Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 6.0, 31 October 2014), June 1866 (t18660611).

Old Bailey Proceedings, 11th June 1866.

CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT

Sessions Paper.

PHILLIPS, MAYOR.

EIGHTH SESSION, HELD JUNE 11TH, 1866.

MINUTES OF EVIDENCE,

TAKEN IN SHORT-HAND BY

JAMES DROVER BARNETT

AND

ALEXANDER BUCKLER,

Short-hand Writers to the Court,

ROLLS CHAMBERS, No. 89, CHANCERY LANE.

THE POINTS OF LAW AND PRACTICE

REVISED AND EDITED BY

EDWARD T. E. BESLEY, ESQ.

OF THE MIDDLE TEMPLE, BARRISTER-AT-LAW.

LONDON:

BUTTERWORTHS, 7, FLEET STREET.

Law Publishers to the Queen's Most Excellent Majesty.

THE

WHOLE PROCEEDINGS

On the Queen's Commission Of

OYER AND TERMINER AND GAOL DELIVERY

FOR

The City of London

AND GAOL DELIVERY FOR THE

COUNTY OF MIDDLESEX, AND THE PARTS OF THE COUNTIES OF ESSEX, KENT, AND SURREY WITHIN THE JURISDICTION

OF THE

CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT,

Held on Monday, June 11th, 1866, and following days,

BEFORE THE RIGHT HON. BENJAMIN SAMUEL PHILLIPS, LORD MAYOR of the City of London; Sir GEORGE WILLIAM WILSHIRE BRAMWELL, Knt., one of the Barons of Her Majesty's Court of Exchequer; Sir JOHN BARNARD BYLES, Knt., one of the Justices of Her Majesty's Court of Common Pleas; SIR JAMES DUKE, Bart; SIR FRANCIS GRAHAM MOORE, Bart. F.S.A.; Sir ROBERT WALTER CARDEN, Knt.; JOHN CARTER , Esq., F.S.A. and F.R.A.S., Aldermen of the said City; the Right Honorable RUSSELL GURNEY, Q. C., M.P., Recorder of the said City; WILLIAM FERNELEY ALLEN, Esq.; THOMAS DAKIN, Esq.; DAVID STONE, Esq., Aldermen of the said City; THOMAS CHAMBERS , Esq., Q. C., M. P., Common Serjeant of the said City; and ROBERT MALCOLM KERR, Esq., 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.

SILLS JOHN GIBBONS, Esq. Alderman.

JAMES FIGGINS, Esq.

Sherifs

HENRY DUFFETT, Esq.

CYRIL MORTIMER MURRAY RAWLINS, Esq

Under-Sherifs

CENTRAL CRIMINAL COURT.

PHILLIPS, MAYOR. EIGHTH SESSION.

A star (*) denotes that the prisoners have been previously in custody—two stars (**) that tey have been more than once in custody—an obelisk (†) that they are known to be the associates of bad characters—the figures after the name in the indictment denote the prisoner's age.

LONDON AND MIDDLESEX CASES.

OLD COURT.—Monday, June 11th, 1866.

Before Mr. Recorder.

501. THOMAS RICHARD HALL (41), was indicted for stealing, on 11th January, 29 skins of leather, the property of William Frederick Rock and others, his masters. Two other counts for stealing other goods on 12th and 23d January.

MR. GIFFARD, Q. C., with MESSRS. SLEIGH and BESLEY, conducted the Pro-secution; MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE, with MR. METCALFE, the Defence.

HENRY BAKER . I am in the employment of Messrs. Rock, of Walbrook, as a clicker, and have been so rather better than two years—the prisoner was in their employment as head foreman—he worked on the top floor, and I was on the next floor under him—printing was principally done on that floor—about the 11th or 12th January, the prisoner came down, and said to me, "Baker, look out two dozen of the best white leathers"—I said, "Very well, sir"—I looked them out—he came down again, and said, "Lay them on one side for about half an hour"—I did so—he then came down with two patterns, and said, "Cut up one dozen skins of the largest pattern, and see how many you get out of a skin"—I cut them up from the patterns that he gave me—they were purse patterns—I cut up one dozen of the largest pattern, and took them up and gave them to the prisoner—he then gave me the next pattern, a size smaller, and said, "You can cut up the other dozen with this pattern"—I did so, and took them up to his desk, where he was standing—he said, "Look out five skins more; I have not got quite enough to cut up, and cut up to the last patterns you cut the others up to"—I did so—he then gave me a smaller pattern, and said, "Cut up the remaining pieces with this small pattern"—I did that—I got the skins out of Mr. Rock's stock—I gave the patterns back to the prisoner with the leather—in the course of business it is not usual to give the patterns back again—when I gave the skins and patterns to the prisoner he was over against the lift-hole, where

