the management of my property; about 13,000l. he had the control of—I had no debt owing except with the company, which I had guaranteed—I had given bills, and I had given property against those bills, and I gave Truscott property to meet anything else—Mr. Crawford was solicitor for Mr. Burke, who was jointly liable with me to the AngloDanubian Company; he is also the solicitor of the defendant, and his son-inlaw—the Messrs. Smith were introduced to me by the defendant; they were friends of his; I knew them through him—Mr. Smith senior did not show me the letter which he said he had received from his son abroad—he said "I have a letter I will show you," and he looked round and added "No, I have not got it"—I have never seen it; it has never been produced to my knowledge—I went abroad in March, 1867—I did not hear of my bankruptcy until after it had occurred—I was made a bankrupt without my knowledge—I met the defendant in the October following in Switzerland, by appointment, and he told me of the bankruptcy, and that he would have it immediately put to rights; that it was nothing—the ordinary time for surrendering had

then gone by—I conversed with him on the subject of the bankruptcy—not a word was said at the Mansion House or at Guildhall when Alderman Cotton was sitting, as to the post-card not being in the handwriting of the defendant—the same clerk, Mr. Martin, was there on the 30th and on the 31st—Alderman Carden was there on the 31st—on the first day I understood it was a question of jurisdiction only—on the second day we attended for the decision of the question of jurisdiction—Mr. Martin came to Mr. Humphreys and myself to ask us into the Alderman's room; on entering the room Alderman Carden was putting his cloak on, and said "Good morning, Mr. Kearns;" "Good morning, Sir Robert;" he said "I don't know that this is Truscott's writing; I am late in the Court"—on that Mr. Humphreys said, "Sir Robert, we did not come to you for evidence; we come to you for a summons"—he said "Oh, I don't know anything about it," or something of that sort, "and I am late in Court"—I think Mr. Humphreys also said to Mr. Martin that they were paving the way for a paid magistracy—my attention was not called at that time to any specific document for me to compare with the post-card; no document was shown to me; I did not take one in my hand and look at it—at the further end of the table I saw a paper lying upside down, and I saw Truscott's name and his sign manual under it, but it was not shown to me—I did not take it into my hand—notwithstanding Mr. Thomas Flight Smith's statement that this card was written by him, I have not the slightest doubt of its being written by the defendant—I have no writing of Mr. Smith's—I never saw his writing.

ELIZABETH SMITH . I am a single woman, and live at 9, Hyde Side Terrace. writing. Edmonton—Mr. Kearns resides in my house—I was formerly companion to Mr. Kearns's mother—I went to Spain with Mr. Kearns in 1867—at that time I had some property—I arranged with the defendant to look after my property for me while I was away—I returned to this country with Mr. Kearns—since my return there has been litigation between me and the defendant; I have had two lawsuits; I filed two bills against him for the recovery of land and policies of insurance—the decisions were given in my favour—I have known the defendant about 22 years—I know his handwriting well; I have copied his writing in connection with my property, drafts which he had prepared—I became acquainted with his handwriting—this letter of 24th June 1867. I received from him; it is addressed to me; it is in his ordinary handwriting—I was at home on Wednesday evening, 25th June last—I remember Mr. Kearns going to the door to answer the postman—he then came to the room where I was sitting and handed me this post-card—except being dirtier it is in the same state as it was then—I looked at it and read it, and said "Truscott's writing"—I formed an opinion at once as to whose writing it was—I recognised it to be the defendant's at once—I had not the least doubt about it at that time—I have examined it carefully since, and have not any doubt whatever that it is in the handwriting of the defendant.

Cross-examined. It is like his ordinary writing—I said at once it was Truscott's writing, and I am still of the same opinion, I have copied it so frequently—I have not seen any of his letters, only those that Mr. Kearns has in his possession now; I don't know the dates of them—I have known Mr. Kearns between 23 and 24 years—I was companion and housekeeper to his mother, and at her death I remained in that capacity with Mr.

Kearns, as housekeeper—when he went abroad I went with him—I stayed with him in Spain till I returned; I came back with him—I was with him there the whole time—I came back to this country in 1871 for a short time to see my solicitor, and then went back again to Mr. Kearns, who was living in Spain, and lived with him—I was to have been married to him, but the defendant keeping my property my marriage could not take place; I could not have sued him for my property—the engagement has continued since; I shall be married as soon as I can.

Re-examined. This letter of 24th June, 1867, is all written by the defendant—this part of it headed "Copy "is his writing.

CHARLES CHABOT . I carry on business at 27, Red Lion Square—I have for many years been engaged in examining handwriting and made it a study—I have been a witness in a great many important cases, employed by the Government and other large bodies—I have had placed in my hand these letters marked A, B, C, D, and E, and have examined them, and also this post-card, with a view to see whether in my judgment the post-card was written by the same person who wrote the letters—I have carefully examined the letters and the post-card, and to the best of my judgment they are written by the same person—the first thing I observed was the similarity of the flourish on the postr-card to the flourish appended to the signature to all these letters.(These alleged similarities and various others which the witness referred to between the formation of letters on the post-card and those in the letters were pointed out to the Jury, who examined them at they were referred to.)

Cross-examined. Many of the letters in the post-card differ in their formation from those in the letters, and partly from that circumstance and from the general appearance I came to the conclusion that the writing on the post-card is a disguised hand—I never saw the defendant's writing before I was consulted in this case—the writing on the post-card differs from the general character of the defendant's writing, for this reason, that the one is an upright hand and the other is sloping, and it is distorted—it has happened several times that my opinion of handwriting has not been accepted—I was employed by the City Solicitor in "The Queen vi Mayhew;" in that case I gave a confident opinion that certain documents were in the prisoner's handwriting, and it was proved that they were in the handwriting of a clerk of his, but I was instructed that a certain letter was in a certain person's handwriting which turned out not to be so, and I withdrew my evidence—I was not called on the trial in a case in the Probate Court—not long ago I gave evidence and my opinion was not adopted; I am not infallible—I don't pretend to swear that this is the handwriting of the defendant, I never do that, all I say is in my opinion it is—(two post-cards handed to the witness) there are some similarities in the writing on these to that on the post-card in question; there is a resemblance, I think there is a very strong family likeness.

By the COURT. I think the card is written in a disguised hand, the intention of the writer being that he should not be discovered; that being his intention he would write with a pen at a different angle or slope, and form his letters in a different way as much as he could, and do everything he could to prevent it being anything like his own writing; I should say the flourish was an inadvertency.

FREDERICK GEORGE NETHERCLIFT . My address is 7, Theobalds Road,

Bedford Row—I have made handwriting a study for more than 30 years—I have been frequently examined in courts of justice on questions of handwriting—this post-card was submitted to me for examination with the letters A, B, C, D, and E, and four envelopes—I made an independent comparison between them; I was not aware that any other person was engaged in the case—my opinion decidedly was that the same hand which wrote the five letters and the four envelopes also wrote the postcard, but in a disguised hand; I had no doubt whatever about it—I have been in Court while Mr. Chabot was examined, and with two exceptions every point he has given evidence upon I have mentioned in my report, and six others which he has not noticed. (These were also submitted to the Jury and examined by them.)

Cross-examined. I was first instructed to examine last Saturday—at first sight the writing on the post-card did not resemble the defendant's, but I pick the writing to pieces and analyse it, that is how I judge—I have had a good deal of experience in giving evidence—my view has not unfrequently not been adopted—in the case of the will of a Mr. Davis the Jury found against me—I don't believe these two post-cards were written by the same hand as the other, I think the two are written by the same hand; this is a free style, it is my opinion it is an imitation of it by some one, copied from the post-card in question—I don't consider there is a strong resemblance, it in a very faint resemblance; I don't consider they were written by the some person who wrote the other.

Witnesses for the Defence.

THOMAS FLIGHT SMITH . I am a member of the firm of Smith, Son, and Co., wholesale stationers, 83, Queen Street, City—I have been acquainted with Mr. Kearns, the prosecutor, for some years—I have also been acquainted with Sir Francis Truscott for a considerable number of years—latterly up to the month of June and July this year Mr. Kearns has been in the habit of coming to our counting-house from time to time and discussing freely his own affairs with myself and father—I knew that he and Sir Francis Truscott had formerly been great friends, but that the friendship had ceased—Mr. Kearns has expressed himself very antagonistic to Sir Francis—I remember seeing Mr. Crawford, Sir Francis Truscott's son-inlaw, on Friday, 25th July, and having a conversation with him with regard to Mr. Kearns—he made a statement to me with regard to Mr. Kearns, and about proceedings which were likely to be taken against him, and in consequence of that conversation after Mr. Crawford had left I wrote to Mr. Kearns on a post-card, and I see that post-card here—this is the post-card that I wrote to Mr. Kearns—it is my own writing, without a doubt—I wag not actuated by any malicious motive towards Mr. Kearns in writing it—subsequently when I heard that this indictment had been found against Sir Francis I was abroad, and in consequence of what I saw in the newspapers I immediately communicated with my father—my first idea was to write to Sir Francis Truscott and acknowledge that I did it—that was my first idea, but I wrote to my father instead—subsequently at the request of Mr. Crawford I made an affidavit on an application to see this post-card before Mr. Justice Stephen at chambers, in which affidavit I swore that this was my handwriting—in so swearing I swore the truth—upon my oath it is my own handwriting. Q. You have also sworn that Sir Francis Truscott had nothing whatever to do with it; was he aware in any way that you wrote

that post-card?. Simply quite impossible—I had not seen him for some weeks before or some weeks afterwards—Mr. Kearns said to me that Sir Francis Truscott never should be Lord Mayor—the next time that I saw the post-card was at the office of Mr. Humphreys, the solicitor for the prosecution—that is the only time that I have seen it since—I forget the date of that—it was about the 25th August, two or three weeks ago—I only saw it that once—since then I have been asked by Mr. Crawford to write a post-card from my memory as well as I could, and I have done so on two occasions—these are the two (marked Y and Z)—I wrote Y, it might be about a week ago, and the other I wrote this morning—thoy were written naturally from my own head and memory of what I had written of to Mr. Kearns.

Cross-examined. I am a wholesale stationer—I was at Wildbad, in Germany, when I heard that this indictment had been found against the defendant—I was staying there—I had left London on 2nd August—I returned, I think, on 26th—I was not aware when I left London that the defendant had left London, I knew he was going—I do not know whether he was going that day, the day before, or the day after—I knew he intended to take a trip to Germany—I cannot say that I knew whether he had actually gone that day or was going, I did not see him—I do not appear to have got the letter here that I wrote to my father—if he will give me the letter I can show you the date—I cannot tell you when I wrote without seeing it—I wrote several letters—I really cannot say without seeing it how long it was before I returned that I wrote it; I don't know—I cannot tell you whether it was two or three days or a week or a fortnight—I have not got the letter and cannot answer the question; I don't know what has become of it—I have not seen it since my return—I don't know whether my father has looked for it—I wrote to my father when the case appeared in the Times—I have been on friendly terms with Mr. Kearns and with the defendant—I wrote that post-card in my ordinary writing, as a friend, as an old friend—I heard that he was being watched, and I sent him the postcard—unfortunately I sent it publicly instead of privately—you may call it a friendly act—it was a very improper act to do—I did it to warn him—it is my undisguised writing; totally so—I cannot say whether I knew that he had been molested or not—I knew that he had been in this country for two years—I only saw him at my own place—I have heard it talked about casually; not about being molested, but being watched, looked after—I have heard that subsequently—I did not send him a post-card when I first heard it—that was the first one I ever sent him—it had been casually mentioned before I saw Mr. Crawford—I don't know why I did not communicate with him and warn him then—I did not see him after I had heard that he was being watched by the police—I went out of town directly afterwards; at least a week afterwards—I really don't know why I did not put my initials to the post-card—I don't know that I intended that he should know from whom it came—I did it without any thought whatever—it was done in a moment, without any consideration—I don't usually end my signature with a flourish—that is the only part of the post-card I cannot recognise—these cheques produced are all mine, with my signature—they are filled up by me, and all in my ordinary writing—I dont find any flourish to any one of these—I see these letters marked A, B, C, D, and E, signed by the defendant, and I see the flourish at the end of the name—in my

opinion the flourish on the post-card is copied from the flourish in these letters—I did not make the flourish, to the best of my belief—on my cath I don't believe I made that flourish—if I am to swear one way or the other I should swear I did not make it—must I answer the question, because if so I must take my oath that I did not—I don't believe I did make that flourish—my belief is that I did not make it—on my oath I believe I did not make it—I have answered the question as nearly as I can—on my oath I believe I did not make it—I shall decline to answer further—I never did make a flourish like that—it is no use my answering any more upon the matter—I can swear to the best of my recollection and belief I did not make it—I shall not say more than I have done, and that is the truth—I say my recollection is not so strong as to pledge my absolute oath, still I believe I did not put it—I don't say I may have put it; I did not put it; I may not have put it on—I see the flourish after Sir Francis Truscott's signature in his letters—it seems very similar to the flourish on the postcard—in my judgment it is an imitation—I am not certain whether I underscored the words "watched by the police"—I may and I may not have dona so—to tfie best of my memory I don't think I did, but I really could not swear one way or the other—I have never been to No. 9, Hyde Side Terrace, Edmonton—that address was given to me, at least I saw it on a pamphlet issued by Mr. Kearns—the writing on the post-card does certainly not resemble the defendant's at all—it has never been remarked that I write like the defendant—I do not see any similarity whatever to the defendant's writing in it, and no one knowing my handwriting would say there was—I went to Mr. Humphrey's office to see the post-card—I made an affidavit first, and saw it there afterwards—I was there about 10 minutes I suppose—I don't know whether an expert consulted by the defendant made a copy of the post-card—I did not see any copy—I believe I posted the post-card myself—yes, I did in Queen Victoria Street—I believe I carried it in my hand and posted it—I wrote these two post-cards from memory—I had no copy—I believe I wrote them word for word—I have not examined them together—I knew what I had written—one was written here this morning—I knew what I had written, and I put it down—I put no flourish to this—I have no objection to write a post-card now in Court (the witness did so)—I have written four post-cards now altogether, these two, this one, and the original, and they are the last four I shall write—Have I spelt "Side" with a Y? I wrote it in such a great hurry; I will write another if you like, and that will make five—these are not scored under, and there is no flourish and no punctuation, and it is not my custom to do so—I am not in the habit of writing post-cards—sometimes in business matters and little things I do—I think this is the first libellous post-card I have ever written—sometimes I initial them, sometimes I do not.

Re-examined. I had not inspected the post-card when I made my affidavit—I think all I saw was what appeared in the Times as well as I remember—this (produced) is the affidavit and that is what I stated—the copy I saw had the words underlined—I don't remember whether it had any flourish on it—I believe it had not—I wrote this card after Mr. Crawford had left the office and then put it into the post.

THOMAS JOHN SMITH . I am a member of Smith, Son, and Co., wholesale stationers, 83, Queen Victoria Street—I have known Sir Francis Truscott

for many years—I have also known Mr. Kearns for some years—in the early part of the year, prior to May and July, he had been in the habit of coming to my counting house and conversing with me on his affairs—I am well acquainted with the handwriting of Sir Francis Truscott—this post-card is not his handwriting; it is the handwriting of my son—these three other post-cards are also in my son's handwriting—I remember my son going abroad to Wildbad, in Germany, with his wife—I received a letter from has wife in the first instance on the subject of the post-card, and then afterwards from him—I have not got that letter—the fact is I destroyed it—I had several letters from him and several letters from his wife—I am not in the habit of keeping private letters, and I destroyed that letter amongst others—in consequence of the communication I received from my son I sent to Mr. Kearns, and he came to my counting house—I said "Mr. Kearns, there is no doubt who is the sender of this post-card; it is quite useless of you accusing Sir Francis Truscott of having done so—it emanated from tint counting house and was written by my son"—he said "he did not believe it—I said "It is the fact"—he said "It is Sir Francis Truscott's writing, and I will swear it"—I said "I will swear it is not"—he said there was a conspiracy against him—some few words passed—I did not particularly lose my temper—he just put his hand on the desk and said "I don't believe it,' put on his hat and away he went—I did not offer to show him the letter I had received from my son—I did not look for it—I don't think I kept ii 24, hours after receiving it—I did not think it was important—it is important—I remember destroying it—I tore it up with other letters—I have got the post-card before me—it is not in the slightest degree like the defendant's handwriting; not a bit—nobody could say it was, without a purpose—the flourish in the letters A, B, C, D, is a good deal like the flourish on the post-card—I don't know that I have ever seen many letters of Sir Francis Truscott's, but I really should not recollect whether he always made a flourish or not—I know one thing that my son never makes a flourish—I have a letter here of my son's, the only one I could find; and I think that will show his handwriting (producing it)—I received it from my son on the 22nd May, 1878—that is the only one I could find, and I found it promiscuously. (It was handed to the Jury). I was not aware until I received the letter from my son that he had written this post-card—I had no idea of it.

ALDERMAN GEORGE SWAN NOTTAGE . I have been acquainted with Sir Francis Truscott about 10 or 12 years—I have known him intimately, and know his handwriting perfectly—I also know Mr. Thomas Flight Smith, and know his handwriting perfectly—this post-card is certainly not in Sir Francis Truscott's writing—it is in the handwriting of Mr. Smith, junior—I could select it out of a 100 post-cards written in the character of their respective hands—these other post-cards are in the handwriting of Mr. Smith—I have known Sir Francis Truscott a great many years—he has borne a very high character.

Cross-examined. This post-card was first shown to me this morning in this Court—I knew that Mr. Smith had made an affidavit stating that he wrote it, and that Sir Francis Truscott had made an affidavit denying he wrote it—I saw it in the same paper—I speak as to the post-card from my knowledge of the defendant's handwriting, from the general contour and character, not from any individual letter—I did not make any comparison of the post-card with the defendant's handwriting—I did not consider it

necessary—in my opinion it is not in the least like his writing—I cannot speak for the erratic judgments of some people—I was in Court when the gimuaritieu were pointed out by Mr. Chabot and Mr. Netherclift, and I will tell you what I thought if you wish it—I see the flourish at the end of the defendant's signature in the letters A, B, C, D, E—they are identical with this exception; this is very firm and bold, and that on the post-card seems to me to be weak, although similar in character and form—this flourish begins at the end of the last "t" in Truscott, and the flourish of Sir Francis does not begin there, but in the middle of the two "t's" as a rule—tho flourish on the post-card is similar to that on the letters—I thought it was like it when I first saw it, but I did not think it was Sir Francis's flourishthe impression produced on my mind on seeing it this morning was that it was an imitation of Sir Francis Truscott's flourish, a fair imitation—it is not a difficult thing to imitate a flourish.

Re-examined. I do not think it is Sir Francis's flourish—I judged in this way as I would of your features; I would pick you out of a hundred noblemen and gentlemen, but I should not know one of your features separately, and therefore I say that I would not swear to any particular letter in Sir Francis Truscott's handwriting or in Mr. Smith's, but I go on the general character and contour of the handwriting, but not on the individual letters.

The Jury stated that they did not desire to hear any further witnesses.


(For the case of Laura Julia Addiscoft, tried in the New Court on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, see Kent Cases.)

THIRD COURT.—Wednesday and Thursday, September 17 and 18, 1879.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

Reference Number: t18790915-777

777. HENRY McDONALD (26) PLEADED GUILTY to embezzling 16l. 15s. 9d. and other sums of Thomas Tapling andanother.— Fifteen Months' Imprisonment.

Reference Number: t18790915-778

778. AMBROSE FORTESQUE (46) , Forging and altering an order for 7l. 19s. 6d. into 900l. Second Count for uttering the same.


JOHN C, BROWN CAVE . I assist my brother William Cave, auctioneer and corn merchant, of Moseley Street, Birmingham—I live at King's Norton, near Birmingham—my brother banks at the Birmingham Joint Stock Bank—his is a large business, and we have sales two and three times a week of carriages, carts, harness, &c., and sometimes poultry and dogs—I have my brother's authority to sign cheques—the letter clerk keeps the chequebook in the safe—on detaching a cheque from the cheque-book the clerk examines the account after he has filled up the cheque—he also examines the envelope to see that it is properly addressed, and he pins the cheque, the account, and the envelope together—he then sends them into the private office for me to examine—if correct I sign the cheque and send it down to another clerk, who again examines the whole of them, enters the address in a letter-book, and posts them, signing the book that he has posted them, at what time and at what office—the accounts after they are made out are

all copied in this press copy-book (produced)—I never sign a cheque before I see it is properly filled up—in this cheque for 900l. marked B.A. (produced) the signatures (my brother's and my names) only are my writing—the serial number of the cheque is 018109—it is dated "June 27th. Pay to the order of Mr. F. £. Simms nine hundred pounds, 900l."—the number of this counterfoil corresponds, and is in the writing of our letter clerk, Kilby—there is written on it "13th June, 1879, J. W. Somerville"—I never signed a cheque for Mr. Somerville for 900l., nor do I know anything of the endorsement "F. E. Simms"—the signatures on this cheque marked B. C. (produced) are mine—the serial number is 018162—I also find a counterfoil in Kilby's writing with a corresponding number—there is on the counterfoil "20th June, 1879. W. C. Cox, 12. 9s. 3d."—no part of the body of the cheque is in my writing—it is for 5502. to the order of Mr. F. S. Hunter—I never signed a cheque for him to that amount—the signatures of this cheque marked B. £. (produced) are in my handwriting—the serial number is 018699—it is for 6802. to Mr. John Ambrose, the counterfoil is for 7l. 1s., and is in the handwriting of Mr. Hanniford, another clerk of ours, dated 27th June, 1879—I never signed a cheque for that amount for John Ambrose—the 680l. cheque is open, the other two being crossed.

Cross-examined. Cheques which we send by post are crossed—I sign the cheques upon the accounts being brought to me—I cannot call to mind exactly the transactions in respect of the cheques—instructions to sell would not be given to me—there is this difference in the cheque No. 018109 that it is dated 27th June and the counterfoil is June 13th—cheques are always filled up before brought to me—the "79 "I think is Kilby's writing, but certainly not the "27th."

Re-examined. The crossing is in ink—it is an open crossing—two strong parallel lines and "& Co." Henry Kilby. I am clerk to Mr. Cave and have been so for two years—the prisoner, who called himself Somerville, came to me on 13th June and said "Is the cart, entered in the name of Somerville, sold?"—I referred to the book and found that it was—he then said "I have called for the money"—I said "The account is not ready, a cheque shall be sent by post to-night"—he then handed me a card with the name of Somerville printed on it and an address to which to send the cheque written on it, viz, London Bridge Hotel, London"—he then left, and when the account came to me in the afternoon I wrote out the cheque for it (7l. 19s. 6d.) and filled up the counterfoil—all that remains on the cheque in my writing is "79 '—the "18 "is printed—the cheque was crossed—I never filled it up for 900l. either for Somerville or Simms—there was a trans action with Mr. Cox as to sale of harness, and on the 20th June I filled up a cheque for W. C. Cox for 1l. 9s. 3d.—I have seen—the date of that cheque is in my writing, but I never filled it up for 550l. for anybody.

Cross-examined. I had never before seen the person who came on the 13th June—I believe the order to sell the cart came in on Wednesday, the 11th—I know nothing of the transaction except from the books—I was taking the cash at the sale—the last witness was selling—I was in the office and he was in the yard—I gave the purchasers their tickets to get the goods—we were selling more than sixty lots an hour and took 402. that day—they were small things—the person who came to me had a moustache—I omitted that when I described him—I don't know that I forgot it—I

didn't omit it wilfully, I thought I had put down all I knew about him—that was about a month after—I saw him soon after—Sergeant Outram took me to see him at Newgate amongst others—I noticed two or three with a moustache—that was before I had been examined.

Re-examined. I picked him out of about thirty—no one indicated to me that he was the man—there was no one else there besides the gaolers—I believe him to be the man who came to me.

JOSEPH WILLIAM HANNIFORD . I am clerk to Mr. Cave, of Birmingham—on the 27th June the prisoner brought me this letter. (Read: "June 27,1879. Mr. Cave, Dear Sir,—If you have sold the cart I sent to you on the 18th inst., please send an open cheque for same by bearer and oblige yours truly, F. H. Hunter.") I looked into the sales book and found a trap was sold and the account had been made out—I compared it with the sales book and found it correct—I initialed it and filled up the cheque for 7l. 1s. marked "B. E.," No. 018699—the counterfoil is in my writing—I never filled it up for 680l.—it was an open cheque—it was signed, put into in envelope, and I addressed it to F. S. Hunter and gave it to the prisoner—Mr. Cave signed it in the clerk's office—I fancy the "79 "on the cheque is in my writing, but nothing else—the endorsement on the back is in blue ink "John Andrews"—the number on the counterfoil agrees with that on the cheque.

Cross-examined. I had not seen the prisoner before he brought me the letter—I knew a cart had been sold for Mr. Hunter—one of the clerks in the office (Goodeve) would know about the transaction whose special duty it is to receive instructions in this way for carts—there are about seven clerks in the office, but at the time of the signing of the cheque there were about three and Mr. John Cave—it is not usual for the parties to send for their cheques as we generally send them by post—the prisoner when he came to me had a moustache—I did not omit that from the description to the Birmingham police, which I gave on the Monday following the Saturday the fraud was practised (the 30th)—his face was very dirty—slight whiskers as of a week's growth.

Re-examined. "Dirty" is a Birmingham expression for unshaved—I next saw the prisoner at Newgate, where I selected him from about 25 other people—I have no doubt the prisoner is the man.

WALTER JAMES TOOGOOD . In June last I was stopping with my uncle at Birmingham when I saw this advertisement in one of the Birmingham papers—(Read) "Clerk wanted in an auctioneer's office, a thoroughly honest young man who is well up in book-keeping—first class references and security required—address G.E., 99, Daily Past"—I answered the advertisement and received a reply from a man calling himself Simms—(Read) "12, Hunter's Lane, Birmingham, June 27th, 1879—To Walter James Toogood,—In answer to your letter which I received this morning, I can offer you permanent employment, providing your references are satisfactory and we can agree as to salary; call on me punctually at 11 a.m. to-morrow, Saturday—yours, &c., Francis E. Simms"—I called in pursuance of that letter, and saw the prisoner, who had a moustache and his face was stubbly—I produced his letter and said "I presume you are Mr. Simms"—he said "And you are Mr. Toogood," and I said "Yes"—I sat down and he said "Have you any references?"—I said "I have none with me, but I can procure some"—I produced a pocket-book and showed him my

address in the West of England—he said "I know the old place well—is it much altered?"—and I said "Not much"—he said "I was then many years ago, and I hope that I shall soon be there again"—he spoke of Bridgwater, the postal town—then we had some conversation about salary, and then we agreed for 30s. a week, and I was to come to him on Monday morning—he then gave me a sovereign to go and fetch fit worth of postage stamps—I went to get them—then I wrote a letter for him to Messrs. J. Robinson and Sons, Horse Repository, Liverpool, purporting to send them a cheque for 750l.—a few minutes after he gave me this cheque for 900l. to get cashed—he endorsed it "J. E. Simms," and asked me if I knew town well—I said I knew the principal streets—I started for the bank, and after I had got about 100 yards he called me back and said "Go to the Great Western Railway Station and you will find there a parcel for me, pay the carriage and bring it back"—I then left and went to the Birmingham Joint Stock Bank, and they gave me an open draft on the Bank of England in exchange for the cheque—I then went to the Bank of England Branch and got eight 100l. notes, nine 10l. notes and 10l. in gold for the draft, which I took to the Snow Hill Railway Station, where I met the prisoner—he said "Come, you have been a tremendous long time—I was getting fidgety about you"—I said "You needn't be fidgety about me, my character will bear as good investigation as yours," or words to that effect—he said, "No doubt, I didn't mean that"—he said, "Come in here," and we went into the waiting-room or refreshment bar, and I then gave him the money, which he counted and found satisfactory, and we had something to drink—I was to meet him on Monday morning at 10 sharp at Hunter's Lane, as he had a lot of correspondence to answer, and I went home—I made a communication to my uncle and afterwards to a detective, and went to the prisoner's place the same night—it is a private house—I went there on Monday morning, but the prisoner did not come.

Cross-examined. He told me he was going to open a branch auctioneer's business—I recognised the prisoner again. about three weeks afterwards at the Mansion House in the dock.

HENRY RICHARD FOURDINIER . I am cashier at the Birmingham Branch of the Bank of England—on 28th June I cashed this cheque for 900l.—I gave for it eight 100l. notes, nine 10l. notes, and 10l. in gold—the numbers of the 100l. notes are 89,293 to 89,300—ne of them would be 89,296, which corresponds with my entry made at the time—they were paid over the counter—I don't know the person to whom I gave them.

WILLIAM EDWARD PHILLIPS . I live at Summer Lane, Birmingham—in June last I was seeking a situation, and answered an advertisement in the paper (read), "A man (young) wanted who can read and write well, and is willing to make himself generally useful. Address, 973, Daily Post"—I received the following reply (read), "1, Richmond Place, Snow Hill, Birmingham, 27/6/79. To W. E. Phillips, 287, Summer Lane. Sir,—In reply to your letter answering my advertisement in the Daily Post, 973, I have given your letter the preference over the other numerous applicants, and if you will call on me to-morrow (Saturday) morning, the 28th instant, at 9 o'clock punctually; providing we can agree as to salary and your refercnces are satisfactory I can offer you a permanent engagement, your hours would be 10 till 4, except Saturday, when you would close the office at 2 o'clock. What I want is a trustworthy young man, in whom I can place

implicit confidence. P.S. Richmond Place is at the top of Snow Hill, almost opposite the Roebuck public-house. J. A." I went to Richmond Place and saw the prisoner—the door was opened by a servant girl—he asked me where I had been before—I told him and we agreed to terms at 25s. a week, and he said, "Are you very busy?"—I told him "No," and he asked me if I would mind copying a letter for him—I said, "No," and copied it—it was in lead pencil and addressed to Eastman and Co., Curzon Street, May Fair, London—it was enclosing a cheque for payment of a horse at a sale—he told me he had a Government contract for buying horses and forage, which would last about 12 months—I posted and registered the letter, and when I returned he said, "Would you mind going to the Joint Stock Bank and cashing a cheque? I suppose you know where it is?"—I replied, "Yes"—it was for 680l., and he told me to bring 20l. in gold and the rest in notes, and on my way back to call at the Great Western Railway Parcels Office, Snow Hill Station, and ask for a parcel addressed to him from London—he said, "You will have nothing to pay; it is already paid for"—he endorsed it in blue ink, "John Andrews"—I went to the bank, got the money, took it to Snow Hill Station, saw the prisoner there, and gave him the money in the waiting-room—he told me not to mind about the parcel, he had sent it on—he asked me to take a letter for him to Wolverhampton, which I did—it was addressed to Hatton and Co., accountants—I returned to Richmond Place; I continued to go there till the Thursday, but never saw the prisoner—it was a private house—this is the letter which I wrote to Eastman and Co. (produced)the envelope and the signature are in the prisoner's writing in blue ink—I did not see him write the cheque—I cannot say what cheque I saw him put in the letter. (Letter read: "Birmingham, June 28th, 1879. Messrs. J. Eastman and Co., 16, Curzon Street, May Fair, London, W. Gentlemen,—Enclosed please find cheque value 942l. 10s. (nine hundred and forty-two pounds ten shillings), balance due to you on sale of hunters to Peter Morris. I want about 25 or 30 good Belgium, something like the last tramway horses you sold to,—, not exceeding 15 hands or less than 14 hands 2. If you hare any of this class sound and from four to five years off, send price and say when I can see them. Yours truly, J. Andrews." I should think I was about half an hour with him—I have not the slightest doubt of the prisoner being the man.

Cross-examined. I went to the bank just after 10—I taw the prisoner a little before 9—I saw no one else with him—I saw him again at 10.30 at toe Snow Hill Station—I next saw him on 16th July at the Mansion House.

WALTER SUTHERLAND . I am a cashier at the Birmingham Joint Stock Bank—I saw the prisoner twice on Saturday, the 28th June, in the bank—I first saw him before 10—he did no business, but stepped up to one of the desks and walked out—the same thing occurred a short time after—he stayed hardly a minute—we open at 9—on Saturday we close at 1 o'clock.

Cross-examined. I bad never seen him before—it looked very strange the way he came in—the manager came, after the second time, and asked me who he was.

SARAH ANN CALDER . I am servant to Miss Tyson, of 1, Richmond Place—she lets apartments—the prisoner came on the 27th June, and took some rooms in the name of John Andrews—I did not see him again that

day—I saw him the next day about 8.20 a.m.—he made the remark that he had come rather early, and that he expected to meet a young man about 9—I afterwards saw Phillips and showed him in to the prisoner—there was no blue ink in the rooms when he took them—I saw some there after he left, about 9.40 that morning—I did not see him again till I saw him at the Mansion House—I am sure the prisoner is the man, only when he came to our house he had bushy whiskers.

Cross-examined. He had a good deal of hair all round his face—I could not see his lips because of his moustache—he had a hat on—the lower part of his face is different now, but the upper is just the same—I noticed the time he went out, as I happened to go into the parlour—he said he should not come again till Monday morning.

PATRICK JOSEPH CUMMINGS . I am a clerk at the General Post-office—I produce a letter which was returned through the Dead Letter Office, addressed to Messrs. Eastman and Co., 16, Curzon Street, May Fair—on the back are the words, "Not known," put on by the postman of the district—the letter was returned by the district office to the General office—it reached London on 29th June—it was opened by another clerk—then is a cheque inside, and it was brought to me as the head of the department, en account of its having a cheque in it, and there being no address to which it might be returned.

GUILTY .—(See next Case.)

Reference Number: t18790915-779

779. HENRY WILLIAM BANGHAM (24) and the said AMBROSE FORTESQUE (46) , Forging and uttering a warrant and order for the payment of 905l., with intent to defraud, and altering it from 19l. into 905l

MR. W. G. HARRISON, Q.C., with MR. POLAND and MR. CHANDOS LEIGH, Prosecuted; MR. CLARKE Defended Fortesque and MR. KEITH FRIYE Defended Bangham.

JOHN C. BROWN CAVE . This cheque marked "B. A.," No. 018109, I signed by me; it is "Pay to the order of F. E. Simms nine hundred pounds—900l."—I did not till up any part of it—the number of this counterfoil corresponds—it is in the writing of Mr. Kilby, is for 7l. 19s., 6d., and is in the name of Somerville—I never drew a cheque payable to Simms for 900l., nor do I think that I ever signed any cheque payable to the order of Simms or Somerville.

HENRY KILBY . I assist Mr. Cave—on the 13th June, Fortesque came to me and asked for payment of a cart, sold in the name of Somerville—I told him a cheque would be sent that night by post—I afterwards got the account and drew out a cheque for the amount, 7l. 19s. 6d., in the name of Somerville.

WALTER JAMES TOOGOOD . In consequence of an advertisement that I answered in the Daily Post, on 26th June, I went on the 28tb June to 12, Hunter's Place, where I saw Fortesque; he sent me to the Birmingham Joint Stock Bank to change this cheque for 900l.—they gave me a draft on the Bank of England—amongst the change that I received were eight 100l. notes—I gave the change to Fortesque at the Great Western Station. Cross-examined by Mr. Frith. I had no idea of the nature of the business—Fortesque kept close about it—my duties were simply those of clerk, and I executed my instructions.

Re-examined. I gave information to the police at about 5 o'clock, on the

28th—I saw the prisoner sign "F. £. Simms "at my first interview with him.

HENRY RICHARD FOURDRINIER . I am cashier at the Birmingham Branch of the Bank of England—I gave eight 100l. notes, nine 10l. notes, and 10l. in gold to Toogood for the cheque in question—the numbers of the 100l. notes are 89293 to 89300, dated 12th May, 1876.

JOSEPH MAXIMILLIAN KALLMANN (Interpreted). I reside in Paris, and am a clerk in the Exchange Department of Arthur and Co.—I find an entry in this book of the 30th June (produced), which shows that a person came on that day to change a 100l. note—I did not take the number of it then—I put it in the show window—there was no other 100l. note there—we had that day to send bank notes to England, and the note in question, with others, was forwarded accordingly—the number entered when the note was so sent to London is 89296.

WILLIAM PARKER . I live in Paris, and am manager to Messrs. Arthur and Co., money-changers—I hold a power of attorney from them to sign cheques and conduct correspondence—they have an account with the Western Branch of the Bank of England in London; and we purchase money and give and sell cheques on the Bank of England—a person came to Messrs. Arthur, on Monday, 30th June, and bought this cheque for 105l.—I drew it in the name of E. S. Chaplin, and at the same time this cheque was purchased by a man named Graves—the date, the year, the payee's name, the "9," and the signature are in my writing—the number is P. E. 81821—the counterfoil is in my writing and is to the order of T. Graves, 19l.—we invariably send a letter of advice to the Bank of England when we sell a cheque, and when it is over 100l. we give the number to the bank by their request for security—I am certain I never filled up a cheque on that day for Graves for 9052l., as it now appears to be a cheque for, so that it must have been altered after it left my hand.

FREDERICK NORMAN . I am the manager of the Croydon Branch of the London and South Western Bank—the branch has been open two years—our principal place of business is in Fenchurch Street—on Thursday, the 3rd July, a man named Brew came into the bank—he produced two cheques and some gold, and wished to open an account—we invariably have a reference before deing so—I eventually agreed to open the account without an introduction, but he was not to be allowed to draw on any uncleared cheques—I took his signature in the signature book (produced): "July 3, Albert Drew; address, 31, George Street; business or profession, fruit unporter"—I saw him write it—he paid in 80l. in gold and two cheques—these paying in slips are in my writing, and these are the counterfoils (produced)—one cheque was for 105l. and another cheque for 230l.—this cheque marked G. to the order of E. S. Chaplin was one of them, and the other is the 230l. cheque—I gave him a paying-in book and a cheque book—after he bad paid in the 415l. he left—he came in a few days after and introduced Bangham as his clerk, and they left together—on the 9th July Drew came alone and paid in 33l. 17s., made up of cheques, post office, orders, and Cheque Bank cheques—this cbeque signed "J. Jordan," for 5l. 7s. 6d., endorsed Albert Drew, was one of them, and this cheque for 9l. 12s. to the order of Albert Drew, signed by Allbrook—Bangham came to the bank at the end of the week and asked for this pass-book (produced), which I gave him—it did not contain all the entries that were in the

ledger, but it contained the 415l. to bis credit on the 3rd and July 9t, 33l. 17s., and July 10th, 905l.—Bangham came on Monday, 14th July, early in the morning and gave me this pass-book, and handed me this cheque on the London and County Bank for 320l., together with this pay. ing-in slip (produced)—I sent the cheque for 105l. up to London in the usual course, which was paid, but not the cheque for 320l.—Bangham also on the 14th July handed me this cheque on my bank to cash for 760l.—he said he wanted 14 50l. notes and 60l. in gold—I made up the bag consisting of tissue paper and farthings—at that time I had given information to the police—it was a canvas bag and I sealed it and gave it to Bangham sad said, "Be kind enough, please, to deliver this to Mr. Drew, under seal personally, as it is a large amount"—he put it in his bag and left the bank—this cheque for 905l. was forwarded by post in the usual way to our head office in Fenchurch Street for collection.

Cross-examined by Mr. Frith. That was on the 10th—Mr. Roberts was not in the bank when Bangham was introduced to me—I believe I introduced him myself—he may be right in saying, "I was first introduced to Bangham on the 10th July."

Re-examined. I spoke to Mr. Roberts about him on the occasion of Bangham presenting a cheque to me to cash—I do not recollect the amount.

EDMUND ROBERTS . I am a cashier at the Croydon Branch of the London and South Western Bank—I believe I first saw Bangham on the 10th, because on that day he brought a cheque for 149l. to be cashed—on 7th July I cashed this cheque for 27l. on drawing account to the order of Creding—I also cashed one for 40l. paid either to Drew or Bangham—the 40l. cheque was paid in three 10l. notes and 10l. in gold—the numbers of the notes are 62889 to 62891, 5th October, 1878—these are two of them (produced), they bear the stamp of our branch—on the 10th July a cheque was drawn by Drew in favour of "self," which I paid to him—when he paid in the 105l. cheque he asked me when it would be cleared, because he wanted to buy some property with the proceeds—I told him it would be on Saturday, the 12th.

HENRY TRACEY ROSE . I am walk clerk of the London and Scats Western Bank, Fenchurch Street—it is my duty to take cheques paid into the London and South Western Bank to other banks and get cash for then—I enter the amounts of the cheques I receive for collection in this walk book (produced)—I find here the entry of a cheque for 105l. which was duly honoured at the Bank of England, I receiving the cash for it—there is also an entry here on the 11th July, of a cheque for 905l., which I presented at the Bank of England, Burlington Gardens—it came from Croydon—I did not get the money for it—it was returned to me and I brought it back to the head office.

WILLIAM GORDON FORMAN . I am counter clerk at the Western Branch of the Bank of England, Burlington Gardens—Rose brought me a cheque for 905l. on 11th July, which 2 took to Mr. Farrel, the chief cashier—he sent it back.

JOHN FARREL . I am chief clerk at the Western Branch of the Bank of England, Burlington Gardens—this cheque for 905l. was brought to me and I returned it because it differed from advice—the endorsement is Mr. Forman's writing.

EMILY SHOVE . I live at 31, George Street, Croydon, a private house—on the 26th June I let a sitting-room and bedroom to a Mr. Drew at 15s. a week—he came again on the 28th, Saturday—he did not sleep there—I did not see him there again till Wednesday, the 2nd July—he came again on Thursday—Bangham came on the 2nd July (? 9th), when Drew was there, and on Saturday the 5th (? 12th)—he came again on the Monday and not after I received this letter from Mr. Drew (produced)—I also received a letter from him for his clerk on the Saturday, which I laid on the table for him, and gave it him when he came in—he went away between 3 and 4 o'clock—Drew did not come that day—I think I got another letter from Drew enclosing one for his clerk—I always laid them on the table as they came in—Bangham came somewhere about 9 on the Monday morning.

Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. Drew did not tell me that he was expecting any one to call in answer to an advertisement—he called on the Wednesday for his umbrella, and paid for its being repaired—in about three quarters of an hour Bangham came for the first time and asked if Mr. Drew lived there—I think I showed him in to Mr. Drew and shut the door directly—Bangham then went out—I always heard Drew speak of Bangham as his clerk.

W. E. PHILLIPS (Re-examined). I saw Fortesque write the direction of the registered letter which I posted.

WALTER WINGROVE FOLKARD . I carry on business at 57, Bread Street—my firm act as agents for the Cheque Bank, and issue post cheques—in accordance with this request ("B O.") I filled up a post cheque and gave it to the applicant—it is dated 7th July—I don't know who the man was—it was paid for by this Bank of England note, No. 62891, dated 5th October, 1878—the address given is James Goodeve, 67, Eastcheap—I believe there is no 57 in Eastcheap.

EDWIN COLE . I am clerk at the head office of the Cheque Bank, limited, 124, Cannon Street—this application form signed "Geo. All brook" (produced) was handed to me at the bank on the 7th July—I filled up a cheque for the amount, 9l. 12s., and gave it to the party—I cannot say whether "Albert Drew" and "Geo. Allbrook "were filled up by the person who brought it—there is a corresponding number in this Register-book, 24152, date of clearing 10th July—this bank note, No. 62889, was given me for the cheque—the Register-book shows the number—this is my endorsement.

JOHN SPITTLE (City Detective). From instructions I. received I went to Croydon, on Saturday, the 12th July, at about 8.30 a.m.—I saw Bangham in North End coming from the direction of the London and South Western Bank towards George Street—I and some other officers followed him—he went right through George Street, and I lost sight of him at the West Croydon Railway Station—I last saw him in Croydon about 12 or 1 o'clock at the North End, at the end of George Street—I went to Croydon again, on Monday, the 14th July, with Sergeant Outram, when I saw Bangham at the counter of the London and South Western Bank at 9.30—from a communication made to me I went outside the bank with Outram—I saw Bangham some twenty or thirty yards off, being followed by Outram—I saw Fortesque just outside the bank, on the same side of the way, strolling along—he passed me slowly and looked in at a shop window—I stopped short and beckoned to Outram to stop Bangham—I said to

Fortesque, "Your friend is coming back"—he said, "I have no friend"—I said, "You must come along with us," meaning Trafford, a constable, and myself—we then took him into the bank—I said, "Will you give me your card?"—he said, "I have not got one"—I said, "Will you give me your name and address?"—he said, "I am a gentleman"—I said, "What an you?" and he repeated "I am a gentleman"—I said, "What are you doing down here?"—he said, "I have an appointment with a lady—I don't understand why I am detained—what are you?"—I said, "We belong to the police"—he said, "I thought it was something of that sort—I can't understand why I am detained"—I said, "You will be charged with being concerned in uttering a forged cheque at this bank—you will have to go to the police station"—he made no remark on that—I left him in charge of Trafford and went in a room in the bank where Bangham was in conversation with Outram—I said to him, "Where were you going to take the money?"—he said, "To George Street"—I said, "Where is Drew?"—he said, "I don't know, I have to meet him at Hun? mum's Hotel, Covent Garden, at 11 this morning, in the coffee room"—I believe this is the letter he showed me. (Read: "King Street, Covent Garden, Saturday evening 12, 7, 79.—Mr. Bangham—Sir, I find I omitted to enclose cheque for 820l. in yesterday evening's letter. I now send it Please to pay it to the credit of my account, and leave the pass-book and get the money as I told you yesterday, namely, 14 notes 50l. each, and 60l. in gold, 760l.; and come with the money to Hummum's Hotel, as I have an appointment with the same gentleman I had on Saturday to close with the purchase of the property.—Yours truly, Albert Drew.") I asked Bangham where Drew's London place of business was—he said, "King Street, Covent Garden"—I said, "We know"—he said, "I don't know, I was never there and don't know the place"—I said, "Where have you seen Drew besides at George Street?"—he said, "Nowhere else; everything was done by letter, and I only saw him at George Street twice"—I afterwards went to Bow Lane Police Station, where the prisoners had been brought by Outram, Trafford, and two other constables—I said to Bangham, "What did you do with the pass-book you received at the bank on the 12th?"—he said, "I took it to George Street"—I said, "Where did you get it this morning?"—he said, "At George Street"—I said, "Why did you take it back to the bank?"—he said, "I thought it the best thing to do"—I was present when the prisoners were charged—the station sergeant asked Fortesque his name and address, and he said, "With all due respect to everybody present I decline to give my name and address"—I went to 164a, Liverpool Road, Islington, the address Bangham gave—his mother lives there—she gave me a copy of the Daily News, of July 7th, containing this advertisement. (Read: "Wanted a clerk, about 25. Must understand book-keeping by single and double entry, and be competent to keep correspondence; a knowledge of French desirable. Address, stating salary required, with references, 984 K, Daily News Advertisement Inquiry Office, Fleet Street, London, E.C.") She showed me that.

ROBERT OUTRAM (City Detective Sergeant). In consequence of instructions I went to Croydon on Friday and Saturday, 11th and 12th July—on Saturday I watched the bank and George Street, and saw Bangham waiting about near the railway station in George Street, West Croydon, at about 11 a.m.—I was assisted by Ellis and Leeman, split up in different

places—I followed him through North End, that is by the bank, and down to the East Croydon Station and back past the bank again, he going in the direction of George Street—I then left the other officers to follow—it is about 300 or 400 yards from the lodging in George Street to the bank—I saw him again between 3 and 4 o'clock—he went towards the railway station, and I returned and went into the bank—he shortly afterwards came into the bank—he left and I followed him—he was carrying this black bag (produced)—he went to the East Croydon Station, returned past the bank, passed through George Street to the West Croydon Railway Station—I remained in George Street—he was followed by the other officers, and I saw no more of him that day—I watched at George Street till between 8 and 9 o'clock, and he did not go there—I saw him again on Monday, the 14th, about 9.30, at the Croydon Branch Bank—I saw him at the counter—he received this bag, made up of tissue paper and farthings, which he put in his coat-tail pocket, and left—he had this black bag with him, but he could not open it—he went towards George Street—when Bangham was at the counter I observed Fortesque standing on the opposite side of the road, looking into the bank—Fortesque had moved from his position, and I then saw Bangham about 40 yards ahead of him—I went on and stopped him and said, "Will you step back to the bank?"—he said, "Yes"—I then pointed to Fortesque and said, "Who is your friend there?"—Fortesque at that time had been stopped by Spittle and Trafford—he said, "I have no friend"—I then took Bangham to the bank and went into the waiting room—he asked me what was the matter—I said, "You will be detained at present for being concerned in uttering a forged cheque on the Bank of England"—he said he had brought it for his master—he then produced a letter from his pocket and said, "I received this this morning"—that is the one mentioning Hummum's Hotel—Spittle then came in; he also took these letters from his pocket, when I was going to search him (produced): "13, King Street, Covent Garden, July 11th, 1879. Mr. Bangham. Sir,—I find I shall not be able to come to Croydon to-day. Please pay enclosed cheque for 320l. to my account at the bank, and draw out the other one, 760l.; take 14 50l. notes—700l., and 60l. in gold—total 760l., and come and call on me by 11 sharp with the money at Hummum's Hotel, Covent Garden. I shall be engaged with a gentleman in the coffee-room. Please be punctual, as I have to close for some property to-day. I want you to do a quantity of correspondence this afternoon, I mean Saturday afternoon. Ask at the bank for the pass-book. You will find my paying-in book in the cupboard, in 31, George Street, it is filled up excepting——. You will please write. Yours, &c., Albert Drew." "July 8, 1879. 31, George Street, Croydon. Mr. Henry W. Bangham, 164, Liverpool Road, N. Sir,—I note your reply to my advertisement in Daily News (984 K). Please give me a call at above address, at 12 o'clock to-morrow, Wednesday, 9th inst., when providing we can agree to terms, and your references are satisfactory, I can offer you a per manent engagement," &c. (Signed) "Albert Drew." There was more than one envelope with the letters—I don't think the last letter read had an envelope—Fortesque said to me, "Why am I being detained?"—I said, "As you refuse to give an account of yourself, you will have to go with me to the City. I am Detective Sergeant Outram," and he said, "With all due respect to you, Mr. Outram, I beg most respectfully to decline to

answer any questions respecting myself"—I said, "I shall now search you"—I searched him and found this memorandum book, marked F, in has breast coat pocket—he said, "I strongly object to your taking that"—I said, It will be perfectly safe in my hands; if it is not of any use you will have it back again"—on the 11th, I went to 31, George Street, and found this letter on the mantelpiece, in an envelope marked "Letters answered. (Read: "164a, Liverpool Road, July 7th, 1879. Sir,—In reply to your advertisement in to-day's Daily News, I beg to offer myself as a candidate for the vacant situation. I am 24 years of age, and have a thorough knowledge of book-keeping (double and single entry), and account I speak and write French, and have a slight knowledge of German, and am accustomed to transact business correspondence. I have been for the last three and a half years in the employ of the Civil Service, and can obtain unexceptionable security. I should require 2l. a week salary. In the event of my suiting an advantageous increase would be made, any other particulars I should be happy to furnish," &c. (Signed) "Henry W. Bangham." I searched Bangham and found some letters on him, and this one in hi coat-tail pocket—seeing that it was addressed "W. Shannon, Esq., Hotelde Suez, Boulevard de St. Michel, Paris," I said, "Whose letter is that?"—he said, "I suppose it is Drew's; I found it at George Street"—"Hotel de Suez, Boulevard de St. Michel," is struck out, and in the same handwriting "Hotel Phoenix, Praed Street, Paddington," is added. (Read: "London and North Western Railway, Manager's Office, Euston Station; January 30th, 1879. To W. Shannon, Esq. Sir,—I beg to inform you that your portmanteau has been found and shall be forwarded to your address as above this evening. Yours obediently, G. H. Riche") The endorsement on the envelope is, "Mr. Shannon not known Hotel Phoenix," and the rest is quite illegible—after I had searched both prisoners, I took them to London assisted by Trafford and Leeman—I went to Eastcheap, and there was no 57 there—I have made inquiries at 12, Eastcheap, and there is no such person as George Allbrook known there—in consequence of the letter found in Bangham's pocket I went to the lost luggage office at Euston Square, where I received this portmanteau (produced)—I opened it and found in it clothes, some letters, a receipt, three boxes of pens, and some in a paper, fine-pointed Gillott's pens, sheets of tracing paper, a magnifying glass, camel hair brush and a bottle with some white stuff, ink eraser, a rule and several pencils—part of the recipe requires tracing paper—I also found this diary (produced). (A number of entries were read from the diary, which were understood to be I. O. F. 6, I. O. F. P. 1 1/2, I. O. F. 1 1/2, 172, 2 1/2, I. O. Fortescue 1 1/2, &c, &c.) There is on the portmanteau a label, "London and North Western Railway, Broad Street; 11s. 6d. is charged on this from Cannon Street," and something in French, a request to the railway authorities to forward—.

(MR. CLARKE here retired from the case.)

Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. I searched 31, George Street, and found a letter from Bangham purporting to answer an advertisement of July 7th, it was in an envelope which was endorsed "Letters answered"—I also found in it another letter purporting to come from another person to Mr. Drew, applying for a situation; it was put in at the Mansion House—as soon as I asked Bangham from whom he had received the cheque he presented that morning, he frankly said, "From my master, Mr. Drew"—that was the 760l. cheque presented that morning at Croydon—putting it generally Bangham

frankly answered every question I asked him—he at once told me that he had found this letter to Mr. Shannon in the room—he said, "I suppose it belongs to Mr. Drew; I picked it up in George Street"—I found a letter torn up on the sofa—the landlady at 31, George Street, spoke of Bangham as the clerk. (The letter found on the sofa read: "To Mr. W. H. Bangham, 164a, Liverpool Road, Islington. 8, Paternoster Bow, London, 11th July, 1879. Sir,—Crane and yourself. I beg to inform you that the Hon. Mr. Justice Field to-day made an order on the hearing of judgment gammons herein for your committal to prison for sir weeks, in default of payment of 5l. and 1l. 6s. 8d. costs, within ten days from this day. Yours truly, R. Wells,"

RICHARD CHAPMAN . I am a clerk in the lost luggage department, North Western Railway—on Saturday, 28th June, between 5 and 6 o'clock tun., a stranger came and inquired about the portmanteau which had been labelled from Birmingham to Broad Street—I telegraphed to Euston and Willesden, and the same person returned between half-past 8 and 9 that evening to make further inquiries, when I told him I had no trace of it—I asked him to leave his name and address in order that the portmanteau might be forwarded if it came to hand—he said he was going to Paris by the 7.40 train on Sunday morning, and he would go to Euston himself—before leaving he wrote his name and address in Paris in this book (produced)—the portmanteau afterwards came to hand, and in consequence of a telegram I received on Monday morning, the 30th June, I forwarded it to Euston—this is the portmanteau which has been produced—the address was Mons. Shannon, Hotel de Suez, Boulevard St. Michel, Paris.

ALFRED CARPENTER . I am a clerk in the lost luggage office, Euston up platform—on 28th June a person came to the office between 11 and 12 p.m., from Broad Street Station, and inquired about a lost portmanteau—he filled up this declaration (produced)—the writing is all his except "black port," which is in my writing—I took down the particulars in what we call the inquiry book—the portmanteau was afterwards received and forwarded to the address in Paris, on the 30th, mid-day—afterwards it came back to Euston and was handed to the police—this is the portmanteau.

EDWARD ODELL BUSS . I am a clerk in Mr. Riche's, the station master's office—on Monday, the 30th June, I had certain particulars supplied to me about a lost portmanteau, in consequence of which I sent a letter to W. Shannon (produced)—the portmanteau referred to was sent to Paris, and afterwards returned.

EDWIN EVANS . I am in the employ of the Post Office as suburban letter carrier, and am on the Praed Street walk—I received this letter addressed to W. Shannon for delivery on the 5th July—I delivered it on that day—it was reposted on the 7th July, early morning—I always make a memorandum on a letter when it is returned—this is my endorsement on it, "Not known at 9, Praed Street"—it would be redelivered on application—Mrs. Dowling, the proprietress of the Phoenix Coffee Shop, made application for its redelivery on the morning of the 8th July, about half past 8—I delivered it to her about 12 o'clock the same day.

SOPHIA DOWLING . I am a widow, and am the landlady of the Hotel Phoenix, Praed Street, Paddington—I had a person of the name of Lewis staying at the hotel—prior to the 7th July some letters had been left by the postman at my place addressed to W. Shannon—this is one of them

(Produced)—I did not at that time know anybody of the name of Shannon I had forgotten it—Mr. Lewis had left the address with mother for Ietters to be taken in with the name of Shannon—I put letters that came for Shannon back into the pillar-box—I believe the postman called and made inquiries—on the 7th July Mr. Lewis came again with a person he called Shannon, he is Bangham—they asked me if there were any letters, or if a portmanteau had arrived—I said the portmanteau had not been, and I understood these letters must have been the ones put in the pillar post by mistake—Bangham was introduced to me by Lewis as Shannon—Mr. Lewis seemed rather cross concerning the lost portmanteau, and said that we ought to have taken in the letters—I said I put them back into the pillar-box—Shannon said he would get them—I told him I was very sorry that I put them back, but I would get them for him, and he not need trouble about them—when the letters were brought back mother gave them to Mr. Shannon.

Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. I do not recollect the date that I wag at the Mansion House—I recollect the date in July because I took the children to the Palace on that day, and that happened to be the day before the teetotallers' fete, or I should not have known it—I cannot tell how long after it was that the person called for the letters that my attention was called to the circumstance—I cannot tell you the day of the week—it was on a Monday we went to the Palace, and shannon and Lewis called in the evening on our return—I did not take particular notice at the time—I do not know how long it was after these persons called that I was asked about it—I have not been out since then, nor had I been out just before for any pleasure—the detective did not tell me that he had got the man who came for the letters, but a man—I was asked to pick Bangham out at the police court—there were only two in the dock—I could see a great difference in their ages—I afterwards saw him at Newgate—I could not swear at the Mansion House that Bangham was the man—I have not sworn it at all—I cannot remember exactly saying at the Mansion House, "I should not like to swear Bangham is the man"—I have other things to think about—I did say at the Mansion House, "I should not like to swear that Bangham was the man who was introduced to me by Lewis as Shannon, but I believe he is"—I heard that the man who had called at my honse was in custody at the Mansion House—I did not pick Bangham out from a number of other persons at the Mansion House—it was only after I saw him at the Mansion House that I went to Newgate, and picked him out—I had not much difficulty in recognising at Newgate a man I had seen at the Mansion House.

Re-examined. I had not seen Bangham at Newgate before I saw him at the Mansion House—it was a young man who came as Shannon first—I could not say whether he was fair or" dark; I thought he was between colour, I could not swear because I only saw him once—I attended three times at the Mansion House—I was not examined the first time—I am not sure whether it was twice I went to Mansion House and once to Newgate—I went to Newgate on a Saturday—I don't remember the date.

WALTER JOHN COE . I am assistant superintendent of the printing office of the Bank of England—I prepared a mixture in accordance with the recipe which has been produced to-day, and tried its effect on ink

upon a cheque; it took the ink out without making any material altera-tion in the surface of the paper—I cannot suppose that any strong chemical can go on paper without making a slight alteration, but it is quite possible for a skilled person to take the ink out without its being detected, and to write something on the top of it.

PANKHURST. I am clerk in the Inland Revenue Office at 183, Great Portland Street—Bangham was employed there from 2nd January to 8tb February, 1879, as copyist—I know his handwriting—this letter marked "B.T." was received by the Inland Office from Bangham—I believe it to be his writing—I have frequently seen him write. (Read: "51, Pentohville Road, London, 21-1-79.—Sir, I regret to inform you that I am unable to attend at the office to-day, as I am suffering severely from neuralgia; I shall hope to attend to-morrow. Yours obediently, H. W. Bangham.") This blue counterfoil book is called the establishment licence book—Bangham wrote licence forms in this book—there are numerous entries of his here—"H. G. Griffiths, Belmont House, Hampstead"—the figures are in Bangham's handwriting—"James Jordan "is very similar to his handwriting—the writing in the body of this cheque signed James Jordan does not appear to be the same writing as the signature—the "Albert Drew "is evidently the same, written by the same person as the James Jordan—the money is not—this letter, "Sir,—In reply to your advertisement," is to the best of my belief in his writing.

Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. I do not pretend to have any special power of judging of handwriting—I have seen Bangham write daily from the time I have mentioned—whenever I have been asked to give an opinion as to his handwriting a paper or cheque has been put into my hands, and I have been asked if that is Bangham's handwriting—I cannot say that I should not have difficulty in picking out his handwriting from 14 or 15 other handwritings—it is a striking writing—it is not a commercial clerk's hand—Civil Service clerks are not taught a particular kind of hand, but the system is very generally adopted, but there is usually a difference.

Re-examined. I believe at the present day there is a certain style which many try to adopt—I do not know where Bangham was before.

CHARLES CHABOT . I have given the question of handwriting my study for years so as to be able to form a judgment of its characteristics—I have examined these letters written by Bangham—all these pinned together are not Bangham's—the one marked "S "is—I have seen the letter "B T." at the Inland Revenue Office, which is his—there is a great deal of writing in this book which is undoubtedly the same handwriting—the application for the post-cheque for 5l. 7s. 6d. in the name of James Jordan, 57, Eastcheap, is undoubtedly in the same handwriting as the letter marked "B.T."—I exclude the figures on each side of the sum of 5l. 7s. 6d.—these are not his handwriting—the "7 "of the date and the two sevens of the order are similar—figures are a very crucial test—it is what I call a very fanciful seven—the tail of the seven is very sharp at the bottom—in this application of George Allbrook's to the Cheque Bank, Limited, a portion of the writing is Banghan's, viz., the sum 9l. 12s. 0d.—the name George Allbrook, 12, Eastcheap; Albert Drew, Esquire, and James Jordan on that cheque "B.P.Q." 5l. 7s. 6d. are in the handwriting of Bangham—the letter "S." is very peculiar—I think it is obvious to any ordinary person—that is also the case with the signature "George Allbrook "to the cheque—the worth

"pay Mr. Albert Drew or order T. Graves" on the cheque for 905l."A"are undoubtedly in the handwriting of Bangham—I have seen the handwriting of Drew, and the entry when he opened hie account, and the letter of his which has been put in and read and have made myself acquainted with the characteristics of the writing—in my judgment the paper marked "B.X" is in the handwriting of Drew: also all the pricipal filling up in the declaration marked"B.W.," with the exception of Riche. which is written across it—it is labelled 28th June and the figure 9—then it is labelled Broad Street London, from New Street Birmingham; clothing and papers sixteen pounds—then at the bottom, 28th June and the figure 9 appear; all that is in his handwriting—the rest is done by the officials at the office—two pages in the black pocket book "F "are in Drew's handwritting; all the rest I cannot recognise—"half of 19l., 9l. 10s. 0d." is in his handwritting—I recognise nothing else in the book.

Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. There is no appreciable variation in the final G's of Banghanfswriting—I am comparing a G at the end of the words Edward Hill Mannering—I am comparing G at the end of the words Edward Hill mannering in this counerfoil with the final G of book keeping in the letter marked "S"—was two hours yesterday in the witness box giving evidence against the then defendant in another case, when I entered into a very elaborate explanation of the reasons by which I arrived at the conclusion that the post-card produced in that case was in the defendant's handwriting—the Jury stopped the case and acquitted him—I do not profess to be, and no human being can be, infallible in matters of handwriting—it is not the first time I have found myself wrong, if I be wrong—sometimes twelve gentle-men find an opinion—adverse to myself, and at another time they would not be adverse to me; and it has gone before the Lords Justices and they have upheld my opinion—I do not know of any case of my failing an sppeal—I recollect a case in which I have considered my opinion wrong on reflection, it must be in the nature of things in such a difficult study as handwriting—I remember a celebrated case in the Probate Court in which I gave evidence against a person here who forged a will and he got penal servitude—I know the case now that you allude to—I said, "I connot renognise the testator's signature in the signatures to this will, for this reason, all the testaror's signature to the will, which are four in number, and all his initials to the will, which are four in number, agree with each other—I have compared them with the signatures to 70 cheques, and the initials and counterfoils to these cheques,70 in number, all of which agree with each other in every particular; but not one of those 70 initials and signatures is like the four signatures to the will and the four initials, therefore it is impossible for me to recognise them'—I have know such a case in which I have given it as my opinion that a will was a forgery and the Jury the have found for the will; but it does not follow that they were right—the Jury are right to find in favour of a will if they are in doubt—Mr. Netherclift is another gentlemen following this profession—we are occasionally callde on opposite sides—a person came forward in the case yesterday to say he wrote the post-card—he said he did not write the part I relied on—swore distinctly that he did not put the flourish to that post-card, and the red post-mark was proved to be on the flourish, so that it must have been on the card when it came through the post—he swore to the best of his belief and

repeatedly that he did not write that flourish, bat he would not swear positively—all the rest he swore he did write—I have said if you looked at handwriting you could find quite as many points of difference as of similarity between the two, but they are utterly unimportant differences—no one writes the same letter twice alike—there is no such thing as two grains of sand alike—there are no two pebbles alike amongst the millions on the earth—it is in that sense I mean that I can find differences—if I were called for the defence of a man on the question of handwriting and I could not find as many cogent reasons for its not being his writing as I could for the prosecution that it was, I might find vexatious reasons—I would never support a case that I did not believe in—for many years we were not permitted by law to give evidence in criminal cases—13 or 14 years ago I suppose there was an Act passed specially to admit expert evidence—I do not want any business.

Re-examined. I only express an opinion, and found my opinion upon reasons—I have been the means of detecting many forgeries and crimes.

JOHN BROCHET . I am a master builder, and carry on business at White Lion Street, Long Acre, and 137A, Strand—I have this morning made a communication to the. solicitor for the prosecution—last year Fortesque took an office of me in the Strand, under the name of George Rankin, importer of cigars—Bangham frequently saw him, on one occasion he called and Fortesque was not in; this was July, 1878—I described the young fellow that had called and Fortesque said, "Oh, he is my dark"—I frequently saw them together; they used to go out, not as master and clerk, bat as companions, and have a drink and come back again; and there were about a dozen other well-dressed gentlemen used to frequent the office.

Cross-examined by MR. FRITH. I should not be surprised to hear that Bangham was at Chatham; he might come up and down frequently, Chatham is very close to Waterloo Bridge, about an hour's ride—I was first asked to give evidence here about three weeks ago, and I went to Newgate to see the prisoners—I did not go to the Treasury and make a statement—they did not ask me—a detective came to me to inquire about the prisoners never had my evidence taken down in writing.

Re-examined. I don't know who the detective was—I came here to recognise Fortesque and recognised them both.

Fortesque's Defence. I was in Belgium at the time. I have no meant of producing witnesses.

FORTESQUE— GUILTY .**— Ten years' Penal Servitude.


FOURTH COURT.—Wednesday, September 17th, 1879.

Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq,

Reference Number: t18790915-780

780. JOHN ASHBY (28) PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully obtaining by false pretences from the Great Eastern Railway Company 52l. 1s., with intent to defraud.— Twelve Month' Imprisonment.

Reference Number: t18790915-781

781. NEWMAN DIBB (20) to feloniously forging and uttering a request for 10s. and another request for 2l., with intent to defraud.— Six Month' Imprisonment. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

Reference Number: t18790915-782

782. STEPHEN MOORE* (37) to stealing an order for 35l. 10s., and 35l. 10s. in money, of Thomas Gillham and another, his masters, having been previously convicted of felony. Also to stealing a foreign gold coin and 50l. in money, the goods of Edward Gellatly and others, his masters.— Five Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And

Reference Number: t18790915-783

783. ELLEN FENNELL to unlawfully obtaining by falsepretences 3l. 5s. from the Royal Commissioners of the Patriotic Fund.— Four Months' Imprisonment. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

Reference Number: t18790915-784

784. CHARLES JOHN WALL, Embezzling the sum of 4l. 10s. 3d. received by him as servant to George Smith and another, his masters.

MR. AUSTIN METCALFE for the Prosecution offered no evidence.


Reference Number: t18790915-785

785. THOMAS SMITH (19), MICHAEL McMANUS (28), ARTHUR SHEEN (21), JAMES AYRIS (24), and GEORGE GREGORY (25) , Robbery with violence on Charles Reese, and stealing from him 1s., a ponch, and other articles.

MR. GILL Prosecuted; MR. LILLEY Defended McManus.

CHARLES REESE . I am a licensed victualler, at 46, Old Montague Street, Whitecliapel—I was walking down Christian Street on 17th August at 1 a.m.—there was a crowd there looking at a fire, and I was struck on the hat by McManus—I said, "Don't tackle me, I've got nothing about me"—Smith then tripped me up and struck me on the hip, and Sheen held me by the throat—I was thrown down and Ayris held me down by the throat—Gregory was kneeling on me and called out, "Back him," and Smith kicked me on the hip, McManus holding my legs—my trousers pocket in torn out, it contained five keys—a tobacco pouch, pipe and handkerchief, were taken from my coat pocket, and two sixpences from my waistcoat—my watch was in a fob-pocket in my. trousers and I kept my hand on it, and held Smith with the other hand—I called "Police," and "Murder,' till the police came—the others ran away—about 7 p.m. on the Sunday a number of men were shown to me at Leman Street Police Station—I made a mistake first, but afterwards picked out McManus—I had only seen his side face before, but on getting in front of him I picked him out, and I afterwards picked out Sheen—I did not know McManus before, but have no doubt about him—I do not know who took the money out of my pocket—I picked out Gregory on the following Saturday at the Commercial Street Police Station.

Cross-examined by Smith. There was no water where I fell—it was 200 yards from the fire—the policeman did not take a knife from me—I had marks of the kicks upon me, and offered to show them at the policestation and can show them now.

Cross-examined by MR. LILLET. I only went to see the fire—I am a German, and several of my country-people were employed at the fire—I may have had a glass of ale as usual at my meals—I do not drink brandy—one eye is affected, but not by the blow, but the sight is not defective; I can see as well with it as with the other—I had never seen McManus before, and next saw him in custody at the police-station—I was fetched to the police inspector's office, and did not know what for till I was taken to see seven men, and the sergeant said "Do you know any of the men who are present?"—they were men of the same class and dressed in the same style as the prisoner—I picked out the wrong man first, but I identified McManus when he turned his face towards me.

Cross-examined by Sheen. I did not give any description of you, and had no communication with the police till you were arrested.

Cross-examined by Gregory. I saw you at Commercial Street Policestation, and picked you out from three more men.

Re-examined. I heard Gregory say, stammering, "K—kick him "

JOHN GALLAGHER (Policeman H 221). At 1.10 a.m. Sunday, August 17 I was on duty in Christian Street—there was a fire—I heard cries, and found Smith struggling to get away from Mr. Reese—I took him and charged him with assaulting and attempting to rob—on the way to the station he said "I did not do it,' and after the charge was read he said "I did not do it, but I saw it being done by three chaps with hard-crown black felt hats."

Cross-examined by Smith. I did not see the prosecutor with a knife—I caught hold of you, and he said "Take him to the station; he and some others hare attempted to rob me"—there was a puddle of water all over the footway—I did not notice whether his clothes were wet, his coat was dirty.

Cross-examined by MR. LILLET. The street was lined with people for about 200 yards."

Re-examined. I was 12 or 16 yards away when I heard the prosecutor's cries, and I rushed through the crowd as well as I could.

RICHARD TALBOT (Detective Sergeant K). At 10.30 on the Sunday night I was in Clarke Street, Stepney, with Inspector Wildey—I saw McManus, and told him I should take him in custody on suspicion of being concerned with others in robbing the prosecutor at a fire in Christian Street oh Saturday night—he said "I was at Wandsworth at 11 o'clock, and slept all night in 'Jack's Hole' (John's Place) with my wife"—on getting to Commercial Road he became very violent, and struggled and kicked, and with the assistance of Inspector Wildey and other constables I got him to the Leman Street station, where he was placed among seven or eight other men and the prosecutor was sent for—he pointed out another man first, but after looking again he identified McManus, and he was also identified by another man who is not here.

Cross-examined by MR. LILLET. When charged he said he was at Wandsworth; he afterwards said "I was at Walworth"—he was quiet at first, but afterwards became excited and attempted to kick me—he was identified by the prosecutor the same night—the men he was placed with were of the same class as himself as near as we could get them—there were no policemen among them.

Cross-examined by Sheen. No description of you was given to me—I had McManus's description shortly after the robbery—I did not know you, and had not seen you before.

By the COURT. McManns did not say he was at Jack's Hole all the afternoon—he said he slept there all night with his wife, pointing to a woman.

Re-examined. When I took McManus I fixed the time about 1, and he was about 10 minutes' walk from the fire—I had received information about him immediately after the robbery from the man who identified him afterwards and who is not here today, but who is in custody.

RICHARD WILDEY (Police Inspector K). I was with Talbot when he apprehended McManus, and the account he gives in his evidence is correct

—at 11.10 the same night I met Sheen in the Mile End Road, and said "I shall take you in custody for being concerned with others in assaulting a man and cutting his pocket out and stealing money from him at the fin in Christian Street last night"—he first said "I was not at the fire' and then he used an oath and said "I am innocent of what you charge me"—on the way to the station he said "I was at the fire, but am innocent of what you charge me"—he was placed with other men at the station and identified by the prosecutor.

Cross-examined by MR. LILLEY. When taken McManus said I was at Wandsworth Road at 11 o'clock selling jacks in an envelope for a penny each"—I was trying to keep back a woman who was with him, and head him say something about "Jack's Hole," but did not hear him say anything about Walworth—he had been drinking.

Cross-examined by Sheen. I had a description of you before I saw you—I said to the officer with me that I thought you were the man we wanted, but I did not know you, and wanted to be sure you were the man—I did not follow you, because I knew where you lived—I did not take you on suspicion—you first denied being at the fire, and then said "I own being at the fire—I had a description of you, but had not your name—sheen is not your name—I was standing outside the Earl Grey waiting for you to turn out—you were with three men, two of them convicted thieves.

WILLIAM ROLF (Police Sergeant K). I took Ayris and said, "You will be taken in custody, for being concerned with others not in custody, and one in custody, in an assault and robbery at a fire in Christian Street on the Saturday night"—he said, "I was in bed—you have made a mistake"—afterwards he said, "I did see the fire, I was in Commercial Road"—he further said, "It serves me right, all I get; I had plenty of work carrying deals on Saturday, and had work to go to on Monday"—at the police station he was placed with others and identified by the prosecutor—when put in the dock to be charged he said, "Have you got Buster?"—Gregory is known by that name—Sergeant Murrell said, "Yes," but we had not got him—he said, "I am b——sorry you have got him, as he has not been out long; I would sooner go myself than he should nave been had bo soon."

Cross-examined by Ayris. There was no mention of Buster's girl.

GEORGE WRIGHT (Police Sergeant H). I took Gregory in custody in Bethnal Green Road at 11 o'clock, on 23rd August, as he came out of a public-house—I said, "Buster, I want you," and he rushed across the road—I and McKenzie chased him and caught him—he said, "What do you want me for 1"—I said, "I want you for committing two highway robberies with violence, on the 22nd and 17th"—he said, "I know nothing about it.'

Cross-examined by Gregory. I did not hit you with my umbrella—the prosecutor picked out another man and then pointed to you and said you were the man.

The Prisoners' Statements before the Magistrate. McManus. I am innocent of the charge. Smith. I was at the fire on Sunday morning, and standing close to the police sergeant, and three young chaps came up and struck the gentleman (the prosecutor) on the hat; he said, "If you don't go away from me I will stab you." He pulled a penknife out of his pocket; they all shored

him and shoved me against the prosecutor, and the prosecutor caught me, and three young chaps knocked him down. The police got me by the coat, and then he said, "I will give this man in charge." I said, "What for I" He said, "For robbing me and trying to get my watch." I never saw these young chaps there. Sheen. I am as innocent as a child unborn. The same evening that the police took me I stood in front of Inspector Wildey and Sergeant Murrell and others, and they never offered to take me Ayris. I am innocent. Gregory. I know nothing at all about it.

Witnesses for the Defence.

OWEN HILLMAN . I live at 60, Brandon Street, Walworth—McManus has lodged with us since 28th December last—on the Saturday night previous to his being taken in custody he was at our house, between twenty minutes and a quarter to one—my mother, Mrs. Egan, was there, and Joseph Crabb and Charles Tomkins and his wife—he was standing at the doorspeaking to my mother—I was across the road—I came in at four minutes past one, and he was taking off his boots, and he went into our back room and slept there—I was not there when he came home—Charles Tomkins and his wife live opposite, and Tomkins called to him across the road and offered him a pot of drink, but he'did not go.

Cross-examined. The house is let out in tenements—my mother occupies the first floor—it was four minutes past one by the clock in our front room when McManus was taking off his coat—I looked at the clock because my mother asked me how much longer I should be—I was not so accurate when I gave evidence before—when I came home on Tuesday night my mother told me Harry was taken—she did not tell me what for—my mother visited him in prison on the Wednesday, and told me the robbery took place on the Saturday night at the fire, at Whitechapel—I did not know the time it happened till I saw it in the papers and heard it talked about—he was taken before the Magistrate on the Monday, and remanded for a week; and on the following Monday I went as a witness—I was out of Court and did not hear the other witnesses examined—it was at the Court I first heard that one o'clock was the time—I was not in the house when Sergeant Talbot came there—I saw McManus leave to go to Whitechapel about 9.30 on the Sunday morning, but do not know if he had a key of the door—I knew him as Harry Wiggins and "Cocoanut," but not by the name of Michael or McManus—I said before the Magistrate that I knew him as McManus, nicknamed "Cocoanut" and Wiggins.

Re-examined. I was not induced by anything my mother told me to fix upon one o'clock.

MATILDA EGAN . I am the landlady of 60, Brandon Street, and have known McManus as Henry Wiggins since 28th December, from which time lie has lived at my house—on the Saturday night before he was taken in custody he came home from 12.15 to 12.30—while I was standing at the corner of Sarah Ann Street, looking at the reflection of the fire, a neighbour called out "Hairy, will you drink?" and he said "No" and I saw McManus standing at the door—I went to him and said, "Isn't it a dreadful fire, Harry?" and he said "Yes, I' have been looking at it all the way home"—we stood talking a few minutes and he said 'Here you, are missus," and be gave me 2s. in silver and two sixpences for

his rent, and said, "I'll give you another shilling," and he gave me 1s. in halfpence—he did not cross the road, but stood at my door when asked to drink by Tomkins—when he paid me the money he handed me a haddock I he was carrying, and went into my room, took off his boots, and went to bed about one, or five or ten minutes to one—he could not leave the home without my hearing him—his boots were left in my room till next morning—before I saw him in prison I did not know about any robbery—he went out on the Sunday morning between 11 and 12, and I saw him no more till I received a letter from him on the Wednesday morning and saw bin in custody.

Cross-examined. I remember the detective coming to my house—he asked who I had lodging in the house—I did not say," Only a young man and woman"—I had no young woman there—I did not say I saw McManus about about 11 o'clock on that night, and did not see him again till he paid his rent on the Sunday morning, about 9.30—I knew him as Henry Wiggins, nicknamed "Cocoanut"—I did not know of the robbery till he wrote to me on the Wednesday while in custody, and I visited him—I am not aware that he told me the exact time and place—I told my son afterwards and he said, "Well, mother, he could not be in Walworth and Christian Street, Whitechapel, at the same time?"—we read of the fire in the newspaper, but knew nothing of the robbery till I got his letter—the fire began about 11.45—I do not know the time the robbery took place—I was at the police-court, but did not hear the evidence—I came to prove from the time he came home till he went to bed—he has a key to the street door—I was not surprised when he did not come home on Sunday night, young men often stay away from home at night—he took off his boots about five minutes to one, it might have been five or ten minutes past one—I noticed the time by the fire, and because the public-house closes at 13—I did not notice the clock—I told Sergeant Talbot I had a bad recollection, and could not tell what time he came home—I told my son directly he came home from work that Harry was taken, and showed him hi letter.

Re-examined. What I have said about his coming home and remaining in Brandon Street and going to bed is truthful and correct—I recollected where he was at the time, because of his being charged with an offence on the same Saturday evening—he had two haddocks—the sergeant came on the Monday.

JOSEPH HENRY CRABB . I am a printer, and live with my parents on the ground floor of 60, Brandon Street, Walworth—I saw McManus on the Saturday night of the fire standing outside of our door, between 12.40 and 12.45, talking to Mrs. Egan—I wished them good night and went to bed.

Cross-examined. I did not hear of the robbery before the letter came, and did not hear of the police sergeant calling till three or four days afterwards—I only knew McManus as Harry Wiggins—I know the time because it was twenty-five minutes to one when I passed the Elephant and Castle—Mrs. Egan did not tell me the time of the robbery on her return from the prison—I did not know the time before I went to the polioe-court—I went without being subpœnaed, because I did not want my master to know that I was going there.

Re-examined. He had on a white straw hat on the Saturday night.

CHARLES TOMKINS . I live at 67, Brandon Street, opposite No. 60, with my wife—I was standing with two or three friends outside 67 on the Saturday night previous to the Sunday McManus was arrested, and saw him talking to his landlady about 12.30 by our clock—I asked him to have a glass of beer—he said, "No", and bade me "Good night," and I went in doors—I do not know the distance to Christian Street—my wife was with me—my landlord had been to a beanfeast.

Cross-examined. I was not before the Magistrate—Mrs. Egan has nothing to do with my coming here—I have been subpœnaed.

JAKE TOMKINS . I am wife of the last witness and know McManus by living opposite to him—I saw him outside the door about 12.30, on the night of the fire, when my husband asked him to come and have a drink of beer, and he said, "No; I don't care about it," and wished us good night—we went upstairs leaving him standing talking to his landlady.

Cross-examined. I am quite sure of the time—my husband had the beer in a can—I have come under this subpoena (produced).

Re-examined. We fetch beer on Saturday night to put away for Sunday morning—I am sure this occurred on the night of the firer—on the Tuesday I heard McManus had been taken in custody for a robbery supposed to have been committed at 1 o'clock at the fire.

By the COURT. He had on a white straw hat when I saw him talking to Mrs. Egan.

JOHN BURKE . I live at 67, Broad Street, Lambeth—I was with McManus in the Feathers, Lambeth Walk, till closing time, 12 o'clock, when I wished him good night outside, and saw him go in the direction of East Street—he had two haddocks, which he bought outside.

Cross-examined. I did not know anything about the robbery till Mrs. Egan sent to me on the Monday following, and wished me to prove where McManus was on the Saturday night at 12 o'clock—I heard the robbery was supposed to have been at 1 o'clock—his brother and another friend came to mo at the Feathers on the Monday evening after the Saturday, and asked me to prove the time McManus was with me in Lambeth Walk—I did not see Mrs. Egan—I did not ask what he was charged with—I have never been charged except for an assault, and I paid the fine.

WILLIAM SMITH . I am a general dealer—I remember the fire, and on that night saw McManus in the Feathers, Lambeth Walk, from 11 o'clock till we were turned out at 12, when we each said good night, and he went down East Street with two haddocks in his hand—he lives in Brandon Street—I did not hear of his arrest till a week afterwards, when a lady came to me.

Cross-examined. MRS. EGAN came to the Feathers and told me he was taken on suspicion of highway robbery and violence at Whitechapel—she did not tell me the time it occurred, but she said that he was in bed at the time.

ALFRED ROBINSON . I live at 185, Mile End Road—I was with Ayris on the night of the fire from 12 30 till 1.15.

Cross-examined. I went to Mrs. Rowe's with him, but not at 12 o'olock—I have not been there and threatened to assault her if she would not give evidence.

GEORGE LLOYD . I live at 27, Farrance Street, Globe Road—I was wiith Ayris on the Saturday night of the fire about 12.30, and left him at bout 1.15.

Cross-examined. We were at Mrs. Howe's that night about 12.45, but not at 12—I was working at 12 o'clock—I may have gone there since for a half-ounce of tobacco, but have not gone in and threatened her.

WILLIAM MOTLEY . I am a deal porter, of 11 1/2, Finch Street, Clapham Road—I was with Ayris from 11.30 to 1.15 on the Saturday night.

Cross-examined. Lloyd was with us at 12 30, but not at 11.30 Louisa Mason. I live at 9, Farmer Street, Mile End Road—Gregory came to our house tipsy about 12 o'clock on the Saturday night of the fire, and lay down and fell down asleep.

Cross-examined. I did not see him after till the next morning—I am his sister.

MRS. HOUSE. Gregory came to my house a little after 12, and lay on the floor—I got him a pillow for his head, and he lay till morning.

GUILTY . McManus, Sheen, and Ayris were further charged with having I been previously convicted of felony: McManus on 1st December, 1873, at Newington, as Henry Davis; Sheen on 24th January, 1879, at the Thomes Police Court, as Arthur Seal; and Ayris, on 2nd December, 1872, at Clerkenwell, to which they severally


SMITH— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.

McMANUS**†— Two Years' Imprisonment.

SHEEN**† and AYRIS*— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.

There was another indictment against Gregory.

OLD COURT.—Thursday, Sept. 18th, 1879.

Before Mr. Justice Manesty.

Reference Number: t18790915-786

786. In the ease of DANIEL GORMAN (39) , charged with feloniously wounding Edward Addenbroke Holbecke on the high seas with intent to murder, en the evidence of Mr. John Rowland Gibson, Surgeon of Newgate, the Jury found the prisoner to be insane, and unable to plead.— Ordered to be detained till Est I Majesty's pleasure be known.

Reference Number: t18790915-787

787. FRANCES HALL (32) , Feloniously killing and slaying a female child, born of her body and not named.


HANNAH FLATTERLY . I am a widow, and live at 21, Colville Place, I Whitfield Street—in June last the prisoner took a furnished room at my house—she told me at the time that he was suffering from an abscess is her side; she said she had only left her place to recruit her health a little, and she was going back again—after she had been with me about a fort-night she left, saying that she was going to some place near Lincoln's Inn Fields to have her abscess looked to—she returned in a fortnight and two days with a baby—I asked her whose baby it was—she said "It is mine"—I said "Do you mean to tell me that you have given birth to that child since you left me?"—she said "Yes"—I said "Well, come in," and when she unwrapped it it was a nice little baby—she seemed to have an abundance of milk, and gave it her—I said "What are you going to do?"—she said "I shall not keep it here long, I have got a friend in Hamp-stead who has no children who is going to take it, it was all arrauged beforehand, and I am going the following day"—this was on Saturday—she took it away on Saturday, and brought it back, but on Monday she took it away finally—I did not see it again; I was in bed when she came home on Monday night, and did not see her; I heard her go upstairs, but on Tuesday

morning she had no child with her—she said she was going to Hampstead again—she was away all Tuesday night; she came back on Wednesday morning—I said "How is the baby?"—she said "Nicely, I have been with it all night"—I said "That is nice; does it take the bottle well?"—she said "Yes, we feed it with condensed milk, and its arm is much better," it had been very much inflamed from vaccination—I said "I hope it will be taken care of"—she said "I am sure it will"—on August 2nd I smelt something in her room—it had been complained of before, and I had smelt it too, and I said to her "Mrs. Hall, your room does smell so close and strange; whatever is it?"—she said "I don't know, Mrs. Whitcomb has complained of it; I think it must be the smoke from a chimney where they burn charcoal"—she left on the Friday before the Bank Holiday, and said she was going to Hampstead, and very likely she should not be back till the Monday—she did not return on the Monday, and on the Tuesday I opened her door with a secoud key that I have—she had locked the door and taken her key with her—I found the smell proceeded from a corner where her two boxes were—there was nothing in the top box, in the second box there was a large brown paper parcel—I did not open it; I sent for the police—the box was locked; I opened it with a bunch of keys of my own—I was present when the parcel was opened by the police in the presence of Mrs. Whitoomb, and it contained the body of a child—there was a stain at the bottom of the box from it—the constable found in the room the frock which the child came in—the prisoner did not give me any notice to leave—I expected her back on the Monday night—she would have come back, for she left her cotton-box and all her things astray.

ELIZA WHITCOMB . I am the wife of Alfred Whitcomb, and lodged at Mrs. Flatterly's—I remember the prisoner being a lodger there, with her baby—the only time I saw it was on the Saturday as she came from the workhouse—I never saw the prisoner after the Friday before the Bank Holiday; on that day I noticed the smell in her room very much—I had noticed it a fortnight before—I complained of it to her on the Friday, and she said it was the place at the back—on the following Tuesday, 6th August, I went into the room with Mrs. Flatterly, the box was opened, and I saw the body of the child; it was sewed up in an old shawl and paper; the string was cut, and the baby rolled out—the prisoner was suckling the baby on the Saturday when she came from the infirmary.

MARY ANN BUTCHER . I am the wife of Arthur Butcher, of 2, White Horse Terrace, Hampstead—I have known the prisoner about 18 months—I received a letter from her early in July which I destroyed, it was asking me to meet her at the Britannia at 8.30 on the Saturday—I did so; I found her standing in a doorway in Park Street with a baby covered up in a black shawl—I asked her what she had got in the shawl—she said "My baby"—I looked at it; it was dressed in workhouse clothes—I have since seen some clothes similar to those—I cannot say they were the same—I asked her if she had had any dinner—she said she had not, she had not left the workhouse till after" dinner—I asked if she would take anything to drink—she said she would not mind a glass of stout, and she had it—she asked me if I could take the baby in to nurse—I said I could not as I had my business to attend to—I said "Have you any money?"—she said "I have plenty at home, but not with me"—I gave her a shilling to pay her fare home, and then left her—next day,

Sunday, she came to my house, about 5.30, with the child; it appeared quite well; she suokled it; she had plenty of milk—she came again on the Tuesday as I and my little girl were haying our tea—she was crying; I said "Fanny, what is the matter?"—she said "Oh, Mrs. Butcher, I have lost baby!"—I said "Lost baby!"—she said "Yes, through conyulsions"—sho said she had taken it to a doctor, and he said it was on account of its being vaccinated whilst it was so young—she did not tell me the doctor's name, or where he lived—she said the child had been buried by a man in Francis Street, Tottenham Court Road, and that it had cost her a sovereign—a few days afterwards she came to my place again, and stayed for a night or two—I did not see her again for some time—she said she was going home—she came back to my place on the Friday before the Bank Holiday, and remained till the 7th August, when the police came and took her away—I heard the police tell her that she was charged with killing her baby, and I said "Fanny, you told me an untruth; you told me the baby died of convulsions, and had it buried by a man in Tottenham Court Road; did you say so or not?"—she said "I did."

ANNIE REYNOLDS . I am a widow, and am midwife at St. Pancrss Union—the prisoner came to the infirmany on 27th June, and about 1.30 the following morning she was delivered of a female child—she left on Saturday, 12th July—during that time I particularly noticed the prisoner and the baby, because the mother was so skinny and thin that I had extra food given to her—the child was a nice healthy little baby—it weighed 6lb. at its birth; that is not the average weight—we have them at 3lb., 4lb., 5lb., up to 9lb. and 10lb., but we have more at 6lb. than anything else—when she left the workhouse she took the child with her; it was then wearing the workhouse clothes—a striped frock and a diaper were produced to me by the police, and they are similar to the clothes which the child was wearing when it left the workhouse—during the time she was in the workhouse she had a nice breast of milk, and she suckled it—she said the child would not life long after it left St. Pancras—she took her own discharge—her language to her infant was very bad—she called it little devil and little demon, and I reproved her for it a great many times, and others were constantly reproving her for putting the child under the bedclothes and wanting to smother it—we have to look after them pretty sharply—she was not a kind mother—she used to shake it, and I had to look after it to see that she did not shake the life out of it.

FRANK LIGHT (Policeman E 183). On Tuesday, 5th August, I was called to 21, Colville Street, and in a back room on the second floor I was shown a parcel, which contained the dead body of a child—I sent for Mr. Boss, the surgeon.

ALFRED BROWN (Policeman). On 7th August I went to 2, White Horse Terrace, Hampstead; I there saw the prisoner—I told her I should take her into custody on suspicion of causing the death of her child—she made a statement, which I directed the sergeant to take down in writing—I produce a striped frock and a diaper, which I took from a box in the back room second floor at 21, Colville Street, and which I have shown to Mr. Reynolds.

GEORGE WHEATLEY (Policeman). I went with Sergeant Brown, and took down in writing what she said—she said, "I did not kill the child; it died; it has been dead a fortnight."

JAMES HAYNES (Police Inspector). I was at the station when the prisoner was brought there on 7th August—she said "It died on the Monday night, a fortnight last Monday."

GEORGE HAMILTON ROSS , M.R.C.S., 12, Bailey Street, Bedford Square. On 5th August I was called by the police to 21, Colville Place, and saw the dead body of a child; it was putrefying; in my judgment it had been dead somewhere over ten days; it weighed 4 3/4lb.—I made a postmortem examination—the intestines were completely empty, with the exception of a small quantity of bilious matter in the lower part of the large intestines; the stomach was absolutely empty—it had certainly not had any food recently before death—I noticed no marks of external violence, no abscess, or any disease in any of the organs—the organs were decomposed to a certain extent; advanced disease would have been observable in the remains of them—there was nothing upon which I could found an opinion that it had died from convulsions; it is possible it might have had convulsions; want of food might produce convulsions.

GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.

Reference Number: t18790915-788

788. JAMES GIBSON (56) , Feloniously killing and slaying Elizabeth Gibson.


SUSAN RIDLEY . I am the wife of George Ridley, of 1, Finlay Court, Old Street, St. Luke's—the prisoner and his wife lived at 134, Old Street, immediately opposite—from my window I could see half of their room; my room is on the second floor, and so is theirs—the width of the street is about four yards—on Monday, 18th August, at 1.15, I was at my window; it was open, and so was the prisoner's; I could see the dinner on the table in his room—I saw him take a chair and sit down at the table; his wife was standing in front of him—I heard them quarrelling, but could not hear what they said—after they had been quarrelling some little time I saw the prisoner strike his wife in the face with his open hand, one blow—she ran towards the window—he struck her again three or four times in the face and head with his fist and his open hand—she did nothing in return—he then picked up this piece of wood (produced) from the side of the fireplace, ana jobbed her with it three or lour times in the side—she then picked a plate off the table and threw at him; it did not hit him; it struck the window-ledge—she said "I don't care a b—; you brute, you are slowly murdering me"—I halloed to him from the window, "You brutal fellow, why do you illtreat the. woman like that"—then he threw the wood down and struck her again with his hand—she reeled on one side, and then he shut the window and looked over the top of the curtain, and I could not see any more—the neighbours were all out at their doors by this time, hearing the noise—at 20 minutes to 3 the prisoner came out—I had seen the deceased go in with the dinner at about 10 minutes to 12; she appeared to be quite sober.

Cross-examined. I was up at my window then—I did not speak to her—I could only see half across the room; I have not been in the room since—the fireplace was in the middle of the room opposite the window—I could see the fireplace; I saw the prisoner stoop and pick up the piece of wood from the floor—the deceased had not moved when he first

struck her; she was against the table—it was after he had jobbed her With the wood that she threw the plate. Richard Adam Simpson. I am a rag merchant and furniture dealer, and am landlord of the house where the prisoner lives—on Monday evening, 18th August, between 7 and 8, I saw the prisoner come up the court from the house—I did not see him again that evening.

Cross-examined. I did not see his wife that day—she was a very drunken woman; she was nearly always so during the four weeks she was my tenant—the prisoner used to go out to his work in the morning, and she used to go out afterwards and get drunk, and then come home and lis about; that was her usual habit—he was a very regular man—I never saw him the worse for drink.

ROBERT BOULTBY (Police Sergeant). On 20th August I went with Sergeant Canham to 134, Old Street, to the second-floor back room occupied by the prisoner and his wife—I found this piece of wood behind the door in the bedroom—that same night I searched for the prisoner, and found him in bed at 41, Baldwin Street—I asked what his name was—he said Gibson—I said I should take him into custody on suspicion of murdering his wife—he said, "I never murdered her; all the injuries she has received she got by falling about; I have got my subpoena to attend the inquest to-morrow morning; you might as well let me have my sleep out, for I should have been there; she was a very drunken woman, and it is a very bad job"—I had known her for several years as a drunken, dissipated woman—she had been convicted several times of pot-stealing.

Cross-examined. She had only been out about five weeks; she had 21 days for having a quantity of melted pewter in her possession—I have seen her very drunk; I have not seen her in fits—she was rather decrepid in the feet—she was about 45 or 50 years of age—the room where I found the prisoner was his son's room.

WILLIAM PEEL (Police Inspector G). On 22nd August I went to Mrs. Ridley's room, and from her window could see into the prisoner's room, as she has stated—I then went to the prisoner's room—I saw on the ceiling a black mark, such as would be produced by this piece of charred wood—I found three pieces of a broken plate there—I had known the deceased as a woman of drunken, dissipated habits. Eugene Yarrow. I am surgeon to the G Division of Police, and live at 87, Old Street Road—on 18th August, about a quarter past 9, I was called by the prisoner and another man to 134, Old Street—the prisoner said his wife was very ill, and would I come and see her—I asked him if she was sober—he said "She is very ill, and I think getting cold"—I went and found her lying on the mattress, dead—in my opinion she had been dead four, five, or six hours; the extremities were quite cold—she was about 52 or 53 years of age—I made post-mortem examination—the cause of death was effusion of blood on the brain, the result of a blow or an injury to the head—there was a contused wound right on the top of the head—this piece of wood would produce such a wound—she appeared to have been lifted on to the bed from the clothes being disordered, and from the huddled manner in which the body lay—the prisoner went up into the room with me—I said to him, "She is dead"—he said "You don't mean to say she has gone to her last home," and he lifted the body up, put his arms round her, and called out "Lizzie dear"—I asked him when he last saw her alive—he said at dinner-time—I said "Where did you leave her?"—he said "Where she is now"—I asked if she had been

drinking—he said "I do not know; we had a few words, and both lost our temper"—he was slightly under the influence of drik—he came to me next morning, and asked if I could give him a certificate—I told him there would have to be an inquest, and that I had informed the Coroner's officer—on the post-mortem I found a great number of bruises in different parts of the body; the most recent was a very large one on the right side of the abdomen, by the side of the navel, about as large as the top of a teacup—it is not impossible that a fall might have caused the wound on the head—there was an iron bedstead in the room; if she had fallen head foremost against that it might have caused it—I had known her for some years as a drunken woman—I have attended her at the police station when drunk, and I was once called to her in the street.

Cross-examined. I have been called to her by the police on many occasions—I never attended her for fits—I have seen her when she was said to be in fits, but they were fits of drunkenness—the cause of death was apoplexy, or effusion of blood—that does sometimes occur without any external injury—there was no outward wound; the contusion was under the skin, only visible when the scalp was removed—drunkenness would be a predisposing cause to the effusion.

The Prisoner received a food character.


There was another indictment against the prisoner for a common assault, to which he

PLEADED GUILTY .— Seven Days Imprisonment.

FOURTH COURT.—Thursday, September 18th, 1879.

Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.

Reference Number: t18790915-789

789. THOMAS STEVENS** (23) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing 356 hare-skins, the goods of Solomon Slowman, having been previously convicted.— Two Years' Imprisonment.

Reference Number: t18790915-790

790. JOSEPH MERITON (62) and JOHN FERGUSON (38) , Stealing 17,300 needles, two aneroids, and two wooden cases, the goods of James Squire, the master of Meriton, to which

MERITON PLEADED GUILTYRecommended to mercy. Twelve Months' Imprisonment.

MR. C. MATHEWS Prosecuted; and MR. B. MORICE Defended Ferguson.

GEORGE GINN . I am a packer for Messrs. Squire, ship chandlers, 172-3, High Street, Shadwell—Meriton was their collector, and was constantly about the premises—I have seen Ferguson there—in May and June he came once or twice a week about 11 am. and asked for Meriton—Meriton would be sent for, and they would go together into the Crown public-house opposite, and Meriton once remained there with Ferguson from 11.30, and I did not see him again till 2.30, when I returned from dinner.

Cross-examined. I do not recollect that Ferguson was in Messrs. Hounsell's employment—they are customers of ours—I saw the prisoners go into the public-house three or four times—Meriton used to attend to the business when people came to see Mr. Squire, and it was not unusual to go to the public-house—I do not know what took place there.

Re-examined. I have known Ferguson come three or four times some few months before July—they did not discuss business at Messrs. Squire's, but went away together.

JAMES SQUIRE . I am a ship's chandler, at 173, High Street, Sbadwell

and trade as M. A. Squire and Co., and Meriton has been employed then for 14 years—it was Lis duty to label needles and keep stock of them, and they and the aneroids would be under his protection—this box of 17,300 needles (produced) are my property—they are sail needles, and each of them is marked with our name—we deal with them in a large way—we have never sent to any one firm so many as 17,300 sail needles in a year—the largest consignment sent out in one year was 10,000, and all of the smaller sizes—I value the 17,300. needles at 50l.—these aneroids are mine, and came from Mr. Charland's—they were in Meriton's care—I identify the box by some splashes of whitewash upon it from the ceiling.

Cross-examined. We had every confidence in Meriton—I do not know Ferguson, and have never said I was anxious to get him into trouble.

By the COURT. Meriton did not sell goods for me—he was about the premises and acted as a collector—he might sell goods across the counter-anybody could have bought needles, and he would have entered it in a book and given an invoice.

WALTER ARMSTRONG . I am secretary to the Utah Bank, 26, Austin Friars—I knew Ferguson, he came on several occasions, generally to propose some business, and in July last he asked me for a loan, and I lent him 51, 57., and 3l., on his I O U—I have not got the I O U—I pressed him for payment, he could not pay, and brought me these needles as security for the 12l.—I said "Have you come properly by themt" and he said "Yes, I bought them"—I kept them till Inspector Le Cocq came and made inquiries, and I handed them to him.

Cross-examined. I had known Ferguson some time—he gave me a reference from Mr. Blennerhasset, M.P. for Kerry—he had spoken about the needles before, and asked me if I could ship them for him—I ship goods to the West Indies, and tried to ship them there, but was advised not—I usually go to the markets and consign goods.

Re-examined. I was a merchant, and the prisoner came to my office, and I took the needles in my private capacity, and I lent him the money as a friend—he was with Hounsell Brothers, merchants in the City, when I knew him, and they became bankrupt.

CHARLES POTTS . I am a packer at 30 and 31, London Wall, carrying on business as Swann and Co.—Ferguson brought these aneroids to me in a parcel two or three months ago and left them with me as security for 3l. which I lent him—I afterwards gave them up to the inspector.

Cross-examined. I pack up articles for shipment abroad.

JOHN LE COCQ (Police Inspector K). From information I went to see Mr. Armstrong at the Utah Bank, he gave me the nine packets produced, containing 17,300 needles—I afterwards went to Mr. Pott and received from him these two aneroids—I then arrested Ferguson for receiving the needles—he said "I received them from Meriton to ship in the way of business," and. on the way to the station he said "When I found Meriton was locked up, I had a good mind to take the needles back to Messrs. Squire's"—he did not say that Meriton told him where he had got them from.

Cross-examined. It was when he was first charged he said that he had a good mind to have taken them back when he found that Meriton waa charged—I do not know whether he is a commission agent—he said he had got them in the way of business.


Reference Number: t18790915-791

791. GEORGE GREGORY (see page 654) was again indicted, with JOHN LOONEY (18) , for a robbery on Anthony John Stanton, and 1 stealing from his person a piece of a watch chain, his property.

MESSRS. M. WILLIAMS and GILL Prosecuted.

ANTHONY JOHN STANTON . I am a pianoforte manufacturer's manager, and live at Reading Villa, Hackney—about 11.30 on the night of 22nd August on my way home I was going down the entrance of the Bishopsgate Street station, I heard steps behind me coming very rapidly—I turned round, and under a strong light from the lamp I saw the two prisoners, Looney being about a pace in advance—Gregory struck me across my face with his clenched fist, fracturing my upper jaw, loosening several of my teeth, cutting my mouth, and causing me to bleed profusely—Looney snatched my chain, and succeeded in getting a portion of it—I staggered and fell, and they ran away—I received some injury on the knee, I think from a kick, because my trousers were not cut—I got up and saw them run, and I immediately afterwards complained to a railway policeman in the station—on the 24th I was brought to the police-station, and picked Gregory out immediately from eight or nine others, and on 2nd September 1 identified Looney.

Cross-examined by Gregory. I did not say you held me by the arms—I was not intoxicated—I had just crossed over from the Standard Theatre—I could not follow you, or even call out; my mouth was full of blood—my lip was cut by the blow.

Cross-examined by Looney. I identified you at once—it is not true that I could not identify you at first—I was not there in the morning.

BLACK (Constable G. E. R. 20). I was at Bishopsgate Street Kail way Station on 22nd August, about 11.30, and Mr. Stanton spoke to me—his mouth and nose were bleeding'freely—he was quite sober.

GEORGE WRIGHT (Police Sergeant H). I took Gregory in the Bethnal Green Road, on 23rd August, at 11 o'clock, and said, "Buster, I want you"—he ran away, and I caught him some distance down the road—he said, "What do you want me for?"—I said, "For committing two highway robberies, with violence, on the 17th and 22nd August"—he said, "I know nothing about it. I didn't do it, but I know the two who did."

JOHN WINDSOR (Police Sergeant K). On 2nd September I took Looney at Worship Street Police Court—Sergeant Rolfe, who was with me, told him he would be taken for being concerned, with a man named Buster, in a highway robbery—he said, "I know nothing about it"—on the way to the station he said, "You cannot fix me for one job, and you think you will for another. A pretty fine thing if I get seven years for this"—he was placed with six other men at the station, and identified by the prosecutor—he said, "I know nothing about it".

Gregory's Statement before the Magistrate. "I saw two boys bringing a chain down Brick Lane last Friday night They said to me,' Do you know where we can sell it V I said, 'I don't want anything to do with you; go away from me.'"

Gregory's Defence. I was in company with another man on Friday night We saw this gentleman come from the theatre. He had hold of me by the arm. I tore the chain from his pocket, but did not mean to do it. Looney had iiothing to do with it.

Looney in his defence denied the charge, and said that if he had know anything about it he should not have gone to Worship Street Police Court.

GUILTY . They were further charged with previous convictions; Gregory at Worship Street, in November, 1878, and Looney at Enfield, in July, 1877, to which they


GREGORY**†— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.

LOONEY**†— Two Years' Imprisonment.

Reference Number: t18790915-792

792. HENRY BERESFORD MARTIN (36) and JAMES WATFORD (24) , Stealing 50 gross of Russia braid, the property of Richard James Secundus Joyce and another, the masters of Martin. A third count charged Watford with receiving.


MR. M. WILLIAMS Prosecuted; and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended Watford.

RICHARD JAMES SECUNDUS JOYCE . I carry on business at 18, Aldermanbury, and Martin was my warehouseman seven or eight years—I am in the habit of purchasing Russian braid from Mr. Warden, of Noble Street, and Martin would purchase it on my account—on 22nd August Mr. Warden had been to my premises, and as I was going out Martin came to me and made a statement—I took him into my private office, where he made a further statement, and I communicated with the police, and at 5.30 I went to Watford's premises, 2, Castle Street, Falcon Square—Watford came in with Sergeant Child, and was asked in my presence for 50 gross of braid, which he produced from an inner room, or passage, at the back from a high cupboard, locked up—there is no shop—there were two girls in the front room doing nothing, and a few odds and ends of cards, and a lot of oldfashioned boxes—the whole contents of the room would be valued at 25th braid was worth 4l. or 5l.—I did not see anything else in the cupboard but some odds and ends in a paper—Mr. Warden was called in, and recognised the braid as part of the goods he supplied me with on the previous Tuesday or Wednesday—I asked Watford if he had no memorandum in his books referring to a transaction for similar goods sold to Wheeler, Newgate Street—he said, "Oh, yes," and turned up an entry, 11th August, 50 gross, 10 1/2 d., to Wheeler, Newgate Street—I asked him if he had any memorandum of the transaction with Martin—he said, "None"—he was subsequently given in custody—this 50 gross (produced) his books show to have been sold to Wheeler's for 10 1/2 d. and we were paying 1s. 8d

Cross-examined. At the police-court I said it was part of Martin's duty to sell our goods for ready money—he was nominally the head of a department, but my partner is the managing head of that department—Martin would sell on the premises.

HENRY WARDEN . I am a braiding manufacturer, at 38, Noble Street, and trade with Mr. Joyce—Martin was in the habit of bringing orders to execute—on 18th August I supplied 50 gross of Russia braid on his order, and on 19th August another 50 gross—before sending those I made a communication to Mr. Wheeler, and subsequently communicated with the prosecutor, having seen some of the property at Mr. Wheeler's, which I identified as part of the property I had supplied by Martin's order to the prosecutor—I then went with Mr. Joyce and saw some of the property taken out of a cupboard, and identified it as part of the property I had supplied—the price I charged was 1s. 8d., which was a fair and proper price—the parcels were tied with pink tape when sent out.

SAMUEL WHEELER . I am a fancy warehouseman, at 15, Newgate Street

—I purchased 50 gross of braid from Watford's traveller, on 19th August, at 10 1/2 d. per gross, and communicated with Mr. "Warden, the maker—I had purchased many parcels from Watford's traveller, and the invoices were made out in Watford's name.

Cross-examined. I do not know the traveller's name.

ROBERT CHILD (City Detective). I was at the prosecutor's warehouse on 22nd August, when Martin was called in, and I heard a conversation between him and Mr. Joyce—I went the same afternoon to the Goldsmith's Anns, Foster Lane, and saw Watford there—I said, "I wish to speak to you in reference to 50 gross of Russia braid, which you received from Martin, employed at 18, Aldermanbury"—he said, "Yes, I had it to sell for him"—I said, "Have you it now?"—he said, "Yea," and I went with him to 2, Castle Street, and asked him to produce them, and he fetched them from a cupboard in a passage outside the room—Mr. Ward«n was called in, and identified them—he had previously marked them—I said to Watford "I am a police-officer; you will be charged with Martin with stealing these goods and receiving them, well knowing them to be stolen"—he said, "I did not know they were stolen. Martin sold them to me"—I said, "Have you any bill or entry in your books relating to that transaction?"—he said, "No. I never made entries, because they were readymoney transactions," and then Mr. Warden said, "Have you any entry of a sale to Wheeler's at 10 1/2 d?"—he said, "Yes"—on the way to the station he said, "I had a note from Martin this morning, telling me to keep away from Castle Street"—I said, "Yes, and you also sent Martin a note"—he said, "Yes, I sent him a note, telling him I wished to see him in reference to some money"—at the station I shewed him the 50 gross, and Martin said, "Yes, they were the goods you had"—Watford said, "Yes, for 1s. 6d. a gross"—Martin said, "No, I was compelled to have what you would give for them."

HENRY BERESFORD MARTIN (the Prisoner). I have been for some years in the prosecutor's employ—I met Watford, about April, in Castle Street—he had known me for many years, from being at Joyce and Co.'s—we had a conversation, and I asked him to sell some Russia braids—he said, "Yes, aft 5 per cent commission," and from time to time I took him property belonging to my master—this went on three or four months, and he gave me sometimes one price and sometimes another—I generally marked a price, and if he could not get it he would sell them at something less—I met him either in a tavern or in the street, and generally sent out by note the name of the place where I would meet him, and I would deliver him the parcel, and he would pay me when he had sold the goods—I received money from him, it may be a dozen times off and on—I had received no money for the braid sold to Wheeler's at 10 1/2 d., or that found in his cupboard, and no arrangement had been made as to what he should give me—he knew where the goods came from—this lot had pink tape round it when I gave it to him.

SAMUEL WHEELER (Re-examined). I guessed they were Warden's goods by the make—I knew the make, and that made me communicate with Warden.

HENRY BERESFORD MARTIN (continued). I took it away in parcels, and met Watford by appointment—on the morning of my arrest he sent me a note on a slip of paper, "Say whan and where you can see me"—I tore it

up at the time, and wrote in reply to say I would meet him at one of the taverns, but in the meantime Mr. Warden came, and I sent him the note not to come to Castle Street—he used to put on a piece of paper what goods he wanted to send it in to me.

Cross-examined. I had known him 10 or 12 years—when I was hard up for money I used to give him the goods to sell at 5 per cent. and his expenses—nothing was mentioned about money for the last two lots submitted.

ROBERT CHILD (Re-examined). The goods had not got the tape round them when found in the cupboard; but they had marks upon them by which Mr. Warden identified them.


MARTIN received a good character. Recommended to mercy by the prosecutors.— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.

Reference Number: t18790915-793

793. RICHARD WARDEN (48) , Forging and uttering an order for the payment of 18s., with intent to defraud.

MR. WILMOT Prosecuted.

GEORGE ALEXANDER WELSH . I am pay clerk to Mr. Shaw, builder, 79, Page Street—on 11th September Warden brought me this pay ticket, which is in Mr. Hurrell the foreman's writing—I noticed it had been altered, and handed it back to him, and told him I could not pay it, and that he would have to go to the foreman to have the alteration verified—he went, and returned with a letter, in consequence of which I gave him is custody the next morning—I did not see the foreman.

HENRY HURRELL . I am foreman to Mr. Shaw—Warden had been working under me on 11th September as a scaffolder for five hours, and five hours the day before, and I gave him this pay-ticket between 1 and 2 for ten hours' pay at 6d. an hour—the figures have been altered without my sanction from 10 to 12—he came back between 3 and 4 and showed me the ticket, and told me he could not get the money—I said "I should be surprised if you could," and I wrote a letter to the pay clerk—I had made out the ticket and gave it to Warden personally.

JOSEPH TYLER (Policeman B 75). I took Warden and charged him with altering his pay ticket—he said that he did not do it, but at the station he said the ticket had not been out of his possession, and he could not account for the alteration.

Prisoner's Defence. I am as innocent as a child, and know no more about it than anybody. I do not think a guilty man ever went back two or three times with a ticket like that. I worked ten hours, and I only required 5s. I don't know how many hours the other men had made, but they had been making more time than I had.

GEORGE ALEXANDER WELSH (Re-examined). He came back to Mr. Shaw's the next morning, but did not say anything—I was present and spoke to Mr. Shaw, who told me I must lock him up—he made no claim for a particular number of hours when he brought the ticket—I said "This has been altered; take it back to the foreman."


Reference Number: t18790915-794

794. JOHN BLACKMAN (19) , Stealing two pipes and other articles, the goods of Augustus Lee.

MR. WILMOT Prosecuted.

ERNEST LEE . I am shopman to Augustus George Lee, tobacconist, of 14,

Aldersgate Street—the prisoner came in on Saturday night, September 6th, and asked to look at some pipes—I showed him some, and while I turned to get some others he was gone, and I missed two pipes and a cigar-holder—I ran to the door, and saw him on the other side of the way turning a corner; he ran into a policeman's arms—he then rushed back to the shop, and brought back the pipes, and said "Here you are, Harry"—that is not my name—I never saw him before—he struggled with the policeman—the price of the pipes was 2l

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. It is not true that I said if you bought those three pipes I would give you one in, or that I told you to go and look one out in the window, and that as you walked out the policeman came in, and I gave you in charge for larking with me with the pipes; or that the policeman hit you on the jaw, or that at the station I said I would not press the charge.

WILLIAM STAIN (City Policeman 312). I was on duty in Aldersgate Street, and saw the prisoner hurrying out of Mr. Lee's shop—just before he got to me he turned back, and I thought there was something wrong—as he got to the shop-door again Lee came out, and prisoner put his hands up with the pipes, and said "Here you are, Harry"—I took hold of him, and Lee gave him in charge—he put his hands behind and slipped his coat and struggled, and threw me on my back several times; I had to set assistance—he was so violent that all his clothes came off, and I had to take him into the shop to get him to put them on again before I could take him through the street.

Prisoner's Defence. I did not go into the shop for the purpose of stealing. The policeman came in afterwardsi and said "Give me those pipes; I will make a charge." The young man said "I don't want to charge him." He charged me about 12.30 at night in my cell.


He further PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction at Westminster in February, 1878.**†— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.

Reference Number: t18790915-795

795. JOHN WELSH (25) , Feloniously cutting and wounding William Robert Tilbury and John Alfred Warren, with intent to resist his lawful apprehension and detainer, and to do them grievous bodily harm.

MR. HORACE AVORY Prosecuted; MR. PURCELL Defended.

WILLIAM TILBURY . I am cashier to George Burton Kent and Co., brush manufacturers, Bonner Road, Bow, and live in a house overlooking their premises in Bonner Road—there is a large yard round the factory enclosed by a wooden gate, and an outer yard enclosed by iron railings—about 11 p.m. on 11th July I was disturbed by a noise, and on looking out at the window saw a man undoing the bolt of the big wooden gate—he opened it and let two other men in—I then went downstairs and woke up Mr. Warren and Mr. Newman, who lived close by—Mr. Warren came back with me, and we got a' lantern and went into the yard, where I saw two men crouched down behind an iron tank near the factory door—I went up to them and said "What are you doing here?" and before I could say another word a third man came out of a closet and struck Warren to the ground with an intrument like a short iron bar—I stooped down to pick up something and rushed back, and a man rushed at me and knocked me against the wall, and hit me over the head with the same instrument—it ¦tunned mo for a short time, and when I recovered I saw the three men

making for the wooden gate; one of them undid the bolt and opened the gate, and I rushed at them to catch them, and while two of them were getting through the iron gate the prisoner stood to defend them—they squeezed themselves through a broken bar in the gate, and as I came up to them the prisoner stood up with a knife or instrument in his hand, and struck at me and cut my hand—I struck him on the head with the lantern more than once, and he squeezed through the gate and I followed him—the railings and gate had been painted that afternoon—two hats were picked up—they went to the left and ran down Bonner Road, and I followed without losing sight of them—when I got opposite the public-house at the corner, one of the men turned round and said "If you come any further I will murder you"—I continued the pursuit, and kept them in sight until I found myself getting exhausted some little distance up Bishop's Road, which leads to the corner of Waterloo Road, where I met Field and Tyerman, to whom I made a communication—the three men were still in sight and going down Waterloo Road—I discontinued the pursuit, and Tyerman ran after them—my head was bleeding very much, and I went to the doctor's to have it dressed, and then went to the police-station, and the prisoner was brought in—I said in his presence to the constable, "I do not seem to recognise the man, but if any of those men have paint on their hands or coats they an the men I followed"—there were a number of men—we found paint on the prisoner's hands and coat of the same colour as that on my clothes, and I fancied I recognised him—he was bleeding from the head—I recognised him at Worship Street Police-court as a workman named Sparrow, who was formerly in the employment of our firm, and left in July, 1877, at which time the safe was kept in the factory near the door where the men ware crouching—I examined that door, and it was partially broken away, and had marks of an instrument upon it—my head was very badly injured.

Cross-examined. The two men were 100 yards from me when I gave up the chase—I was nearer during the pursuit—at the station seven or eight men were shown to me—the prisoner was amongst them—I said I thought I saw the man, and I pointed out a man, but it was not the prisoner—I was then asked again by the officer, and I pointed him out—I then said "Oh, search if there is paint," and I identified the prisoner from the paint and from his clothes and general appearance—there were several with similar coats—the other man I picked out wore a similar coat—I believe he is married, but do not know his wife, or that her maiden name is Welch, but I believe it to be so—I do not know that he has a stall in Smithfield Market as a brush dealer—I believe he is engaged in the trade, but never heard that he was provided by his brother with tools to carry on his business.

Re-examined. I do not think I struck more than one man with the lantern—the man at the gate was the man who stabbed me in the hand.

JOHN WARREN . I went round and was assaulted, and received a blow on the back of the head which made me insensible, but I cannot identify anybody.

CHARLES JANSON TYERMAN . I live at 4, Bingham Square, Globe Road—on 11th July, a little after 11 p.m., I was going along Globe Road and Field joined me—I heard cries, and met Mr. Tilbury at the corner of Waterloo Road, Bishop's Road—he was bleeding from the head, and had a broken lamp in his hand—I had seen three men run from the prosecutor's premises—in consequence of what he said Field and I ran up toward

Victoria Park gales—Waterloo Road having only one outlet, we turned into another road and met the three men face to face—they saw us and stood still for a moment consulting, and then turned back, and on turning round the corner we saw the prisoner with his hands on the top of the wall of a timber yard, and the other men had got over—the wall is curved—we lost sight of the men only for a moment—the road is but little used—I rushed up and said "Hi! what's the matter?"—the prisoner said "They have hit me in the head"—I said "Who?"—he said "Two men who have just got oyer the wall"—he had blood on his head and no hat on—we took him further into the Bishop's Road and stood him against the workhouse wall, and a constable came up shortly after and took him to the station—he said he had been to Victoria Park for the day and had a little drop to drink, and these two men had robbed him—I saw Mr. Tilbury at the station, but did not notice paint on his clothes—he said there Was paint on, and then I saw fresh paint on his hands and clothes.

Cross-examined. I saw the scuffle at the door of the manufactory, and saw the three men run away and Tilbury following, and I followed also—I was about 200 yards from them, and only lost sight of them two or three seconds till Mr. Field joined me and we ran down the turning, where they, could only get out into the Waterloo Road—I went with the prisoner towards the station, and he complained of his head, and I said "I will take you to a doctor"—he said "Take me to a doctor and get a constable"—he walked with me and Field five or six hundred yards from where I caught him—a crowd collected in Bishop's Road, and he complained to them of his. head, which was bleeding, and some one called out "That's one of the men"—a constable came up and said "Where is the injured man, and who is to. charge him?"—I said "I am certain that is one of the three, and if you will take him I will go with you," and I charged him—he had no hat on.

HENRY MONK (Policeman K 385). About 11.30 p.m. on 11th August I heard cries of "Police!" in Bishop's Road, near Waterloo Road, and found Tyerman and Field holding the prisoner—they told me he and two other men had broken into a house; and stabbed a man—I said "I shall take you to the station"—he said "Mind what you charge me with, I am as sober as you are"—the back of his head was cut, and he had lost his hat—he said somebody had struck him on the back of the head, but he did not know who—he was placed among a number of men at the station—Mr. Tilbury picked out one or two other men first—something was said about the paint, and I examined the prisoner's hands and clothes, and found paint on them corresponding with that on Mr. Tilbury's clothes—he described himself as John Welch, 25, Camperdown, Snow Fields—I went to the prosecutor's premises and found the gate freshly painted and three jemmy marks on the door, and the same night I received from 591 K this bag and these two hats (produced).

Cross-examined. The prisoner's hands were stained with wet paint, and there were marks on the front of his coat and one across the leg.

JOHN GAMBLE . I am a timber porter, at 14, Lark Road, Bishop's Road—I found this jemmy on a pile of wood which I was ordered to go and pitch from, opposite the workhouse, and near Waterloo Road, about a week after 11th August.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrates was that he had been in, the Smithfield Market from 10 till 5.30, and had sent his wife and boy home with some goods while he went for a stroll to to Hackney Road, when three men ran towards him and snatched his hat off, that he gave chase, and when they got round a corner they suddenly turned back, and he took hold of the man who had his hat on, who struck him on the back of the ear and knocked him down, that the man then sprang on the gate, and, helped by the other two, got over the wall before he could get hold of his legs, and he called out and two young men came up, but too late to assist him; that he went towards the police-station and a constable came up, and some one in the crowd said he saw him trying to get over the gate with the other men, and he was then taken and charged, and nothing but a penknife was found upon him, and that Tilbury picked out another man at the station, and then said he was the mat who struck him.

Witnesses for the Defence.

BENJAMIN SPARROW . I am a master brushmaker, at 14, Richardson Street;, Long Lane—I am the prisoner's brother—his wife's name is Ana "Welch, and the prisoner has gone by the name of Welch since starting in business for himself so that it should not confuse my own customers—ht carried on business at 25, Camperdown Place, since he left me in March last to the time of his arrest, and had a stall in Smithfield Market—he has always borne a thorough good character.

Cross-examined. His right name is Sparrow.

CHARLES JANSON TYERMAN (Re-examined). It was impossible that the three men who wore running away could knock down anybody without Tilbury seeing them—there was not time for them to have knocked down anybody.

GUILTY . He received a good character.—Twelve Months' Imprisonment.

OLD COURT.—Friday, September 19th, 1879.

Before Mr. Justice Manisty.

Reference Number: t18790915-796

796. LAURENT MARIE GUERIN (65) , Feloniously sending to Franchestini Pietri a letter threatening to murder him. Other counts for demanding money without any reasonable or probable cause.


FRANCHESTINI PIETRI . I live at Camden House, Chiselhurst—I was secretary to the late Prince Imperial—I received a letter dated 25th July, at Paris, forwarded to me from Chiselhurst; and also a second letter dated the 27th. (These letters were translated by Mons. Albert; they were dated from 11, Meard's Court, Soho Square, signed "Guerin," and asserted that in consequence of services rendered to the late Emperor of the French he was entitled to 90,000 francs, and stated, "If you refuse me, sir, your refusal will cause your death and mine; understand I will kill you, and if I am killed at the same time as you, the proceedings in the lawsuit will nevertheless take their course. My frankness will prove to you that I do not fear any thing, not prisons, nor proceedings, nor execution.") I have received other letters signed "Guerin."