his desk was—I did not see what he did with them—I cannot say whether the white leather on these purses (produced) is the leather, it is a great deal like it; but there is so much leather alike, that I cannot say: it is the same in quality and substance, and about the size—I was engaged for about two hours and a half in cutting up these skins—a few days before the prisoner was discharged, Gerrard, one of my fellow-workmen, brought me a paper pattern—this is not it—these are the patterns the prisoner gave me (produced)—the pattern Gerrard gave me was a large square pattern; about a large post octavo—it was about the size of this Hebrew Bible—I cut the piece of leather according to this pattern—this is a piece of Persian purple sheep, such as we use—I got the leather out of Mr. Rock's safe, or case—when I had cut the leather according to the pattern, I gave it to Gerrard—here is another book containing the forms of the Bishop-Stortford School—this leather is a great deal like the leather that Mr. Rock has in stock, but I can't say whether this is the leather—Gerrard brought me a pattern in respect of a book about that same size—I recollect cutting a light brown leather of this description.

Cross-examined by MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. You knew that the prisoner was carrying on a separate business, did you not? A. Yes; it was thoroughly well known in the establishment to everybody—it was known that leather and other materials were sent in to him—we work from 8 o'clock till 8—we have breakfast before we go—we have dinner at I, and we are allowed half an hour to it, and half an hour for tea—they did not work over time at Messrs. Rock's; they did at the prisoner's—I knew he had a shop—I believe it was carried on as "Carter Brothers," by his wife—Carter is his wife's brother—I know it by hearing other persons say it in the shop—I think I have seen his wife once, but I should not know her again—I knew that Mr. Rock's men worked overtime for the prisoner—I also knew that the prisoner dealt with persons with whom Mr. Rock dealt—I can't say whether the prisoner supplied articles to Messrs. Rock at the wholesale price—I can't say whether he supplied them with purses; I believe he did—I do not know whether any of the other men worked in the shop on their own materials—these strips of paper resemble the patterns—this white leather is of the same character; it is a good deal like it—I don't recollect that this is any part of the leather that the prisoner handed to me—this white leather was bought of Mr. Wrigglesworth—I believe both Mr. Rock and the prisoner dealt with him for leather—I was told so by our solicitor.

MR. GIFFARD. Q. Is the white leather inside these purses what you say is like the leather you cut up into purse-patterns? A. Yes—the pieces I cut up would be about that size—that leather came from Mr. Rock's stock.

FREDERICK JAMES SMITH . I am an apprentice to Messrs. Rock Brothers and Payne—on 11th or 12th January, the prisoner gave me a brown paper parcel—it contained leather—besides that, he gave me some white leathers, about the size of the largest patterns produced—he told me to cut up material for a gross of purses of the pattern he gave me—I did so—he told me to go to his desk, that I should find some white leather there, and to take a gross from them—there was more than a gross there—it was white, and about the size of the smaller pattern—I packed them up in a brown paper parcel and gave it to the prisoner—I have looked at the white leather in the flap of these purses—it is similar white leather to that I packed in the parcel—white leather is always very nearly alike; it resembles it in quality

—about a week after this, the prisoner told me he had received these purses back from Miller, who had had them to make for him—I had previously heard from the prisoner that they were going to Miller to be made—he said Miller had charged him fifteen shillings for making them—on the day the prisoner was discharged from Messrs. Rock's service, Gerrard brought me a parcel—I afterwards went and saw the prisoner at his house, 15, Patriot-row, Cambridge-road, Bethnal-green—I told him that those parcels that he had requested I should send out I had not been able to send out, as I had heard that no parcels were to be sent out—he told me that I might have given them to the boys, but that did not matter, the parcels were to be sent to his house—Gerrard was present at this conversation—he told the prisoner that in the afternoon he was binding two books, and they took them away from him—he said, "There are several books there belonging to you, what shall I do with them?"—the prisoner asked where they were—he said he had packed them in a brown paper parcel, and put them in a certain pigeon-hole—the prisoner told him to leave them there, and if anything was said about them to refer to him—Gerrard then asked him, if anything was said to him in the morning, what he should say?—he said, "Why, tell them you have been doing two or three books a week for me"—I said I thought there had been more—he told me I was mistaken; the books I had seen there were books that had come there to have some slight defect rectified—I have occasionally seen more than two or three books a week there.