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I recollect that you and I were at Chiselhurst in 1871—I did not tell you that in September everything had been stolen from the Emperor—I did not owe you 90,000 francs.

GEORGE GREENHAM . I am one of the inspectors of the Criminal Investigation Department, Scotland Yard—on Saturday, 2nd August, I went to 11, Meard's Court, and saw the prisoner there—I told him, in French, that

I had a warrant for his arrest for writing threatening letters, threatening to kill M. Pietri—he made no reply, but became rather violent, and we had some difficulty in getting him aloog at first—after a time he became quiet, and we took him to the station—the charge was there read over to him—he said he would reserve what he had to say till he was before a Magistrate—I had seen him before, on 30th July, at Meard's Court—he opened the door to me, and asked me to come in—I refused—I said, "I come to warn you not to write any further threatening letters to M. Pietri"—he became very excited and shook his fist in my face, and said, "I am not afraid of the police or anybody else, and I will repeat to you what I have written to M. Pietri; I fear neither hanging, transportation, or imprisonment, and if M. Pietri will not give me the sum of money I ask for, I will be revenged, become an assassin, and kill him"—he then went on to say that for services he had rendered during the Empire, in giving information as to a plot against the life of the Emperor, a sum of 80,000 or 90,000 francs was promised him, and he expected that 80,000 or 90,000 francs from M. Pietri—he said if M. Pietri would give him even 50,000 francs he would return to France and not annoy him again, otherwise he would follow him about and annoy him, and he would write the whole history of the case to the Queen, to Lord Sydney, and others—he afterand said to me, "If you can induce M. Pietri to give me the sum I ask for, I will make you a handsome reward"—I then left him—I saw him write at the police station, and to the best of my belief those letters are his writing.

Cross-examined. I did not tell you that I was aware of the debt which the Emperor owed you, I never mentioned it—I did not say that M. Pietri told me that in order to be paid he would have to come to Paris and get the money—I did not tell you M. Pietri could have you convicted on the letters, and that you might, get 10 years' penal servitude—I said if you continued to annoy him by writing letters proceedings would be taken against you—I cautioned you not to write any more letters, nor go to Chiselhurst any more—I am not employed by the Imperial family or M. Pietri—I was at Chiselhurst on police duty during the life of the Emperor, not as an ageut—I never had a farthing from M. Pietri—it was after the statement you made to me on 30th July that I obtained the warrant—I am quite sure that you repeated the threats verbally to me as I have stated.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "Truth before everything. I demanded that sum from M. Pietri, it being a debt due from the funds of the Empire; for that reason I addressed myself to him to complete the pay ment which M. Pietri and Count Clery had commenced. I had received the sum of 2.000 francs, which is not a sum given away in charity. Later on a sum of 20 I was paid to me by M, Pietri, which sum I did not accept as charity. As to the letter, I did not wish M. Pietri any harm, and beg it may be considered as null and void; all I want is to go back to France. The threats I used were used, by me only for the purpose of drawing M. Pietri's attention towards me."

The Prisoner in a long address repeated in substance the foregoing statement.

GUILTY. Recommended to mercy by the Jury, being a foreigner. M. Pistri stated that 80l. had been given to the Prisoner as compensation for damage done to his shop during the Commune.— Twelve Months' Imprisonment, and to enter into recognisances to keep the peace.

Reference Number: t18790915-797

797. JAMES TAYLOR (37) was indicted for and charged on the Coroner's inquisition with feloniously killing and slaying Harriet Jeffrey. Messrs. Poland and Montagu Williams Prosecuted.

WILLIAM DONNELLY . I live with my mother, at 45, Prusom Street am turned 11 years of age; the prisoner lived there with my mother—there were some other children—my mother was passing by the name of Harriet Jeffrey—on Sunday morning 10th August, about 9 o'clock, I was in the bedroom and heard them rowing in the kitchen—I heard my mother scream out—I went in and she showed me her arm, it was bleeding—the prisoner was there and he put the teapot on the ground and smashed it, he then kicked it and it caught my foot—I asked mother what was the matter, and she said that he had hit her on the arm with the teapot—I then went and put on my clothes—I saw my mother during the day and she complained of her arm—on that same night I saw the prisoner hit her at the side of the head with his fist—next day she complained of pain in is her side and also on Tuesday and Wednesday; she was in bed all day on Wedneadij and appeared to be ill, the prisoner was always hitting her before that Sanday—I have not seen him do anything except hit her.

ELEANOB ASHMORE . I am the wife of James Ashmore, and lived at 6, Prusom Street—I knew the deceased about 12 years—she was former!; married to a man named Donnelly; the last witness was one of their children; she afterwards married Jeffrey, and after his death the prisoner went to lodge with her and they lived together as man and wife for about three years—she has one child by him—J have seen him ill-use her; about three months ago I saw him kick her off the street door step—on Sunday night, 10th August, she came to my house with her child in her arms and complained of his ill-usage; she complained of her bowels and the pit of her stomach—the prisoner passed on the opposite side of the road while she was talking to me—he did not hear what she said to me.

ANN SMITH . I am the wife of William Smith—I used to live at 45, Prusom Street—I knew the prisoner and deceased for about two yean—about two months before she died I saw him kick her in the stomach; he was wearing his boots at the time—she did not say anything at the time, she was in too much pain—the last time I saw him ill-use her was the Sunday before she died—he held her with his teeth by the side of the face across the bed, with an open knife over her and said he would do for her—she complained of pain in her stomach continually every day, up to Sunday, 10th August; on that morning I saw them struggling together in the kitchen—he had a large iron poker in his hand, and she had the teapot; he was trying to smash it—I passed through the kitchen and was going upstairs, I heard a struggle and she screamed out, "Now you have settled me"—I went back to the room and said, "What has he been doing now?"—she said he had both struck her and kicked her—he said nothing, but walked up into the yard—I saw blood flowing from her arm—she appeared to be in great pain in the stomach—that same afternoon I sat talking to her at the door of the house; she was sitting on the step—the prisoner came by with two other men; one of them asked her what was the newt in the papers; she said, "The news is that there is plenty of murders going about," and she pointed to the prisoner and said, "There is a slow cruel murderer!"—she said he could not stand up before a man, but he could hit and knock a woman about; that he had not only murdered, but

had starved her as well—he made no answer, but walked indoors—that was about 9 o'clock—she came and sat down and had a bit of supper, which Mr. Ashmore gave her—I went upstairs and afterwards heard a struggle and heard her scream out—I came down and she made a complaint to me—the prisoner was not present—she afterwards, in his presence, said that he had struck her on the left side of her head, and she felt the pain right down her neck—she complained of pain all the next day in the bowels and stomach—early on the Wednesday morning I was called out of bed and the prisoner asked me to get sixpenny worth of brandy for her, and asked metolend him the money to get it—she was very ill—she said in his presence it was nothing but his kicks and ill-usage which she was suffering from, and she believed it was a case this time—he made no reply—between 7 and 8 that evening I went for the doctor, and I remained with her until she died at half past two on Thursday morning—she was in great pain and agony up to the time of her death—the prisoner went into the kitchen, when the doctor came he walked out of the bedroom—I had told him that I thought it was better to hare a doctor—he did not say anything, "Yes "or "No"—the deceased was a very sober, hard-working woman—the prisoner was greatly given to drink.

HENRY EDWIN SERGEANT , M.D., M.R.C.S. I live at 223, High Street, Shadwell—on Wednesday evening, 13th August, I was fetched to the deceased—she complained of great pain in the bowels, and said she had been sick all day—I prescribed for her—about 2 o'clock on Thursday morning, the 14th, I was again called—I sent my son, and she died in his presence—I made a post-mortem examination—I found a punctured wound about the left wrist, a bruise on the left hip, and a severe contusion, with effusion on the left side of the head—the externally surface of the body was unusually pallid—I found all the organs healthy and natural—the cavity of the abdomen was distended with fluid and coagulated blood—I found a rent of the spleen about an inch and a half long—the spleen was somewhat diseased—the rent must have been caused recently, before death, and must have been caused by considerable violence, and certainly not more than two or three days before death—the cause of death was hæmorrhage proceeding from the rent in the spleen—a kick would be a likely cause of the rent or a blow—there was a tumour attached to and proceeding from the spleen which was probably the growth of several months—that was not the cause of death; it was intact.

By the COURT. The probability is that the hæmorrhage would ensue at once on the rent, but not necessarily; passive hæmorrhage might be going on for some time—the fact of a violent blow would produce syncope, and coagulum sometimes forms, which plugs the opening, and it is not until reaction comes on that the plug is removed and hæmorrhage returns—I should say that the rent was the result of one blow or kick—the disease would render it more liable to be rent.

Cross-examined. She was not diseased in her womb; it was quite healthy—a heavy fall or any projecting blunt object would produce such a rent—the spleen is comparatively easily ruptured when diseased—I found the body well nourished.

WILLIAM LAYTON (Policeman K 375). On Thursday morning I took the prisoner into custody—I told him it was on suspicion of causing the death of the woman by assaulting her on various occasions—he said "All right, I will go with you."


Reference Number: t18790915-798

798. JAMES TAYLOR was again indicted for assaulting the said Harriet Jeffrey, and occasioning actual bodily harm.

The witnesses in the former case were again examined, and stated that the evidence they had given was correct.

The Prisoner. I never kicked or hit her from first to last, no more than I struggled for the tea-pot.

GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.

Reference Number: t18790915-799

799. JANE KNIGHT (23) was indicted for and charged on the Coroner's inquisition with feloniously killing and slaying Alice Maria Woodrow.

MR. DOUGLAS Prosecuted; MR. KEITH FRITH Defended.

WILLIAM CARTWRIGHT BROCK . I am medical officer of the Fulham Infirmary—on Tuesday, 15th August, I was called up to see a woman named Alice "Woodrow—I found her in labour—she was carried into the ward and confined within an hour and a half or two hours—she was delivered of a healthy child—it is alive now—she got well through her confinement, although it was a cross birth—I saw her again the same night, and found her very well—about the second day she began to droop, and complained of an increase of pain which she had described at first over the ovary—she was properly treated with appropriate remedies—she got worse and worse, and died on the evening of 23rd—I made a post-mortem examination—the body was that of a healthy, well-nourished person; all the internal organs were healthy, but suppuration had taken place over both ovaries—one had already buret, and had set up recent peritonitis—the second one bunt under my hand—I could not attribute it to natural causes—I never saw natural causes give rise to such a state—I think violence of some kind must have been done to her, a direct blow or coming in contact with a sharp angle—I don't think a fall was likely to have produced it—it might—the rupture of the ovary was the immediate cause of death and external violence would have caused that—if she had thrown herself about in any violent way that might lead to injury of the ovaries—it might be caused in a struggle and fight, but I should have expected to find more general results, and not so localised as I did—a fall four days previous to death might have caused what I have described in a woman far advanced in pregnancy, or a straining and tumbling about might have done it—it is a case in which, I cannot give any positive evidence.


Reference Number: t18790915-800

800. THOMAS HARRIS (35) , Feloniously killing and slaying Caroline Boon.

MR. RIBTON Prosecuted.

ROBERT BOON . The deceased child, Caroline Boon, was my daughter—she would have been 10 next birthday—on 22nd August, about 7.30, I was at home—in consequence of something I heard I went to the corner of Cliff Street, and found her there injured—I took her to the hospital—she lived a week—I saw her dead body on the Friday following.

WALTER RICKETTS . I am a grocer's assistant—on the night this happened I was about 50 yards from the place—I saw the deceased child lying on the pavement, and saw the hind wheels of a dray pass over her legs and body—the prisoner was driving the dray—he went on at the same pace—I had not seen the dray before—it came near the child—I ran into the road and put up my hands in front of the horses to

I try and stop him—a car was coming down and he was obliged to pull up a bit, and another one stopped the horses—I then ran back to the shop and he drove off again—I consider he was going about eight miles an hour—the horses were all over the road, at a sort of zigzag, going at a food speed—he appeared not to have any control over them whatever—he went very close to the kerb—there was nothing in his way—he had a clear road—he was very drunk—I called out to him before he stopped—he made no reply—it was a brewer's dray or van, with two horses abreast—I say he was drank from the way in which he was rolling to and fro,

JOHN ADAMS . I am a labourer—I was in Bridport Place, between seven and half-past on this evening—I saw the dray coming along before the accident happened—it was coming at about eight or nine miles an hour, getting into a canter—the prisoner was sitting on the box—there were two other persons in the van—there were tubs in it—I believe they were empty—I saw the child standing on the kerb—I saw the van strike her—she had not moved from the kerb before it struck her—she stood still—the near fore wheel caught her and drawed her down, and her legs went into the gutter and her body on the pavement; and the near hind wheel went over her—there was nothing in the way of the van to make it necessary for him to go so near the kerb—after it happened he drove on faster—I held my hand up and said, "Stop, look what you have done"—he made no attempt to stop—I ran after him and caught hold of the near side horse—I was about 20 yards before the child—he had got about 200 yards before I overtook him—he had gone on again—he was very drunk—a policeman came up and took him into custody.

TIMOTHY DENEEN (Policeman). I came up after the prisoner had been stopped—the child had been taken to the hospital—I told him the charge; he was very drunk—I asked him how he came to run over the child—he said he did not know whether he had run over the child or not—at the station he was charged by the inspector with being drunk and incapable and running over the child—he made no answer—he said he was a brewer's servant.

WILLIAM HARRIS (Police Inspector). I took the charge when the prisoner was brought to the station—he was drunk and very stupid—he could not stand upright in the dock.

STACY BURN . I was house surgeon at St. Bartholomew's Hospital on 22nd August, when the deceased child was brought there—she had a compound fracture of the left thigh, with a great Laceration, and a wound on the outer side of the right knee—I found it necessary to amputate the thigh—it was done under chloroform the same evening—she lived a week after the operation—the injuries were the cause of death.

Prisoner's Defence. It was not my fault at all—I was not drunk.

GUILTY .— Six Months' Imprisonment.

Reference Number: t18790915-801

801. HENRY NORRIS (25) and FREDERICK GIBBS (20) were indicted for , and charged on the Coroner's inquisition with, feloniously killing and slaying Owen McCarthy.

MR. HORACE AVORY Prosecuted.

BRIDGET McARTHY . I am the widow of the deceased Owen McCarthy, and reside at Stanmore—on Tuesday, 2nd September, we had been haymaking at Mr. Wilson's farm—we left off work about six o'clock, and

came home together at seven—on the way I went into Mr. Drake the butcher's at Stanmore and bought some meat—I then went into Mr. Perkins the grocer's, leaving my husband standing outside at the door—I did not see any sheep or cattle coming down the road—while I was in the shop I heard a noise—I came out and saw my husband in the road, not far from the shop—I saw the two prisoners—one of them, I could not ear which, struck my husband with his fist in the face, under the left ear; and the other struck him with a stick on the left shoulder—I am certain they both struck him—he never spoke a word—his shoulder was black from the blow—the first blow shoved him into the middle of the road, and the blot with the stick knocked him down; he fell on his head—I went up to him, he was insensible—I halloed for a policeman, and these chaps ran down the hill as fast as they could—I saw no sheep or cattle with them, or any in the road—a doctor was fetched and my husband was taken to the work-house—I was with him till he died, the third night, at half-past twelve—he never became sensible—he had had some drink at his work, bat none besides all day—he had none to hurt him—I had never seen the men before—I am sure the prisoners are the two.

GEORGE ATKINS (a boy). I live at Edgware—on the evening of 2nd September I was helping the prisoners to drive some sheep and cattle—I went through Stanmore with them—I saw the last witness and her husband standing in the road—Norris told them to get out of the way to let the sheep pass; they would not—they swore at the prisoner—the man asked what the sheep fetched at Watford—Gibbs asked him again to get out of the way, and he would not, so he pushed him out of the way with his open hand and he fell backwards—both the prisoners had sticks—they did not strike him with a stick—I and Norris went on to drive the sheep on one side to let a furniture-van come by—Gibbs followed us—we all walked—both the man and woman were drunk—Gibbs was not drunk nor yet sober—I did not see Norris touch the man at all.

THOMAS JAMES PARKINS . I am a grocer at Stanmore—Mrs. McCarthy came into my shop and made a purchase—her husband was at the door—he left first and she followed—they were both the worse for liquor—a few moments after they had left the shop I heard a man going down the hill calling after the deceased a short a——b——; I don't know who he was—the deceased called him a long-legged b——and started off to run—I saw nothing more.

THOMAS DEAR . I live at Brockley Hill—I was outside Mr. Perkins's shop—I saw the deceased come from there—there were some sheep and cattle coming along the road with two drovers, the prisoners—they asked the deceased to get out of the road—he was standing in the middle of the road—he took no notice—they asked him again, and began blackguarding him, and he did the same to them—they said they should hit him and Gibbs gave him a push, not a hit—he then hit him in the face and then ran down the road in the direction the sheep had gone—the deceased ran after him about 40 yards, and when he got up to him Gibbs hit him again in the face and he fell—Gibbs then went on to catch Norria, who had gone on with the cattle—as far as I saw Norris did not strike him—neither of them struck him with a stick.

JOHN HILLS . I am a painter at Stanmore—I taw the deceased and the drovers quarrelling—they called each other names—I heard one of the drovers say," If you call me that again I will give you a smack

of the snout"—the drovers went on—McCarthy went after them, and one of them gave him a blow or a push, and he fell.

WILLIAM DOBSON . I am a gardener at Stanmore—I saw the cattle and sheep going through the village, and afterwards saw the deceased and the drovers abusing each other—one of the drovers either struck or shoved him—they went on, he followed, and then the drover knocked him down—I could not say which it was.

GEORGE MORRIS (Policeman S 68). I was on duty at Great Stanmore on this Tuesday evening at the bottom of Stanmore Hill—I saw the prisoners come down with the sheep and cattle—Norris was driving the beasts—he came up to me and said, "I have got a clout in the nose up there"—I asked who had done it—he said a hay-maker who had got a woman with him—he said, "He wanted to know what the beasts fetched, I told him it was no business of his; he struck me and I struck him hack, and knocked him down"—I asked where it happened—he said "Up by the Vine"—Gibbs said nothing—they then passed on.

Norriss. I did not tell him the man had hit me, I said a man had been pushed down on the hill, and he laughed at me.

Witness. He said just what I have stated.

WALTER STROVERM . I am a registered medical practitioner at Mill Hill, I saw the deceased the next morning at the Infirmary—he was perfectly insensible; he remained so till he died on the Friday morning—I made a post-mortem—there was a slight bruise on the left shoulder, that was the only mark about him—I found the skull was fractured at the posterior part three inches in length, and there was a slight clot of blood pressing on the right side of the brain; that was the cause of death—the injury might have been caused by falling back in the road.


NEW COURT.—Friday, Sept 19th, 1879.

Before Mr. Justice Lopes.

Reference Number: t18790915-802

802. JOSEPH ROADKNIGHT (17) was indicted for an unnatural, offence, upon which Mr. Frith, for the prisoner, offered no evidence.


Reference Number: t18790915-803

803. JOSEPH ROADKNIGHT was again indicted for stealing a knife, to which he

PLEADED GUILTY .— Six Weeks' Imprisonment.

Reference Number: t18790915-804

804. HARRIET PAIN (39) , Feloniously killing and slaying Ann Richards.

MR. GRIFFITHS Prosecuted.

JAMES DEMPSEY . I am deputy at a lodging-house, 34, Milne Street, where the prisoner and the deceased lodged—on Saturday, 2nd August, a dispute arose between them—the deceased got hold of the prisoner, and threw her on the floor, and punched her—they got up, and had their hands in each other's hair—some of the lodgers in the kitchen separated them, and they went at it again—the prisoner struck the deceased, who fell, striking her head against the side of the stool, and broke her neck, dying directly.

The Prisoner. I took my own part. I might have been in the fire. Witness. Richards threw you on the floor first.

Re-examined. I don't suppose they were separated more than a minute

—I could not say who began it then—they were entangled in a moment—they had only one or two blows—it happened all in 10 minutes.

ANNIE HOLLOWAY . I am the wife of George Holloway—I lived then at 34, Milne Street—I heard the two women quarrelling about something that was thought to be lost by the person who does the cleaning there, and the prisoner had had a little to drink, and commenced arguing upstairs with Ann Richards—the latter came down into the kitchen saying when she came down "I cannot stay in my room, as that person intends to quarrel"—the prisoner came into the kitchen, and began to quarrel again, and Richards said the prisoner had had a drop to drink she said "If I have, I don't keep a fancy man"—Richards said "Nor do I," and something passed, but what I don't know, and Richards got up to strike the prisoner—the prisoner got up as quick as Richards, and they struggled in the middle of the kitchen and fell together, and some one called out "Don't hit the woman when she is down"—they got up, and Richards stood in the middle of the kitchen—she didn't then attempt to return the prisoner's blow, but the prisoner hit her again in retaliation, took her hair, which she wore long down her back, threw her down, and fell on top of her—Richards's head must have struck the stool—I unloosed the prisoner's hands out of Richards's hair—I then said "Ann it in a fit," as she commenced to struggle—we carried her into the yard, and the doctor pronounced her dead.

DR. LLOYD, M.E.C.S. I live in Bloomsbury—I was sent for about 8 p.m., and saw the deceased lying in the yard quite dead—I afterwards made a post-mortem examination, and found two abrasions on the face, and bruises as well—the neck was, in plain English, broken, which was the cause of death—a fall against a stool accelerated by a push would dislocate a neck.

THOMAS KELLAWAY (Policeman 50 E R). I took the prisoner, and charged her—she said "The woman struck me, and I struck her, and in falling her head came against the stool."

GUILTY .— A. Fortnights Imprisonment.

Reference Number: t18790915-805

805. WILLIAM MORLEY (40) , Rape on Emma Riddle.

MR. G. A. VENNELL Prosecuted.

GUILTY of the attempt. Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.

THIRD COURT.—Friday, Sept. 19th, 1879.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

Reference Number: t18790915-806

806. WILLIAM HENRY RAMSAY (43) PLEADED GUILTY to forging and uttering an endorsement on a cheque for 24l. 11s. 10d., with intent to defraud. He received an excellent character.— Eight Months' Imprisonment without Hard Labour.

Reference Number: t18790915-807

807. PATRICK MADDEGAN (53) , Forging and uttering a request for the delivery of two barges with intent to defraud.

MR. PURCELL Prosecuted.

WILLIAM ALLAH . I am a barge owner, of 56, Wapping Wall—on 19th November, 1878, the prisoner, whom I had known for many years as a labourer, and since as a barge hirer, came to me, and said "I want to hire two barges"—I said "I cannot let them to you"—he said "Then will you let them to Mr. Wiles?"—I said "Who is Mr. Wiles?"—he

said "He is a stevedore living in Pattison Street, Stepney"—I said "You must either bring Mr. Wiles to me or bring an order from him authorising me to let the barges on his account"—he said "I can do that, and I can get you an order within about half an hour"—he left, and returned in about three quarters of an hour with this document. (Read: "Nov. 19th, 1878. To Mr. Allam. Please let the bearer have two barges. James Wiles.") He said "Mr. Wiles wished me to employ lightermen to put these barges in the dock, and pay them for so doing"—I said "I cannot do that, let Mr. Wiles do it himself"—two lightermen came and took them away with my consent—I relied on the document—no arrangement was made as to their return—they were not returned, and I ultimately discovered one in the London Docks, and one in the East India Docks—this is a memorandum of the expenses; I paid for them—they cost me about 67. expenses besides the loss of hire, which was 8l. 16s.—I informed the police about a fortnight after I found I had been victimised—I think about the end of November, or the beginning of December—I found the fraud out next day by sending round to Mr. Wiles the day after the letting, to ask if he wanted any more barges—it was nearly a month before I got the bargee back—I could not get rid of the cargo—we had to watch them, and pump, and move them about, and pay the dock dues—I have never seen the prisoner write.

GEORGE WILES . I am a stevedore, of 232, Oxford Street, Arbour Square—in November I lived in Pattison Street—I am also a rigger—I did not authorise any one to write this document, nor is it in my writing—I did not authorise the prisoner to apply to Mr. Allam for two barges verbally or in writing—there was another rigger of my name in Pattison Street, my brother John Wiles—he cannot write, nor can I nor one of our family—my brother is not here—he was then on his way to Cardiff—I have a witness downstairs who can say that the prisoner stated to him that he wrote the order.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I did not agree with you to hire barges from Mr. Allam—I had no arrangement with you at all—you agreed with the captain of the vessel about the ballast.

GEORGE SIBUN . I am an engineer—I saw the prisoner with Wiles on 22nd November at Wapping in a public-house as he came from the ship—the prisoner said "I am very sorry that I wrote that order"—Mr. Wiles had spoken to him before—that is all I heard—I waited outside for Wiles—I left them in the room together.

Cross-examined. You said you wrote it—I had no bribe—Allam did not take half-a-crown out of your hand, and give it to me.

By the JURY. I received something from Wiles for my half day's work—not in my own line, but for him on board ship rigging.

By the Prisoner. I had not a brass number on my collar—I did not act as policeman—I did not dress up in policeman's clothes—I did not go on board ship with you—I came ashore with you—I never forced you to do anything—I don't know whether Wiles had forced you or not—Wiles did not say in my hearing that he would knock down the first person who came into his house to ask for money.

GEORGE WILES (Re-examined). I went with Sibun to the public-house at Wapping—the prisoner said "I am very sorry, Mr. Wiles, I wrote the order"—I paid "I had a policeman last night to come and take you, and he promised to come, and did not"—it was a policeman in plain clothes—Sibun was not wearing policeman's clothes—I said to the

prisoner "You had better come along to Mr. Allam and see him at once, or I shall lock you up"—he went out of the house, and I never saw him till I came to Arbour Square to prove this order.

JOHN REGAN (Thames Police Sergeant). I charged the prisoner on 5th July at Wapping Station, where he was on another charge—I said "You will be further charged with obtaining two barges on a forged order"—he said "Mr. Allam knows me, and he won't hurt me"—he had absconded and gone to Ireland between November and July.

Cross-examined. You have been convicted.

JOSEPH SMITH (Ex-warder Coldbath Fields). The prisoner had one month on 30th October, 1871, for assault—5th February, 1872, one month for larceny.

Prisoner. I was convicted wrongly.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I told Mr. Allam that the job was between me and the captain, and Mr. Wiles, and I showed him the captain's order. He said it wouldn't do for him, he must hare Mr. Wiles's. I told him I would go and get an order. He told me to make haste, and be not later than 10 o'clock. I went and met a mate, and he went after Mr. Wiles, and brought back this order. I gave Mr. Allam the order; I never looked at it. I had the barges, and heard bo more of it till the following Saturday."

Prisoner's Defence. I cannot write. I have been many years a poor working ballaster. I have had thousands of pounds in my charge, and never mislaid anything belonging to anybody wilfully in my life.

GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.

There was another indictment against the prisoner.

FOURTH COURT.—Friday, Sept. 19th, 1879.

Before Robert Malcolm. Kerr, Esq.

Reference Number: t18790915-808

808. JAMES JOHNSON** (44) PLEADED GUILTY to burglary in the dwelling-house of Charles Frederick Bay, and stealing a looking-glass and other articles, having been previously convicted of felony.— Judgment Respited.

Reference Number: t18790915-809

809. GEORGE FOSTER (22) to a burglary in the dwelling-house of George Scriven, and stealing therein a clock and watch and chain his goods.— Twelve Months' Imprisonment. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

Reference Number: t18790915-810

810. JOHN GOLLOP (19) to obtaining by false pretences from Philip Yevers and other 180 yards of satin.— [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] Judgment Respited.

Reference Number: t18790915-811

811. WILLIAM HAGAN (27) to feloniously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of John Charles Sambell with intent to steal.— Twelve Months' Imprisonment. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And

Reference Number: t18790915-812

812. JOHN ANDREWS (18) to stealing two jackets the goods of Benjamin Phillips.— Six Months' Imprisonment. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

Reference Number: t18790915-813

813. THOMAS EVANS (64) and JOHN SHEHAN (28) , Burglary in the house of Egbert Day, and stealing 38 pipes and other articles, his goods.


MR. WILMOTT Prosecuted; and MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended Shehan.

EDMUND BARRETT (Policeman K 582). On 10th September, at 3 a.m., while on duty on the towing path of the River Lea with Breed, I saw the two prisoners jump over a wall—I pursued them and arrested Evans, and Breed caught Shehan—we took them back to the rear of the tobacconist's shop, 775, Commercial Road, and took them to the station—Evans had a bundle of tobacco under his arm, and 24 meerschaum pipes in his pocket

—I afterwards examined the premises and found the windows had been forced open from the yard, where we saw them coming over the wall.

WALTER BREED (Policeman K 613). I was with Barrett and saw the I prisoners Getting over the wall—I pursued Shehan and caught him—while runing he dropped these four coats (produced)—I said, "What have you I been doing?"—he called to the man in front, "Bill, don't see a mate taken, come and help me," and commenced to struggle violently, and I was obliged to strike him, as I was nearly going into the water—I took him along the towing-path—he was very violent—whilst going along he took three meer schaum pipes from his pocket and threw them down—I picked them up and got him to the station and searched him, and found four more pipes upon him. Cross-examined. I was about 20 or 30 yards from them when I saw them jump over the wall—the third man, who has not been caught, was running in front when Shehan dropped the coats—all the men ran in the same direction down the towing-path—they could not get out till they had run some distance to the bridge—the towing path is open to the public.

EGBERT DAY . I am a tobacconist, at 775, Commercial Road—on 10th. September I heard a noise about 3 am, and went down and heard a scuffling in the shop, but could not get in, the door was fastened or somebody held it—I afterwards examined the shop and missed pipes, tobacco, cigarholders, and coats—these pipes and coat are mine and were in the premises the night before.

JOSIAH CLAPP . I am in Mr. Day's service, and closed the premises between 10 and 11 on 9th September and fastened the back of the premises and the window—I saw it was open next morning.

Cross-examined. I am quite sure I fastened the window.


SHEHAN further PLEADED GUILTY** to having been previously convicted of felony on 4th February, 1878.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.

EVANS— Eighteen Month Imprisonment.

Reference Number: t18790915-814

814. WILLIAM WILDER (18), JOHN ANDREWS (18), and JOSEPH BURKE (49) , Burglariously breaking and entering the warehouse of Samuel Godfred Knott, and stealing therein 120 yards of carpet and 3l. 10s., his goods and moneys.


Defended Burke.

SAMUEL GODFRED KNOTT . I am a carpet planner and upholsterer, at 34, Wilson Street, Finsbury—I left my warehouse closed on Saturday, August 2nd-r-Monday was Bank Holiday—on Wednesday I found it had been broken into and I missed 75l. worth of stock, a coat, and some money—I identified about 40l. worth of Wilton Pile carpet of this pattern (produced) at the Old Street Police Station on 7th August, and it had my chalk marks upon it—on examining my premises I found one of the first floor front windows open and a pane of glass broken, and two screws removed from the window—I have not seen the coat.

Cross-examined by MR. CRISPS. I was making up a carpet for a customer—the chalk marks would be ordinary marks—this carpet is not supplied by the manufacturer to other dealers, but was made expressly for this order—this pattern has not been made for the last 30 years—there was a pattern almost similar 30 years ago—I could not swear that a similar pattern has not been supplied.

Re-examined. The carpet exactly this pattern was made expressly for me

and my own chalk marks tell me it was my piece, and the cuttings eft exactly match it.

STEPHEN MARRONEY (Detective). Shortly after 9 p.m. on 7th Angust I saw a four-wheel cab stop at 79, Paul Street—Burke is the occupier of the house—Wilder and Burke brought out some rolls of carpet, which they pot into the cab—I told Burke I belonged to the police and asked him what he had got in the cab—he made no answer—I repeated the question several times and he said, "Only some stuff to sell for a man"—I had received on 5th August information of this and other burglaries in the neighbourhood and I watched Burke's place on the night of the 7th, having previously written him a letter the same night and saw it delivered to Burke in hi shop—shortly after my messenger left I saw Burke come out of the door and look excitedly up and down the street—he went inside and Wilder came out and returned with the four-wheeled cab and they put several bundles in and Wilder got inside and Burke on the box, and the cab drove off and I stopped it—the cab was then driven to Old Street Police Station, and Mr. Knott was sent for and identified the carpet as part of the proceeds of the burglary—after the charge had been taken down I returned with Constable Bandall to Burke's shop and found some silk and satin in a box under the window, and a backgammon work-table (produced), which has been since identified by Mr. Stringer, of 81, Curtain Road, from whom I had received a complaint—I found also some plates of silvered glass in the shop and cellar, which I have shown to Mr. Sanders, of Phipps Street; and in the cellar another backgammon table, which I have shown to Mr. Schwier of City Road, from whom I had received a complaint—on my return to the station I said to Burke, "I have found a quantity of silk and satin and some bed-ticking and some backgammon worktables, at your shop"—he said the silk was some sample patterns he had bought from a traveller, and the bed-ticking he had had by him for years, and the tables he bought from a man at the door—I searched him and found 18l. 11s. 6d. upon him.

Cross-examined by MR. CRISPE. I had watched Burke's shop a long time—it was an open shop—no cabinet-making business was carried on—I saw some trousers for sale, but no furniture, and nothing in the shop but the plate glass—I saw a couch in the back room—Burke did not tell me he had got the trimmings to cover the couch—the messenger I sent was a person named Thorpe, who is not here—the shop was open—I was 30 to 40 yards off when the carpets were being put in the cab—I was not seen.

Cross-examined by Wilder. You came out of the shop.

By the COURT. I had not seen him there before, and he was not employed there.

THOMAS RANDALL (Detective). I received a complaint from Mr. Knoft on 5th August, and went to his premises and found they had been entered by breaking glass and removing a screw from a window—it was open—I was with Marroney on the 7th when he took Burke—I got into the cab with "Wilder and asked him what he had got—he said, "I don't know. I am only engaged for Mr. Burke"—I think the hour when the burglary was committed was mentioned at the station before Wilder, but I did not hear him say anything about it—he said he could prove he was sleeping at home every night—I helped to search Burke's place and found this glazier's diamond (produced) in a drawer with a key in it in the shop—I have shown it to Mr. Lang, of 44, Charlotte Street, who had made a complaint to me

—in the basement I found a piece of leather from chair coverings—this I have shown to Mr. Stringer who had made a complaint.

JOHN WILLIAM ASHLEY (Cabdriver 11161). About 9.15 p.m. on 7th August Wilder called me with my cab, and said he wanted a four-wheeled cab to hold four, to go to Paul Street, Finsbury, and it would be a very good job for me—I said, "How many are going?"—he said, "Only two. It will run to 5s. or 6s."—I said, "That is a very good job"—he said, "It's my father going to take some property away, because he expects the brokers in. Will you give me 1s. out of the fare?"—he said all this as he rode on the box—at Paul Street Burke put a carpet and other things in the cab, and rode outside—there was a cabload of things—he directed me to Green Street—I was stopped by the constable near Curtain Road.

Cross-examined by Wilder. The shop door was shut, but I do not think it was fastened—I did not hear Burke ask you to go with him.

Re-examined. He said his father was going to have the brokers in tomorrow, and I was to shift the things.

WILLIAM ROBERT HARPER , I am an engineer and electrician, at 86, Clifton Street, and have premises at Sash Court, Wilson Street, close to Mr. Knott's—on Tuesday, 5th August, I had occasion to go to my premises a little after 6, and saw three men; two of them a little in advance, wheeling a barrow, and the third (Wilder) carrying a sack, which appeared too heavy for him—he called out to the other two, "Hi!"—they turned and looked at him, and one of them left the barrow and went on the pavement—Andrews, I believe, was pushing the barrow—Wilder put his head down, as though to avoid my observation—I looked at him, and am sure he is the person—they were ten or twenty yards from Mr. Knott's, and went towards Paul Street.

Cross-examined by Wilder. This was about 6.15 a.m.—I did not say at Worship Street that I could not see your face.

LEOPOLD LANG . I am a looking-glass dealer, of 44, Charlotte Street—on the morning of 24th March I found my premises broken open, and missed two large mirrors and 22 glazier's diamonds—I identify this diamond as a portion of the stolen property—I had not sold it—I have seen 46. pieces of plate-glass, and to the best of my belief they are mine.

Cross-examined by MR. CRISPE. I cannot swear to it, but I can swear to the diamond—two diamonds had been stolen eight days before—they are all of the same pattern, and I had sold none—they are the first lot I got from Germany, and were sent to me a fortnight before—they are not manufactured for other persons, they are a special pattern, and the manufacturer never sent any to England—I know he sold none of that pattern in England, but I would not swear it.

JOHN STRINGER . I am an upholsterer, of 81, Curtain Road, and on 24th April my place was closed at 7.30, and at 8.30 next morning I found they had been broken open—the silks and satins produced are part of the property then stolen—they have been produced as having come from Burke's—at the station I also identified a backgammon table and a piece of leather—this silk is worth 1l. per yard.

Cross-examined by MR. CRISPE. This silk is a piece I bought five years ago—it is a very uncommon pattern—the table is a common pattern, I merely know it by the stains on the top—they were caused by water coming in at the warehouse—they would not be caused by a hot plate.

JAMES DAGLISH . I assist my father, who is an upholsterer at 148,

Curtain Road—I recognise the plate-glass produced—there is a mark upon it, but I cannot swear to it.

JOHN ANDERSON . I am in the service of Mr. Buckle Schwier, 62, City Road, and have identified a revolving backgammon table found by the police at Burke's—it belongs to my employer—it had been abstracted from the front door—two tables were missed at the end of last year—I have met Wilder, but have had no transactions with him.

Cross-examined by MR. CRISPE. Hundreds of similar tables are manufactured and sold—it is a trade pattern.

RICHARD WILDER (Police Inspector), I arrested Andrews on another charge—I said, "I shall also want you for being concerned with you father, Burke, and another man in custody in breaking into a warehouse in Wilson Street, Finsbury, and stealing a quantity of carpet"—he said, "I don't know anything about it"—I said, "You know Burke"—he said, "I don't known him"—I have ascertained he is the reputed son of Burke. Steven Marroney (Re-examined). I have known Andrews as living with Burke, his father, in Paul Street—I found no invoices or bills when 1 searched the premises, and Burke did not offer to produce them Witnesses for Wilder.

CHARLES WILDER . The prisoner is my son—the night he was taken lie did not come home, and I did not know he was taken till I saw it in the papers—he slept at home the night before—I did not see him go out in the morning—he came home regularly—I put him in business, and he failed, and occasionally he came home to me when he was short of money.

Cross-examined. He had a lodging of his own, but was at home then for several weeks—I was at home every day, and saw him there on the Tuesday morning—I am a carman, but have been out of employment at my trade for six months—I have been to Scotland, and have my testimonials (produced)—I went three months ago, and returned in July—my wife lives with me; she said he had not been home regularly for four months.

ANDREWS in defence said he had nothing to say, nobody recognised him, and if he had known what the charge was he could have had witnesses to prove he was in bed.

WILDER in defence said he could prove he was in bed that morning, and he never saw Burke before in his life.


BURKE**— GUILTY .— five Years' Penal Servitude.

There were other indictments against Wilder, upon which no evidence was offered.

Reference Number: t18790915-815

815. ALFRED CARTER (18) , Stealing 15 horse collars and a quantity of leather and hemp of Alfred Hyam, his master, and EBIMELECK SHAW (59) , Feloniously receiving the same.

MR. HORACE AVORY Prosecuted; MR. TORR Defended Sluxw.


WILLIAM MILLER (Detective G). On 8th August, about 9 p.m., I was watching Mr. Hyam's premises in Wilson Street, Finsbury, and saw Carter come out carrying a horse collar—I stopped him in Hill Street, and found two collars in the bag he was carrying—I took him to the station, and from information he gave I went next day to Shaw's premises, 89, Lower Kennington Lane—he carries on business there as a horse-collar maker—I first saw Mrs. Shaw, and afterwards found Shaw working in his workshop in Pleasant

Row, adjoining his house—Inspector Maynard was with me in uniform—I said "I have come respecting some property you have bought from Alfred I carter, more particularly horse-collars"—he said "I have bought none"—I I said "You see we belong to the police; if you say you have bought none we shall search your premises, and take you on suspicion"—he took us up into the loft, and we found nothing—I said "This is not the place we want to search; it is the cellar under your private house"—we had to go round I to the street, and on going through the cellar I found nine horse-collars—I took them from the pegs, and handed them to Mr. Hyam, who identified six of them—they were all new—I asked Shaw what he said to that—he said he did not know Carter by the name of Alfred, but George—nothing had 'been said about Alfred Carter then—I said "You know he was apprenticed to Mr. Hyams"—he said "I knew he was apprenticed somewhere in the City, but did not know where"—one of the collars he said had been in wear—I said "Is there anything more?"—he said "No, that is all"—I found, covered with stones and leather cuttings, two strips of leather lor making fronts of collars, and Mr. Hyam identified them—later on the same night I went with Inspector Peel, who found a box containing hemp which Mr. Hyam identified.

Cross-examined. Carter first gave me the name of Mr. Caswell, Mansfield Street, Whitechapel, as a person who had received collars, and I went there before going to Shaw's, and received from Caswell four collars which Mr. Hyam has identified—Caswell said he had bought two of them that morning for 10s., and two the Thursday previous for 13s.—he is a witness for the prosecution in this case, and is not being prosecuted—there is a brass plate en Shaw's door, "James Shaw, Collar Maker"—there were three men in his workshop working at collar making—Maynard was in uniform, and was on the opposite side of the way when I went to Mrs. Shaw's private house—she said Shaw was not in, and would not be in till 8 o'clock—I said that at the police-court, and I saw two other young men, and they told me he was in the workshop at work—I was away about an hour before I returned—I told him I had come to inquire about some property, and particularly some horse-collar she had bought from Alfred Carter, and he answered "I do not know him"—I said we should have to take him in custody and search his place if he said he had bought nothing, and he said "Come upstairs"—Maynard went up first—Shaw said "You see I have got nothing"—he heard what I said—he appears to be deaf since he has been in custody—I do not think he is as deaf as a post—it was not upstairs but in the cellar where the collars were found that he mentioned the name of George—the leather was mentioned upstairs and downstairs, and the property found—I did not find Shaw unwilling that we should search the cellar—there were three of us—it was about 3 p.m., the cellar, or basement kitchen, was dark, and full of lumber—there was a window in it—the door was locked, but the key was in it—there were eight or nine collars hanging on pegs as in a collarmaker's shop—they were not hidden away—the room was about 16 feet by 16 feet—the two slips of leather were found near the window under some sacks—Mr. Hyam identified it at once by his own marks upon it—Maynard in his evidence at the police-court said "I picked up some leather, and showed it to Mr. Hyam, but he could not identify it," that was some other leather, sacks of cuttings—before any search was made Shaw-said—he had not bought anything, and on coming out after the collars were identified this

wife said "What's all this bother about?"—he said "It's through that Bill bringing this thief here"—I did not hear him say who Bill was—I hare made inquiries about Shaw, but would not like to say what the result isne has been in business 30 or 40 years.

THOMAS MAYNARD (Police Inspector). I accompanied Miller to Shaw's premises, and I corroborate his account of the conversation, and as to going up into the loft and to the cellar—I asked Shaw if he bad any invoices of the collars, and he said "No"—I said "What did you give for them?"—he said "That will be an after consideration"—Mr. Hyam could not identify the small square packets of leather cuttings—Shaw said "No, I have had no leather"—some other leather was found and identified—Mrs. Shaw afterwards came to the door, and said "What is all this about?"—Shaw said "It's all through that George coming here"—I was in charge of Shaw while he was changing his clothes, and he said to his wife "It is through that Bill of mine who has got me into this."

Cross-examined. He did not tell me who Bill was—I was at the police-court, but witnesses were ordered out of court—I said "I saw no indication outside the house that Shaw carried on business as a collar maker, but I did not go to the front door—there were 10 or 12 saddles hanging up in the store-room—no one could see them—I believe the remnants were cuttings of collars—Shaw said "If you are going to search the place you had better come upstairs."

WILLIAM PEEL (Police Inspector). After Shaw was in custody I found this hemp (produced) in a box in his cellar, and it was shown to Mr. Hyam.

Cross-examined. MR. HYAM described the hemp, and on cutting it we found it as described—there are dirty windows in the cellar—we could not see through them.

ALFRED HYAM . I am a collar maker at 5, King Street, Finsbury—Carter is my apprentice—in consequence of information, he was taken into custody, and I went with Miller and Inspector Maynard to Shaw's premises, and saw in the cellar about 10 collars, and identified six—they were all new except one, which appeared to have been on a horse about twice, and not fitting was returned—I also identified some leather with my mark upon it, and some hemp which had been made expressly for me by Mr. Henry Cox—I had not sold the collars, the leather, or hemp, or given Carter authority to sell things or take them away—I had missed property of this description it various times—I did not know Shaw personally, and had no dealings with him.

Cross-examined. Carter had been my apprentice about three years, and we call him George in the shop, but persons calling for him would ask for him in the name of Alfred—I said that at the police-court—the information I received was this anonymous letter: "Mr. Hyam,—Are you aware that a man in your employ named Alfred is robbing you of leather every week? The robbery has been going on for the last eight months. In addition to stealing leather he is stealing collars already made up from you. Gauntlett can tell you where the leather was sold, as he assists Leonard in the robbery. The material is sold in Old Street Why don't you prosecute or discharge the thief? Nemesis."—Gauntlett is a man in my employ—he is not a witness—Mr. Caswell's name was mentioned to me by the police—I did not know him—I found four collars in his possession—he said he had bought the collars of Carter, and brought them down, and I identified them—when asked what he gave for them he said he had given 10s. each for two and

13s. for the other two—he kept no secrete—10s. is below my price—I charge 11s. 6d., but there are persons who charge less—I had no dealings with Shaw, and when I took the premises in Ropemaker Street I was not aware he had occupied them—a letter came addressed to him in June, 1876—I think that was the only letter—I only knew him by repute—I knew he was a collar-maker, and after I had taken the premises I knew he had been there before me—I know he has been a collar-maker many years—his son worked for me about fourteen months ago while in Ropemaker Street, and his nephew also, but not regularly—I never spoke to Shaw, and had no dealings with him—I have been asked by people about him when in Ropemaker Street, but did not know whether they were customers—I knew his address, and sent a letter by his son—I never sent him a letter to my recollection—I did not receive a letter addressed to him from the Alliance Cab Company, Regent Street, and do not know such a company—the premises were shut up some time before I took them—I never executed orders intended for him, or stated that I had taken his business—I did not know it was his place—some of his former customers are now mine—I have executed no order purporting to be for Shaw—I have executed an order for, I think, the London General Cab Company, Regent Street—that order came to me personally—I have never opened or kept any letter for Shaw—the collars were being taken away for a length of time—I had a lawsuit, and have been straightened for want of money during this year—no objection on my part or by my instructions was made to admit Shaw to bail—I do not remember whether I was spoken to about it—he has been in prison from 9th August till now—they applied for bail; I did not oppose it—I could not hear what was going on, and I left it in the hands of the police.

Re-examined. There is not the slightest ground for suggesting that in conducting this prosecution I am influenced by any feeling of trade rivalry; my business does not clash with his—his business is small—I believe the anonymous letter is in his son's handwriting.

WILLIAM EDWARD CASWELL . I am a harness-maker at 9, Mansell Street, Aldgate—about seven weeks before I went before the Magistrates Carter brought some collars to my shop, and after some conversation I bought two collars from him for 13s.—he brought two more about eight days after, which I bought for 10s., and subsequently Mr. Hyam and the police came to inquire about them, and I told them what I paid for them and produced the two collars, which were hanging up.

Cross-examined. 10s. would be the full value of the two—one was very rough, and only fit for an old harness—he told me he was sent by his master, who was short of money, and it would greatly oblige him if I would buy them—I refused several times, but he pressed me, and I bought them—the very same day I bought six pony collars at 5s. each, and he saw them—I asked him what he would make them for; and he said As. 6d.—I had bought those under similar circumstances—it is a common occurrence for me to buy collars from makers who want money.

HENRY COX . I am a twine-maker—this twine was made specially by me for Mr. Hyam.

HENRY JOHN LEONARD . I am a horse-collar maker in Mr. Hyam's employ—I have identified five of the collars—there is no truth in the statement that I have been robbing ray master.

Cross-examined, I have heard Carter say he had been with Harry Shaw, and I know they lodged together.

ALFRED CARTER (the Prisoner). I don't know that I said anything to Shaw about the collars—it was mutual that I should get them and be should buy them—I did not tell him my master wanted money—I never asked him to buy them; I was in difficulties, and he offered to buy them—he knew I never got them honestly.

SHAW received a good character.— NOT GUILTY .

CARTER— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.

Reference Number: t18790915-816

816. CHARLES JACOBS (26) , Unlawfully obtaining by false pretences from William Chadwick and others 19 reams of paper, with intent to defraud.

MR. WILMOT Prosecuted.

JOSEPH SAMUEL HODGE . I am manager to William Chadwick and Sow, Upper Thomas Street, paper makers—on Thursday, 14th August, Jacobs, whom I had known as being with Mr. Eagles, came to our warehouse tod stated that he had bought some paper elsewhere, and wanted some more to make up an order, and he selected some—he said he was a grandson of Mr. Moses, of Moses, Son, and Davis, Cannon Street, and that his grand-father had just died, and some of the money was coming to him and he should have some money on Saturday and would then pay for them—I knew there was such a firm, and I let him have 14 reams of double crown (produced) at 3s. 9d. and 5 reams double demy at 10s. 6d., value altogether about five guineas—I subsequently received certain information and gave him in custody—he wrote me a letter the day after, stating he was very sorry the property had not been sold, but that he should receive the money; on Tuesday—he did not come on Saturday to pay for the goods—I let him have the paper on the representation that he was the grandson of Mr. Moses—he gave his address 53, Crawford Street, Edgware Road, and I wrote to that address twice and the letters came back through the Dead Letter Office.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I should not have let you have the goods but for your representation that you were the grandson of Mr. Mow, and that you had come into property and had houses at Tottenham and the Isle of Wight, and were going to Cheltenham on Monday.

FREDERICK LITTLE . I am a printer, at 26, Mile End Road—Jacobs came to my place of business on 14th August and offered me for sale the 14 reams of double crown paper and five reams double demy produced—I paid him 2s. 9d. per ream for 10 reams and 5s. for the other—I had one transaction with him previously—he said he attended sales and bought paper and machinery, and was supplying neighbouring printers and would be happy to supply me.

WILLIAM FOWDEN . I am traveller to Messrs. Chadwick and Sons—this paper is ours—I know it by the quality and by the wrappers. Herbert Montague. I am a warehouseman to Messrs. Moses, Son, and Davis, Cannon Street—there is no such a person as the late Mr. Moses—he is still alive—the prisoner is not a grandson or any relation to Mr. Moses or Mr. Davis.

STEWART JOSEPH MALLINSON (City Policeman 680). I met Jacobs on Saturday, 23rd August, and asked him to accompany me to Messrs.

Chadwick's—Mr. Welch gave him in custody for obtaining paper by false pretences—on the way to the station he said the statements he had made were false, and he hoped they would not go hard against him, and at the station when one of the detectives was about to go and make inquiries he said "It is useless going, what I have said was false."

Prisoner's Defence. I offered to return the money. I expected 7l. on Saturday, which I should have brought to Mr. Hodge, and I had to sell the paper so cheap because the people who had ordered it had gone to Plymouth.

GUILTY .— Three Months' Imprisonment.

OLD COURT.—Saturday, September 20th, 1879.

Before Mr. Justice Manisty.

Reference Number: t18790915-817

817. EDWARD THOMPSON (24) was indicted for a rape on Ada Williams. Mr. Griffiths Prosecuted; Mr. Geoghegan Defended.

GUILTY .— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.

Reference Number: t18790915-818

818. LEWIS SOLOMONS (30) , Feloniously carnally abusing Mary Ann Wade, aged nine years. Mr. Geoghegan Prosecuted.

GUILTY .— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.

THIRD COURT.—Saturday, September 20th, 1879.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

Reference Number: t18790915-819

819. JOHN ROCHFORT (35) , Unlawfully publishing an obscene libel.

MR. BESLEY Prosecuted; MR. FULTON Defended.

HARRY WATSON (Policeman 404). On 23rd August, in consequence of directions from Detective Taylor, I went to 3, Goldsmith Street, Gough Square, the publishing office of Quiz, where I purchased Nos. 8 and 9—I have the paper here, which I marked.

Cross-examined. I did not ascertain that the first eight numbers were the property of the proprietor of Town Talk, nor do I know that Town Talk was the first of these publications—I had seen it about—the defendant did not tell me that Quiz was sold to him by the proprietor of Town Talk.

HENRY TAYLOR (Detective Officer). Upon the purchase being made a March warrant was granted, and on 26th August I went to the before named address, where I seised 7,189 copies; amongst them I found No. 10, which is included in the 3rd Count—I saw the defendant—the warrant had been read to him—I said "I am a police officer of the City; are you the proprietor of Quiz paper?"—he said "Yes"—I said "You have seen the warrant; it has been read to you?"—he said "Yes"—I then said "I shall take away all the numbers I find in your place"—I am sure he said he was the proprietor—I made the seizure and brought away 7,189 copies. (Extracts were read to the Jury.)

The prisoner received a good character.

GUILTY .— Six Months' Imprisonment.

Reference Number: t18790915-820

820. GEORGE BATES (40) was indicted for a like offence.


HARRY WATSON . On the 23rd August, by directien of my superior, I

bought at the defendant's shop, 14, Broadway, Ludgate Hill, a copy of No. 7 Peepshow and No. 9 of Quiz.

Cross-examined. The defendant's establishment is a large retail newsagent's—I have known it two years—I purchased the copies of his boy—I went there a second time with the warrant, and saw the defendant—he immediately removed the papers from the window and said he did not know what was in them—there were a great many other papers in the window—I have seen the Illustrated Sporting and Dramatic News there.

HENRY TAYLOR (Detective). After the purchase I obtained a search warrant and afterwards went to the defendant's shop—he has a very large business there as a retail newsagent—I saw him and said "I am a police officer; have you seen the warrant or has it been read to you?"—he said "Yes; I am quite willing for you to search my place and take away all that I have"—I searched and found nine quires of Quiz, No. 10, and 13 copies of various numbers, and 30 copies of the London Peepshow, various numbers—this advertisement was in So. 7. (Read: "Awfully jolly. A lady's machine Post free.")

Cross-examined. I was not with the other officer; he had been to the shop before—the defendant told me that Ayres supplied him with newspapers—there are all kinds of papers there—the Graphic and the Illustrated London News. ("The Confession of a Gay Woman" was here read from No. 10 of Quiz.) Those are the numbers of Peepshow which I found (produced).

HARRY WATSON (Re-examined). On one of the occasions on which I went to the defendant's shop I saw Ayres bring in the nine quires which Were afterwards seized—the defendant said he should only take two quires as he could easily send for them—that was the Tuesday after I made the purchase, when the warrant was executed—I had seized them the Saturday before—I knew the defendant very well as the proprietor of the shop.

The defendant received a good character.


Reference Number: t18790915-821

821. JAMES SIMPSON (22) was indicted for a like offence.

MR. BESLEY Prosecuted; MR. KEITH FRITH Defended.

HARRY WATSON . On Saturday, 23rd August, I went to 4, Shoe Lane, wholesale newsagents—I saw some numbers of Quiz on the side of the door, showing the pictures—I bought No. 9 of Quiz and No. 7 of peep-show—I did not see the defendant there—I have seen him there on other occasions.

HENRY TAYLOR (Detective). On Tuesday, 26th August, I received a warrant from the Guildhall Police-court to go on the premises, Shoe Lane, to search for indecent publications, where I saw the prisoner behind the counter—I seized 26 copies of No. 7 of Quiz, 79 copies of No. 10, and 11 numbers of the London Peepshow (produced)—I said to the defendant's mother, in his hearing, that I was a police officer of the City, that a warrant had been granted, and that I should take away all the copies of the London Peepshow and Quiz—I asked who were the proprietors and the defendant said "I am one of them"—"Simpson and Co.," I think is on the door.

Cross-examined. I showed the warrant to his mother—I did not previously give him notice of my intention to go there—I believe they have

not sold these papers since the seizure—he did not tell me they would I discontinue to sell them.


Reference Number: t18790915-822

822. GEORGE EMMETT (44) PLEADED GUILTY to a like offence, He received a good character. Fined 50l

FOURTH COURT.—Saturday, September 20th, 1879.

Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.

Reference Number: t18790915-823

823. CHARLES MARCHANT (26) and RICHARD HOOD (26) , Robbery on Archibald Swan, and stealing from his person a watch, his property.

MR. WILMOT Prosecuted.

ARCHIBALD SWAN . I live at Hancock Road, Bromley—I was in High Street, Bromley, on 12th August last, about 5 o'clock, and four men pushed against me and knocked me down in the mud and injured my knee—Marchant knocked me down and took my watch, and they ran away—I saw Hood there and two others.

Cross-examined by Marchant. I never saw you before, but I can swear you took my watch.

Cross-examined by Hood. At the police-court I said I could not swear you were with Marchant, only the policeman knew you.

CHARLES COOPER . I am a tobacconist, of 73, Bedford Street, Commercial Road—on 12th August I was in St. Leonards Street, High Street, Bromley, in my trap, about 5 p.m., and on turning the corner I saw the prisoners and two other men—I saw one of them knock Swan down on his back in the road, and his watch and chain flew over his shoulders—they then ran off—I drove after them, and never lost sight of them—I saw the prisoners ran into a policeman's aims, and pointed them out.

Cross-examined by Marchant. I do not recollect whether at the police-court I said the prosecutor was struck or pushed down—I saw something snatched from him, but cannot say who snatched it.

WILLIAM PHILLIPS (Policeman K 646). I was on duty in High Street, Bromley, on 12th August, with Stacey, shortly before 0, and saw the prisoners there—I know them by sight—I was watching four men, and saw them set upon Mr. Swan and fell him to the ground, and while on the ground Marchant snatched something from him—they ran down St. Leonards Street, and I ran down Edgar Road—three of them ran through Bruce Road, and I caught Marchant in Powis Road—he ran towards me, and we both fell struggling—I overpowered him, and said, "I shall charge you with knocking the old gentleman down"—Mr. Cooper came up, and said, "You have got the right man—they have stolen the old gentleman's watch"—I said, "I shall charge you with stealing the old gentleman's watch."

Cross-examined by Hood. I said, High Street, "Bromley," at the police-court, and not "Bow"—I did not notice a girl with you—I said I knew three out of the four men to be convicted thieves—you and Marchant are two of the three—I am sure you are one of the men who assaulted Mr. Swan.

WILLIAM STACEY (Policeman K 610). I was with Phillips watching the four men—I knew three of them—the prisoners were among them—as Swancame round the corner by the Seven Stars, the four men took hold of him

and knocked him down—Phillips and I chased them to Powis Road, and I told them I should take them in custody for stealing the man's watch-Hood said, "I have not got the watch"—Mr. Cooper came up and charged him.

Cross-examined by Hood. I had you in custody when Mr. Cooper came up—he did not say there were five men.

Cross-examined by Marchant. I did not see anything snatched. Hood's Statement before the Magistrates. "All I can say is that there were five men instead of four, which the last witness can prove. I was 10 yards away from the man when he was assaulted. I never laid my hand on him. I was the worse for drink. I saw the prosecutor lying down, and thinking something had been wrong, I thought of my previous bad character, and I thought it would be best for me to get away, as I might have to suffer for it. The barman at the Seven Stars could say there wen five men there drinking, and the barman at the Half Moon.

Marchant's Defence. I denied striking the man or snatching the watch.

Hood's Defence. I had been drinking in the Seven Stars with the other men and some females, and was standing 10 yards away talking to a female, when a man committed the robbery in a state of drunkenness, and without the sanction of the others. I ran away because I thought my prerious bad character would be against me.

GUILTY . They were farther charged with previous convictions at Clerkeswell, MARCHANT in December, 1876, and HOOD in June, 1876, to which they

PLEADED GUILTY**†— Five Years' Penal Servitude.

Reference Number: t18790915-824

824. JAMES RILEY (16) and CHARLES DALTON (15) , Burgla-riously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Robert Roach, and stealing therein a coat and other articles, his property.

MR. WILMOT Prosecuted; and MR. RIBTON Defended Riley.

JAMES MINCHAM (Policeman H 15). I saw the prisoners with another lad in Nichol Street, on 28th August, about 6.10 a.m.—Riley was carrying this sack on his back—Dalton had a coat under his arm, and the third boy was carrying another coat—I stopped Riley, and asked what he had in the sack—he said boots that were made by his father, and he was going to take them to Islington for him—he was wearing this waistcoat (produced)—I examined Mrs. Roach's house about 10 o'clock, and found a shutter pulled down, and a pane in the back window had been taken out large enough to admit an ordinary man.

Cross-examined by MR. RIBTON. Riley was carrying the bag on his back—it was not on the ground until I stopped him—the others ran away.

ELEANOR ROACH . I live at 79, Church Street, Bethnal Green—on 27th August I fastened the premises, and put up the shutters—the door was bolted at 8 p.m.—Riley came into my shop at about 11.30, and looked all round the place, and I was afraid to serve him—I said, "It is rather late"—he said, "Yes. I leave off work late"—he tried on a pair of boots, and said one was narrow and the other too long, and I said, "We can get you a pair"—next morning I found the back door had been opened, and a pane of glass cut clean out of the window, and the shutter wrenched out—I missed seven pairs of boots from the window, and a coat and waistcoat belonging to my husband.

Cross-examined by MR. RIBTON. I know Dalton—I saw Riley in

custody next morning at Worship Street—I was taken there by the policeman, and saw the goods there—we had reported it at the station—I knew Riley was the hoy on whom the police said they had found the goods—I can swear positively to him—he was standing about, and I said "That is the boy who was in my shop last night"—I was told the boots had been found upon him—I knew him in a minute—the night before was the first time I had seen him—the gas was full on in the parlour, and he looked through the parlour and I felt afraid of him.

FRANCIS BOBBINS (Policeman H 119). I was with Mincham and saw Riley carrying the bag and Dalton with a coat on his arm—the sergeant took Riley in custody and Dalton ran away—I next saw him on Sunday morning, three days afterwards, and as soon as he saw me he ran away, and I followed him and stopped him in Bethnal Green Road, and he said "It ain't me, it's another chap."

The Prisoners' Statements before the Magistrate, Riley says: "I was not in the shop, and I was not carrying a bag. Another man had the bag and threw it down, and the police said I had it" Dalton says: "I am innocent"

Dalton's Defence. I am innocent I have had witnesses here all the week, but they cannot afford to lose their time. They come from Billingsgate.

JAMES MINCHAM (Re-examined). The coat Dalton carried has not been found—the coat produced was carried by a third boy now in custody on another charge—Dalton did not wear a waistcoat.