Cross-examined. Q. If I understand you rightly, you delivered to him some leather? A. Yes—there were three or four different parcels, each containing a gross—I don't know where they came from—they had been given to me with directions to tie them up—I am speaking of the brown paper parcel and the loose one—where that leather came from, I don't know—I knew that he used to do work on his own account in the shop—I knew of the business that his wife was carrying on—there was no concealment whatever about it—he never told me to conceal it—it was perfectly well known; it was thoroughly well known in the establishment—I used to help him after hours in making purses of this description, lined in the same way, and made of the same character of leather—I have done that for three years, I should think—I was not binding books for him at the time he was discharged, or doing anything for him—I was never told by anybody to conceal the fact that I did these purses for him—I know his wife—she lived in Patriot-row, and carried on the business there—I know Mr. Carter; he is her brother—I never noticed the name over the door—the two parcels that he wanted me to get out, were two parcels of wallets—they are a kind of large purse, a kind of pocket-book with a metallic book—the parcels came from a shelf behind his desk—they belonged to the prisoner—I brought them in from my home—I had received them from the prisoner to work on—I received them from his own house, and brought them without any con-cealment to the shop—they were openly on the desk.

MR. GIFFARD. Q. Had the leather for the wallets that you say you got from the prisoner anything to do with the patterns of leather that were cut up? A. Nothing at all; they were much larger—that was a totally different transaction—the business that was carried on by the prisoner was well known in the establishment—I suppose there were not two in the whole establishment but knew it; it was generally known—I don't know whether Messrs. Rock knew it; I speak about the hands employed—I did not mean to include the Messrs. Rock—I am not aware that any means were taken to prevent Messrs. Rock knowing it—I have not seen books bound for the

prisoner at Messrs. Rock's, because I am not near the binding-board—I know Carter to be the prisoner's wife's brother—I know a great many of the family—I don't know where Carter is now—I last saw him about six months ago—his name is Obadiah.

GEORGE BARTLETT . I live at 5, Lucas-street, Pitt-street, Bethnal-green—in January last, I remember the prisoner giving me a parcel in brown paper to leave at Mr. Miller's, of 22, Ware-street, Kingsland-road—I took it to Miller's—I also took a parcel in white demy paper—that was the purse pattern—the prisoner wrapped it up—I got a piece of white demy for him to do it.

GEORGE MONCUR . I am in the service of my uncle, Mr. Miller, a purse-maker—about 16th or 17th January last, I received from Bartlett a parcel containing materials to make up a gross of purses—I assisted my uncle in making them up—these two (produced) are something like what I have done for him—I believe them to be the same—there are a great many others here with the inner flap taken out—when we sent them home they had the inner flap on—they have been taken off since—I don't know what would be the good of taking the flap off—it would make the purses unsaleable—I can say that these purses have had flaps on, and that they have been taken off—when fit for sale, some persons would send them out at 1s.—that would be about it—they are worth nothing now.

Cross-examined. Q. Do you know that when these purses were sent home by Mr. Miller the tongues were not fluted? A. Yes—they were not sent back—I believe some complaint was made to Mr. Miller about their not being fluted—they could not be altered without the flaps being taken off—I never did any of this kind before—it would take a good deal of time to flute them—about two or three hours to do the gross.

FREDERICK MILLER (examined by MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE). I had these purses to do—they were complained of when sent home, because the tongues were not fluted—he did not send them back—he said he should send them back, as I ought to have sent them at first.

GEORGE SCOTT . I am one of the detective officers of the City—on 12th February, I apprehended the prisoner at 15, Patriot-row, Cambridge-road—Mr. William Rock, one of the firm, was with me—I told the prisoner that I was an officer, and should take him into custody for stealing a quantity of leathers, on or about 19th January, from the premises of Messrs. Rock, the materials for making a gross of purses, which were taken, by his orders, to a man of the name of Miller, in Ware-street, Kingsland-road—he said, "Very well "—I then commenced to search the house, accompanied by the prisoner and Mr. Rock, and in a back room on the first floor the prisoner took up this parcel, and said, "These are the purses Miller made," taking out one of the purses from the parcel—turning it to the back, he said, "This leather I took to your warehouse, where it was cut up"—that was dark leather—Mr. Rock said, "How about the white skins that were cut up at the same time?"—the prisoner said, "I gave no orders for any white skins to be cut up; I am not so black as I have been painted; I have done no more than others in your employ have done, and are still doing—I know everything that takes place at the warehouse, and people call and tell me almost every night, or every night"—I pointed out some other purses that I found in the room—he said, addressing Mr. Rock, "The whole of the materials in this room were being made by your orders"—I asked him who his firm consisted of—he said himself and Obadiah Carter.