RILEY— GUILTY.— Judgment Respited.


Reference Number: t18790915-825

825. WILLIAM HALL (62) , Stealing 140lb. of coffee and two bags, the goods of John Potter and another.

MR. WILMOT Prosecuted; MR. GILL Defended.

CHARLES POTTER . I am a tea and coffee dealer, at 13, John Street—I have known Hall 23 years—on 29th July I left in my office on the second floor, at 5.40, about 12 bags of coffee—some weighed over 1 cwt, some were small bags—at 9 o'clock next morning I missed two bags of coffee, one about 60 lb. and the other about 3/4 cwt—my premises had not been broken open—the prisoner deals in coffee—I called at his premises at 9.30 and 10 o'clock that morning, and he was not in—I went again at 10,30, and he had not come—I saw two bags of coffee, and I looked into a bag of P. berries round coffee and thought it was mine; it was the sort I had missed—the bags were standing in his office opposite the door—I opened them and looked in—he then came in, and said "There's some fine coffee there; do you think you can sell it for me?"—I said "I don't know"—he said he wanted 1s. per pound for it—the value is about 120s. per hundredweight—I took a sample—he told me the weight, 61 lb. the bag of P. berries—the other was a flat coffee—I did not recognise the sacks—I went to the police-office and returned with Detective Lawley, but he said he could not go in till I told him the coffee, was there, and I went in first and asked Hall if ha had some other coffee besides the P. berry—I pointed the bags out to Lawley, and said "I believe these coffees are my coffees"—Hall said "They are not your coffees, they have been in my place a week"—I said "They could not be, for they were in my place last evening"—the officer said "How do you account for these bags?—he said "Oh, I can soon account for them; I have an invoice in my pocket that I can show you that I bought them,"

mentioning a firm in Crutched Friars—he produced an invoice, and I said "There is no such coffee as that hero"—Lawley said "We shall soon come at this; I will go to Macgregor's and see"—he said "You have no occasion to do that; two men brought them in last night at 8 o'clock and shot them out of the bags into these bags, and they are coming for their money at 2 o'clock; they took the bags away"—I waited till 3 o'clock to see the men, but they did not come, and I gave him in custody—the value of the coffee is 8l. or 9l.—it is not an unusual coffee, but a very fine coffee that I and my son had picked out of other coffees from time to time.

By the COURT. There is plenty of it in the market, but we picked this and we can tell it by the weight—on the way to the station he said "I have known you many years; you are very hard with me; if I had known it was your coffee I would not have bought it"—at the station he said "Two men brought the coffee in at 6 o'clock, and if I had known it was your coffee I would not have bought it"—he said he was to pay 10d. per pound for it—the value is over 1s. the one and about 11d. the other.

Cross-examined. I have known him about 23 years—I went to his place to ask for some money for some goods we had bought together and which he had sold—there were other sacks—there is only the one room—he gave me a sample and told me the weight—it was over an hour after when I returned with Lawley—the coffee was still there, and I pointed the bags out to him—he knew Lawley, and handed the coffee to him—it is not usual to have coffee left without the bags, but it is done—I do not have my bags back, and do not charge for them—I am in partnership as Churchill, Potter, and Co.—Mr. Churchill has gone to America—I said at the police-court "I parted with Mr. Churchill; he has no residence in London.

Churchill has gone abroad; I do not correspond with him"—Churchill has been away some time, and was not at my place the day before this—I have not bought any coffee lately—I may have said at the police-court "I have no invoice for this coffee; I bought the coffee from different persons; I cannot say where I got this P. berry from; I do not wish to give the names of my principals"—these coffees are the result of siftings—I recognised the coffee by the weight and appearance—I knew Mr. Murcot Roy-ne tried to defraud me out of 100l.; he was my landlord—I was not at Whitechapel County Court in connection with a cheque for 26l.—I was sued at Clerkenwell County Court for 10l. for a cheque for 26l. alleged to have been given to me in mistake for 16l., and judgment was given for the plaintiff—that judgment has never been satisfied.

Re-examined. It was after showing me this invoice when the officer said he would go to Macgregor's that he told us that two men had brought it the night before at 8 o'clock, and at the station he said 6 o'clock.

FREDERICK LAWLEY (City Detective). I went with Mr. Potter on 3rd July, about 1 o'clock, to the prisoner's shop, 17, King Street, Tower Hill—he went in first and afterwards pointed to two bags and said, "Those are the two bags of coffee that were stolen from my office last night"—Hall said, "Oh; if they are yours you had better take them away"—Mr. Porter said, "Cannot you give me any account?"—he said, "I have had them in my place for a week"—I then said to him, knowing him well, "Cannot you give me any account how you became possessed of these?"—he said, "No, I cannot"—he produced this invoice and said, "Yes, I can account for them"—I saw that it related to four other bags of coffee which were standing in the front of the shop and I said, "We can very soon clear this up by going

to Macgregor's"—he said, "It is no use you going there, Lawley, I will tell you the truth. Last night about 8 o'clock two men came into my shop with the coffee and asked me to buy it for 10d. a pound; they have left it here. They were here this morning, and are coming again at two for the money"—I said, "Are those the bags they brought it in?"—he said, "No, they emptied it out of the bags and took the bags away"—I said, "Do you know these men?"—he said, "One man's name is Rawlinson, the other I only know by sight"—I said, "Can you tell me where to find Rawlinson?"—he said, "No, I do not know now. He used to live down Cable Street"—we waited there from 1 till 3—I then said to Mr. Porter, "What shall you do?" and he gave Hall in custody—on the way to the station he said to Mr. Porter, "You have known me many years. These are rather harsh proceedings you are taking against me; had I known the coffee was yours, I would not have bought it"—I have searched for Rawlinson and find that he has been away 3 years from the address mentioned.

Cross-examined. MR. PORTER heard our conversation—I think I have not said before that Hall said, "If they are yours, you had better take them away,"I did not consider it important—I do not adhere to my statement that he said he had them a week and then said, "Oh! I bought them yesterday"—he said, "I only know the other man by sight, but he has been in my shop before"—a man named Hurrell was in and out during the conversation—Hurrell's name was over the door—I do not know Churchill Ann Watson. Mr. Porter is my tenant—on Tuesday evening, 29th July, I saw two men leave the premises each carrying a large bag, the same shape and size as those produced—I cannot tell if they are the same bags—I did not see Mr. Porter go out.

Cross-examined. This was between 5.30 and 6 o'clock—I did not know whether Mr. Porter bad left.

NOT GUILTY . There was another indictment against the Prisoner, which was postponed till the next Session.

Reference Number: t18790915-826

826. WILLIAM DAY (17) and MICHAEL KELLY (28) , Robbery with violence on George Horne and stealing a key, a handkerchief, and 1l. 12l. 6d

MR. WILLMOT Prosecuted; and MR. THORNE COLE Defended Kelly.

GEORGE HORNE . I am a labourer, and live at 7, West Green, Tottenham—on Saturday, the 6th September, I was in Flower and Dean Street, about 11 p.m.—as I was walking along I was surrounded by four men—the prisoners are two of them—Kelly took me by the arm and said, "This is the b——sod" and Day kicked my legs from under me and knocked me on the ground—Kelly put his hand in my left trousers pocket and took out my purse, containing 1l. 12s. and a key—my hankerchief was taken from my jacket pocket, I can't say who took that—Idid not know the prisoner before—I afterwards picked them out from seven others at the station—I can swear positively to them.

Cross-examined by Day. I was by myself at the time I was robbed; it was near a lamp—I had a good look at you two—I swear to you by your features and your general appearance—you were dressed as you are now—you all ran away—I had been with two young women and went with them to a house, but did not stop two minutes.

Cross-examined by Cole. It was on 12th September that I was taken to

identify the prisoners—I was fetched by one of the officers in the cade—the men were in the charge room standing in a row.

WILLIAM THICK (Detective). I was at the station on Saturday night 6th when the prosecutor came and made a complaint and gave me a description of some men—on the 11th I apprehended Bay at the Bell public-house. Brick Lane—I told him I should take him on suspicion of being concerned with others in assaulting and robbing a man on the 6th—he said, "There were four in it; I had nothing to do with it What I do, I go away to do and that you know as well as I do"—I was present when the prosecutor picked him out; there were seven men besides the two prisoners.

ROBERT MCKENZIE (Policeman). I apprehended Kelly on the 11th; I told him the charge—he said, "I know nothing about it, I was not in I Flower and Dean Street"—I was present with Thick when Day was taken—I I saw the prosecutor pick out the prisoner from seven others. Day's Defence. I never saw the man till the Friday morning when I was identified. The two detectives were with the man all the morning. I did I not have the least chance.


KELLY also PLEADED GUILTY to a previous conviction on I 20th August, 1877.— Five Years' Penal Servitude each.

Reference Number: t18790915-827

827. JOEL KING (50) , Stealing a quantity of feather trimming of Samuel White and others.

MR. WILMOT Prosecuted; MR. GILL Defended.

FREDERICK DOWNES (City Detective). On 7th August I went with another I officer and Mr. Fisher with a search warrant to the prisoner's shop, 55, Hare Street, Bethnal Green—the name over the door was "Goodyear, I hosier and haberdasher"—I saw a female in the shop—Mr. Fisher I picked up this piece of feather trimming behind the counter—I went I upstairs, through a private passage, into the bedroom, and there found this I box of feather trimming (produced)—I brought it down into the shop to Mr. Fisher, and he identified it—the prisoner's son was in bed—I inquired I for his father; he took me to the Hop Pole, in Whitechapel, where I saw the prisoner—I said "I am a police officer, I want to speak to you"—he came out and said "What is it all about?"—I said "I have a warrant to 1 search your premises, and have found a quantity of stolen goods there"—I I took him back and showed them to him—he said "Well, I suppose I have the invoice somewhere, let us have a look"—we looked, but failed to find one—he then said "My wife carries on the business, I suppose she know all about it"—I said "I believe you have carried on the business here for the last three months"—he said "That is so"—he said at the station "Everybody knows I could not be guilty of anything of this kind."

Cross-examined. He said he was well known in Billingsgate, and was a fish porter there—I have seen him there—he has a wife; I know she was not out of town—the daughter and son were in the house—two bill files were looked through, and the prisoner then said "I know nothing about them, my wife conducts the business here."

CHARLES HENRY FISHER . I am warehouseman to Messrs. Spreckley White, and Lewis, general warehousemen, 13 and 15, Cannon Street—I went with Downes to the prisoner's shop—I saw this piece of trimming in a little drawer behind the counter; I recognised it—Downes went upstairs and brought down this box full of trimming—I identified it by a private mark in my own handwriting—the value altogether is about 8l

Cross-examined. I had last taken stock on 30th June—there were five boxes of this trimming; I subsequently missed three, and this is one—it has never been sold.

Witness for the Defence.

SOPHIA KING . I am the prisoner's daughter—I live with my mother at 55, Hare Street—a hosiery business is carried on there by my mother and a younger sister—my father does not assist at all—my mother is in the habit of buying goods from travellers who call at the latter end of June—I was present when a man called with some goods—I recognise these—my mother gave him 5l. for them, and he gave a receipt, which I put in the drawer—I have since searched for it but have not been able to find it—I took the goods upstairs—the shop is not small but it is very narrow behind the counter, and some goods that we are not selling we keep upstairs—I consider these winter goods.

Cross-examined. I did not know the man—I should know him again—he represented himself as a traveller and signed the receipt "J. Sayers"—my father would not know how to serve a farthing's worth of needles—he works at Billingsgate.

The prisoner received a good character.


Reference Number: t18790915-828

828. WILLIAM BEDFORD (21) , Bobbery with violence, with two men unknown, upon Edmund Spencer, and stealing his watch ami chain.

MR. WILMOT Prosecuted; MR. D. METCALFE Defended

EDMUND SPENCER . I am a house decorator at 16, Dudley Street—on Wednesday night, 20th August, shortly before 12 o'clock, I had just left the theatre door and was crossing into Porter Street, when the prisoner, who was behind me, called out "Make haste here, Bill"—I turned round and saw him standing with his back to the shutters of a shop, and as I walked on I received a blow on the back of my neck from behind on the right, and fell on my right elbow on the kerb—a man put his knees on my elbow and held me by the throat, and another man was leaning on my knees and held me down while the prisoner, leaning over, tried to get the chain from my waistcoat—I got my hand free and held the watch; the prisoner held the chain and pulled it, but could not get it—he then said "Boot the b—," and I was kicked, and let go the watch, and they took it away—I got up and ran as far as I could in great pain from my side, and saw the back of the prisoner turn down in the mews on the left—a gas lamp was projecting at the corner and I saw the light thrown distinctly on his back—I saw him next on the Friday night, standing at the door of a public-house—I immediately recognised him, fetched a constable, and gave him in charge—he said "You have made a mistake," and when he spoke I recognised his voice—I have not seen my watch.

Cross-examined. I do not know it was the prisoner who called out; he was standing in the direction where the sound came from—I had not seen him before—I do not think it was a minute from the time they attacked me till they ran away—he spoke in rather a loud, excited tone when he answered the policeman—Porter Street is near Granville Street.

EDWARD HEWITT (Policeman C 60). Spencer came to me in Newport Street and charged the prisoner, who was standing outside a public-house, with robbing him—he said "You have made a mistake; I know nothing about it".

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I was asleep at the time this affair happened I left my employer at the Welsh Harp on Wednesday night. I went along Chandos Street, through Covent Garden Market, and went home to my lodging. I had not enough money to pay, so asked the landlady to trust me. I went to bed."

GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment.

Reference Number: t18790915-829

829. EDWARD COLEMAN, Unlawfully obtaining from Rosa Annie England 300l., with intent to defraud, upon which Mr. Warner Sleigh for the Prosecution offered no evidence.


OLD COURT.—Monday, September 22nd, 1879.

Before Mr. Justice Manisty.

Reference Number: t18790915-830

830. ALEXANDROS DOUCATIS (24) , Feloniously shooting at Eliabeth Smith, with intent to do grievous bodily harm.


ELIZABETH SMITH . I am an unfortunate girl, and lodge at 18, Albert Street, Shadwell—on 29th August I was at home; about 7 o'clock the prisoner came with three other men—the third man was drunk; I don't know his name; he went to sleep; the second man was sober; his name is Nicolas Michaels, or Carealis—the prisoner sent for some beer; I fetched it; after drinking that he took the jug to fetch some more; we all had a share of the first beer, not the man that was drunk, he was asleep all the time, but I and the I prisoner and Carealis—when the prisoner returned with the beer he brought another man with him, an Italian, and introduced him as his cousin; it was Salvatori Segansio—the prisoner called me out into the passage and asked. me what they put in the drink to make them drunk—I said I did not know—he said the Italian had 12l. upon him, and he wished to make him drank and rob him—I told him he should do no such a thing there; if he did I should tell the police—he said "All right, I won't do it"—I then went out to fetch some more beer—we all had share of that too; I gave Carealis a glass; he drank it, and I gave a glass to Segansio; he drank the best part of it—I saw the prisoner stir something up in the glass with a piece of paper—I had given a glass of ale to Segansio, and I was pouring some beer into another glass; that was when I saw the prisoner stirring something with the piece of paper; that was in Segansio's glass—the prisoner did not say anything; I watched him for a minute; he gave it to Segansio and told him to drink it; I saw him drink it, and I said "All right"—I meant that I was going out to tell the police—I had a glass in my hand; I put it down to walk out, and before I had time to move from the table the prisoner took a revolver from his pocket and said "Look here," pointed it to me, and fired—I was standing at the corner of the table, facing the prisoner, with my back towards the fireplace; he was sitting in a chair on the other side of the table—I moved my head on one side as he fired; I heard the smash of glass behind me—I heard a whizzing noise as something passed my head—I ran out and into the next house but one, No. 20—the prisoner followed me—I ran upstairs into the front room; the door was open; I shut it after me—the prisoner called for me to come down, saying "Come down; I won't hurt you"—I said "No"—he tried to open the door—the mistress of the house came running to the foot of the stairs, and called up the stairs "Who

is there? come down; I don't allow any one in my house"—the prisoner went down directly—as soon as I saw him get out into the street I ran out—I met a constable coming down the street, and I gave the prisoner in charge—this (produced) is the revolver—the prisoner had been drinking.

Cross-examined. I said before the Magistrate that he was drunk—I have known him about thirteen months, not five or six years—he is a seaman; he has been in the habit of visiting me; he slept with me on the night of the 28th—we had all been drinking together on the night of the 29th; he came in with two Greeks—he is himself a Greek—two mugs of beer had been drunk before the Italian came—it was when the prisoner went out the third time that he brought in the Italian—there were then four men in the room—the Italian was sitting against the prisoner—the prisoner called me out of the room into the passage when he spoke about making the man drunk—I gave the Italian a glass of beer—the prisoner gave the beer to him and told him to drink it, and he did drink it; that was the glass of beer I gave him—the prisoner took the glass up; I thought he was going to drink it, and I noticed him stir up something with a piece of paper; then the glass was given to the Italian and he drank it—there was a bed in the room, a table, and pictures—there was a picture over the fireplace representing a soldier going away to war—I was standing up at the table at the time the pistol was fired—the prisoner was sitting not two yards from me—I saw the revolver—there was a lamp in the room, but not alight—this was about a quarter or half-past 7; we could not see very well—when I heard the pistol fired I ran out at once—he did not ask me to whom the pictures belonged—he said he was going to Liverpool that night—what he said was, "The Italian has 12l. on him, and I want to make him drunk and take it from lim"—he did not use the word "rob."

Re-examined. The prisoner appeared to know perfectly well what he was bout—it was not very light in the room—you could hardly see distinctly cross the room—I saw the revolver, because we were against the window.

ROBERT BROWN (Policeman K 32). On the night of 29th August I was sent to the prosecutor's house by Inspector Smith—I met the prosecutor in Cambridge Street, coming towards the station—we met the prisoner at the door of 18, Albert Street—I asked him what was the matter—he said "Nothing, it was only a glass broken"—he spoke English—I got a light, and went into the room—the prisoner stood in the passage—there was a broken glass on the table, and three others which contained some beer—I asked him whore was the revolver—he said "I did not have any"—I searched him, but found no revolver on him—there was one man on the bed in the room drunk, and two others, Segansio and Carealis, who gave the name of Michaels, and was at first included in the charge before the Magistrate—the prisoner had been drinking, but he appeared to be perfectly well aware of what he was doing—I asked the prosecutrix if she had seen the revolver—she said "No, it must have been a glass"—the prisoner took up a broken glass from the table, and said "It was only this glass"—Sergeant Talbot came in immediately after—he said to the prosecutrix "Stand in the position you were in when he fired at you"—she did so—he then asked her where the prisoner was sitting when he fired—she pointed it out—I then followed the course of the bullet, and found it in the wall just in a line where the prosecutrix was standing—the bullet went through this picture, breaking the glass, and making a hole in the picture, and imbedded itself in the wall;

this is it—the prisoner spoke as if he knew what he was saying; he was quite cool and collected.

Cross-examined. He spoke English enough to be understood—I cannot say whether he said "Glass broken," or "A glass broken"—when I asked him where was the revolver he said "I did not have any"—I don't think I have said "I have not any"—when I told him the charge, he said "Me shoot Lizzie; why, I slept with her last night, and I am going away to-morrow."

RICHARD TALBOT (Police Sergeant K). I went to the prosecutrix's house on this evening, and saw her and the prisoner there—I said "What is the matter here?"—she said "That man tired at me with a revolver"—I said "Are you sure of it?"—she said "Yes, I saw it in his hand"—I told her to place herself in the position she was in when the shot was fired, and in a direct line with the top of the head the bullet was found in the wall—I then I took the prisoner into custody—I afterwards apprehended Carealis in the Highway; a lot more sailors were with him—I asked him where was the I revolver that Doucatis, or Dukes as he was called, had in 18, Albert Street—he said"I do not know where it is"—I am not exactly sure that I said "The revolver that Dukes had"—I think I said "Where is the revolver I that was in 18, Albert Street"—to the best of my recollection I said "What have you done with that revolver that was in 18, Albert Street?"—he said 1 "I don't know anything about any revolver"—I said "I think you do"—I caught hold of his greatcoat pocket, and felt something bard; I put any hand in, and found this revolver—I examined it, and found five chambers loaded, and the sixth recently discharged—I said I should take him into custody, and charge him with being concerned with Doucatis in attempting to shoot a woman in 18, Albert Street—he said "All right, I will go; I do not know anything about it"—I drew the charges from the other fire chambers—I found this bullet was similar to the others.

SALVATORI SEGANSIO (Interpreted). On 29th August I went to the prosecutrix's house with the prisoner—I had some beer there—there was some altercation about the beer; a glass was broken—I saw the revolver when the prisoner fired it—the prosecutrix was standing four or five feet from the picture—I had a half-sovereign about me, and about 4l. I had left at my lodgings.

Cross-examined. I said before the Magistrate that it was dark when the I prisoner fired, and that I could not say whether he fired at the wall or the woman—I was sober—the prisoner gave me the beer, not the prosecutrix—I I drank very little.

Re-examined. About 10 or 11 o'clock when I went to bed I felt some pains all over my body.

ANNIE FLANDERS . I live at 20, Albert Street—on this night I heard the report of a pistol; I opened the street door and the prosecutrix ran is crying—the prisoner came to the door and said he wanted Lizzie; that she I was the same as his sister; he would not hurt her—he seemed to be quite calm—he had been drinking.


Reference Number: t18790915-831

831. ALEXANDROS DOUCATIS was again indicted for unlawfuly administering to Salvatori Segansio a certain noxious mixture, with intent to steal his moneys.

ELIZABETH SMITH , Salvatori Segancio, and Robert Brown repeated their former evidence.

CHARLES MEYNOTT TIDY . I am professor of chemistry and forensic I medicine at the London Hospital—on 29th September I received from Inspector Smith a small tumbler corked, and wrapped in brown paper and sealed—it contained about 3oz. or a little more of a liquid that smelt of beer with some tobacco floating on it—I analysed it, and found a trace of picro toxine; it is the active principle of cocculus indicus, or the Levant nut—by "a trace "I mean a quantity that I could not Weigh—I also found about two grains of nicotine, the active principle of tobacco—I do not mean that it was put in as nicotine; it might have been put in as tobacco, but I found nicotine, which was an evidence of tobacco having been put into the liquid—a small quantity of tobacco put into beer would result in the production of nicotine—I am not prepared to say that if the quantity of nicotine I found had been taken it would have been dangerous—it would have a stupefying effect if taken in a sufficient quantity—in all cases of vegetable poisoning the use of the person taking it has to be considered, and as persons of their class smoke somewhat freely I am scarcely prepared to say that the quantity I found would be sufficient to produce a dangerous effect—to a person not accustomed to tobacco it would be undoubtedly dangerous—the glass if full would hold 8oz. of fluid; it contained 3oz., and in that was two grains of nicotine; that would come under the denomination of either a stupefying or overpowering matter, or both—I found particles of I tobacco itself in the beer.

Cross-examined, Cocculus indicus is popularly known as grains of para I dise—it is used by some of the low publicans when they dilute their beer to. I increase its intoxicating properties—I cannot say how long it would take before the nicotine would be extracted; it would certainly not be instantaneous'—as a rule the action of nicotine on the system is rapid—I have known it occur as soon as in 19 minutes, but that would be exceptional—I have known it take nearly four hours.

Re-examined. I have heard the Italian describe the pains he felt—it wast very difficult to follow those symptoms; they are such as might be produced by nicotine.

INSPECTOR SMITH. I received a tumbler from Brown containing about one-third liquid—I sealed it up and handed it to Professor Tidy in the same condition as I received it.

GUILTY .— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.

NEW COURT.—Monday, September 22nd, 1879.

Before Mr. Justice Bowen.

Reference Number: t18790915-832

832. ARTHUR SMITH (23) and HARRY NEWMAN (23) , Unlawfully committing certain lewd acts within sight of divers liege subjects of her Majesty.— MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS Prosecuted; MR. BESLEY appeared for Smith, and Mr. Sims for Newman.


THIRD COURT.—Monday, September 22nd 1879,

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

Reference Number: t18790915-833

833. HARRY HARRIS (32) , Unlawfully'making certain false entries in, and omitting certain material particulars from the accounts of Joseph Henry Burt and others, his masters.

MESSRS. SIDNEY WOOLF and GILL Prosecuted; and MR. GRAIN Defended.

The Jury being unable to agree were discharged without giving a verdict.

FOURTH COURT.—Monday, September 22nd, 1879.

Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.

Reference Number: t18790915-834

834. JOHN McDOWELL (37) , Stealing 72 pounds of butter, the goods of Emile Davenes and another, his masters.

MR. BESLEY Prosecuted; and MR. FRITH Defended.

EMILE DAVENES . I am in partnership with my brother, at 34, King Street, Clerkenwell, as Davenes Brothers, wholesale provision merchants, and the prisoner was for 18 months or two years employed at a weekly salary as salesman—we take stock on Wednesdays and Saturdays—he takes goods out, and calls them off to the man who enters them as they are put into the van—he is provided with a delivery book, and takes the receipt of the customer on the counterfoil—this counterfoil, 3381, is written in pencil, "3rd June, 1879, S. Hoskins, 34 A 61 80," and "Hoskins" across the counterfoil—I have the book in which the entry is made—he took four tubs on that day—I did not check that with him personally—I compared the stock the following day—when we took stock the stock was right—on the same day my collector went to Mr. Hoskins, and this charge was made.

Cross-examined. I first heard of this through the collector sending a telegram on 3rd July—Hoskins paid 19l. 3s. on 27th June, and it is entered in this ledger—the collector is not here—in the ordinary course this butter which Hoskins is stated to have received on 3rd June would be included in the account of the 19th—he paid on 4th July, 10l.; 19th, 15l.; 25th, 1ft on 5th September there is entered for the first time as not paid by Hawkins, after this amount had been charged, for goods sold on 5th September, 2l. 7s. 7d.—it is not yet due—in this stock book there is an entry on 3rd June of tubs returned—it is entered in our books on 3rd June, he was taken in charge on 3rd July, this is the only charge upon which he has been committed—two other charges were made against him and dismissed—we had a solicitor in the case in July—the 2l. 7s. 7d. is entered in the ledger in the proper way, but when the bill was delivered Mr. Hoskins said he had not received the butter—I do not keep my own books—there are some balances in pencil in the books, the return book is all in pencil—ours is a very large business—the prisoner has sold some 26,000l. worth of goods for us in the last nine months—he is a servant, and we pay him so much a week—he is responsible for all debts, and receives so much for what he sells—this (produced) is a statement of the accounts between us.

Re-examined. His salary is 30s. per week, and 35s. for every 1,000l. worth of goods brought in, and 10 per cent, of all money got in—his salary is never touched—the original charge was in reference to the name of Harris—I did not know he had a retail shop—I think that was stated before the Magistrate—61 and 80 each appear as settled—I do not think we owed him any money for commission—his account is right.

By MR. FRITH. It was not stated at the police-court that the prisoner had paid Harris 50l. for the goods booked to him, and that Harris had paid me.

GEORGE BLANDFORD . I am in the employment of Davenes Brothers—in this book (produced) we enter in pencil all the goods sent out to the different salesmen—on 3rd June I booked goods to the prisoner—he has an opportunity of seeing if it is correct—the goods are called out after the van is loaded—on 3rd June there were four tubs of butter in the van, 61—80—

54 and 90, marked 34 in a diamond—on 6th June be would call out the returns—I find in the books returns checked against 61 and 80, instead of 54 and 90—the 2l. 7s. 7d. on 5th September Hoskins has not paid for, and 13s. 10d. is a dispute on allowance for broken eggs—it has nothing to do with these two tubs of butter.

Cross-examined. I find no entry on 26th May but a case of eggs—Thursday, 29th, would be one of his days for calling upon Hoskins—he called on Tuesdays and Thursdays—there were no tubs on 27th May—I did not hear Hoskins say he had tubs in the previous week—he said he had tubs on the following Thursday, 5th June—Mr. Luckie is my file clerk.

Re-examined. This is his writing on the counterfoil, 3336, May 26th—I cannot tell if this is Hoskins's signature, I have not seen him write—there is also a case of eggs, 3399, 5th June, and two tubs of butter, 34, in a diamond, 16—49, May 26th, 3366.

SAMUEL HOSKINS , I live at 107, Kennington Lane, and have dealt with Davenes Brothers 14 months—this signature, 3381, for two tubs butter, 34 in a diamond, 61—80, is not mine, or written by my authority—I did not have the butter on that day—no one but myself and wife signs for goods—this is not my wife's signature—this, 3336, May 26th, is my signature—5th June, 3399, is for two tubs of butter properly signed for—I did not have the two tubs on 3rd June—the prisoner called and said, "Bo you remember having two tubs of butter from me last week!"—I said, "No, Mac, I told you I had enough to carry me on till Thursday"—he called my attention to it as early as 12th June, and I told him I never had them, and if I had, he had my counterfoil—he said, "No, I have not got the book; you have not signed for them."

Cross-examined. He said, "I have forgot my book," and I said, "If you have I have not, and I shall not pay for them"—he said, "You will find it all right"—I said, "You will find it all wrong, I have never had them"—he called on the 12th and told me the butter had been delivered and he had no receipt—my wife may have signed, but never if I am there—I was not at home on 15th June—I paid on 27th 19l. 3s., and 4th July 10l., according to the account delivered to me—I cannot say what I have since paid, I have got the receipts—when the account came in on 15th July I told Davenes's traveller that there were two tubs of batter I had not had, and I struck it off—3381, July 3rd, is not my signature—I keep the counterfoils on a file—I said if I had the goods I should soon find out—he said, "You need not look, because I have not my book"—I have looked since and I have not had them.

GEORGE BLANDFORD (Re-examined). The goods delivered on 29th May, 3366, were three dozen boxes T.O. butter, and half a case of eggs—there is no entry of tubs on that day—3399, Thursday, 5th June, the signature is for two tubs of butter, diamond 34-16-49—they are different numbers from the two missing tubs.

ALFRED LUCKIE . I am clerk to the prosecutor—the prisoner produced this book on 3rd June—I did not see the counterfoil, which is said not to be Mr. Hoskins's writing—I debited him with the two tubs of butter.

Cross-examined. He took away four tubs, and the tubs 54-90 were not marked as returned—the two tubs of butter marked 61-80 are included in the goods he brought home as returned—they are the goods mentioned in the counterfoil—he called out the wrong numbers to me—they are entered

is returned in our books, but I made a memorandum in the day-book a harging the two tubs, 61-80, to Mr. Hoskins, which he told me he had brought back, because he called out the wrong numbers to me in his van as returned—he told me he had brought them back, but he had not.

Re-examined. When it came to be examined, 54-90 were in stock, and were the only two in stock out of the four—he had called out the wrong numbers to me—this book is returned to me by the prisoner that we may charge the customers with the different purchases—he must account for what he brings back, and he accouts for the rest by this book—there were six sales on the 3rd, all of which I have booked, and Hoskin's is the only one disputed.

The prisoner received a good character.

GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.

Reference Number: t18790915-835

835. WILLIAM LANG (19) and GEORGE FEARNELY (18) , Burgalary in the house of Elizabeth Phillips and stealing a coat, the property of John Murphy, and a cloak of Ellen Peach.

MR. WILMOT Prosecuted.

ELLEN PEACH . I live at my sister's lodging-house, 14, York Street, Marylebone—on 15th August a detective came and we inspected the premises, and I missed a waterproof and an Ulster—they were safe in the hall the night before when I closed the premises—I was the last person up—the next morning I found the staircase-window open about nine inches, it was left about an inch open the night before.

JOHN BEAVAN . I am a cab washser—on Friday morning, 15th August, I was near the back premises of 14, York Street, and saw two men on a wall—I called "Police!"and a policeman came—I went with him on to the roofs of the houses, but did not see the men—I found Lang in a stable under the manager—I said, "Get up, there are two burglars about here; if they see you lying here, they will say you are one of them"—he said, "Where are the b——coppers?"—I said, "Do you mean to say you are one of them?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "Come along to the Globe, and we will have half a pint of six ale apiece," and he came with me till we met the constable, when he took to his heels, and the constable run after him—I am sure he is the man—I cannot identify the other.

Cross-examined by Lang. I am not sure I saw you on the wall—when I saw you under the manager I did not say, "Where are the other dossers?"

THOMAS MACARTHY (Policeman D R 15). On Friday morning, 15th August, I heard a cry of "Thieves" and saw Lang running from the mews—I caught him in Upper Baker Street, and charged him with being in enclosed premises for unlawful purposes, and he was afterwards charged with burglary.

GEORGE BIDDLE . I am a cabdriver—on the morning in question in consequence of something being stolen, I went into a stable at the back of York Street, and saw Fearnley coming from under the stall at the head of a horse—I said, "What are you doing here?" he said, "Don't round on me, Mr. Biddle"—I said, "Come out"; he followed me out of ther mews and I gave him in custody—the same morning I found this Ulster coat in Mr. Smith's loft where they came through, between my stable and the house that was broken into.

Cross-examined by Fearnly. You had not slept in the manger for the last three or four months—you are not allowed to do it. John Bevan (Re-examined). He has been lying about the stables, but I cannot say if he has any right to be there—I work for another master.

JOSEPH HAMMERS (Detective Sergeant D). I examined the premises the morning after the prisoner was remanded at the police-court, and Beavan pointed out the place where he saw the men on the wall—I got a ladder and traced marks leading to the staircase window of No. 14, and I asked the people of the house if anything had been stolen—there were marks along the wall to several different windows—the stable where the prisoners were found adjoins these premises.

By the COURT. I traced the marks along the wall on to the stable.

Cross-examined by Lang. It is not true that there was no outlet from the stable you were sleeping in except the door—there is a hole in the roof to get on to the wall leading to these houses—the stable doors would be open.

THOMAS ARTHUR . I found this waterproof in the hayrack of Mr. Smith's' stable, and this overcoat in the hayloft—Biddle was with ma.

ELLEN PEACH (Re-examined). These are the two coats that were hanging in the hall the night before.

WILLIAM PAGE (Policeman D R 13). Fearnley was given in custody by Biddle, and did not say anything.

Fearnley's Defence. I was down in the yard because I sleep there every night.

LANG— GUILTY .— Six Months' Imprisonment.


Reference Number: t18790915-836

836. LOUIS WALDRON (21) , Burglary in the house of Rachel Collis, and stealing 10 feathers and other articles.

MR. WILMOT Prosecuted.

RACHEL COLLIS . I am a milliner at 89, Wimpole Street, and occupy the lower part of the premises—on Thursday, about 6.15 a.m., I was called up by Miss Barnett, and on coming down found the front parlour door open and all the boxes strewn about—I missed feathers, satin, silk, two cups, a knife which was on the mantelpiece, and a handkerchief marked "E. S. Holmes"(a friend who had been visiting me)—I identify this knife and handkerchief (produced)—I had closed the premises myself the night before—the show room door I found open; I had shut it the night before.

MATILDA WESTON . I was working there—this is the knife which I left on the mantelpiece.

FREDERICK CLARKE (Policeman D 38). I apprehended Waldron at 3.15 on the Saturday, and found upon him at the police station this knife and pocket handkerchief.

GEORGE KING (Police Inspector D). I examined the premises and found marks on the wall leading from the area railings to the bottom of the area, and marks on the wall under the window, and the kitchen in great disorder—the prisoner said he had bought the handkerchief—I asked what marks there were, and he said there were no marks—it is marked "E. L. Holmes"—he said he bought the knife in Oxford Street.

GUILTY . The prisoner also PLEADED GUILTY** to having been before convicted of felony at Bow Street on 21st June, 1875.— Two Years' Imprisonment.

Reference Number: t18790915-837

837. WILLIAM BELCHER (38) , Obtaining by false pretences eight boxes of cigars from Gillead Hatfield, and eight boxes of cigars from Henry William Wells and others, with intent to defraud.

MR. WILMOT Prosecuted.

HENRY FLEMING . I am salesman to Mr. Hatfield, trading as Taddy and Co., tobacco manufacturers—on 2nd August the prisoner was brought to our warehouse by a person named Waite, and said he wanted eight boxes of cigars for Belcher and Son, Farringdon, customers of ours—I made a parcel of them and took them into the warehouse and left them with our Mr. Mead—I let him have them on account of the name Belcher and Co.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You told me your name was Belcher, and that you had been manager for many years for Belcher, at Farringdon—you said you wanted them for Belcher and Co.—you did not say "William Belcher, late manager to Belcher and Co."

WILLIAM VAUGHAN . I produce two boxes of cigars pawned by the prisoner in the name of Baker on 6th and 9th August, in two lots, for 10s. each lot—he also pawned two other boxes on 14th August for 8a. in the same name,

STEPHEN MITCHELL . I am assistant to Mr. King, pawnbroker, 34, High Holborn, and produce two boxes of cigars pawned on 12th August, for 10s., in the name of William Baker, 22, Drury Lane.

WILLIAM HENRY LLOYD . I am assistant to Messrs. Davison, of Drury Lane, pawnbrokers, and produce two boxes of "cigars pawned by the prisoner as George Baker—I made out the ticket (produced) August I 6th, 10s

HENRY FLEMING (Re-examined). I hare looked at these cigars and identify them by our registered brand—they are those I served the prisoner with.

CHARLES EDWARD BELCHER . I am a grocer at Farringdon the prisoner was employed by my late father's executors as manager—he left on 31st December, 1871, and was not in our employ in August last.

Cross-examined. I am a distant relation of yours—you were in my father's employ many years, and at his death the executors, your relatives by marriage, gave you the management—I am not aware that you had a good character from them—I lent you 200l. when you left to go into business, and you took the Victoria Hotel, Weston-super-Mare—I am not aware, that the County of Gloucester Bank lent you 300l., or that you were unfortunate at Weston—I bought your life policy about 18 months ago—I you signed the transfer in Bristol gaol.

EDWARD EASEMAN . I am salesman to Messrs. Wills, Holborn Viaduct, tobacco manufacturers, who have a branch at Bristol—the prisoner came on 11th August and asked for some boxes of cigars—he said, "I come from Belcher and Co., of Farringdon, we have dealt with your Bristol house for four generations, and I thought it would be no difference as I am in London if I had a few boxes from here"—I said, "I have no doubt it will not; I will make inquiries in the office"—I sent him into the office and he selected the cigars, and we were to send them on when we had communicated with the Bristol house—we communicated with the Bristol branch, and

when the prisoner called on the 13th we let him have the cigars—we were going to sent them down—he had eight boxes, which I delivered to him, and he signed our parcel book—I was induced to let him have them because the Bristol house knew the firm of Belcher and Co., and said it would be quite right to forward any goods ordered by them.

Cross-examined. You did not tell me your name was William Belcher or that you had kept the Victoria—you bought the cigars from one of our representatives in the saleroom. (The parcels book produced was signed "W. Belcher")

EDWARD ROWBOTHAM , I am in the employ of Messrs. Wills—I sold the prisoner the cigars on the day in question—he said he came from Belcher and Co., Farringdon, and wanted to see some cigars—I did not know the firm and asked him—he said it was a Bristol customer—I wrote to the Bristol house and in consequence of their reply I gave orders that they should be sent.

Cross-examined. Ton told me your name was William Belcher, but said nothing about being manager, or that you had dealt with the Bristol house when you were at Weston-super-Mare.

ALONZO WINTER . I produce two boxes of cigars pawned at our shop on 14th August by the prisoner for 10s.—I wrote out this ticket in the name of John Balser.

CHARLES E. BELCHES (Re-examined). The prisoner had no authority to order these cigars from Messrs. Wills and Co.

The Prisoner in his defence said he was in temporary difficulties through the loss of hit luggage while travelling on the Great Western Railway, and had to pawn the cigars, two boxes at a time, for subsistence while waiting in London, expecting every moment to receive from the railway company the amount he had claimed for damages, and that on the 25th of September he had money coming in respect of a legacy from his wife's late father, and would pay for the cigars. He produced letters and testimonials testifying to his character.

GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.

Reference Number: t18790915-838

838. LOUISA EGERTON (21) , Obtaining from Jane Hale 2l. 19s., by false pretences, with intent to defraud.

MR. DIXON Prosecuted.

JANE HALE . I am a widow and housekeeper, at the Great Britain Life Office, 101, Cheapside—the prisoner came to the house about 3.45 on 9th August and asked if Mr. Makeham, the secretary, was gone—I said, "Yes, I don't think he has been here to-day"—she said, "I am his niece, Miss Makeham, do you know whether he has got my letter?"—I said, "What letter, Miss? did it come by post to-day?"—she said, "Yes"—I said, "What post?"—she said, "The first post this morning"—I said, "Bid you mark it private?"—she said, "Yes"—if marked private it would not be opened—I asked her to step down into Mr. Makeham's room—she said her sister was on the point of death, and she wanted to find her uncle to change a cheque which she had in her pocket, and she asked if any of the clerks lived near, as they knew her well—I said, "No, they live in the suburbs"—she said, "Do you think the station-master would give me a railway ticket?"—I said, "No, not without paying"—she said, "Oh no, of course not"—I said, "Is it money you want, Miss?"—she said, "Yes,"

—I said, "Well, you seem in such trouble, and under your present difficulty I dare say I could help you," and I put down half a sovereign—she said, "Oh, my dear woman, that is no use to me under my present difficulties, because I have my uncle to find, and I do not know where he may be; I must seek him, wherever he may be, because my poor dying sister asks for him"—she said her uncle was so kind to her and her poor sister, and added, "No doubt you have found he has been kind to you"—I said, "Yes, very kind"—I eventually lent her the 10s. and she asked if I would lend her something more, and I gave her 1l. 9s. from my purse—she said, "You are a good woman, you shall have this on Monday," and said there was One above who was a father to the fatherless and a friend to the widow, and so on—she said she would write a letter to her uncle, and she wrote this letter and read it to me "My dear Uncle,—I am so sorry to miss you, as I am in great trouble; and what do you think, your housekeeper has been kind enough to lend me some money? Is not she a good woman? I am so grateful to her. I came to cash my quarter's cheque, but was too late. If you are not at the Abbey I will be at your office on Monday. With love, dear uncle, Margaret".

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I mentioned in my examination at the Mansion House that I entered into your private affairs as well as Mr. Makeham's, but that you were a stranger to me.

ELIZABETH GRAY . I am 13 years old, and live with Mrs. Hale—I let the prisoner in when she came on Saturday afternoon, 9th August—I to quite sure she is the person.

WILLIAM MATTHEW MAKEHAM . I am actuary to the Great Britain Life Assurance Company—I saw the prisoner at the Mansion House and new saw her before—she is no relation of mine—this letter (produced) addressed "My dear uncle," was delivered to me on. the following morning—she is a total stranger to ma.

The Prisoner in her defence said Mrs. Hale gave her the money of her own will, which would be no evidence of fraud, and she denied that the letter to Mr. Makeham was in her handwriting.

MRS. HALE (Re-examined). I offered her this paper to write upon and told her she could take it out of Mr. Makeham's box.

GUILTY . The Prisoner also PLEADED GUILTY to having been before convicted of felony on 18th November, 1878, in the name of Louisa Probyn.— Judgment Respited.

There was another indictment against the prisoner, which was postponed till the next Sessions.

Reference Number: t18790915-839

839. RICHMOND ROSTYN (27) , Feloniously assaulting Uriah Henry Scott, with intent to rob him.

MR. DENISON Prosecuted.

URIAH HENRY SCOTT . I am an engineer, at 100, Great Portland Street—I was walking along Edward Street, Hampstead Road, at 11.15 p.m. on 10th August, and received a blow on the side of the neck, and at the same time someone put an arm round my neck and held me and gave me serious bumps with the knee about my body—I gripped the individual, who then struck me on the jaw, using an oath—he tore my waistcoat open, but did not get my watch—he felt me over and took out of my side pocket a newspaper, and then flung me into the road—I screamed out, "Murder," and "Help," and as soon as I got up he turned round upon me, and with

dreadful oath threatened me if I did anything, and immediately he was secured.

JAMES SMART (Detective S). About 11.15 p.m. on 10th August I saw a person lying on the ground in Edward Street, and the prisoner running towards me—I was walking with my wife—no one else was in the road—the prisoner seeing me turned and ran away and I chased him and caught him—I said, "You have been doing something, I most find out what it is"—I found Scott bleeding from the mouth, and he charged the prisoner with attempting to steal his watch and striking him—he was not drank.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I am innocent of stealing the watch, but I did strike the gentleman. It would not have occurred if I was not in drink."

GUILTY .— Three Months' Imprisonment.

Reference Number: t18790915-840

840. JAMES WALTON (23) , Forging and uttering an order for payment of 2l. 14s., with intent to defraud.

MR. WILLMOT Prosecuted.

MATTHEW MABBIT . I live at 423, Cable Street—on Thursday evening, 7th August, the prisoner gave me an envelope in the street and said, "Please will you take this to the Coach and Horses?"—I took it there and gave it to the landlady, who handed it to the manager, Mr. Underwood, who after reading it gave me some money—while I had the money in my hand Mr. Roper came in—I went out with them and pointed out the prisoner as the man who had given me the envelope—rl am quite sure about him—he was a stranger to me—he was to wait for me till I came back with the money.

GEORGE UNDERWOOD . I am manager at the Coach and Horses—the last witness came with an envelope—it was handed to me by Mrs. Page and contained this note, "Will you please to oblige with change? Yours truly, E. Roper."I knew a Mr. Roper and cashed the cheque enclosed in the envelope for 21. 14s., drawn on Messrs. Dixon and Head to bearer—I gave the lad the money thinking it was for Mr. Roper, and just as I did so Mr. Roper came in, and then after conversation he went out with the boy. Edward Roper. I am a builder, at 163, High Street, Shad well—I know nothing of the prisoner, and he had no authority to send for change in my name this is not my cheque, I know nothing about it—I have dealings with Messrs. Dixon and Head, brass merchants, and they pay me by cheque occasionally.

By the COURT. I was outside the house and a neighbour called me in, and I went out with the boy and met the prisoner running towards me—I rushed up the road and stopped him—the boy pointed him out to me.

THOMAS DIXON . I am in partnership with Mr. Head as brass merchants, and we have dealings with Mr. Roper—this cheque signed Dixon and Head is a forgery—we never banked at this bank.

HENRY WOODLEY (Police Inspector). I heard the prisoner charged at Shad well Police station—he said he knew nothing about it—I searched him and found on him this book of cheques and counterfoils not filled up, the numbers corresponding with this cheque—I have made inquiries and find the cheque-book was stolen from 31, Walbrook, which was broken into 10 days before.

The prisoner in his defence said he had been in the employ of Mr. Ewin as labourer three or four years.

INSPECTOR WOODLEY (Re-examined). He has been employed in the City till two years ago—I do not know Mr. Ewin.

GUILTY .— Six Months' Imprisonment.

OLD COURT.—Tuesday, September 23rd, 1879.

Before Mr. Justice Lopes.

Reference Number: t18790915-841

841. FRANCIS JAMES HAMMOND (41) , Feloniously using certain instruments to the person of Ellen Saunders with intent to procure her miscarriage.


The details of the evidence in this case were unfit for publication.

GUILTY .— Ten Years' Penal Servitude.

FOURTH COURT.—Tuesday, September 23rd, 1879.

Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.

Reference Number: t18790915-842

842. ELLEN JOHNSON (32) , Stealing four pairs of boots, the goods of William Whitfield Horner.

MR. B. MORICE Prosecuted.

WILLIAM WHITFIELD HORNER . I am a boot and shoe merchant at 26, Paternoster Square—the prisoner has worked at my premise—I have missed some boots and shoes—I identify these (produced).

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I had a good character with you from your father—I have had the door broken open when I left the key at home, but have never lost a key before, and have not been told about leaving it in the door.

BAXTER HUNT (City Detective). In consequence of information I made inquiries in Lambeth on the 2nd, and on the 3rd I went to Mr. Davis's pawnbroker's shop, Waterloo Road, with Mr. Horner, who identified the pair of boots pawned in the prisoner's name, and while we were there she came in to redeem another pledge—she was told that we came about a pair of boots which she had pledged the other day—she said she pledged them—I said, "I ama police officer and shall charge you with stealing those and other boots"—she said she did not steal them—I took her to the station and went to her house and found eight duplicates relating to boots, all of which had been identified, and this key in her drawer.

WILLIAM WHITFIELD HORNER (Re-examined). I identify this key of my office door where all the boots are kept.

ALFRED GORDON . I am assistant to Mr. Chapman, pawnbroker, 30, Charlotte Street, Blackfriars, and produce tickets and the pair of boots identified by Mr. Horner, pawned at our shop in the name of Johnson.

RICHARD BAKER . I am assistant to Mr. Hulson, Westminster Bridge Road, and produce a pair of boots pledged by the prisoner on 2nd July.

The prisoner in her defence said she bought the boots from a Mr. Robinson who bought them from Mr. Horner, and advertised them in "The Telegraph for sale; that she had worked for Mr. Horner and his father three years, and had always borne a good character, and Mr. Thorne, who occupied offices on the same premises, could speak as to the boots being sold by auction, she stated that she had asked at the Guildhall for Mr. Thorne to be brought up.

BAXTER HUNT (Re-examined). She did speak about Mr. Thorne before the Magistrates.

WILLIAM WHITFIELD HORNER (Re-examined). I have never sold any of those boots to anybody, they were new stock—I do not know Mr. Robinson.


Reference Number: t18790915-843

843. WILLIAM JONES (21) and ALFRED HICKS (21) , Burglary in the dwelling-house of Annie Astill, and stealing 38 spoons and other articles her property, and a coat, trousers, and other things the property of Thomas Harris.

MR. FOSTER REED Prosecuted.

WILLIAM PEARCE (Policeman B 430). About 5,15 on 3rd August I was in the Fulham Road, Brompton, and saw the prisoners leave 8, Alexander Square, by the front door—I stopped them within 100 yards and called out asking them if they lived in that house—Jones, who was dressed very respectably, called out, "All right, constable, I live there"—Hicks said, "No"—they were both at that time walking away from me—I again asked them to wait a moment, but neither of them stopped—I commenced running to get in front of them, and saw Hicks had something bulky in bis pocket—I got near them and they both darted off—I caught hold of Hicks and asked him what he had under his coat, at the same time opening it—he said, "You see what I have"—seeing two other constables I shouted to them to stop Jones; he was stopped by 425 B—on the way to the station Hicks said to Jones, "I say, we're right this time for a month or two"—at the station we searched them and found upon them the property described in the indictment, the greater portion of which was handed over by order of the Magistrates to the prosecutor, he being a lodging-house keeper and wanting to use them—the greater part of the property was upon Hicks—Jones had on a new suit of clothes stolen from a portmanteau, and ties, collars, pins, etc., were found upon them—I examined the house and found they had burst the iron bars at the scullery window, effecting an entrance there—this knife was found in the kitchen.

Cross-examined by Jones. I found the window broken, and the glass inside.

Cross-examined by Hicks. You started off to run, but I was so near, you could not run many steps.

ELIZABETH ROBERTS . I was lodging at this house at the time—I think the property produced is the same—this hat and these nut-crackers I know, but cannot recognise the other things.

ELI HOLLETT (Policeman B 142). I was with the other constable in the Fulham Road, and saw the prisoners come out of 8, Alexander Square—430 B asked them whether they lived there—Jones replied, "Yes," and Hicks, "No"—he asked them to stop, and went towards them—I was just behind him, and Jones ran away—Hicks attempted to do so, but was stopped—I chased Jones some distance, and saw 415 B standing some distance out, and called to him, and he stopped him—I went back and saw the scullery window and the broken bar.

JOHN SEYMOUR (Policeman B 415). At 5.15 on the morning of the robbery I saw Jones running towards me in the Brompton Road—I

stopped him, and found on him 16 knives in one pocket, and 14 spoons in another—he said, "I think we are right enough for a day or two."

GUILTY . Hicks also PLEADED GUILTY to having been before convicted of felony at this Court on 22nd October, 1877. There were other indictment against Hicks. JONES— Eighteen Months' Imprisonment. HICKS**-, Five Years' Penal Servitude.

Reference Number: t18790915-844

844. HENRY JACOBS (23) , Stealing, and AARON COHEN (21) receiving, a gelding and cart, and a quantity of studs and other goods, of Frederick Amery and another, his masters.

MR. D. METCALFE Prosecuted; and MR. THORNE COLE Defended Cohen.

FREDERICK AMERY . I am in partnership with my brother, at 16, Bayford Street, Hackney, as pearl stud and button manufacturers—my brother is the manufacturer, and I am the commercial representative, and take out the goods to get orders in a horse and trap of my own—there is a boot to the trap, of which I keep the key—I always gave the key to Jacobs when I went to dinner—he went out with me, and was in our employ—I went on ray usual round, on 25th July, with a large bag in the trap, containing a great quantity of studs, links, collar studs, and other things, and also a small leather box, containing other property of the same class, value altogether 50l., or, including the trap, 80l.—about 1.30 I stopped to get my dinner at Snow's railway dining-rooms, Sherwood Street, and left the pony and cart with Jacobs, and gave him the key—I was inside about half; an hour, and on coming out Jacobs and the trap had gone—I tried to find them, and went back home to see if anything had happened, and not finding them I went to the police, and at 10 the same night I saw the horse and trap at Hoxton Police Station—we got the boot open, and the bag and two or three pattern cards were there, of no value, but the whole of the property had gone, value 50l.—I next saw Jacobs at Vine Street Police Station five days after—this (produced) is the key of the boot which I gave to Jacobs.

Cross-examined. I missed some goods with gold and silver backs.

THOMAS GARNHAM , 23, Pearson Street, Kingsland, timber merchant—on 25th July I saw a horse and trap standing outside my premises from 2p.m. to 8.30, when I took it to the police-station.

JOHN BATEMAN (Policeman K 204). Jacobs came to me in Bethnal Green Road, on 31st August, about 1.15 a.m., and said, "I give myself up for stealing the cart and goods belonging to Mr. Amery"—I took him to the station and searched him, and found upon him this key—it unlocked the cart.

Cross-examined by Jacobs. You gave yourself in charge for stealing—those were your words.

CHARLES ROBERTS . I am a hosier, at 13, Berry Street, Leicester Square—I know Cohen, and have bought goods of him—he came to my place of business on 31st July and brought me some goods, which I bought and paid him for—these are part of them.

Cross-examined by Cohen. I can buy the same studs, but not the same cards at any wholesale house—part of them are not Amery's make—I have a little over 400 studs, which cost me 5l. 16s.—a great quantity of paid him for—them are not Amery's at all.

JOHN AMERY . I am a brother of Frederick Amery, and one of the

prosecutors—these pearl studs (produced) are my manufacture—the gilt I ones are our property, but not our manufacture.

Cross-examined by MR. COLE. Nearly the whole of these cards produced by Mr. Roberts have got on them "The best London manufacture," and so name whatever—we employ three ivory and bone turners, besides a man to cut them out—there are only two or three persons in our line of manufacture in London—the blank cards bear our trade mark, an elephant—I registered that seven or eight years ago at Stationers' Hall—it was not necessary to put our name on these goods.

Re-examined. I registered it to prevent fraud.

CHARLES ROBERTS (Re-examined). These were the articles that were gold to me—I have been in the trade nine years, and have purchased at times from different manufacturers, and at wholesale houses—there are a great number of manufacturers of these kinds of goods in London—any bone or ivory manufacturer could get these cards and sew his studs upon them—these goods marked "The best London manufacture" are Mr. Amery's goods—plain cards can be bought, but not with the trade mark—I have not seen the studs produced by the other witnesses—5l. 16s. is a fair price for the goods I bought—Mr. Amery came into my shop with the detective, and I gave them up instantly, and he identified them, and I gave a description, which led to Cohen's identification.

FREDERICK AMERY (Re-examined). I have seen the goods produced—I took them out with me on the morning of the 25th, both pearl and gilt.

GEORGE JAMES PEACHY . I am assistant to Mr. Peacock, jeweller, silversmith, and electro-plater—I have seen Cohen twice—the first time, about seven weeks ago, he came into our shop, and asked to see Mr. Peacock, and showed him some studs in my presence—I did not see the studs, but they were bought, and I placed them in stock—I saw Mr. Amery when he came with the detective, and identified these studs (produced)—Mr. Peacock is out of town—some pins were bought at the same time.

Cross-examined, 14s. was given for the goods produced—it is a fair price for a job lot.

FREDERICK AMERY (Re-examined). I took these goods out that morning.

CHARLES ROBERTS (Re-examined). I do not know Cohen's father—Cohen gave me a receipt for the money in the name of Cohen—he brought these goods on 30th July.

MARK SOLOMON . I am a jeweller, at 67, Theobald's Road—two young men came into my shop at the end of July with these studs, which I bought for 38s.—they told me Mr. Cohen had sent them—I have had dealings with Mr. Cohen eight or ten years, or I should not have bought them—I do not recognise the prisoners.

FREDERICK AMERY (Re-examined). These are my property—I took them out that morning.

LOUISA SMITH . I am in Messrs. Amerys employment and stitch the studs on to the cards—the stitching on the cards produced is my work.

THOMAS PICKLES (Detective C). I saw Cohen on 18th August at 15, Camden Passage, Islington, and told him I came to see him as to some studs we had traced to him which had been stolen on 25th July—I said "Can you satisfy us as to where you got them?"—he said "Yes, I can; I bought them from a man in Elizabeth Street, Hackney Road, I will go and show you the house"—he said "A dealer came here, I don't know his

name, and took me to Elizabeth Street to see a person there, and when I got there the man wanted 7l. for them and I had to go again; on the second appointment I was 10 minutes late, and the man had gone; I then bought them from the dealer for 6l. 10s."—Cohen went with us to Elizabeth Street, and showed us a row of houses with steps up to the door—he said it was one of those houses, but he could not say which, but he should know the parlour if he saw it, and he did not know the man's name—I took him in custody.

Cross-examined. His father is a fancy jeweller at 15, Camden Passage—I went there on one or two occasions prior to seeing Cohen—we went to Elizabeth Street on Monday, the 18th—I called at Cohen's father's place on the previous Saturday and made a communication, and Cohen was waiting for me when I came on Monday morning.

FREDERICK AMERY (Re-examined). The value altogether of the property that has been produced is not less than 20l.—we have traced some to a man named Shaw, in Lamb's Conduit Street, and some more to Great Windmill Street.

Cross-examined. 20l. would be the price we should sell them at.

CHARLES ROBERTS (Re-examined). I have seen the goods produced and think 6l. 10s. would be too much to pay for them as a job lot—my lot would not be worth more than 4l. to 5l

Jacobs in hit defence said while his master was at dinner he drove to a public-house and got his dinner, leaving the pony and trap with a man outside, and on returning ten minutes after, found they had gone. He went to tell Mr. Amery, but on seeing him coming out he was afraid, as he had always told him never to leave the pony and trap on any account. He spent the rest of the day searching, and walked about all night as he had no money, and had to pawn his coat next morning to keep himself till Wednesday, when he went home, but his landlord refused to admit him as the police had been after him, and he then gave himself up.

Witnesses for Cohen.

THOMAS AUGUSTINE KELLY . I am a dealer in jewellery and live at Friern Lodge, Peckham Rye—I have known Cohen four or five years, and his father longer, and he bears the general reputation of an honest and respectable young man—I was speaking to him in Houndsditch on Monday, 28th July, between 2 and 3 p.m., and a man whom I knew by sight as a dealer came up and offered a sample of pearl studs, and asked Cohen if he could purchase a large quantity, between 800 or 900 of them—he said at first he did not care for them, they were not the class of goods he cared to purchase, as they were too much trouble to sell—the man mentioned Hackney Road—I fancied a set of the pearl studs and gave him 6d. for them from the samples he was submitting—Cohen said he could not buy them by sample and could make him no offer unless he saw the bulk—I left them at the end of Houndsditch and they walked away together—I have carried on business in London as a dealer for 19 or 20 years, and know most of the sale rooms and most of the dealers in the East End—large transactions take place on Sunday mornings at Duke's Place—many dealers are, known by sight to other dealers who do not know their names and addresses, and considerable transactions take place between them—I know between 400 and 500 jewellery dealers and diamond merchants, but do not know the names of 20 of them—in the goods produced there is no intrinsic value

even gold articles finely worked decrease in value if they become oldfashioned, and may be bought for less than the old gold.

Cross-examined. I have had thousands of these transactions, but am not in the habit of buying goods from men I do not know—I buy from men whom I know as dealers but whose names I do not know—I have bought from such men more than 50l. or 100l. worth—I have known Cohen in business—I do not often go about with him—it is quite promiscuously I have met him—I cannot speak to any other time when goods have been offered to him—I remember Monday, the 28th, by referring back to other transactions on the same day—I gave a diamond ring to a man to sell on that day, and he did not return it—I do not know his address, and I find he gave me a wrong name—I do not find such cases often happen.

THOMAS WRIGHT . I am a reporter, and live at 4, Copeland Terrace, Peckham—I have known Cohen and his father seven or eight years, and during that time his general reputation has been good—on 29th July, about 8.30, I called for the first time at Camden Passage to see his father, and I. saw Cohen there and purchased a small gold Geneva watch, secondhand—he said something and we went together towards Hackney Road—outside a public-house he met a friend who spoke to him on business and upbraided him with being twenty minutes late, and said he was just going away—Cohen said something I did not hear, and I went with them into a house in Elizabeth Street, Hackney Road—I know the house—there were on a small oral table in the front room four brown paper packets—some conversation took place about 7l. and Cohen said he had made up his mind not to give more than 6l. 10s., and that he should like to sea them—I saw money pass, 6l. in gold and 10s. in silver—he looked over the goods and tied them up with a string—they were studs.

Cross-examined. I never spoke to Cohen but twice before—I only went with him to meet his father to buy a chain from him; he told me his father had a chain that would suit, and we called at Elizabeth Street, which was in our way to the City; I told him if I got to the City at 10.30 that would suit me—he said in all probability he might meet his father on the road as he was going to Houndsditch—the man he met is an old man—I never saw Kim before, but should know him—I did not hear his name mentioned or hear him address Cohen by name—I had nothing to do with the matter and was merely waiting in the room—I was first asked to come and give evidence about 10 days ago—I have had no transactions with him since—I remember it was the 29th July, because on 2nd August I began an uncommon good week—I told Cohen to tell his father I should have plenty of money coming in next week—I can tell by my memorandum book what other good weeks I had—I did not put down this transaction with Cohen, but speak from memory.

THOMAS AUGUSTINE KELLY (Re-examined). I did not tell Detective Pickles last Wednesday, the 18th, that I knew nothing whatever about this transaction.

Cohen received a good character.