Cross-examined. Q. Mr. Rock did not deny that he had given orders to

Carter and Co., did he? A. I did not hear him—I don't recollect that he said anything—he must have heard it.

JAMES COLLINS GERRARD . In January last, I was in the service of Messrs. Rock, as a bookbinder—the prisoner was foreman of that department—I remember, in January, his bringing me this book, the training-school form—I don't know exactly the date—it was then unbound—he said to me, "Will you be kind enough to bind this book for me? Give it a little bit of vellum binding, to make it open freer than a general binding will "—I said, "Very well, I will give it half-and-half; that will enable it to open up freer"—he said, "Do it as quickly as possible, because it is wanted"—I took the book on from the sewers, and got it ready for the cutting—I rather think I cut this book myself, but that I cannot swear to—I covered it—I got the cover from a person, named Baker, in the employ of Messrs. Rock—before I did my part, the book had gone through the hands of Silverson—after it was cut it went to be redded at the edges by Silverson, and then I covered it—I got the boards from Drew—whether he cut these identical boards or not I cannot say; I rather fancy I cut them myself—I afterwards got from him the two Hebrew books—he brought them to me, and told me to bind them in a piece of purple sheep—I proceeded to bind them—there is only one party appointed to cut the boards—sometimes I might cut them myself, if he was not at his post—they were boards from Messrs. Rock's establishment—whilst I was binding one of these books, Mr. Rock came and found me doing it—the books were then ready to be covered—the prisoner was not present when Mr. Rock came to me—I have got one of the intended covers—I should think this was the leather intended to cover the Hebrew book—this was in my possession at one time—the cover for the other book was torn up by myself—I rather think the prisoner was discharged the same day—in consequence of some communication made to me, I afterwards went and saw the prisoner up Bond-court, Walbrook—I told him that I was covering one of the Hebrew books, and that Mr. Rock came and said to me, "What are you doing here? what is that cover for?"—I said, "For covering this book"—he said, "Where is the order for them?"—I said I had no order—he said, "How is that?"—I said, "I don't know; I rather think they are Mr. Hall's books"—the prisoner said to me, "Don't remove a thing; leave them there just as they are"—I said, "I have not covered the books; the two covers are spoiling. and I have torn one up"—he said, "Never mind about that, don't remove anything; if they wish to know anything about the things, refer them to me at once, and see that nothing is removed from the place "—I had pasted the covers when Mr. Rock interfered—I afterwards went to the prisoner's house with the witness Smith—I had previously given a parcel to Smith to take to the prisoner—he had refused to take it—I told him at the time, "It don't matter if you take it or not, it is the parcel you have been making"—I am referring to the wallets—what passed at the prisoner's while Smith was there was very similar to what I referred to just now in the court at Walbrook—I merely told the prisoner what had occurred, and asked what I should do—he said, "The best thing you can do is to put the books into a parcel, put them into the middle pigeon-hole, and if they wish to know anything about them, refer them to me "—I did not hear him tell Smith to say there had been two or three books a week done—I know the lift-hole in the warehouse—there is a lift-hole that goes right through the firm—a person standing at the lift-hole could see any person coming up the stairs—I have received directions from the prisoner with respect to that lift-hole, to place a lad over the hole to see when Mr. Rock was coming, and

to let me or other parties know—it was usual if, for instance, one of my fellow-workmen spoiled something, to say to me, "I have just done this wrong; put a boy over the hole, or perhaps Mr. Rock will come up and sack me," and the boy used to sing out "Shears"—I don't recollect whether a boy was put over the hole while I was engaged in binding this book—I know a boy was not put over the hole while I was doing this, or I should not have been caught—it was a common occurrence, if we were going to cook any little thing, or boil water to make tea—if Mr. Rock had caught us, perhaps he would have discharged us—all manner of boys were placed there—Ryan was one of them.