THOMAS PICKLES (Re-examined). When I saw Cohen on the Monday morning and told him I had come in respect to some studs and links that had been stolen on the 18th, he said he bought them at Elizabeth Street, Hackney, for 6l. 10s.; that a dealer called upon him and took him down to see them and they wanted 7l. for them.

By the COURT. I said I wished to speak to him about some studs and links stolen from Mr. Amery's cart on 25th July, which were traced to him as sold to different persons—I asked if he could satisfy me as to whom he purchased them from—he said yes, a dealer had called upon him and taken him to Elizabeth Street, and as the man was not in he had to make a second appointment—I said before the Magistrates that he said, "I was to have been there at 9 in the morning, but I found he had gone, as I did not get there till 10 minutes after, and I made an appointment for him in the evening and went there again in the evening; the man wanted 7l. for them; I bought them for 6l. 10s.," and that the prisoner volunteered to point out the house, but could not do so.


JACOBS was further charged with having been before convicted on 20th May, 1873, at Clerkenwell, to which he


JACOBS**— Five Years' Penal Servitude.

COHEN— Eighteen Month' Imprisonment.

OLD COURT.—Wednesday, September 24th 1879.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

Reference Number: t18790915-845

845. THOMAS WILKES (26) , Stealing a purse, a metal cross, and 1l. 0s. 6d. from Stephen Rouet, from his person.


STEPHEN ROUET (Interpreted). I am first mate on board the Planteur—on Saturday afternoon, 6th of this month, about 5.30, I was walking along St. George's Street in the East with a basket of provisions—I saw the prisoner there with two other men; one of them asked me for some tobacco—I cannot say that it was the prisoner because the others were pushing me—I said I had no tobacco—I went on my way, and then in the small street near St. George's Street, before I arrived at the London Docks, the prisoner put his hand into my right hand pocket and ran away—I found my portmonnaie had gone; it contained a sovereign in gold, sixpence in silver, two francs, a sou, and a golden cross—I cried 'Thief,' and ran after him—a policeman also ran after him; he ran into a little lane where we lost sight of him—I went to the station and gave in formation—at a later period I went with the policeman; eight person were placed before me and I picked out the prisoner as the man who had done it.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I said that you were the person who ran away—I do not know which of the three persons had put their band in my pocket, it was done so quickly—I am sure you are one of the three—I certainly said just now that you were the man that took the purse—you ran away, therefore you are the thief—I don't know what became of the other two, I ran after you—I don't believe you had a hat on when I identified you—I did not see the detective take off your hat, go past me, and then put it on your head—I was asked whether I knew any of the eight persons; it took me about four seconds to look round, and I immediately said you were the man—I did not point out any one else—the policeman said "Are you sure that is the man?" and I said "Yes."

CHRISTOPHER WILCOX . I am a London Dock constable—about 5.15 on 6th September I heard the prosecutor halloaing out "Oui, oui, monsieur," putting his hand into his pocket and pointing to the prisoner, who was

running up the yard where they are pulling down lots of buildings; I ran after him, he turned his face round so that I had a good view of him; he turned the corner and I lost light of hint—I subsequently identified him at the station, where he was placed with eight others; that was after the prosecutor had identified him—he had a hat on, and they all bed hate on—I identified him at once by bis face and bis coat too—I did not take much notice of his bat.

Cross-examined. I won't swear they all had hats on: you had—you were about 20 or 50 yards in advance of me when you turned round—I knew you by knocking about there—I had seen you on several occasions in the Highway and Gravel Lane.

RICHARD TALBOT (Police Sergeant K). I apprehended the prisoner on the 8th of this month—I had received a description of him—I did not know him before; he was at the corner of New Gravel Lane and St. George's Street, near the place in question—I told him I should take him into custody as answering the description of a man who was concerned with others in robbing a Frenchman on Saturday evening last at the corner of Glasshouse Yard and St. George's Street—he said "What time was it?"—I said "I think it was about 3 o'clock"—he said "I was not there, I was having my tea in St. George's Chambers at that time"—I took him to the station in King David Lane and placed him among seven others—I sent for the prosecutor and he identified him at once; he pushed the others away from him and left the prisoner standing by himself—I could not understand what he said—I stopped in the room at the prisoner's request; they were all standing up and all had hats on—Wilcox afterwards came in and immediately pointed out the prisoner.

Cross-examined. I did not ask the prosecutor twice to look again, I could not speak his language—the inspector who brought him in could speak French—I stood at the corner away from the eight persons—there were seven besides you; you were in the middle; I don't know who they were, they were men picked out of the streets—when I took you you said "I wish to make my defence, I was having my tea at St. George's Chambers at the time."

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "The constable when he apprehended me said he was not sure as to the time, that it was between 4 and 6. I said I might have been in the chambers having my tea. On Saturday I saw two men following the Frenchman. I heard one say to the other, 'He has it in his outside coat-pocket.' They went down to the bottom of the street One asked him for something, what it was I could not tell I saw him shove the man out into the road. He went to him again and said something, and the other man ran up and put his hand into his pocket. What he took out I could not say. He then ran up Glasshouse Yard. I turned round and went up Leman Street, walking rather quiet I was making a cigarette. I saw the policeman looking at me rather sard, as if he had a suspicion of me, and would recognise me again, I then went into Wells Street to see a man who had promised me sixpence, and he gave me sixpence."

Prisoner's Defence. The other policeman can prove that I newer ran up Glasshouse Yard at all, and this policeman had orders to have the man here and the inspector—the men were strangers to me—I had no money on me, and it is evident that if I bad got the 2l. 11s. I should not have been starving as I was.

RICHARD TALBOT (Re-called). I had orders to have the inspector here if he were required, and he is here—I had no other orders.

GUILTY . He also PLEADED GUILTY to a previous conviction at this Court in February, 1878.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.

Reference Number: t18790915-846

846. JOHN WARD (58) , Unlawfully obtaining 4l., 7l., and 1l., by false pretences. Other counts for forging and uttering two telegrams, with intent to defraud.


EDWIN JOHN DYNE . I keep the Mitre Tavern, Somers Mews—in May last I put my house into the hands of Barton and Massey, of Great George Street, and on 19th May the prisoner came and brought me Barton and Massey's card (produced)—on it was written my address and the name of Snowden—he said that he should like to look the house over—I showed hits over it, and he said he thought it would suit him—he called again on May 21 with Mr. Harrington, Barton and Massey's clerk—they went through the books in my presence, and he offered me 900l. for the house—I said "No; it is worth 1,000l., which I am asking for it"—Harrington said "You shall hear from me to-night one way or other, as Snowden wants to go to Ireland to-night, and wants it settled"—the prisoner called about 8.30 that night, and said, "Has Mr. Harrington been here?"—I said, "No"—he said, "Oh, I expected to see him"—I said, "He would not come here at this time of night"—he said, "Oh, I have given him 100l. deposit for the house"—I said, "Well, he is sure not to be here; he will write to me if you have done that"—he said, "I will look in again; I am going to Pried Street, and will call in again; he might come"—when he had been gone about five minutes a boy brought this telegram, "I have received 100l. deposit on your house from Charles Snowden; be at our office at 11 a.m. to-morrow, J. Harrington"—the prisoner came back in a quarter of an hour and said, "Has Harrington called?"—I said, "No, but I have received a telegram from him"—I showed it to him—he said, "Yes, that is quite right; 100l., that is what I gave him"—he said that he was a cattle dealer, and wanted the house for his son—we had a glass of claret, and I think he changed a half sovereign to pay for it—he then said, "I have missed my purse since I came away from Harrington's; lend me a little to get home with"—I was going to take 1s. or 5s., off the shelf, saying, "How much do you want?"—he said, "3l. or 4l."—I said, "What do you want of 3l. or 4l. to get home with? I should walk to the station if it was me—he said, "I live at Croydon, but I shall not go home to-night, I shall sleep in London, because I must go into the market in the morning, and I might see something that I want to purchase, and they will not take a cheque"—I took up a bag of gold, and put three or four sovereigns before him—he said, "Make it five"—I put down five, and had two more in my hand which I was going to put back in the bag—he said, "What, is there two more there?"—I said, "Yes"—he said, "Let me have the seven," and I did so—I believed the telegram to be genuine, and that he bad paid 100l.—he offered me an I O U, but I did not take it, and he said that he would give me a cheque next morning—I went next morning to Messrs. Barton and Massey—that was the appointment on the telegram—I did not find the prisoner there—I did not see him again for two months—when I met him in Lambeth Road on 19th July I collared him, and said, "Halloa, old

fellow, I want you"—he said, "I don't know you"—I said, "You b——d soon will, my name is Dyne"—I began to drag him along—he said, "I will go quietly with you wherever you like, but I don't know "you"—on the road to the station he appeared to recognise me, and said, "Look here, old fellow, I will giro you what money I have about me, and will bring you up the remainder, so help me God, what I bad of you"—I said,. "D—the money, it is you I want, I don't want the money," and took him to the station.

JAMES HARRISON . I am chief clerk to Barton and Massey, auctioneers—Mr. Dyne put his house into their hands to sell in May, and on 19th May the prisoner called and gave me this card and said, "I am sent from Mr. Balcolm, of the Westminster Brewery; I want a house, to put in about 1,000l. cash"—I gave him the names of three houses, one of which was Mr. Dyne's, and on 21st May attended at Mr. Dyne's house to go through the books with him—the prisoner never paid 100l. deposit—I did not send this telegram or cause it to be sent.

ALFRED COOPER WOODWARD . I ant principal clerk in the Telegraph Department, General Post-office—I produce an original telegram, of which the pink paper produced is a copy.

FREDERICK SAGE . I keep the Tiverton Arms, Green Man Street, Islington—I have seen the prisoner write—this original telegram is in his writing.

WILLIAM WALLER EDWARDS . I am a beer retailer, of 33, Woodfield Place, Harrow Road—on 3rd February the prisoner called on me and said "I have brought a card to view the premises," giving me this card, "C.W. Biggs and Co., 5, Wilton Road, facing Victoria Station"—he said that he wished to purchase the business if it suited him—he examined the premises, and then said "I have lost my purse"—he asked me to be good enough to let him have 4s. to pay his cab fare home, and I did so—he came again next day, and brought this letter: "Sir,—Mr. Biggs is out, but I have made an appointment for to-morrow morning at your place to settle matters. For Biggs and Co., John Coles"—he was the broker I had employed to sell the business—the prisoner said "I have paid 75l. deposit on your house"—he left, and in about 10 minutes I received this telegram: "From Biggs and Co., 5, Wilton Road, to W. W. Edwards. I have received 75l. of Mr. Whatts, and will be at your house at 10 a.m. on Wednesday"—he came again the same evening, and brought some new mats, which he asked me to take charge of—I said "Yes"—after further conversation he asked me to change a 50l. note—I said "I am very sorry, I have not got so much money in the house"—he said "I am so sorry; I have been and laid out all my ready cash in purchasing a drawing-room suite of furniture for 25 guineas," and he asked me to permit him to put them in the club room, and said "As you cannot change the 50l. note will you be kind enough to let me hare 1l. of 2l. till the morning, when the broker comes, and then you can take it out of the deposit or I will give it to you?"—I let him have 4l., believing the telegram to be genuine, and having received a letter from the clerk by hand—I went with Messrs. Biggs to the address near Cremorne which the prisoner gave—it was false.

CHARLES WILLIAM BIGGS . I am an auctioneer, of 5, Wilton Road, Pimlico—I saw the prisoner with respect to the sale of Mr. Edwards's house—he did not pay me a deposit of 75l.—I did not send this telegram or

authorise any one to send it—he said that his name was Whatts (The original of this telegram had been destroyed).

JAMES SIMMONDS . I am the landlord of the Volunteer, Station Road, Brixton—I put the house into Mr. Thome the broker's hands for sale is July, and on 18th July the prisoner came and handed me this cud: "W. H. Thorne, dealer and auctioneer, 14, Bell Yard, Temple Bar"—he also produced this memorandum of agreement relating to another house—it has an old bill stamp cut off and put at the bottom of it—he said that it was the memorandum of a house he had taken at Battersea Rise—he ailed me the lowest price I Would take for my house—I said 225l., and he left me to go and see Mr. Thorne—he came again about 5.30, and said "Well, you see I have come back again; I have settled it, and I expect Mr. Thorne to be down"—while he was there a lad came with this telegram: "From Messrs. Thorne, 14, Bell Yard, Temple Bar. Received 25l. from John Phillips—at my office, 11 in the morning; sorry to disappoint"—he had not given the name of Phillips then—I showed him the telegram, and told him Mr. Thorne could not come down—he said "I have lost my purse; some one has stolen it; they have got one of the fellows, but the other they could not catch; will you lend me a sovereign?" which I did—he said that I could have it back when I met him at the office in the morning, or it could be deducted—I went there in the morning, but he was not there—I parted with the money on the strength of the deposit having been paid.

WILLIAM HENRY THORNE . I am an auctioneer, of 14, Bell Yard, Temple Bar—I did not send this telegram or authorise anybody to send it—the prisoner paid me no deposit on account of any house.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You did not obtain this card from me, but another man did—I never saw you till I saw you at the station.

ALFRED COOPER WOODWARD (Re-examined). I produce the original draft of this telegram.

FLFRED COOPER WOODWARD (Re-examined). This draft telegram is to the beat of my belief in the prisoner's writing.

WILLIAM BEALE (Detective Officer). Mr. Dyne gave the prisoner into my custody on 19th July, in Kennington Road—I took him to the Harrow Road Station, searched him, and found a pocket-book containing some memoranda, several brokers' cards, and 30 Hanoverian medals, which are used by betting men and sharpers—they bear a resemblance to sovereigns.

Prisoner's Defence. Gentlemen, I wish you to look at the telegrams as regards the writing, it was impossible for me to send them when I was at the man's house at the same time. I was there and I go away again for a quarter of an hour and the telegram had just come.

GUILTY .— Five Years' Penal Servitude.

Reference Number: t18790915-847

847. WILLIAM MAY (21) and JOHN DONOVAN (20) , Stealing a purse, a railway ticket, and 1s. 0 3/4 d., of Emily Leveret, from her person; to which MAY PLEADED GULITY .

MR. CHILD Prosecuted.

JOHN DAVIDSON (City Policeman 849). On 30th July, about 7 p.m., I saw the prisoners and two others in Fenchurch Street and followed them for 20 minutes—they parted from the other two and followed the prosecutrix into King William Street—she purchased something at a stall at the

foot of London Bridge, and Donovan put his right hand into he pocket and took something out—both prisoners then turned round and walked towards London Bridge—I spoke to the prosecutrix, got assistance, and took the prisoners about the middle of London Bridge—I had kept them in sight all the time—I took them to the station, and not finding anything on Donovan, I went to search May, who took this purse from her pocket, saying, "Here it is, take it"—the prosecutrix identified it—I found on him this discharge from the Militia, (Dated 17th May, 1879)—I am positive it was Donovan who put his hand into her pocket—the purse contained a shilling, a railway ticket, a halfpenny, a farthing, and some memoranda.

Cross-examined by Donovan. I saw something in your hand, but could not see whether it was a book or a purse—I was 20 yards off—I lost sight of you while I was talking to her.

AMELIA LEVERET . I am single and live at Brixton—this is my purse, railway ticket, and money—I did not miss it till Davidson spoke to me, I turned round and saw the prisoners captured.

Cross-examined. The constable was talking to me about three minutes.

Donovan's Statement before the Magistrate. "I was going home over London Bridge when the prisoner May turned round and picked the lady's pocket. I walked three parts over the bridge and the constable earns and arrested me; I plead not guilty to stealing the purse."

Donovan's Defence. The constable says he never lost sight of me, and the prosecutrix says he was talking to her for three minutes; I ask you whether he could keep me in sight for three minutes in a place like London Bridge. May had the purse found on him and acknowledges stealing it, therefore how could I steal it?

DONOVAN— GUILTY . He farther PLEADED GUILTY** to a previous conviction at Clerkenwell in October, 1873, having then been before convicted. Eight Years' Penal Servitude.

MAY— Fifteen Months' Imprisonment.


Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

Reference Number: t18790915-848

848. GEORGE UPTON (23) , Unlawfully obtaining by false pretences from Jane Grist 5l., with intent to defraud.

MR. SIMS Prosecuted; and MESSRS. WARNER SLEIGH and WATSON Defended.

JANE GRIST . I am the wife of Charles Grist, butcher, of Leyton, Essex—my husband was at market on the 27th August last—I know the prisoner, his father is a butcher—my son called me out of the counting-house, between '3 and 4 o'clock, as near as I can remember, to see the prisoner—he said, "I have brought you a horse," a man named Swift had Drought it up; "and you will have to pay me 67. for it"—I did not speak to Swift nor he to me—I said, "Does my husband know about this horse?" and he says, "Charlie knows all about it"—I said, "Are you sure that ray husband sent this horse?" and he said, "Yes, Charlie knows all about it"—I took the money out and paid 5l. on my front board of the shop, which he took up and put in his pocket and went away—the horse was taken to a field at the back I believe—I never saw it after—knowing him of course I parted with the 5l.—I thought my husband may have bought it, and I believed what he told me, or I certainly should not have given the money.

Cross-examined. My son William was minding the shop—he was only

15 on the 1st August; he is here to-day—William Charles his name ishe is always called William—my son did not tell me he had bought the horse, I swear—he did not ask me to give him 5l.—he did not say "Ma, I have bought the horse, give me 5l. please"—I took the money out of my purse—I did not give it to my son—I counted it out myself and gave it to the prisoner—there was no receipt given or asked for—after the money had been paid, Upton pushed 6d. over as a present to my little daughter—I don't know that that was by agreement between him and my son—I know nothing about it—I don't know any reason why he should have done so if my son and Upton were not dealing with the horse—my little girl was in the shop at the time—I didn't see my son pick up the 6d. and give it to her—I saw? 6d. in the child's hand—I didn't hear Swift say anything—we have some side gates to our house—the horse was not taken inside the gates and locked in the field before the money was paid—I swear I paid the money first—I cannot say whether Upton, my son, and Swift came through my shop from the slaughter-house—I never saw them come back—the side gates lead to the field—I never saw them go through the side gates with the horse—to get to the field and leave the horse there they must go through the side gates—I don't know that my husband was very cross with my son for buying this hone—I know he was very cross with me for parting with the money—I do not know that my son didn't tell him he had bought the hone, and that I am found it out by accident—I don't know that the first he knew of the transaction was teeing the horse in the field; I swear that—my husband got home at one at night—I did not tell him that night, but at 11 o'clock the next morning—I asked him what made him buy that horse—he said, "I have not bought any horse"—he went to the field to see it and came back into the shop—I never heard him say he would not have the horse because it was lame behind—he said he did not buy it and he would not hare it—I have two sons, both at home—the other one was at school on the day in question—he is 10 years old—William Charles is a fine boy for his age—I am not aware that he is in partnership with his father—the bills were printed in mistake "Grist and Son"—I can swear the business is not carried on as "Grist and Son" to the public—Upton is in business with his father in the same place; three or four minutes' walk off.

Re-examined. Upton never said a word about my son having purchased the horse—my son is never spoken of as Charlie or Charles, but always as Willie.

WILLIAM CHARLES GRIST . I live with my father at Leyton, and am the son of the last witness—I am not in partnership with my father; I work for him in the business—I was standing in the shop by myself on 27th August when the prisoner came up—my mother was in the counting-house—he said "I have brought you a horse; I have just met your father, and he has bought this horse for 5l. and your father says you can give me 5l. for it"—I called my mother, and said "Mother, you are wanted"—she says "Who wants me?" and I said "Master Upton," and she came up, and he says "Please, ma'am, I have brought you a horse; I have just met Mr. Grist, and he says you are to give me 5l. for it"—she said "Are you sure my husband knows about this horse?" and he said "Yes; Charlie knews all about it"—that was all that passed—then we took it to the field—my mother asked Upton twice whether her husband knew about it—they took it in the field round the side way—I saw her take the money from her purse and put it on the board, and I saw Upton take it up—he then asked

me for 1s.—he said to me "Will you give me something to drink?"—I said "Yes, if you will give my little sister something," and he threw 6d. to her across the block—that is all that passed, and he went away—the horse was put in the field—I had not purchased the horse of the prisoner and nothing was said between us about purchasing it—I never purchased a horse and agreed at the time that my sister should have 6d

Cross-examined. I did not try to sell the horse the next morning—I don't know a gentleman named Fairhead—I know Mr. Wright, a butcher, Church Road, Leyton, and his foreman—I don't know that his name it, Frank—I did not see him the morning after the horse was put in the field. (A person stood forward)—I know him as Mr. Wright's foreman—I swear I did not see him the morning after the horse was put in the held—it was put in the field on the 27th I think—I did not see Frank before the horse was put in the field and speak to him—I did not see two costermongers the morning after the horse was put in the field and speak to them—I did not ask Wright's foreman whether he wanted to buy a horse, and he did not say "What sort of horse?"—I did not tell him it was a horse I bought of George Upton, and that I wanted 7l. 10s. for it—all that is a fabrication—I did not see Swift with Upton the morning before the 5l. was paid—I did not see him at about 2.30—Swift did not ask me if he should bring the horse up to the place—I was at home on the 26th—I. cannot recollect whether I stood at the shop door that afternoon, I had so many things to do—I swear I did not see Upton on the 26th—I know lets of Mr. Whites—I don't know Mr. Wyatt. (White and Wyattstood forward)—I do not know them, I never saw them before—I still maintain I did not have a conversation with Upton on the 26th as to the price of the, horse—I asked him to give my sister 6d. because I gave him la. for something to drink out of my own pocket—I was not having a deal with him,—many people do so—there was no bargaining for the horse—6l. was not the first prices mentioned, and he did not ask me to give him 2s. 6d. and I did not then agree to give him 1s. if he would give 6d. to my little sister—Swift and Upton brought the horse together; Swift led the horse—I went with Swift and Upton when the horse was taken to the field—I was not in the road when the horse was being brought along—I did not say to my mother "Ma, I have bought a horse, give me 5l., please"—I swear I did not count the money on the block—my mother did not say in reply to me "What, a big boy like you?"—I gave him a shilling for luck after the 5l. was picked up, before they left the shop and after the horse was taken into the field—they came back in front of my place from the field for the money—I mean for the 5l.—it was not paid at first, but after the horse was taken into the field—the horse went into the field with me, Upton, and Swift before the 5l. was paid—my father sent the horse back by me to Mr. Upton's—he did not send it back by me—I did not take it back—it did not come back that I know of—Mr. Upton said he would not have it—I saw both the prisoner and his father—they both said they would not have it—I tied it up outside where I was told to—my father did not go into the field with me the next morning to see the horse—I went in to fetch it to take it to Upton's—my father did not tell me the horse was lame or anything of the kind—he had not seen the horse before about 11.30 that morning—I was not called at the police-court—I was not there—nobody told me not to go—I newer heard that the horse was bought from Mr. Bradshaw for 7l. 10s.—I know Mr. Thomas

Bradshaw, job master—I have not seen him since this case begun as I know of—If I had seen him I should not have spoken to him—I don't know whether he deals in horses—I have seen "job master" on his card-"Grist and son." is not on our carts or books; it was printed by mistake on our billheads—I did not order them—that is what he said he did—I don't know what people believed—I go for orders—I don't receipt bills—I always bring them home.

Re-examined. On our shop is, "Chas. Grist, family butcher"—that is all; there is no "Chass. Grist and Son" about the premises—there is no truth in the suggestion that I ever purchased the horse from the prisoner, and he did not say a work about it—I don't know how many sittings there were at the police-court.

CHARLES GRIST . I am a butcher, of Leyton—on the 27th August I went to Romfort Market—I did not on that or any other day buy a horse of the prisoner, nor did I send him to my house and tell him to receive 5l. for a horse—there were two hearings at the police-court, I think-one was as application for a summons-when I found the horse at my place I sent it back to the defendant—I suppose it was about 10.30 or 10.45—I have never received it since—it was not put back in my place.

Cross-examined. I don't know whether the horse was lame—I didn't look at it to see whether it was worth 5l. or 50l., but I summoned the prisoner for obtaining money by false pretences-Upton's father carries on business about 200 or 300 yards from me he sells meat—I should think he is not a butcher—I think he has several carts—the defendant at times goes in a cart to collect orders—I have no feeling against Mr. Upton—he has a cottage—he has a small shop—it may be a cat's-meat shop for what I know.

Re-examined. I went to the police-station before I took action in the matter.

By the COURT. I have prosecuted in another case—I had not to pay compensation.

By MR. SLEIGH. I cannot tell lyou the name of the person—I cannot recollect how long it was ago—it was for obtaining a loin of pork under false pretences—the case was dismissed the Crown paid me 19s. 8d.—it was some three or four years ago—I will swear it was to years ago—it was at Ilford Petty Session—I could not tell you his name for all the money in the world he lived nowhere, I think he did not keep a cat's meat shop—I dare say he would if he got the chance.

Witness for the Defence.

FREDERICK FRANCIS FAIRHEAD . I am foreman to Mr. Wright, butcher, of Church Road, Leyton—I know Mr. Upton, the butcher—he has been a butcher there for some years—he does not keep a cat's-meat shop—I met young Grist in the Park Road on the 28th August with a horse—he said, "Do you want to buy a horse, as I have nowhere to put it?" and that he had bought it of Mr. Upton's son—he said he wanted 7l. 10s. for it—I west on my round for orders, and went home to the shopo and saw my master, to whom I made a communication about what had been said to me by Grist.

Cross-examined. This was about 11 o'clock—I don't know the time the prisoner was before the Magistrate—I was not a witness—I was first asked about this on Wednesday morning this week, but I was away at the time in Wiltshire—I know the time this occured, because the next morning I happened with an accident, a bull went mad and knocked me down—the

conversation with Grist took place opposite the Board Schools, Leyton Park Road—I was in a cart—that was on the Wednesday before the Thursday I was hurt.

EDWARD SWIFT . I am a clerk out of employment—I saw Grist, sen., on Tuesday, 26th August, in his shop, and said "Will you buy the horse?"—Upton had shown it to him the day before—he said "I will not buy the horse; perhaps my son will"—I said "What will your son give?" so the son stepped forward and he said "I will give five guineas for the horse"—I said "I cannot take five guineas, I will take six guineas"—he said "No, I will not give any more than five guineas,"so then I went away—I saw the son again that day as I was passing by his shop, in the presence of Upton, my brother, White, and Wyatt—he called across the road "Will you take my money?"—I said "What money?"—he said "The money, the five guineas I bid you this morning for the horse"—I said "I cannot take less than six," and I went away—I saw young Grist the next morning, the 27th, at about 10 o'clock, driving in a cart; he pulled up and said "Will you take my money?"—I said "If you will give me ten more shillings you shall have it"—the horse was all this time in the field belonging to Mr. Upton—after a little conversation I sold it to him for the five guineas—I said "I will bring it round this afternoon when I have done my work"—I said to the prisoner when I got to his house "Well, Upton, I have sold the horse for five guineas"—he said "Who to?"—I said "To young Grist"—he said "You have sold it too cheap"—I told him we had got to take it round that afternoon when we had done our work—we went round about 3 o'clock, without the horse, to Mr. Grist's shop—I saw a little girl in the shop; I expect one of Grist's daughters—I said "Will you tell your brother I want him?"—he came into the shop and I said "Shall I bring your horse round now?"—he said "No, I am not going to have it for five guineas"—I said "Why not?"—he says "Because Upton has been riding it about all the morning"—I said "What will you give now, then?"—he said "I won't give any more than 5l.," so I said "Will you give another 2s. 6d.?"—he said "No, I will give another shilling," that would be 5l. 1s.—I sold it to him for 5l. 1s.—I said "Shall I go and fetch it?"—he said "Yes"—I went and fetched the horse and gave it him outside his gate—Upton was present—Grist, jun., took the horse and turned it out into the field—when I brought the horse up we walked straight to the field—after we had placed the horse in the field and were returning to the shop young Grist said "Who has got two sixpences for a shilling?"—Upton said "I have got one"—"Well," he said, "here is a shilling, give my little sister your 6d. before mother, then you can owe me the other 6d."—we went through the shop and stood out on the path outside the shop—Mr. Grist's son was inside the shop and called his mother and said "I have bought a horse, mother; give me 5l. till I go upstairs"—so she took her purse, and as she was taking the money out of her purse she said "Am I to give a great boy like you all this money?" laughing—so she put it down on the block in front of the shop, and the boy counted it over and put his hand in his pocket and put a shilling with it and pushed it towards the prisoner, who picked it up and went away—I did not see young, Grist again till next morning, when I met him towards Leyton station—he said "Ted, father doesn't know I have bought that horse"—I said "I can't help that"—he said "When you go by, ask him if he will buy it," so as I passed the shop on the 28th,

about 10.15, Mr. Grist said "Good morning, Ted"—I said "Good morning—will you buy that horse?" laughing—he said "Yes, I will buy it, I will give you 35s. for it," laughing—I told him "You have already bought it"—he said "Oh, that be d—d," and I went away—I passed his shop about a quarter of an hour after that and he said he would knock me down with the b——y chopper—he did not say what for—I went away as I did not want to be knocked down.

Cross-examined. I knew on the Saturday before the matter came before the Magistrates that a summons had been taken out—I was in Leyton with Mr. Hollow, a corn merchant, at that time—I was at the police-court, but was not called as a witness—I expect that was on account of the solicitor—White was there, my brother Alfred, and Mr. Wyatt—I heard the Magistrate say there was no occasion to call witnesses for the defence, there was enough to commit him on—I was last in regular employment with Robert Tucker, general merchant, 2, Gresham Buildings, Basinghall Street—I have been to Mr. Hollow's since as a friend—I don't know that he turned me out—I am living with my parents—they are keeping me—I was not horse dealing, I merely lent Upton 3l. 5s. in the first place to pay the deposit on this horse, and I thought I would go halves with it—I got my money back when we were paid the 5l. 1s. for the horse—I hare bought two horses before, about two years ago I should think—I never sold them for such an amount as 5l. 1s.—I have known of lots of horses being sold for 5l. 1s. and less—the shilling was to "buy the deal "as it is termed—I did not hear the prisoner say to Mrs. Grist "We have bought a horse and you have got to pay me 5l. for it"—she did not say to my belief "Does my husband know about this?"—if she had I must have heard her—I will swear positively she did not—the prisoner did not say "Yes, Charlie knows all about it"—his name was mentioned—she did not say "Are you sure my husband sent this horse?"—there was nothing said about the horse being sent by the husband—I said nothing to her about the son buying the horse as she was paying the 5l.—the prisoner did not say "Yes, Charlie sent me"—she did not see the horse to my belief—her son said "Mother, I have bought a horse"—I heard that the horse was sent to Upton about 7 p.m. on the 28th—I never spoke to Mr. Grist since—I got 2l. 10s. 6d. out of it—I might have been at the Blackbirds public-house on the 28th or 28th—it is just opposite Mr. Grist's shop—we went in there after we sold the horse on the 27th—I did not say "We have done Charlie out of 5l."—I swear that; nor did the others in my presence.

Re-examined. Mr. Wells, of Stratford, appeared for the defence at tie police-court—I was there to give evidence; as also White and Wyatt—the horse was bought from Bradshaw from behind a cart for 6l. 10s.—we sold it for 5l. 1s. because Upton and I said we did not care about it because it wouldn't go in harness—after the horse was taken into the field 1 came back into the shop with young Grist, through the slaughter-house. George White. I live at Romford Road, Stratford—on the 26th August I was with the Swifts, Wyatt, and Upton when I saw Grist, jun., standing just inside the shop gate—he said to Edward Swift "Are you going to take my money?" and Edward Swift said, "What money is that?"—Grist said, "The five guineas I offered you"—Edward Swift said, "No, give me a sovereign more and it is yours"—that is all I heard—he said he would not give the sovereign more.

Cross-examined. This was just outside Grist's shop—I was with Upton—I have known him about 17 years.

CHARLES CROUCH . I am a printer, and print the bill-heads for Grist and Son, and have done so for the last two years—it has been "Grist and Son" the whole time—I have never been blamed for its being a mistake—I submit my proofs before I take the order—I should think I should not print "Brown and Son" or "Grist and Son" without instructions—on the Thursday morning I was passing the shop when I heard Grist distinctly tell the boy to take the horse back to Mr. Upton—as he was gone so long Mr. Grist, senior, asked me to go up and hear what the conversation was between them—I went to Upton's shop, and saw Upton and young Grist together with the horse—Upton turned round to Grist and said, "Didn't you buy the horse?" and the son said, "I did"—then he said to Grist again, "Didn't your father know all about it?" and he said, "Yes, it was with my own money that I bought it; father had no business to have anything to do with it, only he wouldn't let me keep it"—as they turned round I said to Grist, junior, "The best thing you can do is to take the horse back under the circumstances"—he said, "I mustn't do that, you know what father is"—Upton's is a butcher's shop, certainly not a cat's-meat shop—Mr. Upton is as respectable a butcher as Mr. Grist, I should think more so—he has hit carts and sends round for orders—I have no interest in the matter, I lose money by it—I shan't do any more printing for them, I believe.

Cross-examined. I don't trade as Crouch and Son—I have not a son in partnership—I never suggested putting "Son" on the bill-heads—I submitted my proofs—I have not quarrelled with Mr. Grist, with the exception of a bit of chaff—I have never gone outside his shop and said I could buy meat cheaper than I could of him—he is not the man to allow me to taunt him—I won't swear I never have—I have told him I could buy meat cheaper—it was a bit of chaff, nothing else—I did not know when the summons was taken out against Upton—I was only subpœnaed on Tuesday morning—on this occasion I didn't want to have anything to do with it at all—I have no ill-feeling against Grist—he was swearing and carrying on with his wife and threatening the boy also, because I know what the man is well—I have not known him for 11 years without knowing his character—the son almost cried when I told him to take the horse back—he said, "You know what father will do"—I was afraid of the boy getting into trouble; that is the reason I didn't go and tell his father about it—I was not before the Magistrate—I have been dismissed from my employment—I did not challenge Grist last night—I was here yesterday—I went into a public-house with Grist yesterday; he treated me—I certainly did not oiler to fight him.

Re-examined. I had half of stout and mild—I should not have come here unless compelled.

ROBERT GEORGE WYATT . I live at 1, Goldsmith Terrace, Ley ton, and am a commercial traveller—on the 26th August I saw young Grist, the two Swifts, and White, with George Upton—I met George Upton in the middle of the road, and was asking how his father was, when young Edward Swift came up and said, "George, young Grist will bay the horse"—at thai moment there came up young White and another brother of young Swift's, and we stood opposite the shop front—I heard young Grist say to young Swift, "Are you going to take my offer of 5 guineas?" I understood, and

he said, "Give me another 1l.," I think it was, "and it is yours"—he said he would not, and I walked away with the others.

Cross-examined. Young Grist was inside the shop, and I was just outside, Q. Would it be true to say young Grist called across the road?—A. Across a part of the road. I know White—the others came up to me after I spoke to Upton—Ishould think the breadth of the road is about 4 yards and I should think 12 yards from house to house—I have no interest whatever in the matter—I was about 1 or 1 1/2 yards from the pavement or gravel—I attended before the Magistrate, but gave no evidence—I have known Upton for about two years—I know Grist by seeing him at Leyton.

Re-examined. I cannot tell to a foot the position in which we stood—the breadth of the gravel path is perhaps about 2 1/2 yards.

WILLIAM CHARLES GRIST (Re-examined). I did not ask Fairhead if he wanted to buy a horse that I had bought that morning—I did not see him on the 27th at all—my mother did not say when paying the money, "An I to give a great boy like you all this money?"—I did not have a conversation on the 29th with young Upton when Crouch the printer came up—I was never in Upton's shop—I did not say my father had nothing to do with it, and that I bought it with my own money—Crouch never advised me to go and get the money back.

JANE GRIST (Re-examined). My son did not on the 27th ask me to lend; him 5l. till he went upstairs—I did not say, "Am I to give a great boy like you all this money?".


Before Mr. Justice Manisty.

Reference Number: t18790915-849

849. WILLIAM JONES (21) and EDWARD ARTHUR MORGAN (21) , Rape on Alma Clark.

After hearing MR. LILLEY'S opening for the prosecution, The Court was of opinion that the case was not sufficient, and MR. LILLET withdrew from the prosecution.


Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.

Reference Number: t18790915-850

850. EDWARD BALDOCK (29), WILLIAM PALMER (36) and GEORGE STRATTON (30) , Stealing a quantity of wines and spirits of the London and Victoria Docks Navigation Company.

MESSRS. TICKELL and GEOGHEGAN Prosecuted; MR. NICOLL appeared for Baldock; and MR. CROOME for Palmer.

SHEIK BABOO (Interpreted). I am an ordinary seaman on board the steamship Minora now in the docks—I know Palmer, and saw him on Wednesday, 6th August, about 12 o'clock, on board the Minora between decks with a little bottle like this (produced)—he put it down and went below when he saw me—he was a few yards from the store-room—I went and told the butler, and found in another place this bottle covered up new some cloths—the second mate came and then the steward—Mr. Graham and I went with them into the hold and there they saw 10 or 12 men, and among them Palmer—I said, "That is the man that took the little bottle'—it was dinner time when I came up on deck, and I saw the other two men—Baldock was intoxicated.

Cross-examined by MR. NICOLL. There were 10 or 12 men working there—I am unable to say whether they had been working there on the Tuesday—we arrived at the docks about a month ago—I was working in

the steerage part of the ship—I went down the decks on the Tuesday before 1 o'clock—those who drink may get beer about 11.30, but I do not take it—I saw no bottles except when this happened.

Cross-examined by MR. CROOME. It might have been 11 when I saw palmer there between decks—I do not thoroughly understand the clock—he pat the bottle under the upper deck—I spoke to the second mate about it directly, and they went down in about fire minutes—I did not see any one drinking on that day.

WILLIAM GRAHAM . I am late steward of the Minora belonging to the British Steam Navigation Company—she arrived on Sunday, 3rd August, tod on the 6th, between 12 and 1, with the Custom House Officer, I went through the stock in the store closet for Customs purposes, and the Customs Officer afterwards sealed the door—the closet contained claret and spirits and ginger cordial—I identify this bottle of claret as being from my stores, and the whole of these other bottles (Also produced) as the property of the British India Company—they were all perfectly safe between 12 and 1 on the 5th, and the door was locked—they commenced to discharge cargo on the 5th, and on the 6th 1 received this information between 11 and 12—I then examined the store-room, and found that two planks had been forced open—I sent to the Customs officer and he broke the seal, and on examining the stock about 50 bottles were missing, and about 40 bottles were found hidden round the hold, about 10 full and the rest empty—the three capsules produced correspond with the bottles of ginger cordial, and this stopper fits an empty bottle found in the hold—I saw Palmer in the lower hold.

Cross-examined by MR. NICOLL. I did not go down afterwards—I do not know that Baldock was not there on Tuesday—at the time the doer was sealed we could have seen if the planks had been started on the outside—they were started in the after part of the store-room bulkhead, far away from the door—the bulkhead was safe when We counted the bottles—the planks were forced with a crowbar—there were 13 workmen in the gang—during Tuesday night One of the officers and the whole of the native crew were on board, but they do not have access to between decks, the hatches are put on at night—I left the ship about 3.30 or 4 p.m.—the chief officer has the key of the hatches, and it takes two or three men to lift them—the men come to work at 8.30—I know nothing about their duties except Palmer.

Cross-examined by MR. CROOME, All I know of Palmer is that he was pointed out by the last witness on the Wednesday morning between 11 and 12—I told him it was quite time that sort of thing Was put a stop to—we have bottles with corks and others with capsules.

Re-examined. I asked Palmer what he meant by his conduct—he denied all knowledge of it, and I reported him.

GEORGE JOHN THOMPSON . I am a warehouse keeper at B and K Jetty, Victoria Docks—the prisoners are employed as labourers for the dock company—only Palmer and Stratton were employed on 5th August, but on Wednesday, the 6th, all three were employed, and about 11.30 Baldock came to my office on the quay to ask for leave for the remainder of the day—he was under the influence of liquor—he said he had had some trouble the day before, and was rather excited—seeing his condition I took him to the chief constable and gave him in charge, and saw

him searched, and this glass stopper taken out of his pocket—we then called all the men out—I saw Palmer was under the influence of liquor—another stopper was found in Stratton's pocket—there were 13 men in cluding the prisoners.

Cross-examined by MR. NICOLL. Baldock's duties were down in the hold to repair bags and pick up loose cargo—he might while sweeping pick up a capsule and put it in his pocket—he was not employed on Tuesday—he came on Wednesday—I served out beer to them at 10 o'clock—I Baldock told me he had had trouble with his wife the day before, which was Bank Holiday—the stores would be in charge of the sailors after the men left work—the crowbar would be supplied from the cargo, and would be in charge of the man in charge of the ship, who would not know exact; where the wine was.

Cross-examined by MR. CROOME. I am not one of the ship's officers—there were four gangs, about 13 men, working on board, but they could not have access—we took them off the ship about 1 o'clock—the whole gang of 13 were marched down to the police office—there is a public-house outside the gates, and it is a common thing for them to have beer at lunch time—each man is allowed a pint of beer—I do not know what they had that day.

Re-examined. I did not see either of them when they came on the ship that morning—the four gangs are each in a separate hold.

By the Court. I do not think 'tween decks would be accessible—you cannot walk from one to the other; there is a partition down, and the store-room goes each side, and the man would have to go down an iron ladder—only those who were working in the after hold could get access to this store-room.

EDWARD ELLIS . I am chief constable at the Victoria Docks, West Ham—at 12.45 on Wednesday, 6th August, Baldock was brought to me under the influence of drink: he had been drinking wine—I searched him, and found fa stopper and capsule in his waistcoat pocket, and asked him how he accounted for it—I told him he would be detained—I went on board the Minora, and saw Palmer and Stratton and 10 others in No. 3 hold—on searching the hold I found three full bottles—all the men were brought to the police-station and searched, and I found another stopper on Stratton—he had been drinking wine—I charged the prisoners with being concerned in stealing the wine, and they made no reply.

Cross-examined by MR. NICOLL. The three prisoners had been drinking—I could not say if the others had—56 bottles were missing and 10 were found—Baldock did not speak distinctly—drinking two or three days before might account for it.

Cross-examined by MR. CROOME. I will pledge my oath Stratton had been drinking wine—I smelt his breath—it was after dinner—they all three smelt of wine and were intoxicated—I have known Palmer four years, but did not know Stratton before—he is only employed by the day.

GUILTY of receiving. Six Months' Imprisonment each.

Reference Number: t18790915-851

851. JOHN SANDERS WALLIS (25) , Stealing a mare, the property of Joseph Binks.

MR. WILMOT Prosecuted; MR. STEWART WHITE Defended.

JOSIAS SPILLER (Policeman K 449). On 31st July, about 11.15 p.m., I

saw Wallis riding a mare towards London in Barking Road, West Ham—I said "Where did you get the horse from?"—he said "I don't know; I suppose it came off the marshes somewhere"—I said "Where did you get it from?"—he said "I got it from the Black Bull, at Romford"—I said "Who does it belong to?"—he said "I don't know the man's name; a man with a white smock, and I had got to meet him at the top of West India Road"—I took him to the station and charged him with the unlawful possession—next morning on the way to the police-court he said "Me and another man went down to Romford together into a shop and bought a baiter for 10 1/2 d. and then went into a field and caught the horse and took it in turns riding up the road"—he had a rope halter, and I saw no other man.

Cross-examined. I have made inquiries, but can find no other man—I do not know a man named Hobbs—he told me a man went down with him, but he did not know his name—after the remand he said the man's name was Hobbs—there is such a man as Coley, but I cannot find him—Wanstead Flats would be six or seven miles from where he was.

JOSEPH BINKS . I am a stonemason, at Manor Park—I left my mare at Wanstead Flats on 31st July, and missed it the first thing in the morning—I complained to the police, and heard of my mare on the Sunday morning, and identified her at the police-station—I do not recollect seeing the prisoner before—I had a right to let the mare run on the Flats; it is a common—there is no one to take care.

JOSIAS SPILLER (Re-examined). The mare identified by Mr. Binks is the one the prisoner was riding—I hare not made any inquiries about the prisoner in Mark Lane.

GUILTY .— six Months' Imprisonment.

Reference Number: t18790915-852

852. BENJAMIN CHARLES SAMBELL (39) and ALFRED JOHN SIMMONS (31) , Unlawfully obtaining timber by false pretences from George Alfred Hildt with intent to defraud. Other Counts for conspiracy, to defraud George Alfred Hildt, Joseph Charles Ettridge, George William Marsden, jun., and other persons.

MESSRS. GRAIN and D. METCALFE Prosecuted; MR. B. MORICE appeared for Sambell, and MR. WILLES or Simmons.

GEORGE ALBERT HILDT . I am manager to Wilkinson and Co., timber merchants, Hatcham Road—Simmons came to our place about the end of February or beginning of March—I knew him as the supposed foreman of Mr. Manning, a builder—he said, "I want some timber. I am going to build at Leytonstone, and shall want a large quantity, but I want 30l. or 40l. worth to begin with"—he said he was going to build on Mr. Sambell's ground—I said I could not offer him the timber unless he brought me a guarantee from the ground landlord—he said it rather interfered with his character; he could not very well do it, but would try—I told him about his having been bankrupt, and that it was our rule to hare a guarantee from the man who was granting the leases—I asked him, and he said Mr. Sambell was granting the leases—I did not know Mr. Sambell—a few days after we got from Simmons this letter of 11th March, "I have seen the gentleman, Mr. Sambell, respecting the timber I ordered of you, and he informs me that he will write you to-night, which I think will be satisfactory. If so, please to send me the battens first, and please to send them down tomorrow, as they have the carpenter waiting," and enclosed, or in

another letter, was this guarantee from Sambell: "I will guarantee pay ment for your timber to the extent of 30l. for your timber merchants"—I then supplied him with the timber, believing Sambell was the ground landlord—after a couple of months I found that Simmons was nothing more than a foreman of Sambell—I sent the timber to the premises Mornington Road, Leytonstone—I received this letter from Simmons, dated May 3rd: "I have not had the pleasure of seeing Mr. Sambell till to-day, in consequence of his being ill, but on mentioning your account he informed me that you had written to him not to pay any more money on account of my bill; but I have promised to pay him 20l. to-day, so he told me he would see you Monday or Tuesday. I am sorry I have not known of your writing to him last Monday when I made the promise to you; to it is not my fault this time." On 5th May I received from Sambell this letter: "I regret not having answered your favour before this, haying been laid up. I find on going over the works that Mr. Simmons is entitled to a certain amount of money more than he has received. Please forward me account now owing, and I will give you the money to pay as far as the work extends." I sent the timber after the first letter of March—this other letter from Sambell was also sent to me by Simmons before I advanced the timber: "With respect to the guarantee of timber, I have no objection to do so, but of course I shall not pay you the full amount of your advance as the work proceeds, but stop the amount out of your timber bill"—10l. was paid on account before I let the timber go, and he said it was all right for the balance—I have supplied goods at different times to about 40l., and he is still indebted 30l

Cross-examined by MR. MORICE. I knew Simmons, and he told me he had been a foreman—I did not know what he was at this time—I knew he had liquidated, and was without means—it is customary for foremen to undertake separate parts of a building contract on their own account—it is very often piece work—knowing he had liquidated, I asked for a guarantee, and having got that I supplied the timber—I knew nothing of Sambell, and made no inquiries at the time as to his position—I have been paid 10l. on account—I have not taken civil proceedings to recover the balance.

Cross-examined by MR. WILLES. I knew Simmons when he was in Mr. Manning's employment—I supplied Manning with timber on a guarantee from the solicitors—I cannot remember to whom I have spoken about this interview with Simmons—I never attended any meeting about prosecuting them—I believe there is a dispute between Mr. Marsden and Sambell in regard to this property—Sambell was summoned to Ilford Petty Sessions for stealing, and Simmons was subpœnaed as a witness against him, but I did not know he was taken into custody there—I knew Simmons had liquidated, and I said to him "How much do you expect me to trust you in the face of that?"—and he said, "Well, Sir, because a man is down is he to be kept down?"—he may have said, "If this little job turns out all right, it will be the making of me"—I said, "Well, Mr. Simmons, I will see what can be done for you. If we can assist you we will"—I said, "Who is this Mr. Sambell? Is he all right?" and he said, "I think so. Somebody has died, he has come into a considerable amount of money, and he is a man of property at Leytonstone"—I said, "All right, Mr. Simmons, I will let you know to—morrow morning"—I took the order, and next morning I wrote, asking him to get Sambell as a guarantee—I did not take the trouble to inquire who Sambell was, or into the truth of Simmons's statement—I simply believed

his statement to be correct—he sent me a letter with the guarantee, and enclosed the letter that Sambell had written him about the transaction—I did not believe in Simmons, and should not have supplied him, but that I thought Sambell was going to grant him leases and have something to do with the ground—I parted with the goods on the faith of the guarantee—I asked him when we should have some money, and he said, "I will get you 10l. on Saturday or Monday," and he paid it, but not till about six weeks after—I do not know if Sambell paid it—I made inquiries, because I could not understand the affair, and two or three months afterwards I heard that he was only Sambells foreman, but I did not hear he had been doing piece-work for him—I believed he was building on Sambells ground—he told me had made an arrangement with his creditors.

Re-examined. I supplied the timber on the faith of the guarantee and of his representations—I knew nothing about Sambell—if I had known Sambell was building the houses and was not the owner I should not have let him have the timber.

By the Court. I did not prosecute him—he was taken upon another charge and I was subpœnaed to give evidence against him at Ilford, and when I gave evidence the Magistrate issued a warrant against him.

FREDERICK DEAKON . I know the handwriting of the prisoners, these letters are in their handwriting and signed by them.

Cross-examined by MR. MORICE. I am a solicitor—Sambell had about 55l. from me and I have not had it back—I received his I 0 U—I had received 10l. on account of a bankruptcy petition, and he told me I should have the rest if I gave him time.

Cross-examined by MR. WILLES. I did the work and acted as solicitor for Simmons on his petition—there was a composition offered of 1s. 6d. in the pound, but it fell through and was never paid.

GEORGE YOUNG . I am a carman for Messrs. Wilkinson, and took some goods from their premises to Mornington Road, and Simmons was there on the job to receive them and showed me where to unload them on the path in Mornington Road.

GEORGE WILLIAM MARSDEN . I am a solicitor, at 37, Queen Street, Cheapside—I am ground landlord and freeholder of the property alluded to in this case at Mornington Grove Road—I granted a building agreement to Sambell, under which he went on with buildings that had been begun by another man, and advanced him money to complete the building as it went on from stage to stage under the direction of Mr. Hunt, my surveyor—he did not keep the terms of the agreement—I did not know that Simmons had anything to do with the building or that he was Sambells foreman—I have no recollection of seeing him at work there.

Cross-examined by MR. MORICE. I advanced Sambell money to complete and made this endorsement on the back of his agreement for 670l.—he did not practically buy the empty carcases—he never paid me a farthing—he only mentioned casually once or twice that Simmons was his foreman.

Cross-examined by MR. WILLES. I have had no dispute with Sambell—I am prosecuting now—I subpœnaed Simmons in the case at Ilford, and he was arrested there on the sworn information of Mr. Hildt—it was done by my direction, and my managing clerk went to get Mr. Hildt's evidence—there was no meeting in my office before the prosecution as to whether Sambell should be prosecuted or not—I knew nothing about Simmons at first.

By the Court. I charged Sambell with stealing my building materials and subpœnaed Simmons as a witness, but from what we heard on the sworn information of Mr. Hildt, Mr. Grain applied for a summons by my directions and I have taken Wilkinson's case with mine.

JOSEPH JAMBS ETTRIDGE . I am a slate merchant, at Bethnal Green Road, and have supplied Sambell with slates to the amount of about 34l. and have never received any money for them—I began an action and to stop proceedings Sambell took a guarantee to Mr. Muir—I accepted the guarantee and stopped the action—Sambell told me he had 400l. when he went on the premises, and Mr. Marsden was to pay him 600l. as soon as the roofs were on.

JOHN DUNGEY . I am a timber merchant at Saffron Hill—I and my father let Sambell the piece of ground at Leytonstone and supplied him with timber to the value of a little over 50l.—30l. worth was for his materials for Mr. Marsden's property—we have not had any money and he has not gone on with the building—we had previously let him a piece of ground and he had 20l. worth of timber for that ground.


Reference Number: t18790915-853

853. BENJAMIN CHARLES SAMBELL and ALFRED JOHNSON SIMMONS were again indicted for stealing two van loads of building materials, value 100l., the goods of George William Marsden the younger.

MESSRS. GRAIN and D. METCALFE Prosecuted; MR. MORICE Defended

Sambell and MR. WILLES simmons.

GEORGE WILLIAM MARSDEN . I own property on the Grove Estate, Leytonstone—there are some carcases of houses there not yet finished—on 16th January, 1869, I entered into this agreement (produced) with Sambell, and from time to time advanced him money for the completion of the premises on the certificate of Mr. Hunt, my surveyor—I could not get the work done as provided in the agreement, and on 25th June I went to the premises with Mr. Hunt, and saw Sambell there—he wanted me to make him advances before he had done the work, as he could not go any further, and I refused to do so—I had previously advanced him mow than 1,300l.—I did on another day advance 15l. to pay his men's Wages, and subsequently put Mr. Pratt into possession for me, and the building material then there is the property charged in this indictment—I gave no letter or authority to Sambell or Simmons to remove it.

Cross-examined by MR. MORICE. I had a previous lease with Mr. Crabtree and advanced him 700l. or 800l.—he got into difficulties and I cancelled the agreement with his consent and bought him out, granted a fresh lease of part of the ground to Sambell, the money to be advanced according to the surveyor's certificate, and I advanced money on the surveyor's certificate from time to time—Sambell was introduced by a client of mine as willing to go on finishing the houses if I would grant him a building agreement, which 1 did—I have lent money on the building materials—I did know Sambell had other property close by at Leytonstone, and he did not tell me that for that reason he would not have a clause put in the agreement that the building materials were to be included—no one represented him as solicitor—I was the only solicitor in the matter, and I drew up the building agreement—I did not know that materials had been removed by him before them—I advanced money on them and they became mine under the agreement—he did not give me notice that he was going to remove them—I did not know that he had said they were his and he should remove them.

Cross-examined by MR. WILLES. I have had no notice from Sambell—I said at the police-court "Mr. Sambell intimated on the 13th July he should remove my goods; I told him if he attempted to remove my goods I should give him into custody"—he did not tell me he should remove them—I think "intimated "would be wrong; he "inferred."

Re-examined. This is a draft copy of the agreement—I know his handwriting, and there is a memorandum in his handwriting in one of the clauses; and he had the draft for perusal before the agreement was signed.

HENRY PRATT . I am engaged on the Grove Estate—I received instructions from Mr. Marsden to take charge of the building materials left on the premises after Mr. Sambell had left off building there—on 31st July, between 11 and 12, Sambell and Simmons came with a covered van and a timber trolly—I said, "What are you doing?"—they made no answer but went on loading—I said, "Do you know you are doing a wrong thing here by attempting to take these things off the ground?"—Sambell said, "That's all right"—I said, "Well, you had better not take them off the place—you had better leave them there"—he said, "That's all right; what authority have you in the matter?"—I said, "I will fetch you my authority," and I fetched the letter I had received from Mr. Marsden, and read it over to him—the purport of it was that I was to see that nothing was removed from the place—he made no answer—when they had loaded the van he ordered the carman to move on, and I placed myself in front of the horse and said, "If you move these things off the ground I shall use physical force;" with that the police came forward and said, "I perceive there is a breach' of the peace likely to occur here, and you had better go down to the station, all of you"—I said, "I shall not go to the station unless some one is here to see that the goods are not removed," and they left a man in charge of the goods—at the station Sambell represented that they were his goods, and produced invoices—I said, "They are not receipted, and are of no effect whatever"—he said, "What is that to do with you?" and he stated that he had a letter from Mr. Marsden to purchase the goods—I said, "Produce it; it will stop all further bother," but he did not—the police then told me that they would not take the charge, but that I could follow the goods—I said, "Will you take his address down?" and they did so, and I copied it out; and Sambell gave me his private address and said he was going to take the goods to "Sambell, Varna Terrace, Blackheath Road, North Greenwich, near the police station"—I came back with Sambell and another man with him, and I engaged Dockerty to follow the goods; and I saw the goods going towards Blackheath—I went to the carrier's to make inquiries, and whilst there the scaffolding poles came into the yard and the other van also—Sambell was not there, but Simmons came in while this was going on—Simmons was on the ground at the building, but did not go to the police-station—when Dockerty came back I went to Satchel Street, Bethnal Green, on Saturday morning, and the people refused to admit me, but said that they had got the goods.

JAMES DOCKERTY . On 31st July the two vans came to the Grove Estate, and I received instructions to follow them; and I did so—they first pulled up at the Cowley Arms on the way to London, and thence to the Thatched House—the prisoners went on by themselves in a ginger beer van—they pulled up again at a public-house near Bow Church, and Simmons came in about half an hour after, and said to the carman, "You are here, my lads; have what you like to drink, have a pot of beer; I shall not go

for an hour or two yet;" and on getting outside, within two or three minutes, he walked off with the horses—when I saw the van move and Simmons going away with it I asked the carman if he was aware the horse was going on, but he did not seem to take any notice—I then went out to look after the van—Simmons went on walking till he got under the railway arch, and then he took the horse's nose-bag off—I saw Sambell under the arch—he said, "Where the deuce is the fellow gone?' and I wad, "Here he is, and I intend following you"—he made a bit of a trot and I followed—afterwards he saw I was behind and said "Hallo?"—I said, "You thought of doing me, but here I am"—he said,' "Well, you may as well jump up; I only did it for a lark;" and I got up, and when we got to Bethnal Green Road, Simmons employed a man to look after the van;-and Sambell came up about half an hour after and asked where Mr. Simmons was—I said he had gone away for some time, and I stood outside the van till he returned; and they went up to another house—Sambell said, "What do you want to follow the van for?"—I said, "I believe it's my place"—he said, "You have no call to; if you like to lose the van I will give you half-a-sovereign"—I said, "Not for 40 half-sovereigns"—I went up several turnings at Bethnal Green Road, and sent a boy for a policeman, and two policemen came—I charged the prisoners with having unlawful possession of the goods—the police took them to the Bethnal Green Station, and the charge was stated—Sambell answered 'that he was very sorry his horse could not get farther that night; but he would 'travel on the road the following morning, between six and seven, sad that he wanted to go to Blackheath—the police would not take him—the goods were left unloaded at the place, and I went back and told my master.

HENRY PRATT (Re-examined). I had this letter from Mr. Marsden, dated July 9th, directing me to take possession—the prisoners had not been there for a week—the goods were there before they left.

The Jury stopped the case on the ground thai it was a dispute as to the ownership.



Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

Reference Number: t18790915-854

854. WILLIAM URQUHART (25) , Embezzling the sums of 44l., 13l., and 50l. 5s., of William Rose and another, his masters.

MR. GRAIN Prosecuted; MR.W. SLEIGH Defended.

WILLIAM ROSE . I am in partnership with Mr. Mellish at the Steam flour Mills, Woolwich—about November last I entered into negotiations with the prisoner as to his becoming our traveller—before we entered into any definite arrangement he brought a proposal form from the Guarantee Society, which I filled up—he entered our service early in December—the first arrangement we made with him was that he was to obtain orders for flour from bakers, and if they were satisfactory we should execute them and pay him a commission of 6d. a sack until the guarantee was properly executed, and we held the right of collecting the money until the guarantee was carried oat, and on no account was he to collect it; in fact, it was his on proposition that we should withhold the right of collecting the money untri the guarantee was perfect—he was to travel for us, and for us only—that

arrangement was mode in Mark Lane—he said in January last that he should be able to get the guarantee through in a few days, but as he had been in the Bankruptcy Court, and had not got his discharge, the Guarantee Society would not fulfil the guarantee until he had obtained his discharge, which would take place in a very short time—we then increased his commission from 6d. to 8d. a sack to help him in his travelling expenses, and he was to receive 101. a year salary—up to that time he had collected no money, but afterwards he did collect money by special order—if any person's money was. ready, and it was not convenient for us to go for it, we gave him a special order in writing to collect it; the invoice of the goods was endorsed, "Please—pay our Mr. Urquhart, and oblige yours obediently"—after that he occasionally collected money under those circumstances, and it was his duty immediately to pay it into one of the branches of the London and County Bank, or meet me on market day, Monday, Wednesday, or Friday, and pay it to me, and failing to see me on the market he was to come down to the mill at Woolwich and pay it—the commission was paid on the execution of the order, whether the goods were paid for or not, in each case separately, by cheque at the end of the month, for the amount at 8d. per sack—I saw the prisoner at Mark Lane Market on, I think, Wednesday, 18th June—he paid me some money which he had received, and said that he should get. some more by Saturday, and if he did not see me on Friday he would come down to the mill—he did not come, but on Saturday evening I received this. telegram (produced)—I told him on Monday, the 23rd, that I had received a telegram from him on Saturday saying that he had sent a cheque, but we had not received it—he said, "No, when I sent that telegram I thought I could get a cheque from my brother-in-law, but I have the money here in the bag"—he was carrying a small black bag—I said; "You, might as well give it to me"—he said, "I would rather come down to the mill, as I want to have my book made up, and I will be down there by 6 o'clock at the latest" (The telegram stated: "Unable to see you to-day; posted cheque for 138l. 2s. 6d. as advised") I never received a cheque for that amount—we had the advice on the Saturday morning in a letter from him, enumerating, the accounts from persons paying—he did not come on the Monday night, in consequence of which I sent Mr. Jay up, who made a communication to me next morning, and about 2 on that day, Tuesday, the prisoner came down to the mill—I said, "Have you brought your account?—he said, "No, I have come away in a hurry, and I have not brought it, but I can tell you my deficiencies if you go over the ledger and show me the people's accounts"—it was a clerk's duty to keep the ledger—I got it and went over the accounts page by page, and he said, when we came to one account, "That account is right," and to another, "I have had that account," and the different moneys amounted to 97l., in addition to the 138l. 2s. 6d.—I particularly dwelt upon the account of John Weiss, 40l., and said, "Is this account unpaid?"—he said "Yes," and to another acconnt, Mr. Holden's, for 50l. 5s., he said, "That is still owing"—I had seen him four or five times between the 10th and 24th June, but he had said nothing about Weiss's account—the interview lasted about an hour and a half, and I think he went away by the 5.30 train—on the 26th he came down to the mill with a cousin, whom he introduced as Mr. Webster, from the Audit Office of the London, and North-Western Railway, and said, "I have brought my cousin to see—if we cannot make some arrangement respecting this money"—the cousin

then said, "It is a very bad job, and I should very much like to assist him in the matter"—I said, "In what way can you assist him?"—he said, "By becoming security for his future good behaviour"—I said."what is your position?"—he said." I am in the Audit Office if the London and North-western Railway, and am in a position to become security for 100l."—I said, "Before we enter into anything for the future we must settle the past; I cannot think of entering into any fresh arrangement till the acconunts are made up"—no arrangement was come to, and on the 26th I went to his house at Dalston with a constable, and said to him, "since you were at the mill on Wednesday I have found out that you have collected more money than you accounted for then, and that, notwithstanding your having had a letter and also a verbal warning as to collecting any more money, we have found out that you have collected further sums of money, and gave him in costody—the verbal notice was at the mill on Tuesday—I said, "Have you received a letter?"—he said "No"—I said, "you will receive it on going home now, and I will tell you the purport of it is to warn you not to take any more money, in whatever shape it may be offered to you, on our account; if you do, it will go hard with you"—I wrote the letter on monday night, the 23rd, while Mr. Jay was gone to the prisoner's house—this is it (produced)—it was posted on the 24th because it was too late to register it on the 23rd—when I gave him in custody he said, "Can we not settle the matter?"—I said "No"—he said, "Well, you know what you are doing"—I said, "Perfectly"—he said, "If you had waited for your money you would have had it, but if I get seven years now I don't care." or words to that effect—I gave this bill to the prisoner at the mill at the end of may. (This was an invoice to a Mr. Weiss for 25 sacks of four, 40l., on which was written, "Please pay to our Mr. Urquhart, and oblige yours truly, R. and M.") We had also given him a document to collect 50l. 5s. from Mr. Holden, and 13l. from Mrs. Draper—he never told me that he had got those amounts, and we did not find it out till we issued a circular, after he was in custody, and we have never had any of the money.