Cross-examined. Q. Are you still in Mr. Rock's employment? A. No, I was discharged a day or two after the occurrence—there are about 120 persons in Mr. Rock's employ, at times when busy—I suppose we were pretty well alike as to irregularities—we had no particular boy placed at the lift-hole—the boys generally understood that was their business—we were very precise as to time—no cooking was allowed, and if we wanted to boil a potato we would say, "Can't you put a boy over the hole"—the word "Shears," was a bye-word with us—we thought if we sung out "Mr. Rock," he would be fly to what was meant—I rather think that he was fully aware of what was meant by "Shears"—I believe I can prove it—I rather think I received these boards from Drew, or I went and cut them out myself from Messrs. Rock's material.

MR. GIFFARD. Q. Was it the prisoner who first suggested the word "Shears?" A. I rather think not; I think it was among the men—I can't say who it was—I can't tell when the prisoner first became acquainted with the use of the word—he might have known it much sooner than I thought—I should rather think he had known it six months, but I can't say—I would rather not answer the question—I can't say how he became acquainted with it—I don't know the date when he directed me to put a boy over the hole—I should think it was about seven months ago—whether he knew that "Shears" was to be used, or any other word, I don't know—I don't recollect hearing any other bye-word used—I can't say whether there was any other.

THOMAS DREW . In January last, I was in the service of Messrs. Rock as a board-cutter—early on the day on which the prisoner was discharged, Gerrard came to me with these two Hebrew books, and asked me to cut out two quantities of boards for them—I did so—I believe these are the books he brought me—I cut mill-boards for these two books—I got them from the prosecutor's stock, and gave them to Gerrard.

Cross-examined. Q. You do not mean you stole the mill-boards, do you? A. I do not say anything about that—I cut them, and gave them to Gerrard—I took them from Messrs. Rock's stock at Gerrard's directions.

CHARLES BUCKLEY . I am in the employment of Mr. Meade, a stationer, 63, Bishopsgate-street Without—we had business transactions with the prisoner, but I did not know him personally before this inquiry—about the 16th of January, I sent him these two Hebrew books to be bound—they were old books—some days afterwards I sent a lad for them to the prisoner's place in Patriot-road, where I had sent them—he returned without the books, and with this reply to a letter I had sent—(Read:" 23d January, '66, Sir, I am sorry to inform you that they were put out to be sent to you last evening, but on my going to the shop I found them missing; I should have written to you before this, but was waiting a reply from Margate, as I think they must have got packed into a box of books for Margate; I am very sorry,

but if you will buy two new books for the gentleman, and charge me with all expenses, you will much oblige, yours, T. R. Hall. ")—I afterwards received this invoice, dated February '66, in which there is an item, "Cre-ditor by two reading books lost, 9s."—nine shillings is what I had to pay for the repurchase of the books.

Cross-examined. Q. You were not aware that he had been turned away for any impropriety? A. No.

MR. GIFFARD. Q. Were you aware that he was in the employment of Messrs. Rock at all? A. Yes, but we had no idea that he did any binding there, or we should have sent the books there.

HENRY COLLINS . I am a printer and stationer, of Bishop-Stortford, Herts—I have had dealings with the firm of Hall & Co.—I never saw the prisoner till I saw him at the Mansion House—I sent to 15, Patriot-road, Bethnal-green, this book to be bound—it was in single leaves when I sent it—I did not receive it back again—I have dealt with Messrs. Rock, but never for binding books of this kind.

WILLIAM ROCK . I carry on business at 11, Wallbrook, with my partners, as wholesale stationers—the prisoner has been in our service fourteen or fifteen years as foreman—he had 2l. 17s. 6d. a week, and a gratuity of 5l. at Christmas—his duty was generally to superintend the binding part of the factory—the binding consists of what is called vellum binding, as distin-guished from the binding of reading books—he had no authority from me to execute any order except through the warehouse—it would never go directly from the factory to the customer—the prisoner had no authority whatever to take leather or skins from my premises and give them out to workmen to be made—some two or three years ago he told me that his wife had some ink manufactory—he afterwards told me that he had established some factory for female labour for binding books—I was also aware that his wife had a stationary business—I did not know of his carrying on business under the firm of Carter Brothers—I knew men by the name of Carter, because they served their time with me, but I did not know that the prisoner was at all connected with them in business—in consequence of a fire, I gave orders for Carter Brothers to supply me with some goods—the firm at first was in the name of Alfred Carter; subsequently, I do not know how, it went into the name of Carter Brothers—the name of one of them was Obadiah—until the disclosures took place which led to this prosecution, I had no notion whatever that the prisoner himself was one of the firm of Carter Brothers;—he studiously concealed it from me—I was not aware that a boy was kept at the lift-hole to cry out "Shears" if I was seen approaching—I wish I had been aware of it—I saw this gross of purses found in the prisoner's house—I never gave him any order whatever respecting them—it was never with my knowledge or authority that he bound books with my material—it was very seldom indeed that we did bind reading books—it was chiefly done for ourselves, and members of the firm—when such work is done on the premises, it is brought down to one of the firm to estimate the cost on which we fix our charge—I never heard of these particular books until I discovered them.