Cross-examined. I have not heard that Mr. Mellish disapproves of this prosecution; he is here—on 24th June I came to the knowledge that there was 90l. odd over and above the 138l.—on 24th June 19l. was due to the prisoner on the May account for commission—I drew up on that occasion this memorandum (produced) of the 138l. without mentioning a word about the 98l.—there is a written memorandum between us, but there is nothing in it about his being our traveller only or our clerk or servant in any way whatever—it is a memorandum of the terms upon which he was to work for us until the Gurantee Society entered into arrangements with him—the only alteration in his service was to be that if they agreed to become his security then he was to collect money—the simple fact is that he was to send us such orders as he liked from his connection, and we were to execute them, and by a subsequent arrangement he was to be paid 10l. a year—that was not for the purpose of paying the Guarantee Society—I can't tell you what he was going to do with it—I cannot say whether the I do not know what he was going to do with it—I cannot say whether the 10l. extra was to be paid him in consequence of the negotiations of the Guarantee Society—I swear the most decidedly—I know the Guarantee Society declined to enter into any arrangement with him unless I paid him a salary—I do not know whether the 10l. was to paid as a nominal

salary for the purpose of satisfying the Guarantee Society and making him our clerk or servant—I know that they would not take him without he was ft servant, and that was the reason we gave it to him—it was to satisfy I the Guarantee Society—he has never received the 10l.—it was never I carried out, and he worked on the verbal understanding, and was only allowed to collect money in particular instances—these letters (produced) I are from the firm—some are in my writing, some in Mr. Jay's—I wrote to I him in February, "We send you invoices of flour as wanted; look up as much money as you can, we are hard up"—that was upon the invoices he received—he did not receive invoices for all the flour delivered to his order nor advices—this is Mr. Jay's writing to him: "Hunt the beggars up for the money;" also at the end of March, "Ton will please us by making an effort to get us a large amount this week; your special attention to the above will be esteemed"—he might get orders when and where he liked so that he did it in a proper business-like way—I cannot tell what my clerk may have written to him in a friendly manner—I did not authorise him to write this letter (produced)—the prisoner met me at Mark Lane three days a week, I can prove that by 50 witnesses, and he came to the mill every week; he never missed a week—I do not know that so far from collecting money and pressing customers for money, he has allowed accounts to stand over for the purpose of increasing our connection and keeping people in good humour—we had a letter from a Mr. Baker complaining that Urquhart did not call upon him for the money or he would have had it long before—this is a letter of my manager's; it states, "Mr. R. is under the impression that you do not call often enough for the money; if you cannot find time to do so we shall have to collect it ourselves"—he only brought us 50 or 60 customers, and there is commission due to him on those amounts, and we have been executing his orders both before and since he was taken in custody—his commission has been coming due to him day after day and week after week since we gave him in custody—some of our books are here—I have been through them—the total amount of his sales is not 9,769 sacks; I think about 7,000—I will swear that the commission he earned from December to his being given in custody, whether paid or unpaid, does not amount to 322l. 6s.; it is only about 135l.—I have calculated it accurately—I cannot say without the book what orders he sent in—he did not say that he could not go through the ledger with me because he had come away in a hurry and left his book behind—he begged of me to go through it, and I said "I shall not go through the accounts if you have not brought your book"—he said, "I can tell you how every account stands"—he gave me certain amounts, which I put down—I swear I put the 97l. down, but not on that paper which you have or on any paper which I gave to him—that is the only paper I gave him—it only relates to the 138l.—I swore at the police-court that he had taken Holden's and Draper's money, though he had had a registered letter from me telling him him not to do so—Holder swore at the police-court that the prisoner came in a cab on the morning of the 24th and collected his money, but Mrs. Draper did not swear that he came in a cab to her to my recollection—on the next day I promised in Mr. Webster's hearing to write to Mr. Urquhart on the Thursday, but I did not do so—it was to make an appointment to go round with Urquhart to his customers to find out the exact amount he had collected—I told Mr. Webster that Mr. Urquhart had better hunt up his

friends, and that I did not care to supply his customers with any more flour until all the accounts were got in—I did not give as a reason that Mr. Urquhart could pay nothing out of his commission off the debt, and that I thought it would take all the pluck out of him—I said nothing about paying the debt off by the commission—it never became a debt at all—I never used such words—to the best of my belief commission was not mentioned—I would not have accepted commission off the debt; there was no debt—I would not have accepted commission off the amount—I did not take 19l. 10s. 5d. commission off the 138l. in May, or credit him with it—we struck a balance "Less commission account"—if he had brought us 119l. 10s. we should have drawn a cheque—119l. and 19l. commission would have made the amount up—this is not a debtor and creditor account at all—I did not say to Mr. Webster "You had better pay 100l. off the debt, as although I do not wish to push your cousin, as that would do me no good and him a lot of harm, friendship is friendship, and money is money;" nor did I ask Webster to pay 100l. off the debt—I would not have taken it—I was determined to prosecute him—I swore at the police-court "I gave him in custody; if he had given me the money then I should have taken it:" but I should have prosecuted him too—I was anxious to dissolve partnership with Mr. Mellish two or three years ago, and I am anxious now—I do not know that he is anxious to take the prisoner into his service to travel for him, or that this prosecution is against his wishes.

Re-examined. He sold about 7,000 sacks of flour, and about 5,000 were delivered, 4,000 of them between January and the time he was given in custody—there are about 1,500 to be delivered—out of the original orders about 1,500 or 2,000 sacks are cancelled—I paid him commission on flour sold and delivered—I have made up the account of the amounts he has received and not paid to us—the total is 353l. odd—I can give you the amount of the bad debts of his customers—I made out the paper from the books, and these are the amounts he told me had collected in May for commission, and I would have given him a cheque for it if he had handed me the 138l. 2s. 6d.—he agreed to the amount due to him for commission to 31st May—he also earned about 15l. commission between 1st Juno and the 26th, when he was given in custody—assuming we delivered all the goods he sent orders for, and that they had been paid for, the extreme amount that could be due to him for commission, including May and June, would be about 100l., calculating everything in his favour, and doing his work for him—I have carefully gone through the books and taken out this abstract—he has never suggested at any interview that he was not a clerk or a servant, or that he had a right to deduct these moneys and take them himself—he frequently came to Mark Lane, and if he did not see me there he accounted to me at Woolwich, and he very frequently accompanied me to Woolwich—these letters are in his writing. (One of these stated, "Holden's money is ready any time you like to send. As he knows none of this firm, he would prefer my being there when he pays, or if you send telegram authorising me to take the money, I will bring the cash to you at the market." Another stated, "I will pay you in the market on Monday morning, if some one from the firm will call on him for his money. you had better write him to that effect." Another stated, "Please write to George Brown to pay me in this instance; say nothing about paying into a bank. The cash is waiting)"—this is the prisoner's signature (To the original proposal of the Guarantee Society.)

FREDERICK JAY . I am manager to Messrs. Rose and Mellish—on Monday evening, 23rd June, I received-orders to go to the prisoner's house at Dalston—I took with me this document, signed by the firm: "Sir,—We request you to pay Mr. Jay all moneys received or collected by you on our account, and request you will see us to-morrow"—I said, "I have come from the firm by the orders of Mr. Rose for the amount you have named in the telegram"—he said, "I have got the money, but I prefer bringing it down to the firm. will come down to-morrow"—I said, "It will make me appear small to go home without it, if you doubt my word, here is my authority," and produced the letter—he said, "I don't doubt you, but I prefer bringing it down"—I said, "I want the money; I have come purposely for it, and 1 shan't go home without it"—he afterwards said, "To tell the truth, old man, I have not got all the money"—I said, "You admit having taken it, if you have used some of it let us have what you have left"—he said, "I have not got any left, to make a long matter short, I spent some of the money, and betted the other away"—I went back to the office at 8.30 next morning.

Cross-examined. The prisoner is considered a good salesman—he added to the connection, but hot so largely—I have been told that he is a corn factor in business for himself, but I never saw him till he was in our employ—I do not know that he has a very large connection of his own—he brought us part of his customers, I believe—I wrote some of these letters—I swore at the police-court that I never wrote that the firm was "hard up"—I wrote that they wanted money—this letter is not my writing; it resembles Mr. Boss's more than Mr. Mellish's, but they write very much alike—I do not recollect any customers calling and saying that the firm could have their money if Urquhart called for it, but they wrote to that effect—he only-had to collect money by special order—J wrote, "Mr. R. is under the impression that you do not call quite often enough for the money. If you cannot find time to do so, we shall have to collect it ourselves, as it is impossible to go on like this at such long terms from men who we are led to believe are quick payers and first-class men"—we have two customers named Baker, one of them wrote to the firm and complained that the money was not called for—Mr. Karslake also wrote to complain—I also wrote to the prisoner, "Your account will be small this month if you do not rush it into them sharper;" also, "I suppose you will be down at the end of the week with about 1,000l., as we want it bad"—I was sometimes unable to go through his accounts and make up his ledger from ours while he was waiting—I used to do it and post it to him afterwards—I wrote to him, "Shall you be down on Saturday? Am so thundering busy, have not had time to do your ledger, but you have the bills, so no matter"—those were the bills that I had written on—he could collect orders when and where he liked if we approved of the customers—we did not depend upon his connection entirely to increase our business, we were increasing it ourselves as well—Mr. Mellish used to travel, we had no other agent—on June 4,1879, I wrote, "Let me see if we cannot pull your connection up to 800l. this month; you have done about 550l. for May, you might work it up another 100l."—I also wrote to him that if he occasionally ran down, he would soon have a connection second to none.

JOHN WEISS . I am a baker, of 88, Pownall Road, Dalston—I am a German—about five days before 23rd June I bought some flour of the prisoner, and he gave me this book—I never knew Rose and Mellish—

on June 10th I paid the prisoner 40l., all in silver; and he gave me this receipt—when he brought the book he said, "Here is the book what you asked me for"—it had three receipt stamps in it for my three payments.

Cross-examined. I have known him six or seven months—he was dealing on his own account for what I know—he is a good salesman, and he always acted straightforward towards me.

Re-examined. I bought 250 sacks of him, and never knew Rose and Hellish till I received invoices with their names at the top; and the same thing on 21st March and May 9th.

ELIZABETH DRAPER . I am the wife of Albert George Draper, a baker, of Rhodes Terrace, Hornsey Road—he had some flour from Rose and Mellish on April 30th, amounting to 32l.; and in June the prisoner called and received 13l. from me, and gave me this receipt—I saw him write it (Dated June 24th)—it was from 12 to 2 o'clock.

Cross-examined. I do not think I saw his conveyance—I do not remember talking to Mr. Rose or Mr. Jay before I gave my evidence at the police-court—I did not know Rose and Mellish before this prosecution was instituted—I just knew the prisoner by sight, but not as a corn factor—I think I knew his name—I do not know that he served my husband with flour nine years ago—I have been married nine years.

RICHARD HOLDEN . I am a baker, of Blackstock Road, Highbury—on 24th June the prisoner called on me, and I paid him 50l. 5s., and he gave me this receipt in this book—the other two amounts which are entered here I paid into the County Bank, Islington—I had received invoices from Bom and Mellish.

Cross-examined. I have known the prisoner since 1871, and dealt with him for five years when he was in business on his own account—I have paid him a great deal of money—he was considered very clever in his trade, and honest and upright—he lives in his own house at Albion Road, Dalston—if it had not been for him I should never have dealt with Rose and Mellish—I know Mrs. Draper well; she lives about three-quarters of a mile from me—I made this last payment between 10 and 11 a. m. on 24th June—I know that when he called on me he was in the habit of calling on Mrs. Draper, because he would say "Will you come on to Mrs. Draper's?" and I have walked there with him when he has gone there to collect.

PATRICK DAVIS (Police Sergeant R). On 26th June, about 10.30 p.m., I took the prisoner at 13, Albion Road, Dalston—I said, "You will be charged with embezzling about 250l., the money of your employers, Messrs. Rose and Mellish, of the'Steam Flour Mills, Woolwich"—he said, "I own I received the money; Mr. Rose knows I did"—I said, "Have you got any of the money about you?"—he said, "I have not; if Mr. Rose had not taken these steps I should have made the money good, but now if I were to get sevon years I would not pay him one farthing"—I found this pocket book on him with this letter in it. (The one from Mr. Rose).

ALBERT WILLIAM MELISH . I am Mr. Rose's partner—the prisoner was to receive 10l. a year salary by my wish, to make him a servant.

Cross-examined. He has not received it because the year is not out, but he would have—on my oath, it was not for the purpose of satisfying the Guarantee Society if they carried out the negotiation—I believe they would not have accepted him unless he was a servant, but I do not remember their telling me so—I did not 6ee the form of proposal—I believe he was to have

the 10l. a year in the first instance, but I do not recollect whether it was what mentioned when he first entered our service—I have not said that this prosecution is against my wish—Mr. Rose and I are making arrangements to dissolve partnership—I did not know till the next morning that the prisoner was given in custody because I was not there.

Re-examined. The prisoner did not object to the 10l. a year salary—this and is my signature. (To the form of application)—my partner filledlup the top part, and I signed it, and the prisoner's signature is at the bottom.

By MR. SLEIGH. The 10l. was put in to make him a servant, as unless of he was a servant the Society would not give the guarantee—I swear that it was not put in to satisfy the Society; that was not our idea; it was to make him a servant—he was to go into our agency at 6d. a sack at first, and it was altered to 8d. a sack after negotiations had been entered into with the Society—these words, "10l." and "6d. per sack commission," are Mr. Rose's writing—the Society would not accede to the arrangement' unless we paid him a salary, but we did not then pay him 8d. a sack instead of 6d. because they would not grant the guarantee, the 8d. was to give him 2d. a sack extra for his travelling expenses, which were rather heavy—the Society did not, to my knowledge, tell us that they would not guarantee him, nor do I know it from them—I heard from the prisoner that it was because he had failed in business, but that if he got his discharge they would give him the guarantee at once, and he said that he expected to get his discharge every day—I have no recollection of this form being returned to our firm in the first instance, because no salary was put down, nor did my partner and I discuss whether we should insert a nominal salary—it may have been returned, but I have no recollection of it being returned from the office.

The prisoner received a good character. The Court, upon objection raised by Mr. W. Sleigh, left it to the Jury to say whether the prisoner acted in the capacity of a servant or not.


Reference Number: t18790915-855

855. WILLIAM URQUHART was again indicted for embezzling 16l., 16l., and 17l., the moneys of William Rose and another, his masters, upon which MR. GRAIN offered no evidence.


Before Mr. Justice Lopes.

Reference Number: t18790915-856

856. KARL WEDDENDAHL (15) and WILLIAM WELCH (13) PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully placing upon the South-Eastern Railway two pickaxes, with intent to obstruct an engine and carriages thereon. To enter into recognisances.

Before Mr. Justice Lopes.

Reference Number: t18790915-857

857. LAURA JULIA ADDISCOTT (22) was again indicted (See lost Session) for unlawfully assaulting Ellen Smith and occasioning her actual bodily harm. Other counts for neglecting to provide proper food and clothing for Florence Emily Clements, aged 6 years, Esther Maria Edgar, aged 9 years, and 17 other children.

MESSRS. BESLEY, WILLIAMS, and TICKELL Prosecuted; and MR. GRAIN Defended.

WILLIAM PILCHER repeated his former evidence (see page 546).

LUCY ELIZABETH PEARSON . I am the wife of James Wilson Pearson, a labourer, working as a deal porter—I have two stepdaughters, Annie Louisa,

who was 12 last August, and Minnie Eliza, who will be 11 next November—I placed them at the defendant's home at Deptford on 21st July, 1877—my husband agreed to pay her 4s. a week for the two; that was all she asked—they 'were then thoroughly healthy and thoroughly clean—I supplied them with three chemises and two night dresess each, and one had three flannel petticoats, and the other two—they had two Sunday petticoats besides, and an everyday skirt, a pair of stays, and three dresses each, and pinafores, stockings, and one pair of good strong boots—on 27th December, 1877 I went with my husband to fetch them away, but the prisoner and her sister and mother forced me out—I only went to cover the children up, as the; were absolutely naked—that was from 7.30 to 8 p.m.—they were in the front parlour—my husband went there first and came back to me, and in consequence of what he said I took two waterproofs to the home and found the children naked—when I got them home I found them very thin and very bad, and quite exhausted—they were certainly washed clean, but their dresses were full of vermin, and the elder one had large seres all over her head—they could not keep solid food on their stomachs, and they slept very much—they improved after a time, but Annie, the elder one, has never been the same child since, she is very week—her health was remarkably good when she left me, and she had been two years in my charge—she has a very bad cough, and faints at the least excitement—she fainted at the police-court—either I or my husband paid the 4s. every week in advance—I noticed that the children appeared worse very soon after they got to the home, and told the prisoner they did not look very well on several occasions, but she was always very contentious, and said she would have no dealings with me—she always said that I was intoxicated—I complained of their not having sufficient clothing or boots—they had on different clothes to what I sent them in, and sinee they came eat I have seen their clothes being worn by other children—she said that they were all clothed alike, and clothed sufficiently, and that all the children had their clothes burnt when they went in, and ours were very dirty: but the clothes I sent were perfectly clean—she did not tell roe that the clothes were burnt, till they were coming away—I went to fetch the children five or six times before I got them; I went twice by myself and also with my husband—I asked each time to take them away, but she said that she did not allow it, that the agreement was legal, and they were bound over to her—she had a policeman fetched on the last occasion, and I told him I wanted to see my children—he said, "Why don't you show the woman her children?"—she said, "She has come under the plea to rob, it is a make-up tale"—I was never intoxicated—she pushed me out with violence—on the last occasion she told me to leave the room, I did not go out, and she and her sisters and her mother pushed me out with violence, and jammed my hand—my husband waft in the room—I went to the police-court next day and went to as many of the parents as I could find of the children—I often asked the prisoner for receipts for the money I paid—she said she would ask the committee, and after she said, that everything was booked, and the committee would not grant receipts—I asked to see the committee, but she would not say who was on it—Minnie had a dent on her forehead, as if the bone was bent—that was not there when she went to the home.

Cross-examined. These were my husband's children by his first wife

—I was married in 1875—my husband and I were going to get a situation together if the children were provided for, and so we sent them to the home—I had one child, which died after these children came home—I paid the 4s. every week—I did not see the prisoner every time, I paid her sister or her mother when I could not give it to her—I did not see the children at those times—my husband sometimes had work three days a week, and at times not that—he at times earned 4s. a day, and I earned 2s., 6d. a day—I am sure wo earned 10s. a week between us—if we had not the 1s. to pay Addiscoit I made it by pawning my clothes—I was cook in a gentleman's family before I married and saved some money—I was here last Sessions ready to be called—I have paid Mrs. Addiscott money for her daughter, but to nobody else—the sisters have been there at the time—I did not see the children at those times, they had either gone to bed or there was some other excuse, but I saw them twice while they were there—I used to take the is about 7.30 on Saturday nights—it was on the 27th that my hand was caught in the door—that was the day the children were taken away, Thursday; Christmas Day was Tuesday—I went first between 12 and 1—the door was always open for the Post Office authorities—I went again between 7.80 and 8—the prisoners' two sisters were there, sod her mother and a little boy, Sidney, her brother, I believe, and I think little Edgar and my husband—the other children were not naked—my girls were standing up with people looking at them, waiting to be covered up and taken home—as far as I could ascertain they had been undressed in order that the clothes I was to bring might be put on them—my husband brought a friend with him to help him carry the children, and Miss Addiscott brought a false charge against him and had the police in—he brought the waterproofs because she said in the policeman's presence that if he fetched some clothing they might go—the clothing was all new which I fitted them out with when they went—I bought the stuff at Pickett's the draper's and made them up, but they had been a little worn—I had money of my own then, but it has dwindled down very small; I drew it out of the Post Office Savings Bank—I went to the prisoner because my mother heard her preach and thought she would be a nice lady to speak to; she lectured at the Alliance flail, Deptford—I saw my children a month or six weeks afterwards in different clothes in the home and mentioned it to the prisoner, and she said they would be in uniform, and about a month after that I saw them again still wearing the same red cotton frocks, which were not the ones I had supplied, and they had white tippets and large white straw bonnets—the other children were dressed the same, and I have seen them out on Sunday all dressed alike, and walking together like a school—my children came home once on a Sunday about three months after they went there, and about three weeks before I took them away one of them came home of her own accord and made a communication to her father—my going there in December made their father believe what I told him—the children's hair was half way down their backs when they went there, but when they came away it had been cut shorter.

Re-examined. I first wanted to take them away six weeks or two months) before they left—my house is two or three minutes' walk from the home, the eldest girl was passing and I called her in and my husband was more convinced and agreed to take her away—I saw them twice by appointment with Miss Addison—she was very lady-like and nice, and

never said anything about my being drunk before that—I was never intoxicated in my life, I am a total abstainer and my husband too—Alias Add cott has never suggested till to-day that I owed her money, in fact when the children left on Thursday they had been paid for till the follows Monday—I went there twice on the Thursday, but my husband had been there that day previous to me—when I went first the prisoner had a policeman to me, and then I took one there and he told my husband to go to a Magistrate—I thought they would have their clothing back, but my husband came home for some waterproofs, and he thought I was the proper person to cover them up—the waterproofs were put on them and they wen carried home on my husband's arm—the prisoner said about five times that I was drunk—she said, "I will have no dealings with you, you are always drunk."

MINNE ELIZA PEARSON . I shall be 10 years old in November—I remember going with my eldest sister to live at Miss Addiscott's—we never wore our own clothes while we were there—we only wore a shimmy and a grey frock and one petticoat, made of the same as the frock, but no flannel petticoat or drawers—we had stockings, but they were not our own, nor were the boots ours—we suffered from the cold there and used to get close together in the kitchen, but there was never any fire there—we also sat in the washhouse where the doors lead up to the garden—we had iron bedsteads with a sacking which we laid on, and had one sheet over us, but no blanket—I slept at the top of the house on the same bedstead with my sister—we were the first two girls that went there, and Alice Savage came next—when it got cold weather we suffered by night as well as by day, and we put our clothes on the bed—there was sometimes a fire in the back parlour, but we could not go there to warm ourselves—we had bread and treacle sod water-gruel at 9 o'clock, and about six girls breakfasted with us—some of us used to go to the Board School where Miss Janet Richards is the mistress, but not all of us—a pennyworth of treacle was bought once a day; I used to fetch it; it was only given to the girls who went to school—when we did not have bread and treacle we had water-gruel, but never both on the same morning—we were hungry after breakfast; we had one thick slice; we never asked for more—we came home from school about 12 o'clock, and sometimes got something to eat at 2 o'clock, and sometimes nothing at all—when we had anything it was water-gruel or pickled cabbage, and a alice of bread—we sometimes went to school in the afternoon and came out at 4.30—we did not always get anything to eat at 6 o'clock, but sometimes we got bread and treacle and sometimes gruel—we went to bed at 7 o'clock—no difference was made on Sundays—we had no meat while we Were there except on Christmas Day—we had no bacon—I was hungry when I went to school, and once or twice I stole the dinners of some children who did net come from Miss Addiscott's—we used to go and get a halfpennyworth of milk a day for Miss Addiscott, but we had none of it—we never had any butter—I got this mark on my forehead when Miss Addiscott thumped me with her hand and I fell down against the table—I could not help falling, the beating made me fall—I said I would tell my father—I told Sidney, and he told Miss Addiscott, and he came back and sent me upstairs—Miss Addiscott has also slapped my face—I never saw her beat my sister, but she beat the others with a rope, all but me and Rosie Perch—when she beat me and I fell she said that I must not tell my father what she had done, if we

I did she would send a policeman after us—we only bad pudding at Christmas—Miss Addiscott never took her meals with us—she went out of an evening sometimes at 12 o'clock and came home at 3 o'clock in the morning, and she told one of the girls to sit up and open the door when she came back—there were more than six girls there; six went to school.

Cross-examined. A French servant girl was there when I went—she was turned out—I do not know where she slept; she did not sleep with me—she was not there till I had been there a long time, and then Miss Addiscott turned her out and she went to the union—I don't know in which room she slept—she was only there two or three days—she was not a servant; she bad a blind eye—Mary Swyers took care of us; she slept with my sister, but only one night—she used to come every week, but only slept there once——there was no servant girl there when I first went—I never heard of Mary Bosey—I remember a woman old enough to be my mother sleeping with me; she had black hair, not grey—she slept with me every night for a good long time—we sometimes had bread and treacle at breakfast and water oatmeal in a plate—it was thin; 'we never had treacle in the oatmeal—the bread was rather thick, and we had two pieces about as big as this piece of paper, and treacle spread over it—sometimes we had tea at breakfast and sometimes water—one morning we had some tea and there was a thing in it—we never had suet puddings with currants in them for dinner, nor any dumplings—we had bread and treacle for tea, and sometimes tea to drink—I never went out collecting—Mrs. Addiscott was often there; she was kind to us; we sometimes went to her house and had bread and jam for tea—Miss Addiscott slept in the front room on a mattress and a sheet and blanket, which went into the back room in the daytime—I have not talked these things over With the other girls since last Sessions.

Re-examined. Mary Swyers used only to come to mind us when Miss Addiscott was out, and a lady came one day and Miss Addiscott'put a blanket and sheets and a counterpane on her bed, and afterwards the blankets were taken off—the girl with the blind eye had no father or mother, so she came into the home and she broke the sacking of the iron bedstead, so we had to sleep en the floor—the woman older than my mother gave us a lot of books, bat Miss Addiscott took them away from us; she slept in my sister's bod for a long time and then she went away—she was not there after we went to the board school.

ANNIE LOUISA PEARSON . I was 12 last August—I remember going to Miss Addiscott's home with my sister—I had three petticoats and two Sunday ones, and chemises, drawers, stockings, and boots, but I was only allowed to wear an old brown frock and a chemise, no flannel petticoat—I suffered from the cold in the daytime—I slept upstairs on an old iron bedstead in the room with the fireplace, with nothing but a sheet to cover me, no counterpane, rug, or blanket—I got up at 8 or 9 a.m. and went to the board school; I had nothing to eat till tea time, but sometimes I had some oatmeal gruel for breakfast at 11 o'clock, or bread and treacle instead of it—I used sometimes to buy the treacle; I bought half a pound for a halfpenny, that lasted about three or four days for eight or nine girls—we sometimes had bread and pickled cabbage for dinner, nothing else; a pennyworth of cabbage was bought, which lasted five or six days—we had bread and treacle at 6 o'clock, and when we did not get that we had nothing in the place of it—sometimes we had on Sundays bread and treacle for breakfast, and tea and

rice for dinner—we only had meat at Christmas—we had no butter, but Mis Addiscott had, and a half-pint of milk a day was bought for her—the children who did not go to school had no breakfast at all; the first meal they got was gruel for their dinner—one Sunday my sister and I were going to meet our father and mother, and before we started at 1 o'clock, Mr. Addiscott gave us some meat and said, "Now tell your father and mother you had meat"—we had no meat except on that occasion and on Christmas Day—I complained to my father and mother, but Miss Addiscott did not know it; she said that if I told anything she would send a policeman after me—Miss Addiscott went out at 6 or 7 o'clock in the evening, but I did not hear her come back; the big girls sat up for her, Alice Harris and Esther Edgar—Miss Addiscott beat me while I was there.

Cross-examined. I slept with my sister—Mary Ann Swaile slept with me one night—we had gruel for breakfast made with oatmeal and water, and in the middle of the day one piece of bread and pickled cabbage, that was all—we sometimes had boiled rice—from July to December we lived on bread and treacle in the morning, and bread and treacle and rice for dinner and gruel for tea; we had one slice of bread for tea; if we asked for more she said no, and she said we had had enough; we did not often ask for more; we had tea, but only three or four times while I was there—we never had milk and water; we had our meals in the kitchen, sitting on a form—we did not help ourselves, Miss Addiscott brought it down on a plate with so many pieces of bread and treacle; the boy put it on our plates and took the plate away—Miss Addiscott helped us to rice at dinner; there was no treacle in it, but sometimes we had moist sugar—we had water to drink; we had our tea in the kitchen, it was brought down in the same way; we had sometimes water and sometimes tea, there was no milk in the tea; we then went to bed—there was one other bedstead in my room, but it broke down, and then they laid on the floor—my sister slept with me in one bed and three or four girls in the other, which was a good broad bed—I know Mrs. Addiscott; I did not like her; she was sometimes kind to me; she gave me dinner and tea when I went to her house—she was at the home nearly every day, but the sisters were not there very often—I have seen Mr. Addiscott the father, he is an old gentleman; he put a square of glass in—I never told any one about this till I went to Greenwich.

Re-examined. Mary Swaile slept with me one night when they were all out and did not come home till late—I do not know an old lady older than my mother who gave books that were taken away, but there was an old lady named Miss Williams, and when she came Miss Addiscott used to pat blankets over our beds, but she took them off when Miss'Williams left—we had not been there long then—I sometimes felt hungry, but I did not tell Miss Addiscott, because she said she would beat us and she told us always to tell our mother and father we had enough to eat—I had been there four or five weeks when I saw my mother; I told her that we had enough to eat, because Miss Addiscott told me to say so, and said she would beat me if I did not, but afterwards when my mother called me in I said that I had not enough to eat.

JAMES WILLIAM PEARSON . I am a deal porter—I agreed to pay Miss Addiscott is a week for my two children, and paid it regularly in advance—they were in good health when they went into the home, but when they left they were nothing but skin and bono and covered with lice—the elder

was the worst; she had sores on her back and head—I wanted to take them away three or four weeks before 27th December, but the prisoner said that I could not do so, she would keep me to the agreement—I had signed an agreement which she kept—I went again the following week, and told her that the children were in a dirty state, and were not properly fed and clothed, and I wished to take them home—she said that I could not have them—I went a third time, and she said that I should have them if I could find clothes for them to come home in—they had plenty of good clothes of every kind when they went there—she said that she had burnt their clothes, as they were dirty—my wife went to fetch the children at dinner time, and she would not allow them to go; and I went there with a policeman, and she would not allow him to see them, but agreed to let them go at 7.30—I went again at 7.30 with a friend, but she refused to give them any clothes to come away in—I called in the police a second time, and she agreed that I should have the children if I fetched clothes to take them home in; but having no clothes at home for them I had to take my waterproof and anything I could get hold of to cover them—my wife went with me; and the prisoner and her sister caught hold of her and pushed her out, and jammed her fingers in the door—I then put the waterproofs on the children and carried one on each arm through the streets, with no clothing on them except the waterproofs—when my wife and I arrived they had on the clothing belonging to the home; but the prisoner took it off and they were naked in the room—I have never seen my wife intoxicated.

Cross-examined. I will undertake to say that I did not pay the prisoner less than 4l. in five months—I had no constant work, but I think we made 10s. a week; I cannot say exactly—I have picked up 1l. in one. week—my daughters only came home once on a Sunday while they were at the home to see me; that was about two weeks after they went there—I did not take them away then, but my wife made a complaint to Miss Addiscott—I went on paying 6s. a week, and I paid it for a week in advance on the Saturday night before I fetched the children away in the middle of the week—I was entitled to keep them there till the following Saturday—I only saw them in the street when they were with Miss Addiscott going to church—they had red dresses and white tippets and bonnets—the prisoner's two sisters were in the room when she and her mother took the clothes off the children and. left them naked—the father was not there.

Re-examined. The home clothes were taken off them before my wife was pushed out—my wife has taken the money on two or three occasions without me; but I usually took it myself, and always in advance—I never, missed a week—they went in on 27th July, 1877; that was just five months—I have seen them at the window on approaching the house, but when I got in the prisoner has said that they had gone to bed or that they were busy washing—I never saw them alone.

MARY TOOHEY . I am single—I had a child which would have been three years old on the last day of May, 1878—her name was Polly Toohey—she went into the home through the Charity Organisation Society; and I was to pay them, not the prisoner—she was in good health and thoroughly clean when she went into the home—a nurse took her there, as I was in a situation at the time—I went there to visit her about a fortnight afterwards, on the first Monday in June, on the first Monday in July, and the first Monday in August and on a Wednesday, about a fortnight afterwards—I noticed on

the first Monday in July that she was pining, and very stupid and very light—I could see all her bones—I took her some cake and oranges, and she ate very ravenously—I asked Miss Addiscott if she was fretting or pining away, and she said that she was a very good child indeed—between then and the Bank Holiday I saw the nurse, Mrs. Duggin, and told her I was not pleased—we went together to the home on the Bank Holiday and saw Miss Addiscott—the child was brought in about half an hour afterwards—I believe she was getting her washed—Mrs. Duggin took her up in her arms, and noticed her head in a filthy condition, covered with sores and vermin; and she seemed very stupid—I was going to leave my situation, and the sent one of the girls with me to Mrs. Crabb, after which I returned to the home—I was so excited at seeing my child in that condition that I struck Miss Addiscott, who sent for a policeman to lock me up, but he would not do so—I told her she was a bad woman, and worse than a prostitute to abuse a child as she had done, who was in such a good condition—I did not take the child away then, but I went next day and she said that she would give her to me when I brought clothes for her—I said that I brought clothes with the child—she said that she had burnt them because they were lousy—I took some clothes down next day and asked for my child again, and fetched a policeman again; and we all three went to the police-station, where the child was dressed—she had a wound on the privates, which I should think was more than an inch long and in a very bad state, regularly open, and there was matter—it took three or four weeks healing—Miss Addiscott said that it was done by a bath—the child also had a burn on her hand, about the size of a shilling—it was a regular sore, but it did not take so long healing as the other—I placed her with Mrs. Duggin—she was ill for about seven weeks, and then got better; but now she is suffering from measles.

Cross-examined. I said at Greenwich, "The defendant treated me kindly when I went to visit the child"—little Crabbe was allowed to go with me to Mrs. Baker's, that was a lady's house, for me to look for a situation—Mrs. Duggin is a widow; she only had my child—after I got my child away I went into a public-house with her; but I only had a glass of ale, no spirits; but on coming back we stopped at a public-house and Mm Duggin had some whisky—I was fined 2s. 6d. for the assault on Miss Addiscott.

By the COURT. The child had sufficient clothes when she went, but only what she was wearing.

MARGARET DUGGIN . I am a widow, of Acorn Street, Bishopsgate—in 1878 I took charge of Mrs. Toohey's infant Polly for three months—she was in perfectly good health and clean when I took her to the home, and had no vermin or sores—I next saw her at Miss Addiscott's place on the first Monday in August, and she was not the same child in appearance, she looked so wretched and altered—I put my hand on her head to smooth her hair, and found it was a mass of sores—after she left the home she was in my care again for three months, but she had a great turn of her bowels, and was in the hospital some weeks—the wound on her thigh was very bad-looking, and there was a burn on her hand—she got quite well in six or eight weeks.

ELIZA HARRIS . I live at Wyman Cottage, Deptford—my child Mary Harris was 14 last February—in September, 1877, the defendant agreed to

take her into her home, and I was to see her once a month—she was very well and very clean then—I went there twice, hut could not see her—I took her out in January, 1878, after Thomas, the postman, had said something to me—she was then very thin and weak, and she fell down when she accompanied me from the home—I kept her a week, and then took her to the infirmary, where she was for three months, and then she got better.

Cross-examined. I paid nothing for her—I was in great poverty, and scarcely knew how to keep her, but she was very well when I took her to the home—she was not ailing; she was perfectly well, but she was always pale—she was not a strong child at any time—she always had enough to eat—I was earning 1s. to 5s. a week—I am a widow—she had been in Miss Rye's home before that, but I took her away because she had a delicate complaint on her, incontinence of water—that was the dirty habit for which she left—that did not weaken her a good deal—I always gave her enough to eat, even if I had not got it myself—she was not delicate in health when I took her to the prisoner.

By the COURT. Miss Addiscott took her out of charity—she had no lice then, or anything like that—I paid nothing for her, and Miss Addiscott kept her—I took no clothing with her; the prisoner found the clothing—she left Miss Rye's home two or three years ago.

ELIZA CRABBE . I am 13 years old—I was in Sutton School—about 10 months ago I went with my sister Annie to Miss Addiscott's home—I used to go out collecting at 9 o'clock sometimes, and returned sometimes at 7—I went to different houses, and occasionally had food there—we had sopped bread for breakfast with hot water and treacle—I sometimes had no dinner, and sometimes I had it at 3 o'clock—we sometimes had rice for dinner, and on a Sunday meat, but not every Sunday—the other girls had the same as I had, but Pearson was not there then—sometimes we had no tea, but when we had it was sometimes bread and treacle—we sometimes had nothing to drink, and sometimes we had tea—they were the only meals we had—we went to bed sometimes at 8, and sometimes at 10.30 or 11—we felt hungry when we used' to be kept without our food, but did not complain to Miss Addiscott because she would beat us—we knew that because she beat Polly Toohey with a rope for crying for her food—that was in the front kitchen—she hanged her up to the dresser; she tied her arms with a rope; she had her frock on and her boots and stockings—Miss Addiscott struck her on. her back and thighs five or six times with the rope doubled—it was the rope she hung clothes on, and was as thick as thai (Two quilts)—I saw a wound on her thigh afterwards; it was bleeding—I sometimes; slept upstairs, and sometimes in the back parlour—I had upstairs to cover me a sheet and a little blanket and my clothes—there was no fire, and I felt cold nearly every night—I did not notice a burn on Mary Toohey'a hand—I bought the milk, a halfpennyworth every day, which Miss Addiscott drank—I was there with Kate Verch; she had the same food as I had—she had no milk—I was out collecting when she died—she slept in the back parlour covered by her clothes and a sheet—I remember Kate Smith dying—we had no meat on Sunday till after she died—she had the same food as we had—she slept in the back parlour all the time she was ill on a mattress, with a sheet, blanket, and quilt over her—Alice Maud Edgar died while I was at the home—she had the same food as we had—when Kate Smith was dead

I remember Mr. Smith calling, but I did not see Miss Addiscott go out to speak to him.

Cross-examined. Kate Verch was a baby 20 months old—Miss Addiscott got tins of condensed milk for her sometimes, but not very often, and gave it to her with a spoon—my father used to come to the home on Saturday nights, not to the front door, but to the gate—I saw him, but did not complain to him—I saw my mother frequently, but did not complain to her—about Christmas last I went as a servant to Mrs. Baker, who lives close by—I did not complain to her—I did not sleep in her house, I went backwards and forwards every day—it was in the summer that Toohey was beaten—I did not tell my father or mother about it—she was quite a small child—she was hung up; she only had her frock on and her boots and stockings—it was at 1 o'clock—I was in the room with the other girls—Miss Addiscott hit her five or six times as hard as she could with the clothes I line doubled—it was because she was crying for her dinner—I sometimes had three slices of bread and butter for tea on Sunday—we sometimes had dumpling on Sunday, but not with plums or treacle or sugar—we had meat and pudding on Christmas Day—I was very fond of Mrs. Addiscott, I went to her house very often, and she used to be very often at the home; and the old gentleman too, he was a nice old gentleman—I have said "We had more clothes on us when we left the home than we had before my father took me to the home, because he was out of work"—we went straight from the union to the home and took our clothes out with us and went straight to Miss Addiscott's—she put more clothes on us when we came away—we went to church, but not every Sunday—we sometimes went for a walk on Sunday to Blackheath; Miss Addiscott took charge of us—some ladies came to look at the home.

Re-examined. We walked to Blackheath with Miss Addiscott about fire times—some of those times were after little Edgar's death—the last time was about two months before we were taken away on 22nd April—I was not there while Pearson or Harris were there—the beating of little Toohey with the rope was not very long before she left—Miss Addiscott put the rope under her arm pits and fastened it to the dresser—she was not able to reach the ground with her feet after that was done—that is why I said that she was hanging.

EASTHER MARIA EDGAR . I was 11 on 4th August—I have a father but no mother—I was at the home, and my sisters and I were taken away by My. Pilcher on 22nd April this year—the first day I went there I had three slices of bread and butter; I did not get that every day, I got bread and treacle sometimes, or bread and sop—we sometimes had one meal a day, sometimes two, and sometimes three—I used to go to the Board School where Miss Richards is—after we came out of school at 12 o'clock we sometimes had dinner—it was sometimes broth and sometimes soup boiled in the copper—potatoes were sometimes put in it and meat and cabbages—we did not have meat very often—I first saw some meat on Sunday, but that was for Miss Addiscott—we had meat on two or three Sundays and bread and rice, and after that we had stew with cabbage and potatoes—we got that before my sister died—when we came out of school in the evening we sometimes had bread and treacle and sop—we went to bed at 8 or 9 o'clock—I slept in the top room; there were four Edgars and the Pearsons—I slept on a mattress with shavings in it in the part of the room where there was a

fireplace; my eldest sister slept with me—one of my sisters left and went to my aunt's, she was younger than me, she is about six now—after my sister died she was buried one week and my father took my other sister away on the Saturday—my sister was ill more than a month before she died—I was not ill at all, but I had the itch when I left—I was present when Polly Toohey was beaten for crying for her dinner; that was three or four months before she went away with her mother—Miss Addiscott tied her up with her two arms to the dresser and beat her with a rope—once when I was scrubbing a top bedroom the boy Hookham came up, and Miss Addiscott took me into the coal cellar downstairs, half by the hand and half by my hair, and beat me with a rolling pin—she often took me by my hair, and it hurt me—she beat me several times with a rolling pin; it left marks across my shoulders which remained about a week—I felt the pain till I went to bed—she beat me once with a broomstick because I was late for school, and she has beaten me with a rope—my sister Florence was getting on for 10, my brother is the eldest, but I am the eldest girl—I used to feel the cold in the front kitchen in the winter; the girls sat there and there was no fire there—Miss Addiscott told us to sit there—we sometimes had our meals there—a fire was lit there when Miss Edmunds used to come, she used to learn us to knit—she came three or four times—no fire was lit after my sister died—we felt the cold in bed and used to put our clothes over us—after some of the Board gentlemen came we had a blanket—that was a little before Kate Smith died—Kate Smith used sometimes to bare sop and bread and treacle; she asked for bread and butter, and Miss Addiscott beat her with a cane—she wass ill a long time—when little Verch died, Nelly Smith held her and said "What shall I do?" and Mrs. Goodland took her while she went to her mother—I saw her before she died—I remember a boy coming from the printers for the money for the collecting cards—Miss Addiscott was hanging the clothes up in the yard, and I went and told her—my sister was holding little Verch then, she began to cry and Miss Addiscott beat her and put her in the cupboard, and she went into a fit—she only had a grey cape on—Kate Smith died in the morning before we. went to church—she died in bed in the back parlour—I got up at 8 o'clock that morning; Kate Smith never spoke that morning—Miss Addiscott was in the front parlour that morning with her sister—she usually went out of an evening before we had our tea, and Eliza Crabbe or Elizabeth Goodland sat up for her, and sometimes I have—she sometimes came home at 9 or 10 o'clock, and sometimes at 1 o'clock—when I sat up for her I sometimes got some more bread.

Cross-examined. I recollect my sister Alice Maud dying—Miss Addiscott was very fond of her and yet she hit me with a rolling pin, which is a good thick thing—it hurt me very much—all I am saying is the truth—she did not lock Kate Verch up in the cupboard, but she shut her up in it—she could not walk—it was because she was crying and she did not want the boy to know she was in—the cupboard was in the wash-house—she died before my sister—Miss Addiscott hung Kate Toohey up to the dresser like a ham on a hook—there were hooks there—she sometimes hung our cups up there—she then doubled the rope and punished her with it—I mean that her hands were over her head.

FRANCES SARAH OWEN repeated in substance her former evidence (page 566).

Cross-examined. I took my child to the home in August, 1877, and went to see her nearly every week up to Christmas, but I made no complaint till January, 1879—I cannot say how much I paid during that time—I have paid her more than 1l.; I owe six months' money.

Re-examined. I paid 2s. 6d. a week for 12 months, and the child was there 18 months—I got no receipt; Miss Addiscott said that it was not required—I never saw her enter it in a book.

GEORGINA PEARCH . I am 10 years old; Mrs. Owen is my mother—I remember going to Miss Addiscott's—I was there one Christmas and we had meat, potatoes, and greens for dinner, we only had meat once while I was there.

ELLEN SMITH . I shall be 13 in September; I went to the home with my sister Kate in August, it was 1878 I think; she was younger than me—we did not go to the Board school—we had sop in the morning and sometimes gruel or bread and treacle, then went out collecting and did not return till night—when I got home I had bread and treacle, and sometimes Miss Addiscott asked us whether we would have a drop of tea and we said, "Yes"—when we were out collecting the ladies gave us something at times—we only had meat on Sundays; when it was wet we did not go out collecting; we had nothing for dinner and sometimes we had rice for tea—the children had dinner; my sister had been to the Board school; she was ill and on Shrove Tuesday she took to her bed—I slept in the same room very near her, hot not with her; that was the back parlour; she was very thin—when I took her out of bed she complained of her bones and asked me to be gentle with her; I saw that her bones were coming through her skin—she slept at the top of the house before Shrove Tuesday—I slept in the back parlour then; she was taken bad in the afternoon and Miss Addiscott made her a bed in the back parlour, and told us to put a mattress for her; she slept on a palliasse, and had a sheet, blanket, and pillow—I went up to call her when she was upstairs—she had one sheet to cover her and her clothes, and no blanket—we only had one blanket, but when Mr. Phillips came she got two new dark blankets, black-like—Dr. Ayres attended her—before she was ill she had the same food as the others; we all had the same—there was no tire in the back parlour till after she was dead, and that was to burn the vermin—Miss Addiscott sometimes went out at 6 in the evening, and she did not return till 1 or 2 in the morning—she slept on a flock bed on the floor in the front parlour, there were folding doors between the two rooms; she told me to shut them, because she could not bear to hear my sister's groans.' she used to groan because she could not bear the pain in her back—when I was out Florence Edgar attended her—there were only two of us at home, and four went out collecting—I don't remember how long after Shrove Tuesday Dr Ayres was called in; he used to call in several times, and once when passing the door he came in—no one nursed her but Florence Edgar and me; she died on the 6th April—I saw Miss Addiscott after on the Sunday morning at 9, she told me to take my sister's breakfast to her and I said, "Kate, here is your breakfast"—she gave me no answer and I called Miss Addiscott, who said she was dead, and told me to get a pail and flannel to wash her—I say she died at 1 in the morning, because she called me for drink every night, and she did not call me that night—she kissed me and said "Good night." I said, "Kate, you will try and be a good girl, won't you?"—she said, "Yes," and when I saw her at 9 her head was down and her knees were up, and vermin

were crawling over her face—Miss Addiscott said she was going to her mother's—there was no grown-up person but her in the house, her sister was not there; she said, "If anyone comes to the door, don't answer it; I will call Nellie when I come"—while she was away I had to wash my sister, and Eliza Crabbe helped me—that was at 10 o'clock; she was cold then—I found vermin all over her, crawling in her head and down her back—I saw Mrs. Addiscott cut off her hair; I saw the bones coming through her skin and she had sores on her hands—Miss Addiscott came back and brought her brother Henry; he made a snort and then made a funny face—her sister came that Sunday—we had dinner at one, and while I was having my dinner Mrs. Addiscott lit the fire and then cut off the hair and told me to take the vermin and put them in the fire—while I was in the home my mother married Mr. Smith—I had never seen him; I was at home on the Monday after my sister's death—Miss Addiscott did not tell me that John Smith had been, and I did not know it; I was upstairs—my sister was buried on Tuesday or Wednesday. (The certificate of the death of Kate Smith, dated 8th April, was here put in, stating the death to have been from scrofula, tabes meserterica. Witness Addiscott, present at the death.) I was present when Kate Verch died; she was the baby of 20 months—she was ill before she died and was very thin. (Certificate read; Kate Verch, 14th December, 1878; one year and ten months, tabes mesenteriea; present at the death, J. Addiscott.) I was present when Alice Maud Edgar died; I can't say how long she was ill, as she was in the front parlour., (Certificate read; Alice Maud Edgar, 13th December, 1878, 4 years; tabes mesenterica. L. Addiscott, present at the death.) I saw Esther Maud Edgar beaten once because she hit Ellen Mobbs in the dining-room, and I saw Elizabeth Goodland beaten one Sunday because she tore her frock—I was out collecting a good deal—I bought articles of food sometimes, and somtimes Ellen Crabbe; half a pound of treacle was bought at a time—that was one penny—there were six girls in the home at one time, and that would last nearly all the week, and so would a half-pennyworth of cabbage—a half-pennyworth of milk was also bought; but that was for Miss Addiscott, we got none of it.

Cross-examined. We were out collecting in all the snowy weather last winter from 9 a.m. to 8 p.m.—it was dark when we got home—I know that I have taken my oath to Tell the truth—we did not go when it was raining—we went to Lee, near Blackheath, to ladies' houses—that was at 8 o'clock at night, and the ladies used to ask us when we were going home, and was not it late for us—we went on collecting from house to house from 9, to 8, that is eleven hours—sometimes a lady would call us in and give us bread and jam or bread and marmalade, and we sat down and ate it—Esther Edgar was my companion, she is some years younger than me, and. she walked from 9 to 8—we were not cold—we were hungry, but the ladies used to give us something—we were glad to get to bed—I was taken to the Union, and they put some questions to me—I told the doctor, Mr. Thornton, that I had as much food as I wanted at Miss Addiscoto's—that was not true, but I said so because we were afraid we were going back again—I told a lie because I thought I was going back—Kate Verch died in my arms in the back parlour—I am positive of that—I will swear again that she died in my arms—I was not at Mrs. Addisoott's that day—I was very fond of Mrs. Addiscott, she was a nice kind lady—she used not to give

us cake, but she gave us some pickled pork—she came to the home every morning, and one of the sisters came very often—Mrs. Addiscott was not at the home when my sister died, but she came at 1 o'clock on the Sunday after my sister was dead—she had not been there on the Saturday at all—she sent my sister some dinner on a Sunday about twice—I never saw her bring a little pudding to her, but she brought a custard pudding to Alice Edgar—she brought nothing else that I remember—Dr. Ayres came to see my sister on the Saturday—I was at Mrs. Addiscott's and he was then when I came home—I gave the medicine to my sister, Miss Addiscott told me what to give her—I noticed lice in my sister's head before she died—her hair was not cut off nearly three weeks before she died, it was cut off after she died on the Sunday by Mrs. Addiscott—I only noticed lice in my sister's head a short time before she died, not weeks before—she only had nits before that—I washed my sister's body and stretched her feet out, and Mrs. Addiscott tied up her jaws and cut off her hair—Dr. Ayres came and saw her on the Sunday evening after she was dead; there were no lice on her then, she was clean.

Re-examined. I told a lie to Mr. Thornton, because I was afraid of going back—we were afraid she would beat us again—we liked Mrs. Addiscott because she saved us from a good many beatings by Miss Addiscott, and she saved Rosie Pearch from a beating—she brought some oranges and nuts from her mother, and Miss Addiscott beat her with a rope, and after she had been struck Mrs. Addiscott dragged her away.

JANE ELIZABETH SMITH . I am the mother of Ellen and Kate Smith; my first husband died in 1865—I had four children—I was in an hospital some time—two of my children were in Sutton school, and the next day they left there, August 12th, 1878, I took them to Miss Addiacott's—they were then as well as they ever were in their lives, and looking remarkably well—they had not been affected with scrofula that I am aware of—I went to see them on August 19th, a week after they went, and again on September 9th—I did not go after October, but I sent a friend for them—I did not see Kate, she was at school, I only saw Ellen—I married my present husband on January 1st, 1879—between October and my marriage I did not go to the home because I was ill—I did not go after my marriage, my husband went once, but did not see any one—after he went there I did not see my children till they were taken to the workhouse—I saw Ellen on May 1st, when I went before the Board of Guardians.

Cross-examined by MR. GRAIN. I was in delicate health with jaundice and enlargement of the liver—I was not in a position to pay anything for my children, but a friend told me that they would be taken care of at the home—I did not complain to Miss Addiscott when I went there in August; September, and October; there was nothing to complain of—the children had friends who have lived at 44, Adam Street, Greenwich, for a number of years, and Nelly would know the house I think—she never complained to me when I saw her.

JOHN SMITH repeated in substance his former evidence (page 561).

Cross-examined. I swear that some person there said, "What the helf has that to do with you?" and I thought it best to walk away—I did not know that the child lay dead in the house at the time—two or three children were in the passage, and I was at the door—she said it loud enough for anyone to hear at the gate—the garden is six yards long—there was no

I light in the passage—the door was open, and she stood half way along the passage—I swear that those words were used by somebody in the passage, I who swore that she was Miss Addiscott—I had not time to say who I was—as soon as I asked after the children, she flew at me.

ELIZABETH GOODLAND . I shall be 11 next birthday—my mother is dead; my father is alive—I went to Miss Addiscott's home, and came away on 22nd April this year—I had been there a year and a half—we had baked meat and carrots for dinner on Christmas Day, and we had meat on Sundays—we got gruel for breakfast at 9 o'clock, and then used to go out collecting—I went to the Board school—I came out at 12 o'clock, and before I went back at 2 o'clock I sometimes had rice and sometimes pickled cabbage—after school in the evening) I had bread and treacle sometimes, and sometimes porridge—I got no milk, but a halfpennyworth was taken for Miss Addiscott—when we went out collecting we never used to have any dinner—I remember Kate Verch dying; she died, I think, in the back parlour—I don't know who was there—I remember Kate Smith dying on a Sunday; Nelly Smith was in the house at the time—after she died I went in to pick some things off of her, and I think Miss Addiscott went out to fetch her mother—I believe the sister had been there the night before—I slept in the top bed room—it was after breakfast on Sunday morning that I first knew Kate Smith was dead—I heard somebody knock at the door on the Monday and ask for Miss Addiscott, and Eliza Crabbe, I think, went out to speak! to him—I recognise John Smith as the person—I think Miss Addiscott went out to him—I think her sister was in the house—Mrs. Addiscott was, but it was Miss Addiscott who kept the home who went out to speak to him—Miss Addiscott went out of an evening, and came home sometimes at 10 or 11, but I have sat up for her till 12 or 1 with Eliza Crabbe, and she beat us with a walking stick because wo went to sleep—I was present when Esther Edgar was beaten with a rope—when I slept in the top room had a sheet to lie on and a sheet to cover me, and after the inspectors came I blanket, but not before—that was after Kate Smith's death.

Cross-examined. Kate Veroh was alive when Esther Edgar was beaten—I was beaten with a big walking-stick, which was brought home from Dudley when—they brought home a lot of things—it had a knob on the top—I was in the back parlour, and the stick was there—she hit me as hard as she cou'd with it on my back; I think three times—I cannot tell you the time by that clock, but I know the time she came home, because I heard St. Paul's Church strike—as soon as she came home she whacked us for being asleep—we were asleep when she came home, but we heard the clock strike either 1 or 3 when she beat us—it strikes the quarters as well as the hours—when we were taken from the home to the union we were all put on a table or form and asked a lot of questions by the gentlemen, and we said, "Yes "or "No"—when we were before the Magistrate at Greenwich, a gentleman asked us, "Did not Miss Addiscott beat you?" and "Did not Miss Addiscott do this?" and we said, "Yes "or" No"—we were taken before the Magistrate all together, and we slept in the same room,-and had our meals together in the union—we all sleep in the same room at the nnion now, and play, and have our meals together—we have done so ever since we left Miss Addiscott—Mrs. Addiscott used to come very often—she was very kind to us, and we liked her and the sister too—I never complained to her about the beating—old Mrs. Mobbs came there; she was a

very nice lady, and kind to us—I never complained to her about the beating or food—I never made any complaint.

ELIZA CRABBE (Re-examined by the Court). I remember Miss Addiscott coming home at 1 or 2 a.m.—I and Elizabeth Good land were asleep, and Miss Addiscott whacked us with a walking-stick—I don't know where she got it from—it was black, and had a knob to it—that was at 1 o'cloek—I know the time, as I heard a clock out of doors strike 2 after we had the beating, and before we went to bed; it was a church clock, but I don't knot the name—I did not say anything yesterday of the beating, nor did I on the last trial—I was not asked about it.

JANET RICHARDS . I live at 19, Rokeby Road, Lewisham, and am head mistress of the Board school there—in November, 1877, five girls wen admitted to the school from the home, Emma Clarke, Esther Edgar, Elizabeth Goodland and Minnie, and Louisa Pearson—they were very scantily clad; in fact a fortnight afterwards I inquired about their having! so few clothes on—they were not in bad health apparently—they repeatedly stole dinners, and that led to my making inquiry at the end of December or January—I fed them, and the other teachers did so also—they estravenously, because we generally gave them food in the morning when they had had nothing, and they picked up garbage in the playground, all kinds of dirty crusts which the others had thrown away, but it was not so bad at the beginning of the year, not till towards the end of 1878—those five children continued till the end of 1878, but Louisa Pearson had left the home, and five others were admitted from the home—they left the home, but continued at school—those were Florence Edgar, Georgina Pearch, and another girl, the defendant's niece, as I understood—they looked about the same as the others; they had not the appearance of being starved at that time, but they were always scantily clad—it was their clothing first drew my attention to, them; they had only a frock, a chemise, stockings, and shoes; no petticoats, drawers, or stays, and the frocks we had to pin on them; there were so hooks and eyes—in August, 1878, Annie Crabbe, Florence Clements, and Kate Smith were there; they looked far worse than the others, and they gradually got worse in appearance and health throughout the whole of the year—their clothing was the same as the others—I cannot swear they never had petticoats, but I examined them frequently, and then they had not—I gave them all food, except Florence Clements—I don't think I gave her any, as the children took a fancy to her and fed her—it is not usual to feed the children, it was an act of kindness; they bring their own dinners—I thought Kate Smith a delicate child, but she had no disease when she first came, she simply looked pale and thin—she got rapidly worse, and had the itch very much—I was not aware what it was—I knew a doctor knew attending her in the home, and that if it was any infectious disease he would prevent her coming—the last time she came to school was, I think, the beginning of December—she could not walk across the room, and 1 told her not to come—she complained of nothing but being cold; the weather was very cold then—she was not adequately clad; I could have given her clothes, but I did not—she asked to be allowed to come to sit by the fire—she did no lessons because she could not—she was very dirty, 1 had to send the rest down with her to be washed often, and sometimes I sent them back to the home with a note, asking that they might he sent to school cleaner and more tidy—I said nothing about their food in the

note—her hair was matted, and there were vermin in it—she got worse, and I did not see her after December—the other children were all very cold indeed—they had to go to the fire to be warmed before they went to their places—that was sometimes necessary for the others, for the very poor children; I have got a very poor school—the children generally are poor, but these children made it a rule to go to the fire, with the other children it was an exception—there was not one child in the school so poorly clad is these, though I have the poorest children in Deptford—I have occasionally clothes to give away if the parents are unable to help them—the other children were very dirty indeed, and they got worse—they had a skirt and a body, which was open, and their chests were exposed as a rule, but not always—judging from their chests I should say that they were not properly nourished, but Goodland was better than the rest—Miss Addiscott came to me once after a child had stolen a dinner; the child said that she stole it because she had had no breakfast, and Miss Addiscott said that she would not get up to have her breakfast—she made no complaint of me whatever, but when I complained that they had no stays on, and that their chests were unprotected, she said that she did not wear any stays; she did not think it necessary, and she was in no lack of funds then, whatever she might be after—that was at the end of 1877, soon after they came to school—I attended a meeting at New Cross Hall on 20th December, 1878, and heard Miss Addiscott tell the meeting that two children had died—she gave me this balance sheet that day. (This was a list of donations and subscriptions amounting to 69l. 13s. 8d., and showing an expenditure of 67l. 14 is. 7 1/2 d., audited by J. Williams, to which was appended an address by the prisoner to her "dear Christian friends," speaking of her "labouring for the Lord," and stating that the home was opened with prayer and thanksgiving.)—She did not tell me about Kate Smith then, but next time she came, in January, 1879, she said that Kate Smith was ill, and she feared she would never come out again—she came to me in January because she said that I had illtreated the children—I called the children forward, and they denied in her presence ever having told her that I had ill-treated them—I said that I should report her complaint to the Board at once if she did not—she said that she had removed the children from the school and sent them to another, and she did not care what I said about the home; I had done my worst, and had sent women to look over the home—I had reported it to the Charity Organisation Society, as she said that it was always open to inspection—I reported to the managers of the school; I did not know what steps to take—that was before Kate Smith left and once afterwards—I reported this complaint to the Board at once—I particularly noticed Georgina Pearch; she looked very ill; she was scantily clothed; her body was covered with sores, and she had marks which I thought were from a beating—she got worse until she was taken away—she was very bad once and fainted in school early in January—she suffered from the cold.

Cross-examined. I have not the slightest feeling in the matter now the children are away—we were never at cross purposes except when she came to me and accused me of punishing them, and then I felt indignant—I do not know Mr. Fegan very well; I wish I did; I have seen him—he is such a nice man—he calls himself the Honourable Governor of the Boys' Home, Deptford—Miss Addiscott denied publicly in all the newspapers that she was engaged to marry him, and I think his name ought not

to be called in question—300 children came to the school; nearly all of them were of the poorest class—I see a great deal of squalor there—manr of them are children of honest working people, when they can get work—if they come in a filthy state I send them back—they came very poorly clad, even in the depth of last winter—when they were thinly clad I gave them clothes—the mothers come to me and tell me they cannot come to school, they have not sufficient clothing, and I give them some—many of them look half-starved, and I think they are not properly fed—there an four rooms, and in one there is a stove and in another two—they are open fire places—the children march into ther places, we have not time for them to go to the fire, but I have occasionally sent them to the fire—many of then have not coughs, because the poorer they are the more they keep them at home on the slightest pretence of illness, so that I do not see them—they have to pay a penny—I have made three reports of the condition of these children to the managers of the schools—I wish you to understand that in my opinion these little children I have spoken of were starved by the person who had charge of them—I came to that conclusion last autumn, and in addition to that the cleanliness of their bodies was thoroughly neglected—I did not go to the Greenwich Police-court because I was told not to do so by one in authority; I thought the police were the proper persons to take it up, and I should have gone to them but was told not, and day by day and week by week all through the depth of winter I saw the children becoming more starved and more neglected—I made three reports, and I repeatedly showed them to the visitors at the school, for I wanted them to be seen—many of the children of the poorer classes had lice and nits in their heads, and their hair was frequently not properly combed or brushed—I "have never seen a case of ringworm—it is not the practice for them to bring their dinners, but in very wet weather 20 or 30 stay—I have punished four or five children with a cane on the hand for being late; I have it down in my book; and twice besides that I punished Esther Edgar, once for disobedience to the teacher and once for destroying a book; she had three books and she destroyed them, and I said if she destroyed another I should punish her—Goodland was also punished—Miss Addiscott stated publicly at the meeting that two children had died at the home.

Re-examined. These children were far worse in appearance than the very poorest—a book is kept of the punishments inflicted—I never saw any bruises from any punishment of mine—I only struck them once on the hand—we give them as many stripes as we like; but we enter it in the punishment book with the age and the offence.

WILLIAM HEATHER repeated in substance his former evidence.

Cross-examined. I took my niece from the home; I think on 14th February, and took her over to Greenwich Police Court and her mother too—I saw the inspector at the gate—I did not go to the Court next day—she was never ill at my house—she visited us very frequently—I only visited her at the home on the Monday—when Miss Addiscott refused to let me have the child she said that the mother brought her and the mother must take her away—I went to the mother and we brought her away.

ELEANOR MOBBS . I am 12 years old—I remember going to the home, and about five weeks afterwards I got ill—I had a cough, and had sores on my hands—I got worse—we had breakfast sometimes at 9, sometimes at 10—we had bread and water sop for breakfast—we had boiled rice fordinner at one

o'clock; and sometimes meat on Saturdays—we bad oatmeal for tea at 8 or 9—we had three meals every day—I slept in the front room on straw or a sack—I had a sheet to lie on and a sheet and my clothes to cover me—I remember my uncle coming—I bad not been out that morning.

Cross-examined. I said before that I had a sheet and counterpane to cover me, but I slept in the back room then—I sometimes slept with Esther Edgar—we sometimes had meat on Saturdays and sometimes on Sundays, and sometimes on other days; and we had soup or broth sometimes with carrots and onions in it—we sometimes had dumplings for dinner, but there were no currants in them—we sometimes had oatmeal for breakfast and sometimes bread and treacle—the bread was not thick or the treacle either—we went to church on Sundays sometimes—I was very happy at the home till I got ill—Miss Addiscott then gave me some oil—I did not like it—my aunt, who I used to live with before I went there, came to see me while I was ill—I had one suit of clothes for week days and one for Sundays—I saw Miss Addiscott's brother and sister, and there were some strange ladies sometmes—I remember Alice Edgar being ill—I have seen her aunt—her father came to see her almost every day—Miss Addiscott took me to see the doctor once, and he came several times to see Kate Verch when she was ill.

Re-examined. I remember Kate Verch dying—the doctor had not seen me then—I think I had cod liver oil after she died—when Alice Edgar died one of the other Edgars, left the home—the doctor had not seen me till 14th February, the day my uncle took me away; I was taken to him that morning.

By the COURT. When we had meat Miss Addiscott cooked it; but sometimes one of us girls cooked the soup—there was no servant—when it was made in the front parlour Miss Addiscott made it; and when it was made in the back parlour Ellen Smith made it—Mrs. Addiscott used to come sometimes—the prisoner's sister did not come and cook.

WILLIAM EDWARD BAILEY , F.R.C.S. I held at this time an appointment at the Evalina Hospital, which is devoted to the reception of children—I lived in the wards over four years—on 13th February I examined Eleanor Mobbs on her admission—my report at the time says, "She was extremely emaciated: she had a languid exhausted manner: she was covered from head to foot with inveterate itch of long standing, as she had a harsh dry skin: there was complete absence of fat under the skin producing the plump appearance which a child ought to have: there was no evidence of any mischief in the internal organs: she was slightly feverish on the evening of her admission: she complained of pains in various parts"—I did not see that the itch had. been treated at all; if it had, it was only for a few days previous to her admission—it had existed I should say three or four months—every portion of her hair had to be cut on, for it was literally swarming with vermin—over the upper part of her right thigh was a patch of red inflamed skin and over her right great toe there was a patch of inflamed skin with matter under it—over her right heel there was a small discharging wound, and over her left heel a large wound of the same description, which was discharging matter—she had considerable difficulty in taking food, she was sick after all the food she took—we had to be extremely careful in feeding her—she weighed on 17th February 3 stone 51b. 8oz.; and on 7th March she had gained over 31b.—on 21st March she weighed 3 stone 121b. 4oz—she was when admitted

considerably below the nominal weight and height of a child of her age; indicating an utter want of proper food and a complete absence of all ordinary cleanliness and proper care—my reason for saying that, is that the whole course of her treatment consisted in feeding her properly, but the itch was treated medically—I failed to detect any disease by the most careful examination—her emaciated state was another reason, and as there was not disease I take it that there must have been want of food—vomiting after food is an indication of weakness—the lack of proper sustenance had been continued for some weeks—no child could be reduced in that way under a certain amount of time, but I cannot fix the date—if that treatment had been persisted in the consequence would have been consumption, or she would have died—I see 350 to 400 children in a year, and out patients also—the Evalina Hospital is resorted to by the poorer classes and a perfectly free—I have never seen a parallel case to Eleanor Mobbs'—I hare never seen a child without organic visceral disease reduced as she was—tabes mesenterial is a disease well understood in the profession, but it is not common—I mean the children who are brought to us in the hospital wasting from any cause, bad food or from bad hygenic condition, are popularly said to have consumption of the bowels, which being translated is tabes mesenterica—I might discover whether it was tabes mesenterial if I made a post-mortem examination, and without one if I could feel the enlarged glands—I cannot say whether tabes mesenterica is produced from a scrofulous condition, or whether consumption proceeds from the same cause—my opinion is that the diet was insufficient in many important particulars.

Cross-examined. The cheapest diet that a working man with 1l. a week and five children could give them would be bread and milk; that is a cheap and wholesome diet, it would sustain life—milk alone will sustain lift without bread—it is possible to give food in considerable quantities which does not go to nourish the body—a large quantity of rice will fill a child but it will not digest—ordinary broth has scarcely any nutritive qualities in it, and children persistently given it instead of getting fatter and making bone would go downwards, and if illness supervened, the child would naturally become very emaciated, but it would die upon such a diet without the illness—you might then find a child like Eleanor Mobbs, as far as emaciation is concerned, without organic disease—if a delicate child was improperly fed and had a tendency to sores or scrofula they would be aggravated, and if it had a cut on the head there would be a tendency to festering—when a person is in a weak state of health a wound often fasten—you can foment scrofula where you might stave it off by proper means—when scrofula proceeds from syphilis it is not uncommon I believe for it to be dormant in the second generation and to break out in the grandson, but many people say that it is not so, you have a popular idea of scrofula and I have a medical one; I do not know what disease you would describe a scrofula; we are fighting upon ground on which we cannot go in common—Eleanor Mobbs is not a badly made or a puny child—she has a cleft palate, but that has nothing to do with scrofula—she was in an extremely emaciated condition—you can feel all persons' ribs—I have not seen children so thin that the chest bones are almost coming through the skin—itch does not spread very rapidly—you see crusts on various parte of the body with water exhuding from them, what is called a pustular rash—the sore on the

toe was probably a broken chilblain—that is rather difficult to heal—I did not see her hand, but it was probably affected by the itch.

THOMAS BOND . I am a surgeon and lecturer on forensic medicine at Westmister Hospital—I have been many years in practice—while'the case was before the Magistrate I was instructed by the Treasury—I heard the evidence last Session and have been sitting here yesterday and to-day while the children were examined—tabes mesenterica is a scrofulous enlargement of the glands of the intestines—it is very often spoken of as a common disease, but on the post-mortem table it is an uncommon disease—assuming the absence of meat and of milk altogether, and the general food being treacle and bread, the children would gradually deteriorate in strength and spirits; I should expect them to become emaciated, I should expect eruptive diseases of the skin, a voracious appetite and groat thirst; I should expect he prevalence of parasitic diseases such as lice and itch, and complete inability to get about; I should expect them to be confined to their beds, and if persisted in long enough I should expect the bones to come through be skin and the limbs to be drawn up in death, and before death, from the flexor muscles being stronger than the extensors—nitrogen is a necessary ingrcdient in the nourishment of children; such things as I speak of supply nitrogen, but not in sufficient quantity—I consider a sack filled with straw sleep upon and no blanket a very insufficient protection from cold, and calculatcd to lower the vital powers—a child badly fed would feel cold more tan a child better fed; the more cold the more diet is required—a mere bodice without stays is not proper clothing for cold weather.

Cross-examined. Everything I have been saying is simply upon what I heard last Session and now; I have seen nothing of the children—I read the depositions and made a report upon them—I had not then heard any the evidence for the defence—my evidence to-day is upon the diet given I heard the evidence for the defence last Session, and assuming it to be true it would alter my opinion if I believed that the children told lies—I I most positively that children cannot live on potatoes alone—I never was in Ireland, but I know that children in London would die—I have I plenty of experience of children living on a starch diet, and they always die if they go on long enough—potatoes and bread do not contain elements of proper diet, but it depends upon whether the bread is made of oatmeal or potato starch—oatmeal contains more nitrogen and phosphates—I have lived in agricultural districts, Somersetshire and Dorsetshire, and I know that the children of a labourer getting 13s., 14s., or Us. a week get bread and dripping and bacon rind for breakfast—they get dripping from the farm houses—a Dorsetshire labourer would have dripping instead of butter very often—they would get vegetables and potatoes at midday—I don't think they would get much milk, but they buy butter-milk sometimes—they would get dry bread for tea, or bread and sugar, and they get good broth with cabbages in it—I have had some experience in low neighbourhoods: for nine years I was surgeon to a workhouse in Petty France, Westminster—an ordinary working man with a family of four or five ought to have provided a flock mattress for his children last winter—two in a bed would not be objectionable, nor half a dozen—they ought also to have had a sheet, a counterpane, and a blanket, and I should say that if a labouring man did not provide those things for his children last winter he was neglecting them—I have been in heaps of

houses, and they have plenty of blankets, though there are several in one bed, and they are very dirty and very ragged, but I cannot call to mind anywhere where I have gone and seen them suffering from cold through want of covering—I have heard that these were all the children of person in poor ciroumstances or destitute—if a child had tabes mesenterial its appearance after death would be what is described in the case of Kate Smith, the legs drawn up, &c., and it would waste away in the same war as in starvation—the legs being drawn up would be common to both, and the child would usually arrive at the stage of the bones almost protruding through the skin—scrofulous disease does not always produce tabes mesenterica—you might starve a scrofulous child as well as a healthy one.

Re-examined. I have certified tabes mesenterica without a post-mortem, but never without attending the patient; I have often been asked—I never give a certificate unless I have seen the child before death—it is not a very rare disease, but comparatively.

By the COURT. As a rule I do not find the children of Somersetshire and Dorsetshire labourers present the appearance of starvation—they an healthy and ruddy and well—they do not suffer from itch, and they an very seldom covered with vermin.

JOHN PETER LONG . I am medical officer of the Greenwich Union; that includes Deptford—I examined the house on 14th and 22nd April with Mr. Pilcher—I heard him give his evidence last Session as to the state of the house, and can corroborate him if necessary—I partly examined two children in the house on the 14th—they had calico chemises on and the body of a dress, which was insufficient, as the weather was very cold—on 22nd April I examined six children, and, with the exception of Alice Rixon, they were all covered with itch—they were rather dirty, and had eruptions on their heads, and lice—they looked pale and weakly, and very insufficiently nourished—their flesh was soft and flabby, and they were feeble—Alice Rixon (The prisoner's niece) was in a better condition by far; she was cleaner and happier looking altogether—I do not think Mr. Thornton has been a witness; I don't know where he is—the covering of the six children was insufficient, not one of them had any flannel from head to foot, and the bedding which I saw was not at all sufficient.

Cross-examined. I have occasionally seen children in Deptford going about clothed as these children were, and their parents are not standing in the dock charged with neglect—I visit many homes where the father, mother, and children are all living in one room—they are among the poorest, and if far as I know are honest people—they have better bedding as a rule than I saw at the home—I have never seen any so insufficient—the bed-ticking was half filled with straw; there was a sheet over that, and another sheet to come over the body, and a small rug or blanket over that, and covering that was a new quilt, which I do not think had ever been used, from its appearance—in the neighbourhood of Deptford Docks, where they all live in one room, I pledge myself that the bedding is better than that—for bed covering in winter I should give a couple of blankets and a sheet and counterpane—I don't think I should be satisfied with half a dozen of suck blankets as these children had—a dock labourer at 15s. a week would provide better accommodation I should think—I examined the children's naked bodies at the Union, but found no marks of violence or bruises and no sign of a bruise of a shoulder bone, but there might have been—I saw

no signs of beating with a clothesline, poker, or broomstick—I have seen the nurse here who took charge of these children directly they were brought to the Union—I said before "I hare heard of perfectly respectable workingmen sleeping on the floor, father and mother and children altogether," but its if I said "with only a sack for a covering," that was a mistake.

Re-examined. If the beating was not severe the bruises would only re—'I main from three or four days to a fortnight; it must be a very severe I beating for it to be perceptible at the end of three weeks—I saw the children's bodies on 22nd April.

HENRY PHILLIPS (Police Inspector R). On 1st April I got directions to give attention to this case, and on April 5th I saw two of the children, Goodland and Smith, in the street—they were wearing little brown alpaca frocks and some covering over their shoulders, I forget what it was; and a straw hat with a piece of red ribbon round it—they looked fairly well in the face—they were out collecting—I went to the home that day and saw the prisoner—she was partly dressed—it was 11 a.m.—I said, "I am an Inspector of Police; I have come to see the children in your home"—she said, "It is not convenient for me to speak to you now, will you call again?"—this was in the passage, the front door was always open—I called again on Tuesday morning, the 8th, and sat down in the room with her—she informed me that one of the children had died that week, referring to Kate Smith, and I understood her had been buried that day—I said, "There is one other child here looks very ill," referring to Annie Crabbe, the youngest of the lot—she said, "Yes, she is not well, the is suffering from dropsy"—she was very much swollen in the stomach at that time, and very remarkable—I saw about six children in the front room, including all those you have seen—that also includes the two who were out collecting on 1st April, and I supposed I had seen them all—there was a fire in the room, and they were sitting round it!—they look better in flesh now in every way—I went again on Thursday the 9th, but only had some conversation about the terms for taking children in—some children were absent on the 10th, and she said that they were upstairs in bed—I asked her if I could see the sleeping apartmonths—she said, no, it would be inconvenient at that time—that was between 7 and 8 o'clock—I went again on the next Monday, Easter Monday, April 14th, to see the children, but she refused unless her medical adviser was there—I asked her where she slept—she said, "You are a Tory indecent man to ask such a question of a single lady"—I asked her who took care of the children at night—she said, "The same as takes care of you, the great God of heaven"—I wanted to go over the house, but the father threatened me with law proceedings—he said that he should stand up for his daughter; he did not see why three men should come in like that and take her by force—I did not go upstairs till 21st April, when the children were removed—the dark coloured blankets were there, but I do not recollect them being on the bed—I did not turn the sheets down.

SARAH EVELEIGH . I am a nurse at the Greenwich Union—I remember the two Crabbes, they went from Sutton school to the home and were apparently in very good health, clean, and properly clothed—they were brought from Sutton school to the Union for their mothers to come and take them out—what they had not got I supplied them with, which was a thing

of every sort—they had flannel petticoats—I also clothed Ellen and Kats Smith before they went to the home—I cannot say whether they went there direct, their mothers came and took them out—they were free from I disease and clean—Kate Smith did not appear to have anything the matter with her—I did not know that she was afflicted with consumption of the bowels—I received the six children at the Union on 22nd April and, with the exception of Alice Rixon, they were in a dreadfully dirty state, and they had the itch—they ate heartily—their clothing was not so dirty as their skin—they very soon improved when they got into the Union.

Cross-examined. I have had 10 years' experience with children—I said before the Magistrate "They had not the appearance of having been starved, and I say so now: I have had considerable experience of children: I formed that judgment from their appearance—I also said thai they appeared to have been fairly fed, and that their clothes were not particularly dirty: I have had a great many children in the Union who when first admitted suffered from vermin in the head—it is a very poor neighbourhood round Deptford and Greenwich: it is not uncommon for children of the poorer classes to be suffering from vermin in the head: it is not a very difficult thing to eradicate them: I very soon get rid of them."

Re-examined. I also said that as to their being properly nourished—I paid very little attention, because the medical gentlemen examined them—still I did not think they looked starved—they improved very much after they were there—I never saw worse itch than they had—Annis Crabbe was six years old—she was the youngest.

By the Court. The itch must have been of long standing—I should not let it get such a head in the Union—I should not think I was doing my duty if I did—I am obliged to attend to them directly—it would not have got to that head if properly attended to—I saw them undressed; I had to undress them directly, and I put them into a clean bath—I carefully observed their state; their bones were not coming through their skin.

GEORGE ASHMAN repeated in substance his former evidence.

Witnesses for the Defence.

ELIZABETH ADDISCOTT . My husband is engaged in Her Majesty's Customs—I am the prisoner's mother; she is 24; she was 22 when she started this home in July, 1877—she had a little money left her at thai time by her grandmother—I live with my husband three or four minutes' walk from the home—that is our private houses—we have eight children—I have visited the prisoner at the home daily, and some days two or three times a day—she began with two children; they gradually increased, and she has had 10, 12, and 14—I have seen them have bread-and-butter and bread-and-treacle for tea and breakfast, and occasionally Scotch oatmeal made into what they term stiff stir-about made with water, and at dinner they had soup, meat, potatoes, and currant pudding—I saw them at their meals frequently—they had their breakfast in the winter in the front parlour—there was always a fire there, and we had a fire in the back parlour, but we had no fire in the kitchen in winter, being an airy kitchen it was not used in winter—they all had their meals there, and I have seen them at their meals almost daily—in my judgment as the

mother of a family they had sufficient to eat—I was in the habit of going there up to 22nd April this year, and I had the place and the children under my eye from beginning to end—they were dressed in uniform—they had blue dresses and grey dresses which were made of serge during winter—they wore a shimmy and two skirts, a flannel petticoat, a dress, and an apron—the two skirts were part of the dress—when they went out of doors they also had a jacket and a necktie—I have seen all those things myself—they had a straw bed and two pillows, two sheets, a blanket, and a counterpane, and a blanket on each bed—there were fire beds in the house fur the children, not including my daughter's—the children repeatedly came to me, and I gave them bread-and-jam—I was very much attached to them; I liked them very much, all of them, and was very kind to them—they came to me when they liked—I never saw the prisoner beat them, and I never interfered to prevent her doing so; I never had occasion—I recollect Kate Verch dying; I used to nurse her, and sit up at night with her, two nights in each week—my other daughters used to assist at the home—they are both here; one lived with me, and the other always slept with the prisoner for company—I recollect Kate Smith being brought to the home—she was then a thin, delicate-looking girl—when she was taken ill she was put to sleep on an iron-bedstead in the back parlour; it was made up the same as the beds upstairs—she was ill there fur there months before she died to the best of my knowledge—I attended to her occasionally, and used to take her what I had on my own table, and used make her a custard or a pudding—I was there on the Saturday before be died, but was not with her when she died—I have never seen any lice or vermin on her head or her body, or on any of the children—when they came in their hair was cut, and she had none—she died between 12 and 1 o'clock on Sunday afternoon, about 1 o'clock, I think, but I was not there—I went to the house that Sunday morning, and saw her dead body, about 1 o'clock midday—I had not left till past 12 o'clock on the saturday night—I saw that the poor child was very ill, and I stopped till last last moment—the body was on the bed when I saw it—nothing had been done to it—I washed her, and laid her forth fit for the undertaker measure her—I put her on a night-dress—vermin were not crawling over her body—her hair was out, it was not long the night before, it was short for a very long time—it was cut short soon after she was taken ill keep her head clean—there were no vermin, but she did not like to have her head combed, and I told my daughter to out it off as we could not comb it, and I was afraid she might not keep it clean—after I had laid her out I do not think I saw Dr. Ayres that day—he had attended har—I have seen the children undressed, and never saw any bruises or marks on them—I have never had any complaint from any one of the children of anything that occurred to them—they never complained of a beating—my daughter generally did the cooking, and I helped her.

Cross-examined. I have got two children at home now; my daughter lily has been living at home since January, and Sidney, the boy, and I nave another son occasionally at home, but no other daughters—I recollect on 14th April three persons coming, who I afterwards knew to he Mr. Carttar, the Coroner, the police inspector, and the relieving officer, Mr. Pilcher, but I did not know them then—I may have pointed to a saucepan on the fire and said that the dinner for the children was on the fire—I don't remember saying last time that on Pilcher looking into

the saucepan and finding only clear water there I paid that the rice had not been put in, but I might have—I solemnly swear I did not say that I could not produce the rice because there was none in the house, becasce if I wanted rice I could get it—I have no recollection of saving so—there was rice in the house in a tin in a cupboard—I cannot swear that I did not say on the former occasion, "I might have said that the rice was not in the house; I cannot swear that I did not say that"—I do not know that I said that I could not produce it because it was not in the house—I told the Coroner that my name was Bowen; that was my maiden name—I said last session, "Before I knew who Mr. Carttar was I gave my maiden name, and when he told me his position and name I said I was the prisoner's mother"—I am able to write, but I cannot see that certificate (produced)—the prisoner's father registered her birth—my maiden name was Elizabeth Bowen Kendal—I was christened "Elizabeth Bowen"—I gave my name as Bowen because when the gentlemen cane in they called me on one side to ask me a question, and I wanted to know what they wanted to impute to my child's character—perhaps I did wrong in saying that my name was Bowen—I swear that I had the Christian name of Bowen—Q. Can you tell the Court why when you were down at Stoke Damerel at the time of the birth of Laura Julia Addiscott you described yourself as Julia Addiscott without saying anything about Kendal? A. That is my Christian name; I was born in Devonport—I do not know whether that is in the parish of Stake Damerel—the prisoner was born on 31st March, 1855, at Stoke Damerel—Q, Did you personally attend on May 10, 1855, before the Registrar and mark with your mark your signature at the back of the paper, and describe yourself as Elizabeth Addiscott, formerly Kendal? A. Her father usually went—I could not go before John Earth that day, but I believe her father done it—I cannot swear that I myself did net put the mark of an illiterate person in the register—I can write my name (doing so)—I spell Bowen "Bornen"—I did not register either of the deaths at the home—I say to-day that Bowen is a Christian name like Elizabeth—I did not swear last time that it was the name of my father; I mean to say that I was christened Elizabeth Bowen—when I spoke of Bowen as my maiden name twice at the last trial, I only meant to convey that it was one of my Christian names—I know that "maiden "means the name I bore before I married—if I swore twice that Bowen was my maided name it was a mistake; I did not mean it—I will not deny saying it, but I did not mean it; I meant to say that it was my Christian name—I do not know whether I swore it twice—I said, "There is no pretence for saying that I ever had any occasion to interfere between Laura sad any child she was beating," and I say it now—the children's meals were not sent down to them in the kitchen where there was no fire by Sidney, the boy—I was at my own house sometimes attending to my family—I had nothing to do with the money matters of the home—when I laid out little Smith her body was warm; they fetched me directly she died—Groodland and Nelly Smith did not take lice off the dead body; Groodland was not in the room at all—the two persons who went to the house first were the Pearsons—they were not taken to the work-house—I was there when the Pearson children were taken away; I do not know whether they were taken away in waterproofs; their father brought some clothing—there was no violence by my daughter on Mrs. Pearson, or smashing of her fingers in the door; nothing of that kind

took plase—when the Pearsons were taken away they were just as I tee them to-day—I think they looked better then than they do now—they do not look better now; they were thin children at all times—they were not ill, or emaciated, or exhausted, nor do I know that Annie Louisa had a bad cough—it is true that the Pearsons' clothes were burnt because they were so filthy—I saw some of the things burnt—it is untrue that three months after January, 1878, other children were walking about Deptford with the clothes of the Pearsons on them; what they brought into the home were not good enough for that; I am speaking the truth, Sir—I say that there were not three chemises for each, nor three flannel petti-coats for one and two for the other, nor any Sunday petticoats or stays; they came in with narrow belts, not stays—I newer saw any drawers—hey each had a dress on; that was all I saw—they had a pair of stockings on, such as they were—they had been new-footed—they had tot nice strong boots; their boots were off their feet—all that I did see of their clothing was burnt before their father took them away in December, 1877—I heard the policeman examined—he said in my premises that Mrs. Pearson was drunk, and she had been drinking—I say so from her conduct in the passage; she stamped in the passage, and alarmed the neighbourhood—I did not hear the policeman say "Why don't you let the woman see her children? "nor did I hear my daughter say "It is a make-up tale; it is only a plea to rob"—my daughter told her if she would call next day she would give the children up—the children were not kept stark naked before the waterproofs were put round them; I put on a few things—they did not leave stark naked except what was brought to wrap them in—the Pearsons did not comain of the state their children were in—I know Mrs. Harris, but I do not know much of her—her child went away—I knew little Toohey, the man who was taken before the Magistrate for assaulting my daughter fined 2s. 6d.—I heard Mrs. Tooley call my daughter, names—I did not go to the police-station—the child burnt her hand at the lamp; one the children had some apples on the table, and the little girl put her hand out for an apple and put it against the chimney of the lamp, and that burnt it—Harris was clean when she left the home, but she was not well; she was a delicate girl, and she was suffering from a complaint—I have seen Heather, the bus driver. Q. You do not forget his coming down to your house in February to ask whether his niece had been there, a very wet morning? A. He stood at the bottom of the steps, and a woman came to the door; they asked for Nelly Mobbs, and I said she had been gone half an hour—that was true; if it had not been true I should not have said so—I am prepared to pledge my oath that that little girl had been there on that occasion when the uncle came—I will swear she did come there; I am on my oath; I am speaking the truth; I am quite old enough to know—I cannot say that she had been gone half an hour; I did not know I should have to make a statement like this—it is only three minutes from the home to my house—she had boots on, or else she would not have come there—I cannot say whether she had an umbrella; I do not know whether it was raining—her uncle did not take her away from my house—she had a broken chilblain on her foot, and a complaint in her throat; therefore I do not think she was in perfect health when her uncle took her away, but I did not see that she had got lice covering her, and itch from top to toe—I do not know that I have

seen her undressed; she is a big girl, big enough to undress herself—I cannot swear that I ever saw Dr. Ayres in the house before September 1878, but as soon as the children were taken ill that was the doctor—I do not know whether that was just before little Edgar died; I cannot swear to the date—I know they had a doctor as soon as they required it, and I have seen his assistant there, and Mr. Smart, another assistant—there was no one to my knowledge connected with Mr. Ayres but his two assistants—I did not know that Miss Janet Richards had given information against the home—I know that a gentleman from the Charity Organisation Society went through the home—the dark coloured blankets were bought two years ago—I cannot tell you the number—I do not know Canon Money—I did not see Inspector Phillips at the home—the blankets were not bought between the first time he came and the second; they were bought two years ago.

Re-examined. It is true that my name was Elizabeth Bowen Kendel—I did not know when these persons came who and what they were—they asked me who was the mother of this baby Verch, and one of them said "It is Miss Addiscott's own child we have been told," and I said "What, Sir!"—that is why I gave my Christian name; if I had told them who I was I should not have heard what they had to ay to me, and I thought it a cruel thing to impute that to my child—it was Mr. Pilcher who said that my daughter had had. an illegitimate child, and he has said to others that Kate Verch was my daughter's illegitimate child—I thought it was. cruel; there is not a blemish on her character—I have never known anything against her virtue—I can defy the world as to her character—my husband is still in the Customs—we have been married 35 years—our children are all grown up, four are living—I have told the truth—the policeman who was present on boxing night with Mrs. Pearson is, 1 believe, one of the Greenwich policemen—he had his uniform on—I hare not seen him since; it was because Mrs. Pearson was dancing about that I say she had something to drink—her conduct was most disgraceful, no decent woman would have acted as she did.

By the Court. When my daughter established this home she consulted me about it, and she continued to do so during the time she had the children, but I never interfered with her money matters, or any thing of that kind—I do not know who Mr. J. Williams is; I never heard of him, I think somebody audited the accounts, but I do not know him—the laundry was established at the commencement of the home, and there is a washhouse with a copper where the clothes were washed—that was used for the purpose of employing widows, or if big girls came to the home—I can tell you of widows who washed there, but I know them mora by their Christian names than their surnames—I know Ellen Swales and Mrs. Swales washed ladies' clothes there, but it was not continued long—the laundry existed about six months in 1878, I think, or not so long—it was found a useful occupation; it was given up owing to my daughter's ill health, she could not take so much upon her to do—Mr. Clark has a letter from a lady named Blundelll, and several other ladies sent washing, but I cannot tell you their names—a portion of the washing was done by the girls when there were girls big enough—this report says "A laundry has been established, which proves to be a most useful occupation, where we trust all who sympathise with our efforts will send their washing"—I have heard my daughter speak of Mr. J, Williams; I don't know where he lives.

LYDIA BAKER . I live at 153, Manor Road, Brockley—I was subpœnaed here last session—I became acquainted with Miss Addiscott's home about a year and a half ago—I have been inside the doors of the home to the post-office, but I have not been into the home—I only knew her by passing by a registry for servants, thinking if I went in there I might get one—I thought it was a registry—Eliza Crabbe came to me from the home about July last year, just for an hour or an hour and a half of a morning, and other little girls occasionally came from the home, some times with a card and sometimes with a message—I dare say I have seen six or eight at different times, and I used to send them down toys which my children had left off, and little publications which my children had read—their appearance was that of well-fed children—most decidedly I saw none that were emaciated, because they could not walk so far—Eliza Crabbe was exceedingly fat and rosy—yesterday I saw her, and remarked that she did not look near so well as when she was under Miss Addiscott's care—I did not always give her. breakfast, because she was only with me an hour, but I did sometimes—she came to me sometimes at 7 o'clock, and. sometimes at 9 o'clock—when I gave her a meal she did not eat ravenously—I recollect some of the children coming to me for some-flowers to put, on the body of the little dead child—I did not give them any, my husband had not got them—they never made any complaint to me about any matter, quite the contrary—they spoke in affectionate terms of Miss Addiscott—I have no knowledge of her further than I tell you, and I am quite disinterested in this matter—I am living in a very comfortable position—the last time I saw any children from the home was Christmas, 1878; I then saw two, but cannot recollect who they were—they appeared the same as before; I noticed nothing remarkable—they generally wore a sort of brown linsey dress, I think, but I really cannot tell you—nothing struck me at Christmas as being inadequate; it is true I did not take much notice, but if they had been thinly clad I should have given them something to put on—I have never seen children almost in the last stage of starvation with only rags upon them—I did not notice any nits on them, but I did not take off their hats—I have young children at home.

Cross-examined. I did not take much notice of them—I went to the home but never went inside, and therefore never saw the children, except those who went out collecting and some who came to answer me when he went to the house—Eliza Crabbe came to me last July; she remained about a fortnight, except Sundays, and I think she was with me on a former occasion—I have a recollection of one being with me; she was with me in July or August, but only for a fortnight—I did not see her after; I do not know that the fortnight I saw her must have been the very first fortnight she went into the home—the children may have been once, twice, or three times with collecting cards; I did not make a note of it—I do not remember saying on the last trial, "The children only came once with a collecting card"—I will not swear that they did not, but I do not remember their coming twice with cards—if it is down that I said "There were two of them," I said so—somebody took my evidence down; I cannot remember what I said—I do not remember whether the girls came to my house twice or three times—I cannot tell which children came with cards—I did not say on the last occasion, "The children only came once with collecting cards. There were two of them, they stayed about 10 minutes. I cannot tell which children they were who came for flowers, that is all the opportunity

I had of seeing them"—I will not swear that I did not say so; they did not bring a card more than once, because I mislaid the card, but they came afterwards not collecting but with various messages—I was in the habit of going to the home for my friends as well as for myself to see if the; had got servants—the children I saw were not thin—when a child eaters your own room and is thin you naturally notice it—my children are fat, but I have lost two with consumption, and therefore I should notice it—I saw them with their clothes on—I think I saw six or eight children besides Eliza Crabbe—I said that I had seen three or four others at my house, that is true—I do not think I could tell you their names, but Edgar was one—the little things would come to us and give in their message and we would talk to them a few minutes—I did not ask their names, but I should know them if I saw them; I do not know that I ever saw Kate Smith, but I have seen Ellen Smith at my house. (The nine children were here brought into Court, and the witness pointed out Eliza Crabbe and Elizabeth Goodland.) Those are the only two I recognise—I do not recognise Ellen Smith; I was told that she came; I think it was Crabbe said so, but I cannot tell which she is—I think I said at the last trial, "I do not recollect ever seeing Ellen Smith" because I did not know their names; I only knew the name of one—a person named Toohey came to me for a cook's situation for a lady friend of mine; she only called once; that is how I got mixed up with this home; I thought it was a registry for servants.

Re-examined. Mrs. Toohey came asking for a situation with Miss Addiscott—I said on the last occasion, "The other children came at various times collecting money and so forth"—they came into the house sometimes because we used to pet them and talk to them—they came into the drawing-room where we were sitting, and I still say that I saw nothing wrong in their appearance, and I maintain it—I do not recollect which I saw last Christmas, it was about Christmas, because my children were at home for their Christmas holidays; it was I think the first fortnight in January—that is what we call Christmas time; it was daring the cold weather.

By the Court. It was Eliza Crabbe who spoke in affectionate terms of Miss Addiscott, for instance if she saw me making a pudding she said, "That is what Miss Addiscott gives us"—she used to come to me in the kitchen—I also remember her speaking of an excursion they were going to have, and she said she hoped Miss Addiscott would go—on one or two occasions she spoke about Miss Addiscott and I said, "You seem very fond of Miss Addiscott"—she said, "Oh, yes, we all love her"—that was during the fortnight she was with me—I never saw her afterwards to my recollection—I do not remember how long she had been in the home then.

MARY ANN SWALE . I began to work for Miss Addiscott at the home 12 months ago—I went there once a week—I saw the children every week—I have had 11 children and I never saw anything to make me think these children were ill-treated, but more the reverse—they did not look as if they were starved to death, some looked very well, but one or two looked sickly—I worked for them every week and I washed frocks, petticoats, and stays—I have washed flannel petticoats for these little girls—they wore in winter petticoats, skirts, and jackets—I should say that that was enough—I do not say that they were clothed like gentry, but enough to keep them in health I should think—I did not see the meals given, but I saw sometimes the meals that were prepared for them—I have seen stews prepared

with potatoes, carrots, onions and meat, and I have seen bread and butter cut and bread and treacle, but I was not in the room when the children had it—I do not know who the bread and butter was for, but I think by the quantity it was for the children—it was on plates—Mrs. Addiscott was very frequently there—she appeared very kind to the children—the other Miss Addiscott was there sometimes; I have seen them all—I never saw any child beaten or heard any screams—I was quite surprised when I heard it said, because the children have always spoken to me favourably of Miss Addiscott and I have heard them talking to one another how kind and affectionate she was, when they have not been talking to me.

Cross-examined. They were continually speaking of the kindness of Miss Addiscott, how good she was to them—I have heard them come in, and Miss Addiscott has asked them if they have had their dinner, and they said "Yes, a very nice dinner"—I did not hear them praise the meat they had—I frequently heard them say that—they did not come down in the wash-house and tell me what dinner they had—they would join together and sing the praises of Miss Addiscott—I have heard that while I was washing—I only saw the meat, potatoes, and onions preparing to be cooked—Q. For all you know Miss Addiscott and her brother and sister may have eaten them? A. Many days when I was there there was no one there when I saw it—I cannot tell you how many times I saw potatoes, onrons; carrots, and meat; not always—I cannot tell you how often during the 12 months—two or three of the children looked sickly'; Kite Verch was one—I saw her when she first came in, and the others were Kate Smith and Alice Maud Edgar—the others looked well, and I never saw them dirty—they were kept nice and clean by Miss Addiscott—I never saw any lice on them, and I had the opportunity of doing so in washing their linen—if they had been unclean I should undoubtedly have noticed it—I knew Eleanor Mobbs; she was not in very good health—she was clean—I never saw any lice on her—I saw the children every week—I went there every week up to 22nd April—the children in the home were clean on 22nd April—I did not notice any lice on them—they were properly dressed as far as I noticed—I have washed coloured serge petticoats and white petticoats—they wore them that last week or I should not have had them to wash—they were clean and looked well fed, except those I have mentioned—I have only washed for the children, not for anybody else, but I washed the bedding—I did not wash for customers outside—I am not a widow; my husband is a labouring man.

By the Court. I washed half a dozen flannel petticoats every week for the little girls and I may have washed seven or eight, some weeks more than others—once a fortnight I washed the most—I never washed as many in one week as there were girls in the home, but I had them to make up next time—I did not know all the girls' names in April this year—I remember Elizabeth and Annie Crabbe, Elizabeth Goodland, and the Edgars and Ellen Smith—they did not all appear to be there in April, but I only had the opportunity of judging once a week—I am quite clear that they did not appear ill, and they were well fed. (The six girls were here brought into Court)—those six girls did not appear to be thin in April no more than they do now—they looked as well as they do now—Q. You must be careful, I caution you, I am asking you for an object? A. Yes, they looked as well as they do now, but Eliza Crabbe had more colour—I had opportunities

of seeing and judging of their condition every week—I never gar any lice upon them, and I should have known if they had them by washing their clothes—I do not know whether any of them had the itch, I don't understand what it is; I never had it on me—if any one were to gay that in April last any of those little girls were emaciated, or that they were very thin and half-starved, I do not think that would be true—this is the first time I have given evidence, but I was here on the last trial.

MARY ANN SWALE . I am a daughter of the last witness—I have slept at the home a month on the stretch, and I have been in the habit of visiting the home every Thursday to see if my mother was there—I did nothing there—I saw the children there; they seemed in good condition—I noticed nothing particular about them.

Cross-examined. I know Ellen Mobbs the younger—I do not remember her being taken away on 10th February, 1879—she was in perfect health—there was nothing the matter with her—I was not examined before—I do not know a charwoman named Kendal—my mother never went by the name of Kendal—I am not connected by marriage or blood with the Addiscotts—I did not know them before the house was opened—I knot the Pearsons; I have slept with them—they were not thin or emaciated at all—I knew little Toohey—Mrs. Duggin was her nurse—she was in perfect health—I knew little Harris; she was, I believe, removed from the home—down to the first death in November I had no idea that anybody complained of the children being starved.

By the Court. I was there in April last when they were all removed—I know the two Crabbes, Goodland, the Edgars, and Ellen Smith—they were not thin then—they were well fed and always clean when I saw them—they appeared to have sufficient clothes—none of them had got the itch when I saw them before they were taken away from the home—I saw them shortly before they left the home, before 22nd April when they were removed—they had no itch then I am quite certain, nor any lice—I did not look over them.

HANNAH ADDISCOTT . I am the prisoner's sister, and am about 27—I lived at home at my mother's—I was at the home every day, but I used to go home to sleep—I was with my sister all the time—the children had for breakfast sop, with milk and sugar in it, and for dinner bacon and potatoes some days, and pudding, and on other days soup on Mondays, and rice twice a week with milk and sugar on it—I cannot swear to the days; their dinners were various—they had meat on Sundays, and soup made of potatoes, turnips, and mutton, and on other days baked currant pudding and a baked plain pudding with meat in it—for tea they had tea, and bread and butter or treacle—their clothing in January was a shimmy, a flannel petticoat, two skirts, a dress, and a pinafore, and the out-door dress was a black cloth jacket, a white straw hat, with a band on it, and a scarf round their necks—they had a woollen scarf in winter and a thicker jacket—I took my meals there, and so did my sister—the children slept on straw mattresses, no palliasse, and they had two sheets, two pillows, one dark blanket, and a counterpane, and in cold weather they had extra things put on their beds—I nursed Kate Smith during her illness—I was with her every day, and sat up by her at night—I sat up with her on the Friday night before her death on the Sunday, and saw her on the Saturday—she was perfectly clean when I left her—she was attended by Dr. Ayres, and she had medicine—I used to give her mutton broth and a new-laid egg

boiled and a cup of tea, or a bit of boiled meat—I never refused her anything she fancied—I was there every day during the time the home was opened; I have never been away—it is an eight-roomed house—I never saw my sister beat any of the children, nor did I ever beat them—my sister and I generally went to bed at 10.30, or from that to 11—I saw Kate Smith after her death—her dead body was perfectly cared for—I never derived a farthing benefit from the home, nor did my sister.

Cross-examined. My brother is the eldest of the family; I am the eldest girl, Emily comes next, and then Laura—there are no other girls—I lived with my sister while she had the home, sleeping there every night—I did not swear at the last trial "I was living with my mother the first 18 months: the last of the time I was with my sister assisting her," but I will not swear positively—I will not swear that I slept there every night, but I was there every day—I am prepared to swear that I was with my sister between July and Christmas, 1877, assisting her; that is the first four or five months—I was there every day assisting her; I never missed a week—I was never away so long as seven consecutive nights—I never missed a week sleeping there during the whole time that the home was opened—I may have sworn at the last trial that for 18 months after July, 1877, I was living with my mother in Douglas Street—I swore at the last trial that I was at home off and on during last winter—I said, "All the children on coming to the home were dirty and ragged"—they all had lice, which we got rid of, except the baby Verch—the Pearsons, who were the first to come when the home was opened, came dirty, ragged, and with lice, and their clothes were so filthy that they had to be burnt—I remember their father and mother coming for them, and their being removed in waterproofs—after that I mean to say that the Pearsons' clothing was not worn by children in the home, it was burnt the same day that they came in—it is not a fact that the mother came and saw them some time after they came in and found them in other clothes, not the uniform clothes, or that my sister said that they would be in uniform soon—that is not true—their boots were very poor when they came, but I cannot swear whether they were burnt—the children always improved in appearance and health after they came to the home; they did not get worse, some of them improved; the Pearsons did, they were very thin when they came to the home—Harris did not improve, she was a very delicate girl—Toohey improved, and so did all the Edgars—Q. Even the one that died on 14th April, 1877?—A. Oh, poor little thing, she was too bad to get on at all—Q. Just now you said all the Edgars?—A. No, not all—the Smiths improved except Kate—the Crabbes improved; they were very poor and thin in flesh when they came in, and they got better, the eldest got much better—Ellen Mobbs was taken away by her uncle in February, 1879—she had only been there a few months—her head was dirty when she came in, full of lice, and her clothing filthy—I cannot say whether it had to be burnt—she was very thin, and I did not see any difference in her when she went out—she was a very dirty girl; she had to keep her own head clean, and I will not swear whether the lice had been got rid of—I do not know what the itch is—I never noticed that Eleanor Mobbs' hands were affected in any way—I did not sleep at the home on the night preceding Kate Smith's death—I slept at my mother's, and in the morning my sister Emily came and told me that Kate Smith

was dead—I think that was after church service, between 12 and 1—I do not think I went there before the evening—Nelly Smith was never told in my presence by the prisoner to keep the folding doors shut because she could not sleep for Kate Smith's groans—my sister never said anything about it, because when she was very ill we always sat up with her—Nellr Smith never nursed her sister at all—I never saw a braise on any child and never saw a stick in the house—I do not rocollect a walking-stick with a knob to it in the house, and I know my sister never used a stick—little Toohey was a very little child—I do not know whether I washed her before she left, or whether my sister did—I did not know that she had got a suppurating wound on the inner part of her thigh, or that my sister had tied her up and beaten her with a rope—Nelly Smith never slept with her sister while she was ill, from Shrove Tuesday—I have never done anything to earn my livelihood.

Re-examined. I have been kept by mv father and mother.

By the COURT. I saw the Crabbes, Goodland, the Edgars, and Ellen Smith shortly before they were removed on the 22nd—some of them were thin—little Rixon was a cousin of ours—Esther Edgar was rather thin; the Crabbes were not thin or dirty—I cannot say whether they had any lice in their heads, they had none on their bodies—I do not know what itch is; I have heard of it, but have no notion of what it is—Goodland was not thin or dirty—Ellen Smith was not very thin, she appeared to be well nourished; she was clean—Florence Edgar was not thin or dirty—I saw the little girls yesterday; I do not think the Crabbes, Goodland, the Edgars, and Smith look any better—they looked as well as they do now—I am not lame.

JAMES WILLIAM AYRBS , M. R. C. S. I practise at Deptford, and have had considerable experience in that neighbourhood, which is a very poor one—I have been in the habit of going a good deal into labourers' houses—I was called in professionally in September, 1878, to the home by Miss Addiscott; up to that time I had not the slightest knowledge of her—I then attended some of the children—the whole number of visits paid by me and my assistants must have been 50 or more—I am a general practitioner—children were brought to me several times by Miss Addiscott—I generally in the winter saw the children in the front parlour; there was a fire there—I attended Kate Smith—when I fist saw her her disease was scrofula; tabes mesenterial, otherwise consumption of the bowels—she was wasted—I have no recollection of the form of the head, but it was very apparent in the case of a baby named Verch—Kate Smith died on a Sunday—I saw her immediately before death and afterwards—she was in the back room the last time I saw her—she was thoroughly wasted—I thought the surroundings of the room had an air of neglect—I mean that it did not look quite so clean as it might have done, perhaps I may not say neglect; but there was carelessness and dirtiness about it—the room did not look clean—probably it would be better if you obliterate the word "neglect"—I have been in a good many houses which do not look clean—I saw the body after death—it was laid out properly and there was proper decency in every way—I saw no insects whatever—the hair was cut short—when I saw her before her death I saw no lice or vermin—I gave this certificate (produced), "Tabes mesenterica, 3 months"—I mean that the disease had been in existence that time—the children's hair was moderately short; not long by any means—

the door was always open on account of the post office—the children did not present the appearance of being starved to death—I think they looked excessively well: I am taking the lot collectively—I have frequently been there in winter and seen them sitting in the room where the fire was; and I think they looked better than they do in Court this morning—I have seen considerably inferior accommodation in working men's houses to what I saw there—I attended the other two children who died, and gave these other two certificates (produced)—I have no interest in this matter; rather the other way—I have lost about 6l. a week in Deptford alone—I said that if Miss Addiscott had the means, then I considered that the death of the children were accelerated by the mode of living—I said "I think if Miss Addiscott had the means of properly keeping the children who died, their deaths were accelerated by what took place at the home;" but I meant with regard to nourishment and warmth, I did not mean by any act of cruelty—I gave a certificate which caused the removal of all these children to the workhouse—I said last Session that these three children were scrofulous before they were born, and would eventually have died from scrofula—I cannot say at what period—they might go on for three or four years, and they might go seven—where the scrofula is in the glands by great attention and proper diet and warmth such a case would last out longer than it would do otherwise—if they had been children of an ordinary constitution without scrofula they might have endured the want of warmth and nourishment at the home; but, given those conditions they were not equal to it—if they had been the children of parents well-to do they might have lived some time longer—I have seen cases where children die at an earlier date in the houses of the people themselves, in consequence of the want of warmth and nourishment; and supposing they came from such a home they were better treated at Miss Addiscott's—I ordered cod liver oil, and subsequently saw it there.

Cross-examined. I never entered the home before the middle of August, 1878—I said September last time—it may have been the last day of August—there is no reason for my altering it—up to September all that went on was a sealed book to me—I attended Mrs. Peareon, but I know nothing of her stepchildren, nor did I know Harris or Toohey—I think I may have seen Mobbs; I fancy I know the name—I have been in East Greenwich five years, and since September I have set up a dispensary in Deptford, where I have two assistants; that is where I first knew of Miss Addiscott's existence—I was never upstairs up to the time Kate Smith died, and never saw the sleeping rooms, but I saw her in the back parlour—I have been upstairs since with Mr. Wontner—I never saw the children sitting in the downstairs front kitchen without a fire; I never was downstairs; I never was anywhere except in the two rooms on the ground floor—I dare say I swore at the last trial "I think I was only in the back parlour"—I think this is correct "Though no name of any girl that I attended in the home appears on the books, I think the dispensary has received for the whole of the medical attendance a sum of 7s. 6d."—I feel morally certain that that is true, and I am not certain we received that; I acted purely as a matter of charity, the same as with Mrs. Fry or Miss Stride, but the attendance became excessive and then I thought I had better have no more to do with it; I did not like the appearance of it, one child had the itch, and they were constantly coming to the surgery for ointment—I did not

like the general style, we got nothing by it but unkindness—I do not knot which child had the itch—I said that I could not attend to any more; they brought it round to the surgery—it was probably Miss Addiscott or one of her sisters—I won't bind myself to which it was because I was just passing through the surgery—that was about April, 1879—I paid six or eight visits to Kate Smith; I did not attend her in bed—I am not sure whether I attended her personally at all till six days before her death—I swore "I think it was about seven or eight days before her death that they called my attention to that particular case," Kate Smith—that is true—that was the first time my attention was called to the state the child was in—I took no means to ascertain what the accommodation was for the offices of nature, it was not my duty; I was attending 150 people every day, and have had six or eight deaths occur in a house—I think Inspector Phillips came to me after he had been to the Coroner and Mr. Long, and said that they wanted my assistance to get the children away from the home, and most probably I said "I don't see what I have got to do with the home"—I cannot bind myself as to what Phillips said—I swore a month ago that when Inspector Phillips came they said "They had been there with the Coroner and Dr. Long, and they believed the children were all starved: "I said "If that is your belief the best thing will be for you to get them away, and rather than allow any suffering I will give you a certificate with pleasure"—this is the certificate I wrote. (Read: "Park Terrace, Greenwich. This to certify that from my medical knowledge of the Girls' Home, managed by Miss Addiscott, at Deptford, I have come to the conclusion that from want of funds and other reasons the children in the home, to a large extent, suffer from want of nourishment, considering that nearly all the children are poor, disposed to scrofula and tubercle, and in such cases efficient nourishment and warmth are most desirable elements in the treatment of such diseases.") I came to the conclusion that I had been duped and that the children had boen starved; I said so at the last trial—I wrote this letter to Mr. Bond from Brighton "Gloucester Hotel, Brighton. Dear Sir,—If I can assist you in any way (in the case of Miss Addiscott), or either of my assistants, let me hear from you and we will do so; if the evidence be correct we have been most considerably duped. I am, Sir, yours truly, Jas. W. Ayres. July 10, 1879"—my impression of being duped lasted till then, but it does not continue till now because my opinion was that the woman was receiving sufficient money—it is not my opinion now that the children were starved, because death from starvation is different from death from scrofula—if those children had had more nourishment and more warmth it would not have accelerated their death—by "duprd" I meant because I charged them nothing and was rather inclined to get donations for them—I telegraphed to the Home Secretary, saying that I considered a public investigation was necessary, and an answer came back to say that they would communicate with the Board of Guardians or that they had done so—that was immediately before the case of assault at the police-court—the solicitor who had been my solicitor for six months appeared for Miss Addiscott at the police-court—I sat by his side once—I was a litigant in the police-court, Brighton, two years ago, and gave evidence—there was no Jury—I am very excited at times, and the Judge said that he did not believe a word I had said.

Re-examined. That was about a gentleman who went to Brighton and I went with him to take care of him and sued him for my bill, and I was

very excited and the Judge made a remark—I said last Session "I came to the conclusion that the children had not been starved"—that was so—there was very groat excitement in Greenwich when the matter was first started; a great deal had been made of the money that was collected—I received anonymous letters from people which I considered very unjust, and I considered Mr. Besley was at the bottom of it—assuming the evidence given by the children to be true, and assuming the amounts said to be collected to be true, that led me to believe that I had been duped, assuming everything to be true about the nourishment that was given and the money there was to give it with—I never saw at the home any child that was starved to death, leaving out the three that died—they did not present the appearance of semi-starvation, they presented the appearance I should have expected—I never saw that their bones was coming through their skins—I have walked in and touched a little girl under the chin and asked if Miss Addiscott was at home, and I thought they looked very nice—I did not always see Miss Addiscott when I went there.

By the COURT. The three children who died were predisposed to scrofula and so are some of the others—I say so from their general appearance—I have been in a room with them, and talked to them—I am able to swear that some of the children who were removed are predisposed to scrofula, but I do not know them by name—I think to an inexperienced eye a child subjected to a diet insufficient in quality and quantity would show the same symptoms as a child not subjected to that diet would who was scrofulous, but a medical man seeing the children in a room could see whether the scrofulous-like appearance proceeded from impure diet or from a scrofulous tendency I think—I now come to the conclusion that these children were not starved—I have heard Mr. Long's evidence, assuming that the children removed on 22nd April had their bones half coming through their skin, I should not be prepared to say that they had not been starved—if I had seen that I should have said that they had been starved—supposing some of them to have been covered with vermin from head to foot I should certainly not think they had had proper care taken of them—if they were covered with itch I should not think they had been properly cared for—the last time I saw any child in the home was I think in April, 1879—I cannot say how many times I was there between Christmas and April, I generally called in when I was that way—I came to the conclusion that the children had been starved before the last trial—I had that opinion from the very first day up to a fortnight before the last trial—after reading the evidence I have changed my opinion in consequence of noticing the amount that has been collected on the contribution cards—I have merely changed my opinion because the contributions were very small—Q. Assume the contributions to be small as you say, why does that change your opinion as to their being starved?—A. Because a case of scrofula may be starved, or a person in full health may be starved, that is what I mean to infer; they were cases of scrofula—Q. You are assuming that the other children who you never examined were all scrofulous?—A. Nearly all the London children taken from the streets are scrofulous or syphilitio—there is always some taint about them—that is hospital experience.

MR. BESLEY produced a certificate of Mrs. Addiscott's birth, in which the name of Bowen was not mentioned.

GUILTY on all the Counts, except the 19th for the assault on Esther Maria Edgar. Eighteen Months' Imprisonment. (There were two other India. ments against the prisoner.)

Before Mr. Justice Bowen.

Reference Number: t18790915-858

858. JAMES MASON (28) , Feloniously killing and slaying William Frederick Yarrow; he was also charged on the Coroner's Inquisition with the like offence.

MR. TORR Prosecuted; and MR. RAVEN Defended.

MRS. YARROW. The deceased was my husband—on 30th August, about 7 p. m, he left home—I left home at 9.50 and met him at the Admiral Harvey, near Greenwich Hospital—I was walking home with him about 11.2, accompanied by an uncle and aunt—when we got to the corner of Trafalgar Street and Nelson Street I saw the prisoner and two others—my husband said "Good night" to his uncle and aunt at the comer, and we turned to go down Trafalgar Street, passing quite close to the prisoner, who said something to my husband about a 1s.—he then seemed to be putting up his hand as if to strike my husband, who put his hand to ward off the blow, and Mason struck at him somewhere in the face, and he fell on the back of his head on the kerb—he came down a most terrific blow, striking his head—he never spoke—he was insensible just as if he were dead—a young man named Knight and another young man assisted to tale him away to the Dreadnought Hospital—he was bleeding a little—I afterwards went in and saw that the doctor had bound up his head with lint—the doctor told me to take him home, lie him on his side, and he would most likely be better in the morning, but if he were not I was to send for a doctor—one of the officials there said he was intoxicated—I took him home, and about 7 a.m. he was taken in a most fearful fit—I was frightened, and sent for Dr. Forsyth, who attended him until he died, on September 8th.

Cross-examined. I was in the Admiral Harvey from 9.50 till nearly 11, but not in my husband's company, I was in a different part of the house—I saw the prisoner with my husband there, but was not near enough to see what passed—they were together for about an hour—I left with my husband at the time the house closed, because four of us went out together—I did not see the prisoner leave—it was only a few minutes' walk from the public-house that he spoke to my husband—prisoner was standing in the roadway and I was walking with my husband, but I did not hear what the prisoner said—I was not noticing where my husband was—I was not between him and the prisoner—my husband and I were side by side; I was nearest to the kerb—I said before the Magistrate, "I was turning away to go on"—that was just after Mason spoke I saw him strike my husband—I said "Some one struck him before the Magistrate, but it was Mason—my husband was not intoxicated.

Re-examined. My husband and I were on the pavement, and Mason was a little way out in the road with two or three others—I meant to say that my husband was in the roadway.

MR. HOLLOW I am the deceased's uncle by marriage, and am a professor of music—I live at 1, Brand Stieet—I was coming from the Admiral Harvey—I walked with Yarrow behind, and Mr. and Mrs. Yarrow walked with my wife in front—we got on about 30 yards away when Yarrow shouted out, "Come back, will you"—I went back and saw Mason,

Knight, and Pascal—Yarrow stood next the pavement, Mason next confronting him—I stood next to Mason, and on my left stood Pascal—my wife and Mrs. Yarrow were on the pavement—Mason said, "Give me that b——1s. or I will b——well have it out of you"—Pascal said, "Have your b——ls."—Mason said, "Hold my stick"—he gave it to some one and hit Yarrow in the face—Yarrow lifted up his hand and Mason struck him under the jaw, and he fell on the back of his head on the kerbstone—he had not struck the prisoner—I said to Mason, "Hit me, don't hit a man smaller than yourself," and I said to Yarrow, "You run away"—Mason said, "He don't run away while I am here"—after that Mason ran away—I followed him, and a policeman took him—he knew perfectly well what he was doing, because I had spoken to him 10 minutes before—Yarrow was perfectly sober.

Cross-examined. We had been spending the evening at the lodge which is held at the Admiral Harvey—I was in Yarrow's company from 8.30 until he was knocked down—we left at 3 minutes to 11, the closing time—the prisoner came into the lodge at something past 10—the prisoner and I were sitting together, and Yarrow was sitting somewhere else—it was I who first addressed the prisoner in the lodge; I had seen him before—a question was made about my nationality, Mason said, "I will bet 5s. on Hollow's nationality—Yarrow said, "I have no 5s. to lose"—I had not previously informed Knight that I was a Russian, I should be very sorry to deny my own country; no such conversation took place—the bet was that I should put my nationality on a bit of paper—no money was staked that I saw—Yarrow said, "I have no 5s. to lose," and then the prisoner said 1s."—the deceased won the bet—I walked away with my wife at first, and then I came back 30 yards—Mrs. Yarrow was standing on the pavement, and Mason said, "Give me the b——Pascal said, "You have the b—1s."—and I do not think a blow would have been struck if it had not been for Pascal—I am positive that Yarrow was sober.

JOHN KNIGHT . I live at the Red Lion, Lower East Street, Greenwich—I was not before the Magistrate—On Sunday night, 31st August, just before 11,1 was standing in Kelson Street, with Mason and Mr. Pascal, Mr. Hollow had just left us and we were waiting for Yarrow; Mason called across the road and said, "I want my shilling back"—Yarrow parted from his friends and met him in the middle of the road and said, "I have not got it"—he then called for his uncle and Hollow came back—a scuffle ensued between Mason and Yarrow and Yarrow fell with his head on the kerb; Hollow called out, "Why did you strike a poor fellow like that? Strike me?"—Mason ran away; Hollow followed him calling, "Stop thief"—I had been to the Butler Lodge—I did not hear the bet made; it is a large room.

Cross-examined. I did not hear anything said about being swindled, I was standing on the other side of the road—I did not see any blow struck; it seemed as if Mason took Yarrow by the collar, a scuffle ensued and Yarrow fell.

ALBERT DAY (18 R R). On 31st August about 11.15,1 was on duty near Greenwich Church; a woman came to me, I went to King Street and saw deceased being carried to the hospital—I cannot tell whether he was drunk or sober; I saw Mason three or four minutes afterwards—I think he was sober.

Cross-examined. I found Mason down against the hospital gate with a sergeant belonging to the college—I asked his name and address, which he gave me.

DR. FORSYTH, M.D. I am a surgeon, of 11, 'Part Terrace, Greenwich—on 1st September I was called to the deceased's house and futind him suffering from injury to the brain, he was comatose, his right pupil was dilated and fixed, but his left was sensible to the light, his right leg was twitching and his left arm immovable; there was no external wound of the scalp—he died on 8th September; I made a post-mortem, and my opinion is that he died from fracture of the base of the skull and effusion of blood on the brain causing compression.

Cross-examined. I did not see him till the next morning—I examined all—the internal of the heart was tolerably healthy, but the walls were rather thinner than usual; one lung was considerably diseased, there was no bruise on the cheek-bone or on the jaw—I saw no signs of a blow other than that on the back of the head, but there was hardened blood inside the nose; I took it for granted that that was caused by the blow at the back of the head, but I afterwards found that the nose bone was not fractured; the blood in the nostrils was not due to the fracture at the base of the skull.

HENRY GODWIN (Police Sergeant R). I took the prisoner at his father's house on the Monday evening—I told him I was going to apprehend him for assaulting a young man named Frederick Yarrow on Sunday night, as I understood they had been fighting and the young man was seriously ill; he said, "It was not exactly a fight"—Yarrow was drunk; on the way to the station he said, "It is a bad job."

Witnesses for the Defence.

ALFRED BRAYN . I am a painter, of 23, Edward Street, Greenwich—on Sunday night, 31st August, I was in Kelson Street, about five minutes' walk from the Admiral Harvey; I saw the prisoner and the deceased; there wen three men and the deceased's wife crossing the road and having a few words about a shilling, and I stopped—the deceased was speaking and I saw him push the prisoner—the deceased was intoxicated and when he pushed the prisoner, the prisoner just put his hand on the deceased to keep him away from him and the deceased fell—no blow was struck whatever—the poor fellow fell down, for he was in that state that he did not want pushing down—I was close upon the spot and the witnesses who were there were all in drink—I only knew the deceased by sight, and I don't know what he was and I only know the prisoner by sight—I work away from the neighbourhood.

Cross-examined. I went before the Coroner, but was not required, nor before the Magistrate—I was looking at the deceased about three minutes before the dispute began; I mean while they were having the few words—the four of them were coming from the hospital from the opposite side to which I stood—I was not more than two yards from them—they were not what you call walking—they were in the middle of the road coming to where I stood—there was a little bit of a scuffle, but I could not catch the words—there were not two women in front of my eyes—I was sober, I had just come from Lewisham.

Re-examined. Mrs. Yarrow was the only woman I saw.

HENRY PASCAL . I am a gasfitter, of 66, Norfolk Place, Greenwich—on

that Sunday night I was at the Admiral Harvey when the row commenced; Hollow told Mason that he was a Russian, and a little while afterwards a bet took place between the deceased and the prisoner about what countryman Hollow was—I said "I would have nothing to do with it as it was only a way of getting a shilling from me; he had a shilling from me a little while ago"—they all left the house, and Hollow said that he was not a Russian after telling Mason that he was—I did not see the shilling paid, but I was paid—I believe it was staked on the bar, but I did not see it; it was given to the deceased—I left the house with Mr. Knight—I saw them again at the corner of the College—I went across the road with Knight, and Mason merely asked Yarrow for his shilling—he would not give it to him, and called Hollow back again—he came back and advised him not to give Mason the shilling—Mason said, "Well, I shall want it from you," and dropped his stick; and then the deceased pushed Mason merely like this—Mason merely put his hands to the deceased, and he fell on the kerb by his wife's feet—they were all in drink—I was in the room with them—Hollow was, I am sure, in drink, for he got in such a passion that he ran after Mason and said he would shoot him—that was after the deceased fell.

Cross-examined. I heard no swearing—Mason merely said, "Will you give me my shilling?" and then Yarrow called out for Mr. Hollow to come back—Hollow came back and told him not to give up the shilling before any question was asked—Mason ran away after Hollow ran after him and threatened to kill him—he only ran to the gates of the college—I never mentioned the shilling—I had nothing to do with it—Mason did not ask anybody to hold his stick, but I picked it up off the ground—I had his stick and Knight's stick in my hands at the same time—I did not hear Mason say, "I will have it b——well out of you"—there was no swearing at all and no blows—I heard the prisoner say "You have swindled me out of a shilling"—that was before he asked him to give it back—he seemed angry about his shilling and wanted it back—there were no blows either by one side or the other.

GUILTY. He received a good character. Recommended to mercy by the JURY .— Fourteen Days' Imprisonment.

Before Mr. Justice Manisty.

Reference Number: t18790915-859

859. CHARLES CHOWN (36) , Rape on Agnes West.

MR. BESLEY Prosecuted; MR. A. B. KELLY Defended.

GUILTY .— Ten Years' Penal Servitude.

Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.

Reference Number: t18790915-860

860. ALEXANDER GUNN (69) , Unlawfully obtaining by false pretences divers goods and 3l. 5s. 6d., the property of John Furlong and others, with intent to defraud.

MR. GILL Prosecuted.

JOHN FURLONG . I carry on business in partnership with my son as auctioneers, at 135 and 138, Power Street, Woolwich—I conducted a sale of furniture at a private house in Shooter's Hill Road, on 25th July—Gunn attended and bid for a number of articles to the amount of 66l. 11s. 6d., which I entered in the ordinary way; and he paid no deposit—he came to my office on 28th July with five cheques in his hand and presented this one to me—it is a cheque for 70l., and asked me for the difference between

that cheque and the amount of the goods, 3l. 8s. 6d., which I paid him—(The cheque purported to be drawn by Alexander Gunn on the York City and County Bank, Middlesborough, to A. B. W. or bearer)—I paid it into my bank, and it was returned ahortly afterwards endorsed "Refer to drawer"—I gave him an order for the goods and he had them—he wrote this letter—"6, Crawford Terrace—Mr. Furlong, Dear Sir,—I got your note about the cheque. I am surprised at the banker. There was only a few pounds short of 70l. in the hands, and 100l. was paid in on Wednesday. Of course, he had not got that when your cheque was presented. I enclose his letter. This is the first time in my life, and I hope it will be the last. Of course, I do not do any more business there. I enclose instruction for you to get 70l. 60l., 130l. Oxenhem's sale rooms in Oxford Steet is where my goods are, but they won't be sold until nex friday. I give you authority for them to pay you out of the proceeds of the sale. Send or go, and see if it is right. Being our first transaction you have ground for being suspicious.—Yours very sincerely, A. Gunn."—no letter was enclosed from the banker—I have received no proceeds from the prisoner—we followed the goods, and they were sold and the money obtained by Oxenham's successors—I have had none of the money.

RICHARD CHAPLIN . I am articled to Oxenham's auctioneers, Oxford Street—we received certain furniture from Guon on 28th July to be sold at the following Friday's sale—he asked for an advanc of 5l. upon them, and I gave it him, and took his receipt—the goods realised 47l. 8s. 7d., out of which our commission would have to come—we have refained the money.

Cross-examined. That was the first sale, 28th and 29th July—at the next Friday's sale another lot was sold for 3l. 9s

By the JURY. We hold all that money to pay over—we had no instructions to pay it over to Mr. Furlong, or we should hav paid it.

EDWIN WALTER LAST . I am inspector of branches of the York City and County Bank—I produce a certified copy of Gunn's account—on 25th July we had nothing standing to his credit, but was indebted to us—he has from time to time asked for leave to overdraw his account, but not since 1877—he has not been allowed to overdraw.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I made a statement before the Woolwich Magistrate that your overdraw was limited to 150l.—I repeat that statement—you would not, according to usage, be allowed to withdraw anything beyond.

By the COURT. At the time this cheque was presented the account against him was 237l., made up by a bill for 50l. which had been dishonoured—we considered his account practically closed by his insolvency, and we wrote a letter to him to close the account.

Re-examined. I have dishonoured his cheques, and requested him to withdraw both by letters and verbally since 1877—we have had no 100l. paid in.

The Prisoner. The insolvency was never carried out; it was simply a notice to his creditors, and that the bank stood good for 300l. advanced to him, and his bank-book would show by their own entries the fact that they had advanced him at the rate of 415l. in three months.

The witness. That is not so. (The bank-book produced)—in may, 1877, the account appears to have been overdrawn 291l., and before then 415l., in respect of which we had special securities given up at the time the

money was paid in; we have not the securities we had—we now he the mortgagees for the 150l

Prisoner's Defence. The securities I lodged with the bank were mortgage on a villa 100l., another on a shop 100l.—the transfer deeds four Louses valued at 1,300l., and of three acres of land valued at 1,100—they had the transfer deeds of these in security for the advance of 300l. 150l. never was mentioned in our arrangement—I agreed with the manage on depositing those deeds that my overdraw should be 300l.—previous depositing those deeds I was allowed to overdraw to the extent of 100l. it is very unlikely I should deposit all those deeds on the mere security 100l.—no cheque has been returned to my knowledge at any time.

EDWIN WALTER LAST (Re-examined). It was I who dishonoured the cheque—it was no use writing him as we could not find out his address for 18 months—I had not seen him in that time.

By the COURT. They were realisable securities in 1879—no cheque ha been paid.

JOHN FURLONG (Re-examined). The five cheques I spoke of were loose I believe—the cheque went through the London and County Bank the same day (28th July).

EDWIN WALTER LAST (Re-examined). The 65l. was not cash, but a promissory note which was not paid—it was taken out when it became due—the bank had nothing but second mortgages, and they entered into an arrangement for 265l., which cleared off their debt, but it was never carried out, because the parties in the interim had suspended payment—I think the other four cheques he had were blank—we have dishonoured very many cheques for him before; one for 130l. two years ago, and I sent to Mr. Gunn—he gave no satisfactory explanation—he had overdrawn his account, and we could not get the money.


Reference Number: t18790915-861

861. GEORGE BURKE (23), FREDERICK JOHNSON (21), and CHARLES TURNER (28) PLEADED GUILTY to feloniously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Robert Montgomerie, and stealing therein an opera-glass and other articles and 13l. 10s. his property.

BURKE also PLEADED GUILTY to breaking and entering the dwelling-house at Jule Francois Price, and stealing a coat and trousers and other articles his property.

TURNER also PLEADED GUILTY to having been previously convicted of felony on 8th February, 1868, at Brentwood. JOHNSON was further charged with having been previously convicted of felony on 4th March, 1878, at Guildhall, Westminster, and pleaded


GEORGE CHESTERFIELD . I produce a certificate of conviction—I was not present at the trial, but had Johnson in custody in prison—the prisoner is the man.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I swear to you by your appearance, and by marks of a ring on the middle finger of the right hand, and a star on the right arm.

GUILTY. BURKE.— Twelve Months' Imprisonment. JOHNSON** and TURNER**.— Two Years' Imprisonment.

Reference Number: t18790915-862

862. FRANCES LETITIA GRAY (32) , Forging and uttering a receipt for 10l. with intent to defraud.

MR. WILMOT Prosecuted.

SARAH WILKINSON . I am a widow and laundress at 55, Turner Road—

the prisoner lodged at my house with her husband, and left on the 18th August to go into service—after she was gone I went to my bedroom drawer where I kept my Post-office bankbook (produced), and found that 10l. had been withdrawn which I had not received—the prisoner had no authority to withdraw it, but had done it once before and paid me the money.

AMY PETTER . I am employed at the post-office, Hyde Road, Lee, and remember the prisoner coming with a warrant and a book, and drew out 10l., which I paid her—she signed, "Sarah Wilkinson."

HENRY CHARLTON . I am clerk in the Savings Bank Department of the General Post-office—persons withdrawing money send a notice of withdrawal by post to the chief office, and a warrant is forwarded to them by post—we received this application form signed "Sarah Wilkinson," to withdraw 10l. from her account at Hyde Road, Lee, and this warrant was sent.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. The signature is somewhat like Mrs. Wilkinson's, and was accepted as hers.

SARAH WILKINSON (Re-examined). This letter is not in my handwriting—I have seen some of the prisoner's handwriting, and this is hers.

The Prisoner, in her defence, stated that she had done it at the instigation of Mrs. Wilkinson's daughter, with no fraudulent intention, and that she had signed the name as before because Mrs. Wilkinson could not write.

ALICE JANE BROOKE . I am the daughter of Mrs. Wilkinson—I asked the prisoner to apply for a warrant, and she never gave me the 10l

SARAH WILKINSON (Re-examined). I can write.

GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Imprisonment.


Before Mr. justice Lopes.

Reference Number: t18790915-863

863. GEORGE PILFOLD (58) , For the wilful murder of Louisa Pilfold.

MESSRS. POLAND and WILLIAMS Prosecuted; MR. W. SLEIGH Defended.

GEORGE PILFOLD . I used to live at home with my father and mother, and my deaf and dumb brother, at 9, Windmill Street, New Cut—we all occupied one room—I work in the Cattle Market, marking sheep on the back—on Sunday, 3rd August, about 7 am., I went out with a shoeblack box—I returned about 1.30 p.m., which was my dinner-time—my mother was intoxicated, and out at my married sister's, Louisa, so I had no dinner—about 2.30 I went to my sister's to fetch my mother, but she would not come, and I went back home—my brother William came in about 3.30 or 4—my father and I laid down to go to sleep, and in the evening my father woke up and went out, leaving William and me at home—that was about 5.30 or 5.45—I then went to sleep, and when I woke up ray brother had gone out and I was alone—my father and mother came in about 9.30 or 9.45, and my father said, "Are you going out to-night to work, George?"—I said, "Yes, father, I am going out to work"—they were very drunk, but my mother was the most so—I washed myself, and went out to the Crown public-house, where I found my brother William—we had some beer together, and he left me, saying that he was going home—I stopped there till 10.30, and then went to the corner of the coffee-stall at the corner of the Cut—while I was there at 12 o'clock William came to me—he cannot speak, but in consequence of the signs he made I ran home, leaving my coffee and

money—I was changing 6d. at the time—I ran upstairs and found my mother dead—as I went into the room she was lying on the left-hand side against the wall, as if she had laid herself down there—my father was lying beside her asleep—I felt her, and she was quite cold—I ran down, and told the landlady, and went straight for a policeman, leaving only my father and mother in the room—I found my brother waiting at the corner of Windmill Street as I came back with two policemen, and he and I and the policemen went straight home—we all four went into the room, and my father was lying fast asleep by the side of my mother—one of the policemen went with me to Kennington Lane Station, and I came back with him and the inspector—my father was then sitting on a box, and my mother by his side—my father said, "Who brought these policemen"—I said, "I did, father"—I was going to a cupboard to get a handkerchief, and he said, "Let them things be; they don't belong to you"—the things were a handkerchief and some clean clothes.

Cross-examined. I shall be 19 in December, and my brother William is 24—my father was always kind to my mother and to us—my brother William is very spiteful—I have had to go to the police-station three or four times through his knocking me about—he has stabbed my father—I was present and saw him do it—he was locked up for it, and my father was bail for him to keep the peace—I was at the police-court—I did not go to 2, Windmill Street to get my brother's clothes—that is next door to the Windmill public-house—I was not in the Windmill that night—it is kept by a person named Louisa, not by Cole—I was the first to find out that my brother's clothes were there—he showed them to me after we had been to the police-station—I then went back to get my change and hare my coffee—he had on a butcher's linen smock, which reached "pretty nearly down to his ancles—it was covered with blood—his trousers were saturated with blood, and there was blood inside the flap where the buttons are—these are them—when he showed me the trousers I saw the blood—I had seen the blood on the smock, and saw that it was blood; it was still wet—I had not said anything to him before he showed them to me; he did so of his own accord.

WILLIAM PILFOLD . (This witness being deaf and dumb, and not understanding the meaning of words, gave his evidence by gestures, which were interpreted by Mr. Whatley, of the Deaf and Dumb Asylum.) On Sunday, 3rd August, I was living with my father and mother at 9, Windmill Street—I was out during that day, and cams home at night; I was there at about 10 o'clock at night—my father and mother were drinking beer; my mother was sitting very close to the fireplace—they began fighting, and then he stabbed her with a small penknife, which he took from his pocket, on the lower part of the stomach—her clothes were over her—I saw him open the knife—when he stabbed her she fell off the chair where she was sitting and fell back on the floor; she did not move at all; she was lying dead; I took her and carried her over and put her on the bed close to the wall; there was no bedstead, the bed was right on the floor—my father told me to do so (The interpreter here said that the witness meant that his brother George told him to do so)—I lifted her on to the bod before I went for the police—my brother George was there when my father stabbed my mother, and he saw it—when I fetched the police my father and mother were there and the beer was there, and there was nobody else till they came—George was in the room; he did not go with me when I

fetched the police; he remained in the room—when I moved ray mother from the floor there was blood on the floor by the fireplace, and there was blood on my clothes afterwards, but not before I moved her—my father was on the bed when I moved my mother; I saw him lay himself down there about ten minutes after he stabbed my mother—I went downstairs, and George and I told the police, but I told them first—it was about. 10 o'clock when my father stabbed my mother, and I saw the blood on the floor with a candle, and about 11 o'clock I was in a public-house with my, brother; that is just round the corner; I don't know the name; I saw my brother George there, and told him to fetch the police—I brought some beer to my father from the public-house—I can read and write—after I spoke to my brother he and I went upstairs with a policeman to our room—I don't know a coffee-stall near the public-house—I know a beerhouse—I told my brother in our room, to look at my clothes; that was the first time that I had shown them to him—I afterwards washed my trousers at a neighbour's—I don't know whether that is No: 2, Windmill Street; it is in the same street; that was on a Monday, and they lent me an old pair of trousers to wear—my brother George was not in the room when my father stabbed my mother; I first saw him at the coffee-stall; I fetched him; I was drunk.

Cross-examined. I saw my father stab my mother, but not George—I said at the police-court that I changed my trousers, and that my brother George saw me do it—I said first that I changed them in the yard, and afterwards that I changed them at a neighbour's; I left them in a tub of, water there; I did not fetch them—my brother found them there, and gave them to the police—I did not before the police were brought in go into the yard and empty some dirty water, throw it into the yard, take some clean water, and put it into my mother's room—I did go into the yard; there is a water tap there; that is where we go for clean water when we want it—I know some people named Driver; I passed Martha Driver and went into the yard, and threw some dirty water away and took some clean water upstairs—I did not take any water upstairs—this knife belongs to my father and this other to my mother; I saw this one on that night (A brown one)—my mother was sitting quietly on a chair when she was stabbed, but my father was not—she had all her clothes on except her bonnet—after the stab she fell back; the stab was like this (A thrust); the knife passed right through her clothes—I have been locked up for stabbing my father in the street; he was taken to the hospital, and very nearly died—I have never struck my mother; I liked her; she was good; she was quiet; we never quarrelled; she often got drunk—I have struck my father on other occasions—I dislike him.

Re-examined. I was in custody four days when I was charged with stabbing my father.

LOUISA MARKS . I am the wife of Samuel Marks, a porter, of 30, King Street, New Cut—the prisoner is my father, and the deceased was my mother—on Sunday, 3rd August, about 8 a.m., my mother came to my house; I let her in, and gave her 4d. I owed her—she remained with me all day, and at 9 we both went out with ray husband, my father, a friend, and two children—my father came at 7.35 to see if my mother was coming home—she said she was coming in a minute, and he went out—he wanted to pay for the victuals she had had—I offered him a glass of ale, and he

refused it—he was very tipsy—my mother was as sober as I am at this moment—we all went down King Street and up William Street to the Lord Hill public-house, where we had three quarterns of gin, and my father paid for a pot of ale—he took some of the gin every time—and he took a quartern of gin in my room before we went out, and he had some ale in the public-house—my father and mother took more than I did—we then went to another public-house, where we all partook of two quarterns of gin and a pot of ale—I bade them good night, and we made up our ninds to go to Hampstead on the Monday, and father said, "Have you got money enough, girl I if you have not, I have"—my mother and all were to go—I left them outside the public-house, and they left as if to go home; my mother was then getting the worse for liquor—at 12 that night, in consequence of what two women told me, I went round to my mother's house, which was three minutes' walk, went up to her room, and saw her lying on the bed dead—my father was sitting on a chair, my deaf and dumb brother was silting by the window, and two policemen were in the room—I said, "Oh, father, father, mother is killed; who has done it I—"he said, "What is the matter, gal?" and I said, in an excited way, "It is no more than I expected '—I was then sent out of the room by a gentleman, a doctor, I believe—my father said, "It's a good job she is dead"—I said, "You. don't mean it, father"—he said nothing—a woman was afterwards called for, and I rushed up and took her clothes off, and out of her pocket fell this little white handled knife, which I had used to scrape some potatoes that morning, and three pawn tickets.

Cross-examined. Before my father said it's a good job she is dead, he said, "What is the matter I have not done anything"—he was sitting in a chair behind the cupboard door, on the right hand side of the room, opposite the window—he said he was asleep in bed with mother when they brought the police in—the knife fell out of my mother's pocket as I cut her clothes down the front and lifted her—they only occupied one room—there were two wooden tubs there, they would hold water—I know who lives at 2, Windmill Street, but I don't know their names—it is a fact that my brother is a spiteful, ill-tempered fellow—he has attacked me twice, and my mother also with his fist, on a Sunday afternoon; that was done in a savage, violent way—he drinks very much—as far as my judgment goes, though he cannot speak, he is not wanting in cleverness and acuteness; he is very artful—on the day we were talking of going to Hampstead, my father was kind to my mother; they were going to have a nice family party, and tbey were on good terms together—No words passed between them up to the time—I left them, and they seemed happy—they left me at 9.15, and I was fetched at 11.45—my deaf and dumb brother disliked my father very much.

Re-examined. My deaf and dumb brother struck me with his fist and knocked me down in the yard—he came to my place when my husband was out of work, and we could not give him a good Sunday's dinner, because mother had been living with us, and he struck me a blow in the face with his fist, and he attacked my mother that very Sunday because she took my part—he is hot-tempered and very spiteful when he drinks—he was fond of his mother occasionally, but she was in the habit of selling her things for drink, and then he got excited.

WILLIAM DRIVER . I live at 9, Windmill Street, New Cut, and am the landlord of the house—the prisoner and his wife and two sons lived

with me about five months; I can't be certain to a week—I have seen the prisoner and his wife fresh, but not often—on Sunday, August 3rd, I went to bed between 8 and 9 o'clock—my room is upstairs, on the same floor as theirs—there is no other room on that floor—they were out when I went to bed—I afterwards heard them go upstairs, I think it was between 9 and 10 o'clock, but I was in the dark, and there was no clock—I heard the prisoner say to his son, "Are you going out to-nigbt, George?"—George replied, "Yes, father, I am going out"—I then heard George or some one go downstairs, and after that there was a little quarrel, and the prisoner said to his wife, "You b——old cow go and fetch me some beer and some cheese"—he also called her a b——old whore—I heard her go downstairs; she returned in a few minutes, and then there was a quarrel, and a repetition of the language I had heard before—I did not hear her say anything—I heard a scuffle, and something like a candlestick falling down, and then a thumping noise and a groan—I did not get up—my wife was not there—I went to sleep, and heard no more till the deaf and dumb boy came upstairs: that woke me up—I did not see him, but I knew him by the noise, because he makes a great deal more than anybody else, as he cannot hear—I had not seen him that Sunday.

Cross-examined. The bed is on the floor, there is no bedstead—the noise I heard may have been caused by the prisoner throwing himself down on the bed to go to sleep.

MARTHA DRIVER . I am the wife of the last witness—the prisoner and his wife and two sons occupied two rooms on our first floor—I was standing at the gate on Sunday night, 3rd August, and saw the prisoner and his wife come in—as far as I know it had just turned 9.30—they were both the worse for drink, the prisoner appeared the worst—a quarter of an hour after I heard George come downstairs and go out into the street; the deceased then came down and spoke to my daughter, she seemed to walk straight enough—in consequence of what she said to my daughter she went and fetched some beer for her, and the deceased went across the road and bought some cheese—after my daughter came hack with the beer, I went across the road and bought a candle for the deceased, which I gave her with a half-penny change; she waited at the door for it, she said the half-penny would get her a half-pint to-morrow—she went into her room which is just over mine—I went to my room and heard the prisoner swear at her and use very bad words, which I cannot make use of they were so dreadful, but leaving them out he said to his wife, "l Look here, I will put your b——light out to-night"—I did not see George come in—I was in bed when he knocked at our door; I heard the deaf and dumb boy come in at a quarter to 11, that was half an hour after I heard the words about putting the light out; 1 heard someone I believe to be him go upstairs, and about five minutes after the deaf and dumb boy came in—he came down with some water and put it on the stairs; it was in a little long tub—I heard him bump the tub down on the floor, and he spilt the water on the stairs—he came down again in five minutes and made signs to me which I could not understand—he went upstairs again and came running down directly and went up the street to fetch his brother—he was gone ten minutes; I did not see them return, but I heard them—they went up to their room, and not more than five minutes after they both came down again, and George knocked at our door—I opened it and he said "My mother is dead;" they went out again and came back with the police.

Cross-examuied. I heard a noise as if some one was tapping on the hearth; I did not say that it was as if someone was walking across the floor; I heard no scuffle or screaming—it was half an hour after the last noise I heard, that the deaf and dumb boy went up to the room—he was under the influence of liquor when I saw him come in.

LYDIA DRIVER . I am single, and live at 9, Windmill Street—on Sunday, 3rd August, at 10.30, I was standing with my mother and sister in the street; the deceased came down and I went and got some beer for her, I gave it to her and she went upstairs with it—she had been drinking, but she could walk straight—soon after she went up I was standing under the window of her room, which is the first-floor front and about 8 feet above my head, and heard the prisoner say to her, I will put your light out before the niglit is over—I went to get my supper and heard no more, nor did I hear any one go upstairs, but I saw the deaf and dumb boy come in at a quarter to 11; I did not see George that night.

ELIZA DRIVER . I am single, and live at 9, Windmill Street—on Sunday night, 3rd August, I was standing outside the door with my mother and bister and heard the prisoner and his wife quarrelling upstairs; he said, "I will put your b——light out before the night is over," after that I heard a thumping noise—while I was standing outside the deaf and dumb boy came down and made some signs to me which I could not understand—he went upstairs again, stayed three minutes, and came down and went up the street with his brother George, who said something to my mother; they bath went away and returned with the police.

Cross-examined. They often used to quarrel—the woman used to drink, but I never heard her use bad language—I had never heard the prisoner say before "I will put your light out".

JAMES WALSH (L 209). On 3rd August, after midnight, George Pilfold and his dumb brother came to me together—George spoke to me and I went with them to 9, Windmill Street, to a room on the first floor, where I found the prisoner partly undressed and apparently asleep; a woman was lying on her back on the part of the bed next to the wall, her clothes were wised up to her knees—I saw she was dead—I saw some blood on the hearth, and sent 40l., who was with me, for an inspector and a doctor—the prisoner lay still asleep, and in a short time another constable came, bringing the dumb son, who had left the room, and who woke his father up and pointed to the dead body of the woman—the prisoner said "What is the use of taking notice of that b——drunken cow, she has been drunk like that for the last month, and a b——good job if she is dead who the b—hell fetched you two b——great fellows to me in my own room 1 I suppose it was that lazy young swine, George; how is it that he has not gone to work? if you don't let me out I will jump through the window"—he went towards the window and partially raised it up, but was prevented by another constable—the inspector then came, and Mr. Wilson, the doctor—I found this pearl-handled knife under the dead woman's body when Louisa Marks was taking off the clothes for the doctor to examine—I also found some halfpence and a farthing on the bed and took them—nobody had interfered with the bed till the inspector came—the woman was on the hed, as if she had been put there—she was on her back, and her legs were stretched out straight.

Cross-examined. She was lying next to the wall, by her husband, her

head at the top and her feet at the bottom—I say that she looked as if she had been put there, from the position of her clothes; they were in such a position that if a person had passed his hand up her legs they would hare been pushed up for that purpose.

HENRY WHITNEY . I was a police-inspector at this time, and on duty at Kennington Road Station, when George Pilfold and Constable 40l. came to me about 12.20, and from what they said I went to 9, Windmill Street, and saw the deceased's body lying on the bed next to the wall—the prisoner and his dumb son were there, and Walsh—on the right side of the hearth I found a patch of blood about 12 inches by 8, and a great quantity of blood about the room and about the bedding—the woman's clothes were quite saturated—I sent for a doctor—I asked the prisoner his name—he said "George Pilfold," and that he was a tinplate worker—I asked him if the deceased was his wife—he said "She is not a b——wife to me, a b——good job if she was dead"—I said "I am afraid she is dead"—the doctor then came—I asked the prisoner if he had a knife—he handed me a small white-handled knife, and said "This is what I use as a toothpick"—he proceeded to take the things out of his pocket, and I said "I will search you myself"—in the inside breast-pocket of his coat I found this brown-handled knife—I could trace no blood on either of the knives—I saw blood on the dumb boy's clothes, and asked the prisoner how his son came by it—he said "He got that by lying down there," pointing to the blood on the hearth—the dumb boy made some signs, and another brother who was in the room, not George, motioned to him to be quiet—I know that it meant that because he ceased directly—the sergeant was acquainted with the sign language a little, and he commenced to communicate with the dumb boy, and the same son said "He won't tell him anything, let him stop till tomorrow and go to the gentleman at the schools. (The interpreter)—I said that I should take the prisoner in custody on suspicion of murdering his wife—he said "I will go with you"—I examined him, and found no blood on him, and I handed him over to Sergeant Hawkins—I measured the room—it measures 11 feet by 10—I made a survey, and there was no sign of any struggle taking place—the bed is a piece of sacking with some flock—I also looked at the chairs, but found no blood on them.

Cross-examined. There was nothing inconsistent with them both having laid down and gone to sleep that night—the prisoner had not his coat and waistcoat off when I went in—it was not necessary for me to search him—he would have given me everything willingly—he did not make a show of resistance, or give me any trouble—he was drunk, and I do not think he knew what he was about.

JAMES WALSH (Re-examined.) I saw the prisoner woke up by his son—he was lying on the bed with his coat and waistcoat off—they were on a chair.

JAMES HAWKINS (Police Sergeant). On the morning of 4th August the inspector gave the prisoner into my charge—I took him to the station, and he made a statement on the road which I put down directly I got to the station—he said, "When you have got hold of a bad partner you never know what is going to happen—I have had 38 years of it—she has not been in doors one night this week—I was fast asleep when you chaps came up"—I said, "Do you mean you were asleep in that room?"—he said, "Yes, you call it a mechanic's room; there is nothing much there; whatever

I get there always goes to his legs"—he volunteered that statement—I never spoke to him except to hurry him on when he did not look sharp—he appeared very muddled and unsteady, as if he was recovering from drink; but he could walk very well.

ELIZABETH BODEMAN . I live at 2, Windmill Street,. New Cut—on Tuesday, 5th August, about 2 o'clock in the day, the deaf and dumb boy was by my door with a considerable number of people—I had seen him once or twice before—my brother made some signs to him to get him out of the crowd, instead of which he thought my brother invited him in, and he came in—we were at dinner with Mary Ann Davis—I made motions to him, trying to convey that we would give him something to eat; and he made motions with his mouth, as if to convey that he would have something to eat—I cut him some bread and meat and handed him a knife—he put the knife on one side and shuddered at it—he would not look at it—he ate the bread and meat and went away—about 5 p.m. he came in again when my brother and I and Mrs. Davis were at tea—I offered him, by signs, a cup of tea—he pointed to his mouth again, and I made him two cups and gave him some bread and butter—he pointed to some blood on his trousers; I motioned to ask him how he came by it—he lifted something up from the fire-place and made a motion as if he was lifting something into the bed or sofa. (MR. SLEIGH objected to this evidence as it teas a conversation, though by dumb show, in the prisoner's absence, equivalent to words; and being so, he was unable to check it. MR. WILLIAMS contended that the evidence was admissible, the signs being acts done. MR. JUSTICE LOPES considersd that the signs were something more than acts done, and equivalent to an ordinary conversation, and therefore excluded the evidence.) In consequence of what passed my brother gave the deaf and dumb boy an old pair of trousers, and he took off his own trousers, put them into a tub and put a little cold water on them—he wrote something on a piece of paper—he came again on Wednesday and Thursday, and seemed in a way because I had put his trousers in water—the detective subsequently took them away—they had remained up to that time in the water—they had not been washed at all, only put in the water and run out again.

Cross-examined. I know the eldest brother—he was at our house before the police came—he asked me if I had got any clothes of his brother's there, but his brother had been before that—a policeman who is here took the clothes away on the same day that the elder brother came, but I can't say how long after—the deaf and dumb boy was in a way because I soaked his trousers—this young man came with detective Whitney.

MARY ANN DAVIS . I was present on the Tuesday when the dumb boy came to Mrs. Bodeman's house.

HENRY WILSON , M.R.C.S. I live at 33, Great Charlotte Street—I was called on the night of 3rd August and found the body of the deceased lying on a bed on the floor; the prisoner was there and Inspector Whitney and one or two constables—I first examined the body in the position in which it was lying and discovered a large quantity of blood on the clothes which were covered with liquid motion which had escaped with the blood—I could not see externally where the blood proceeded from on account of the dirt which was upon the body, and requested that a woman should be sent for to wipe away some of the dirt and help to remove the clothes—I then saw blood flowing from the vagina, but there

was no wound or abrasion outside the vagina. (A diagram was here put in showing the situation of the wound, and this part of the evidence was unfit for publication.) The inspector showed me the small blade of a knife which fitted the wound exactly, but it might have been done by any penknife—I made a post-mortem examination next day with Dr. Cyril Jones—the wound could have been inflicted while she was lying on the bed, but I do not think it could have been done if she was sitting flat on a chair—her clothes were very scanty—her age was 59; the brain was healthy, but almost bloodless, and the body was very empty of blood—there was a slight bruise on the right temple, and a deal of bruising under the scalp and extravasated blood—if she was sitting on a low chair and in front of the edge it might have been inflicted sitting, but I did not notice the height of the chair—I noticed a patch of blood on the hearth, it appeared to be bright arterial blood, which would be the first to flow from such a wound—my opinion is that it was inflicted near the hearth; it was the only clotted blood, the ordinary blood was soaked into the bedclothes—when the wound was first inflicted the blood would flow more freely, and being in larger quantity it would not be absorbed by the clothes—there would probably not be time for blood to be on the knife—that is the result of an experiment I made that night—my idea is that the knife was inserted under the clothes—the whole-handled knife which fell from the woman's body would inflict the wound; there would be very little difference—the blood would certainly spurt from the arteries very quickly.

Cross-examined. If she had been drinking heavily she might sleep very heavily, and the insertion of the knife without violence might not wake her, but it might have been done by a stab.**********

Re-examined. I think the wound might have been done in any position if there had been a struggle—supposing she was sitting on the edge of the chair it could be done in that position.

By the COURT. It is very unlikely that it was done by a stab, but if it was she must have been sitting on the edge of the chair—the prisoner was in a maudlin state when I saw him; he was sitting on a chair for the first 20 minutes, but he walked out of the room pretty well—his hand was steady enough to take the knife out of his pocket—I do not think it would require any remarkable steadiness of hand to inflict such a wound.

CYRIL LLOYD JONES , M. D., M. R. C. S. I live in Blackfriars road—I assisted Mr. Wilson at the post-mortem examination—I do not know that I differ from him in any material particular, but I do not think it possible to say whether it was done in the way he suggests or by a sudden push and cut up—I do not think it likely that it was done by stabbing through the clothes. (The remainder of this witness's evidence was unfit for publication.)

WILLIAM PILFOLD (Re-examined). There was blood on the inside of the flap of my trousers—they were buttoned up at the time I removed my mother to the bed—it got there by carrying her—it was outside.

GEORGE PILFOLD (Re-examined). When my brother showed me his trousers there was blood inside and outside them—I won't be sure whether it had soaked through, but it had run in, and there was blood on his waistcoat, and his shirt and smock were saturated; the shirt had more than the trousers—when I came in I found my mother laid on the bed against the

wall and my father outside; nobody could have got to the side where she was without lifting her over my father.

GUILTY of manslaughter.— Twenty Years' Penal Servitude.

Before Mr. Justice Manisty.

Reference Number: t18790915-864

864. CHARLOTTE CUTLER (23) was indicted for the wilful murder of Frederick Ward.


LUCT WHITBREAD . I am head nurse at the infirmary at Kingston Union—I know the prisoner by the name of Alice Ward; she was admitted into the infirmary by that name on 3rd June—she was in labour when she came and on the 4th I delivered her of a male child; it was born with a double caul over its face—on 2nd July she was discharged with her baby—during the time she was in the workhouse she treated the baby kindly; it was a very nice child—she nursed and suckled it and dressed it after the fortnight, and behaved to it as a good mother—when she left with it on 2nd July it was to all appearance in a healthy state—she told me she was going to Weybridge to her mother's—the child was vaccinated before it left the Union; it was done twice; the first time the arm did not take, and she had to stay another week on account of the baby's arm—when it left it had on a little nightgown, a petticoat, a flannel belly-band, and a diaper—the band was hemmed instead of herring-boned; I called her attention to that—I have since seen a belly-band and diaper produced by the police; they were the same that the child had on when it left the workhouse—I have not seen the nightgown or petticoat; there was what is called a back flannel all to pieces, I could not identify that—this (produced) is the diaper; it is an old calico one with a hole in the corner—I identify that and this belly-band by being hemmed instead of herring-boned; I never saw one hemmed before.

Cross-examined. The prisoner paid every attention to the child while she was at the Union—the fact of the diaper being made of calico is not extraordinary—I can't say that the hole in the corner is uncommon, it may not be—it is the diaper the child had on—I have been four years a nurse at Isleworth—I never saw a diaper like this—I have certainly seen diapers with holes where the safety pin goes; it is not usual to pin them in the corner like this—I was examined twice before the Magistrate; I don't recollect saying that I only saw the articles once—I don't think I did—my deposition was read over, and I signed it—I am quite sure the child was a healthy child—it did not refuse the breast—she was not nursing other children to my knowledge—I never saw her do it—I could not always be in one ward; there are a hundred patients to see to—I am the only person here from the infirmary—she might have nursed other children without my knowing it.

MARY EDWARDS . I keep the White Horse Inn at Norbiton; that is about 10 minutes' walk from the Kingston Union Infirmary—on a Wednesday morning in the beginning of July, between 10 and 11 o'clock, the prisoner came into the house with a baby—she had a glass of beer—my niece called my attention to the child, because it was a fine baby, and I went into the tap-room where she was sitting, and looked at it; it was a very fine baby—she said she had come from the infirmary, and she had to wait till 4 o'clock to

register the baby—she said it was born with a caul over its head—she left and afterwards returned, and said she had been to register the baby and back to the infirmary to take the register—she said the nurse would not allow her to have the caul, and I told her to ask Mr. Clark at the union—she left just before 4 o'clock, and said she was going to Weybridge, to her mother's—she did not mention her name or say anything more about herself—I gave her some tea and something to eat; I did not give her any money—I saw no more of her—it was a very nice baby, and appeared to be all right.

Cross-examined. She seemed very fond of it—I know nothing of the bodies of several children being found in the neighbourhood lately—nothing was said to me about her nursing other children in the workhouse.

JOHN HARRIS . I live at No. 2, Richmond Villas, Kingston-on-Thames—I am registrar of births and deaths for the Kingston sub-district—on 2nd July I registered the birth of a male child, by a person who gave the name of Alice Ward—the name was put down as "Frederick," the date of the birth 4th June, and the address "Oatlands Park, "Weybridge"—my place is about 100 yards from the White Horse.

JAMES LANGRIDGB . I am a pork butcher, of 23, Garden Row, Mortlake—on Friday afternoon, 18th July, about 2.30,1 was walking along the Lower Mortlake Road, and saw the body of a child in a ditch; I was on the pathway, and I crossed the road to look at some mowers in a field, and on looking in the ditch saw the body of the child; there was water in the ditch, and the back part of the head was partly out of the water—I called the attention of the mowers to the child, and then went and fetched a policeman—I saw him take the child out of the ditch—there were some articles of clothing on it—I saw them taken off afterwards; there was a flannel band and a diaper; that was all I saw.

JAMES WARNE (Policeman V 261). On Friday, 18th July, in consequence of information from Mr. Langridge, I went with him to the Lower Mortlake Road, and there saw the dead body of a male child in a ditch—I conveyed it to the mortuary at Mortlake, and a doctor was afterwards called and the child was undressed—this belly-band and diaper are what it was wealing—there were no other articles upon the child.

Cross-examined. I did not search the house of the prisoner's mother.

SAMUEL SAMPSON (Police Sergeant, Scotland Yard). On 19th July I received instructions to make inquiries about this child, and on the evening of the 24th I saw the prisoner at her father's house, at West End, Mortlake—that is between 300 and 400 yards from the ditch where the child was found—I told her I was a detective sergeant, and from information I had received I believed she had recently been confined of a child—she said she had—I asked her where the child was—she said "My child is all right"—I said "But where is your child?"—she again said "My child is all right"—I asked her the third time, and she repeated again "My child is all right and at Weybridge"—I said "Who has charge of your child at Weybridge?" she made no answer—I said "You refuse to give me any further account of your child any more than it is all right at Weybridge?" she said "Yes"—I asked where she was confined; she said at the Kingston Union—I asked in what name; she said "Alice Ward"—I then left to make further inquiries—I did not search the house—I went to Weybridge and endeavoured to trace the child, but failed to do so—on 4th August I went to the house again with Inspector Shaw and saw the prisoner at the door

—he told her who we were and that we had come to make inquiries respecting her child, and he said "Where is your child?"—she then asked us to come inside, and she led us through the passage into the kitchen—as loon as we got into the kitchen a man came in who said he was a solicitor, and he told the prisoner not to answer any questions or say anything—I requested him to go away but he would not, and as he annoyed us I went out to see if I could find an officer in uniform, so I did not hear anything farther—I left Inspector Shaw there—afterwards at the railway station at Mortlake the prisoner said "Is there a man named Pink in trouble?"—I said "No"—she said "He ought to be; he is the father of my child; I should have summoned him only I hare sworn one child already, and they asked so many funny questions I did not like to do so"—her mother lived at this house as well as her father—I know that they have lived there over 12 months—no articles of clothing were found there—the frock and petticoat said to have left the workhouse have never been traced.

Cross-examined. I did not hear Inspector Shaw caution her that what she said would be used in evidence against her—I believe there have been two bodies of children found besides this one; not in the exact neighbourhood, some distance off, one at Barnes and one at Kew; that would be a distance of about a mile or a mile and a half—I know the ditch in question—I believe it is not a tidal ditch; the water runs one way, but not very strongly.

Re-examined. It is a continual steady flow, not sufficient to move anything the size of this child—I cannot tell where the other bodies were found—I had nothing to do with those cases.

EDWARD SHAW (Police Inspector). On 4th August, between 1 and 2 in the afternoon, I went with Sampson to the residence of the prisoner's father at Mortlake—I knocked at the door, the prisoner answered it—I asked her her name—she said, "Charlotte Cutler"—I told her who I was—I was in plain clothes—I said I wished to speak to her—she said, "Come outside"—I said, "No, I would rather see you iuside the house—she took me into the back part of the house; there was a young woman there—I then asked the prisoner if she could tell me where her child was that she had been confined of—she said, "My child is all right"—I said, "Where?"—at this time I was interrupted by a gentleman who came into the wash-house and said he was a solicitor—I told him not to interrupt me in the execution of my duty—he got out a piece of paper and a pencil, and told the prisoner not to say anything—I then spoke to her again about the child—she said, "If my sister goes out I will tell you"—the sister went out and the gentleman also—the prisoner then said, "I will tell you now all about it; I left Kingston Union on the 2nd or 3rd of last month, I went into a public-house and had some refreshment; I took the train to Kingston, at St. Margaret's I got out and I walked to Mortlake, and while I was on the bridge I met a woman with a child, and I gave her a shilling to take the child away"—she said she did not want to disgrace her family by taking the child home—she did not at that time say where the woman was to take the child—I told her I should take her into custody on suspicion of having murdered her child—I then conveyed her to the railway station at Mortlake, and while standing on the platform she said, "There has been three or four children found lately, has there not?"—I said, "Yes"—I then conveyed her to Richmond police-station—I afterwards heard her

make a further statement, which Inspector Fairy took down in writing the same day.

Cross-examined. The gentleman I speak of is sitting in Court, I did not know him—he did not ask what I was doing there—I was in plair clothing—I told him three or four times that I was an officer of police, but I could not convince him—he asked to see my card; I showed it to tin—he told the prisoner not to answer any questions—I did not caution her in any way, or tell her that what she said might be used in evidence against her.

Re-examined. I was making inquiries.

DAVID FAIRY (Police Inspector V). On 4th August the prisoner was brought to the Richmond station by Inspector Shaw on suspicion of murder ing her child—I said, "You are not called upon to say anything before 1 read the charge, but should you say anything, what you say will be taken down in writing, and used as evidence against you"—she burst into tears, and then made this statement, which I wrote down—(Read:) "I only wish to say that I did not murder my child, and I was in hopes he was alive; I gave him to a person on the bridge near the gas factory, and I asked her if she would take it to the Richmond Union for me, and I gave her a shilling, that was all the money I was possessed of, and she promised me faithfully she would take it the next morning."

BENJAMIN BILLING . I am porter at the Richmond Union "Workhouse—I keep the book of children admitted to the workhouse—there was no child left at the workhouse without the mother about this time in July—one child was admitted in July; the mother is now in the Asylum and the father took the child away.

ROBERT COCHRANE MULLINS . I am a registered medical practitioner—on 18th July last I was living at Mortlake, and was assistant to Dr. Marshall there—the constable Warne came to me, and in consequence of what he said I went to the mortuary at Mortlake, and there saw the dead body of a male child—I could not recognise the features; the body was in a state of putridity—I could not form any positive opinion as to how long it had been dead; I should say probably about fourteen days; it might possibly have been more; I don't think lesss; it might be—the atmosphere might have a certain degree of influence—there were no marks that I could trace; from the appearance of the body I should not be able to state whether there were any marks of violenoe; I found none—it was a well-developed child—I could not form any opinion as to the cause of death; it was quite impossible to do so; from the state of the body I could form no judgment whether it had died from natural causes or any other—it was difficult to give an opinion as to its age; I did form an opinion that it was between 3 and 6 months old, probably 4; that was not a positive opinion—I came to that conclusion from the structural development—it was impossible to give an opinion as to whether it might only have been 2 or 3 weeks old; one child at 3 or four weeks old may be quite as well developed and as large as one of 2 or 3 months; we meet with such cases every day; it is quite possible that this child may have been born at the beginning of June; my impression was the contrary; it is not probable, it is highly improbable—I could not trace any marks of vaccination; it was impossible to do so, it was a putrid body.

Cross-examined. The average length of a child a month old is somewhat

about 18 inches—the length of this child was 23 1/2; that would he an exceptional length for a child a month old; we hear of monstrosities—decomposition frequently causes a body to contract—this body was contracted—my opinion was that this child was probably 4 and possibly 6 months old; at the same time, from the state of the body, I should not give a definite opinion regarding it—I fix the minimum at 3 and the maximum at 6—my judgment is founded partially on the length of the child and the structural development of the limbs—in the first few months the signs of structural development are pretty well denoted—it is very easy for a medical man to judge of the age of a child by the structural development.

Re-examined. I have been in practice nearly seven years—my knowledge of children arises from what I have seen in practice and from my general knowledge in studying medicine.

LUCY WHITEBREAD (Re-examined). I have been nurse at the Kingston Union Infirmary since 17th February—I have had sixteen children born there—at the time this inquiry was going on I had a child there a month old.

MR. POLAND proposed to ask the length of that child. MR. SLEIGH objected, and MR. JUSTICE MANISTY expressing a doubt of its admissibility it teas not pressed. MR. SLEIGH then submitted that there was realty no case to go to the Jury, the identification of the body being almost disproved by ike evidence of the surgeon. MR. POLAND relied Upon the contradictory state, mehts of the prisoner and the identification of the two articles of clothing found upon the body of the child. MR. JUSTICE MANISTY considered that there was some evidence upon which to take the opinion of the Jury.

Witnesses for the Defence.

MARY CUTLER . I am the prisoner's mother—I Sent to her in the Work-house a set of clothes for the child of which she was confined; a frock, long petticoat, two woollen shawls, a belly band, a shirt and flannel—I knew that she was, in consequence of her poverty, going to be confined in the union—the belly band I sent her was not hemmed or herring-boned—I never used such a thing—the one I sent was exactly similar to this clean one (producing it)—I had many of them in use—I am prepared to swear that they were neither hemmed or herring-boned.

Cross-examined. I did not go to the workhouse to see the child—I have never seen it—I did not visit my daughter there—she came back to me on Wednesday evening, 2nd July, between 9 and 10—she had no child with her or any child's clothing—she said she had given it to a strange woman on the bridge by the gas factory to take to the Richmond Union; and that she gave the person a shilling—she had money when she left home—she has been to Weybridge; not since the child was born—she has never been away from home.

Re-examined. I know a man named Pink—I believe he lives in Mortlake—my daughter is a kind, good-dispositioned girl—I have got her other child at home, and have always taken care of it.

JOSEPH ROGERS , M.D., and M.R.C.S. I have been over 30 years in practice, and 23 years surgeon to the Westminster and Strand Union—I have had a large number of children under my notice at the butts and subsequently—I cannot call to mind that I have ever seen a case of a child a month old 23 1/2 inches in length—I do not say it is impossible—

decomposition so advanced, as this seems to have been, would cause diminution in the bulk—at an" earlier period it would probably cause it to be a little longer; but, as it advances, the skin breaks, and from the air that is generated in the body it gets shorter—in the state of decomposition in which this body was I think it would get shorter—I think it is open to the belief that this child was between three and six months old; it might have been three or four months old—I should question its being only a month old—I would not swear positively, but I should question it.

Cross-examined. I did not see the child—I merely infer what I have said from the account of the decomposition.


Reference Number: t18790915-865

865. WILLIAM NORMAN (26) , Feloniously killing and slaying Sarah Norman.

MR. POLAND Prosecuted; MR. VALENTINE BBOWN Defended.

WILLIAM THOMAS PAYNE . I am a fitter, and live at 44, Vauxhall Walk—the deceased, Sarah Norman, was my sister—she was 25 years of age, and was married to the prisoner, who is a coal porter at a gas factory—they were living at 3, Curry Street, Nine Elms, Battersea—they had four children—the youngest was nearly three months old at the time of the accident—I saw my sister dead on the Tuesday morning at St. Thomas' Hospital; after that I saw the prisoner; I said, "You have done a fine thing, young fellow, have you not?"—he said, "Yes, it was entirely her own fault; she aggravated me to do it"—she was a sober woman as far as I knew.

Cross-examined. The last time I saw her was two months before.

MARY ANN KILBY . I am the wife of James Kilby, a dustman, and live at 12, Ponton Street, Battersea—I knew the prisoner and his wife—on Monday evening, 25th August, I saw the deceased at her own door; she spoke to me, and went and laid her baby on the bed asleep, and I went for a walk with her round the houses; we met some friends, and had some drink—we remained out till 10 o'clock—afterwards, about 12 o'clock or half past, she was sitting on the kerb in Curry Street, near her own house; I was with her—we were sober—the prisoner came out of his house; he was dressed, and had the baby underneath his coat—he had his boots on—she said to me "Here is my baby"—he said "Sarah, here is the baby"—she said "Yes, you b——thing, keep it"—he said "So I can"—he put the child into her arms—she took it, and said "I am glad I have got my baby"—he was walking away indoors, and she halloaed after him "Go out you b——half-starved thing, you bastard," and used very foul language to him—in about 20 minutes he came out again to her—she was still sitting on the kerb—she called him names, and said "Look at your b——old wh—of a mother"—with that he walked up, buttoned his coat, and said "Let my mother rest, she is nothing to you"—she said "Yes, the b——old wh—"—he then gave her a kick somewhere about the side; he had his boots on—she fell back, and said "Oh, Bill! oh, Bill! you have done for me"—she had her baby in her arms at the time—he said nothing, but walked away—after she had laid a little while she said "Where is Bill?"—he then came to her, and cried, and took her by the head behind with a pillow, and said "Sarah, Sarah, my girl, speak to me"—she made, no reply—I saw blood underneath where she was lying—a constable came up, and a doctor was

sent for, and she was taken to the hospital in a cab—I could not tell whether the prisoner was drunk or sober.

Cross-examined. He was very fond of his wife, and a very good husband, and very patient—he came into the street twice to try to induce her to come indoors—she would not go, and he could not move her in—I did not see him come out undressed—he is a labourer—I was not drunk, nor was she—we had been two hours in a public-house with one pot of beer.

TIMOTHY DALY . I am a labourer, and live at 4, Currie Street, Nine Elms—I knew the prisoner and his wife—on Monday night I was going home, and saw Mrs. Kilby and Mrs. Norman sitting on the kerb—Mrs. Norman bad the baby—she spoke to me; I could not tell whether she was sober or not—I sat down by them—shortly afterwards the prisoner came out of his house in his night-shirt without his trousers or boots—he asked his wife whether she was coming indoors—she said "No, go away you b——thing"—she used some very bad language to him—he said nothing, but walked upstairs—in about 10 minutes he came out again dressed, and he had his boots on, and I saw him come up and give his wife a kick somewhere about the groin—I could hardly tell what sort of a kick it was—she fell back, and did not speak—afterwards she said "Bill, Bill, you have done for me"—he made no reply—I don't know what became of him—a constable came up shortly afterwards—I saw blood where the woman was lying—a doctor was sent for—I afterwards heard her say "Bill, Bill, kiss me," or "speak to me"—he had come up from round the corner—he did kiss her—she was then taken to the hospital.

Cross-examined. I did not see any one making a mockery of the prisoner when he came out in his night shirt—she used bad language to him before he gave her the kick.

JOHN GARLAND (Policeman W 383). I was on duty in Currie Street, shortly before 2 o'clock—I saw the deceased lying on the pavement, as if she had fallen back—she said, "He has done for me"—she bled very much from the lower part of her body—I raised her up, but I saw it was doing injury and I laid her down again—a doctor came and examined her and ordered her removal to the hospital, and when we arrived there in the cab she was dead—I took the prisoner into custody.

THOMAS BAKER . I am a student at Charing Cross Hospital—I live with Dr. Sutcliffe, of Battersea Park Road—on the morning of 26th August, abont 2 30, the police fetched me; I found the woman lying in Currie Street in a dying state, she was in a state of collapse—she had lost a large quantity of blood, I should think three pints—it came from the vagina—I had her put into a cab and sent to the hospital; it might have been caused by a kick.

KANIERO POKAKO . I am one of the house surgeons at St. Thomas' Hospital—on Monday night or Tuesday morning I received the deceased from the police—she was quite dead and her clothes were saturated with blood—I afterwards examined the body—the organs were healthy—there was a lacerated wound on the left side of the vagina, an inch and one-eighth in length and about an inch deep—it was such an injury as might be caused by a violent kick—she died from loss of blood arising from that injury.

The Prisoner received a good character.

GUILTY. Strongly recommended to mercy by the JURY on account of the provocation he received. Three Months' Imprisonment.

Reference Number: t18790915-866

866. TERALASCO LEONILDA (22) , Feloniously wounding James Miller, with intent to do grievous bodily harm.

LILLET Prosecuted; A. B. KELLY Defended.

JAMES MILLER . I am a labourer, and live in the Lower Road, Deptford—on 9th August, about 12 o'clock, I was in Napier Terrace near the Plough Road in company with my young woman's mother, Mary Ann Pressland; I had just parted with my young woman—I heard a scream at the top of the road, I ran up to see what was the matter and saw two men catching hold of Franklin's young woman, Miss Mayne, and pulling her into the road, they seemed to be foreigners; when I got up they ran away—my young woman came out of doors and the four of us went on to the bridge, that is my young woman and Franklin and his young woman—we were turning round to oome back home and we met three other men, foreigners—they caught hold of my young woman round the neck and pulled her off the path; I went up to the prisoner who was one of them, and pushed him away; he then struck me in the left hand and arm—one of his comrades made a run towards me and the prisoner struck him in the side—the man called out, "Oh John, no," or something like that, put his hand to his side and ran away over the bridge—I felt my hand numbed and my finger doubled up—I went back to Napier Terrace and my hand was bathed, blood was running down my arm, my coat was cut through—I was taken to the police surgeon about an hour after, and he dressed my wound—I first went to Dr. Kelly, of Plough Road, he would not look at my arm—I had given no provocation to the prisoner, only pushed him away—there was sufficient light to enable me to see him; I have no doubt about his being the man that struck me.

Cross-examined. I saw no knife in anybody's hands—I saw that my hand was covered with blood—I did not see a man named Adolphe there. I saw him afterwards at the police-court; I did not recognise him as one of the three foreigners; I could not say whether he was the man the prisoner struck, it was one of the two—he was coming towards me in a fighting attitude when the prisoner struck him.

MARY ANN PRESSLAND . I am single and live in Napier Terrace, Plough Road, Rotherhithe—on the night of 8th August, a little after 12 o'clock, I was in company with James Miller; he left me indoors and went up the street with my mother—I heard a man scream and ran up to the top of the street and saw five foreigners pulling Franklin's young woman in the road—Miller went up and the men ran over the bridge—Franklin's young woman ran down home with mother, and Franklin, me, and Miller went up on the bridge—we met three foreigners; the prisoner put his arms round my neck and Miller pushed him away and the prisoner pulled out his knife and stabbed him twice—I saw it glitter, I was close to him—then Adolphe, one of his friends, ran in between Miller, and he caught a blow in his side from the prisoner—I then returned with Miller to Napier Terrace; Franklin tame home too, but he did not stop indoors—Miller's arm was all open and the joints of the fingers of his left hand were cut and bleeding—his wounds were bathed—he had done nothing to the prisoner but push him away when he had his arm round my neck.

Cross-examined. Another foreigner was charged at the police-court with the prisoner; I don't know his name; he was discharged—the prisoner put his arm round my nock in a friendly way; my young man was

annoyed and interposed, then there was ft general confusion—I am sure it was a knife that I saw in the prisoner's hand—I did not know at the moment that Miller was stabbed, not till he was coming away.

GEORGE FRANKLIN . I am a labourer at Deptford—on 8th August I was in company with my young woman in Ploughbridge, Rotherhithe—I saw five foreigners come along, one or more of them interfered with my young woman, after a bit of a scuffle I ran over the bridge—while I was standing there I saw Miller and Pressland on the bridge with three foreigners, the prisoner was one of them—I did not see him do anything—I saw Miller after he had been home and come back again—I did not see anything the matter with his hand or arm—about half an hour afterwards I saw his father-in-law take him to the doctor's; he had his arm bound up.

THOMAS BANNISTER (Police Inspector R). Shortly after 1 o'clock in the morning of 9th August I saw Miller at the station—he showed me his hand and arm—there was a wound on the left arm above the elbow, and one on the back of the left hand, both bleeding—I sent for the divisional surgeon, who dressed his wounds—he gave a description of the person who had wounded him, in consequence of which I went in search of the prisoner—I met him coming along with a constable—he answered the description given—he was placed with several others in the charge room, seven or eight, some of his own countrymen, and Miller picked him out at once—he war charged with cutting and wounding Miller—I afterwards went to Plough-bridge and saw a large quantity of blood on the pavement from there down to the entrance of the docks, about 300 yards—that was not in the direction in which Miller went, but the direction in which the other Italians had gone—the prisoner had no hat on when I met him—I saw the other man who was wounded at the hospital.

Cross-examined. I found a few pieces of broken pipe on the bridge—a man named Calose was charged with being concerned in this—he was subsequently discharged.

BENJAMIN BROWNING , M.R.C.S. I live at Rotherhithe—I am divisional surgeon to the police—on 9th August, between 1 and 2 in the morning, I was called to the Rotherhithe Police-station to examine Miller—he was. bleeding from two incised wounds, one on the left knuckle of the little finger, the other at the back of the same arm, below the shoulder—that was nearly four inches long; it was not very deep; it had exposed the muscle both wounds were bleeding very much—I dressed them—he was perfectly sober.

Cross-examined. I saw a knife afterwards at the police-court—such a knife as this (produoed) would produce the wounds, but it would also produce much more severe wounds—from such a formidable weapon as this I should expect to find more severe wounds—I never saw a foreign sailor carry such a knife as this.

CHARLES ELLIOT NASH . I am a deal porter in the Surrey Commercial Docks—I found this knife and this dagger there when I was at work on the morning of 9th August—the dagger was sticking in a deal, and the sheath was lying in another place—there were marks on the dagger the colour of blood—it appeared as if it had been thrown over the fence, which is nine or—ten feet high.

THOMAS BANNISTER (Re-examined). The fence described would be in the direction in which the men ran—a great number of foreign sailors are

employed in the ships in the docks—the prisoner was a sailor in one of those ships—I have not seen foreign sailors use a dagger similar to this; I have seen them with knives similar to this knife—I found this other knife in the prisoner's hunk on board his ship—he had not been on board since the occurrence.

GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. Six Months' Imprisonment.

Reference Number: t18790915-867

867. JAMES NORTH (20) , Rape on Elizabeth Batten.

MR. W. L. LEWIS Prosecuted.

GUILTY .— Seven Years' Penal Servitude.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

Reference Number: t18790915-868

868. MARIA ROWE (22) and JAMES ROWE (23) , Unlawfully endeavouring to conceal the birth of a child, to which

JAMES ROWE PLEADED GUILTY .— Five Days' Imprisonment. No evidence was offend against the female prisoner.


Reference Number: t18790915-869

869. JOHN HICKS (41) , Unlawfully obtaining 7l. 10s. by false pretences.

MR. SIMS for the Prosecution offered no evidence.


Reference Number: t18790915-870

870. WILLIAM BRAGG (33) PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully obtaining money by false pretences from Francis Aggas and others.

Fifteen Months' Imprisonment.

Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.

Reference Number: t18790915-871

871. ALFRED SMALL (19) , Unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.

MR. GILL, Prosecuted.

WILLIAM MORGAN . My father is a grocer, of 67, Cornhill Road, Lambeth—on 31st July, about 3 p.m., I served the prisoner with a penny bottle of ginger-beer—he gave me a florin, I gave him 1s. 11d. change—he drank it and went out—I put the florin in the till; there were no others there—a few minutes afterwards he came in again for a pennyworth of cake, and gave me another florin—I put it in the till and gave him 1s. 11d. change, and he went away—I afterwards showed the two florins to my mother and took them to the baker's shop opposite to test them, and gave them back to my mother—about a week afterwards I saw the prisoner by the coke ovens—I Had known him before, and knew where be used to live—I am sure he is the man.

MARY MORGAN . I am the wife of John Morgan—on 31st July my son brought me a florin, and I went into the shop and found another florin in the till—I found they were bad, and gave them to a policeman.

THOMAS GOODMAN (L 85), On 5th August, about 10 o'clock, William Morgan pointed the prisoner out to me, and I took him in custody—I had received the florins before—he asked me the charge—I told him—he said "Oh, it must be a mistake; do you think I am b——silly"—I found no money on him.

WILLIAM WEBSTER . These florins are bad and from the same mould.

GUILTY .—He further PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction for felony in July, 1878.— Nine Months' Imprisonment.

Reference Number: t18790915-872

872. FRANK NORTON, Unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.

MR. GILL Prosecuted; MR. S. WHITE Defended.

ELEANOR HILL . I serve at the post-office, Gipsy Eill—the prisoner came

there one afternoon in July for four shillings' worth of stamps, and put dowi a florin and some other coins—I found the florin was had and passed it to the manager, who spoke to the prisoner and gave it hack to him, and he gave me good money and took the stamps away—I am sure he is the man I picked him out from a great many.

Cross-examined. This was at the end of July, hut I don't rememher the date.

FREDERICK PRICE . I manage the post-office, Lower Norwood—in July last Hill handed me a had florin and asked me in the prisoner's presence whether it was bad—I asked him where he got it—he said that he must have got it by accident—he gave me good money, and I sent somebody to follow him—I described him to Inspector Glover next day, and afterwards picked him out from 10 or 12 others.

Cross-examined. I recognised him by his personal appearance and his clothes—the other men were of different ages and wore different kinds of suite, some with whiskers and some without—I slightly bent the coin and gave it back to the prisoner.

FLORENCE HILL . I am employed at the post-office, Lower Norwood—on 11th August the prisoner came in for five shillings' worth of stamps, and gave me two florins, a sixpence, and some coppers—I gave him back one of the florins and said that it was bad—he gave me a good half-crown, I gave him sixpence change, and he left—I spoke to Mr. Corney—I saw the prisoner in custody at the station the sam