Cross-examined. Q. The prisoner was then dismissed, I believe, and three weeks afterwards taken into custody? A. Yes; I was never in the habit of supplying him with materials for binding—we should supply mill-boards if ordered, and leather—we have sold binding materials, but I am quite sure we have never supplied him with any—(looking at a paper) this is in Mr. Morgan's writing—it is for materials and labour for binding reading books

—these seem to have been supplied to the prisoner by the young man who has signed it—they appear to have been for ready money—I was not aware that the prisoner was in the habit of taking materials, and then charging himself with the amount—he certainly was not allowed to do so by myself (looking at several bills)—I know nothing about these—here is one, purporting to be a receipt, in the name of Atkins—the body of it is in the prisoner's writing—I cannot tell whose the receipt is; I do not recollect the writing—here is another, which I have no doubt is in the handwriting of a person named Arnold—in 1862, Arnold was entitled to receive money and give receipts—here is one signed by Morgan—he would be entitled to receive money and give receipts, although it is not in his usual duty—I have no doubt this other, in 1863, is in Arnold's writing, and this—there were not large transactions going on between the prisoner and my firm in the way of purchase—I do not mean to say that he never bought materials—I hope he did not help himself with things, and then charge us with the amount—certainly he had no right to help himself—I have the ledger here—the entire accounts between our firm and the prisoner might not appear there—if he bought goods and paid for them, it might not appear in our books at all; I mean not in detail—if ready money is received, it would be entered as ready money—it would not appear in the ledger—it would be brought into the petty cash-book—I have it here—in some book or other all legitimate trans-actions with every person would appear.

MR. GIFFARD. Q. Would there be any details entered in the cash-book, or would it simply appear as petty cash? A. Simply as petty cash.

FREDERICK MORGAN . The prisoner has for some time been permitted by our firm to be supplied with goods—so far as I know, I am the person through whom the prisoner has applied for goods—some of them appear in the petty cash-book (produced)—there are five or six entries here of various dates, as far back as February 15th—I have taken out the amounts, and added them together for the years 1864 and 1865—in one year it is 25l. and in the other 30l.—about that, as an average—I know nothing of any white leather for purses in January last—I was not aware of it until after it was discovered—I was not aware of the cutting of the mill-boards for the books produced—when the prisoner required anything for his own business he used to come to me either personally, or send a boy with a memorandum—until these discoveries, I was not aware of his ever having received anything from Mr. Rock's stock without my knowledge—when he did have anything I took a note of it and the price.

Cross-examined. Q. I see this petty cash-book only goes down to the end of October; have you got the one following? A. Yes, up to the present time—I cannot tell from these entries what the articles were that were supplied—none of them appear in the petty cash-book—I know of Mr. Arnold having supplied him with goods—all the goods that I supplied him with would find their way into the petty cash-book—(looking at a paper)—this is my writing—I did not supply him with the first item mentioned here—I received the money for them—this is an account, dated 29th December, 1863, amounting to 8s. 6d.—"T. N." are my initials—that is my acknow-ledgment to the firm of having received the amount—it may have been that these were goods that he took, and sent the account to me; it is a longtime since; or it may be that he showed me the things—I should not like to say either way—it was his habit to send me memorandums for what goods he wanted, and I got them for him—I could not undertake to say that he has not frequently sent me the amount, after having taken the goods—I should

destroy the memorandums he sent me, after having received the money—last October he had a very large quantity of goods, to the amount of 18l.—I think the amount was so large that I spoke to Mr. Rock—I did not feel myself justified in entering it as a petty cash transaction—he had goods supplied to him after that, smaller amounts, down to the time of his dis-charge, on the same principle, and in the same manner that he had been supplied before—that was after I had communicated with Mr. Rock; but I will take the blame to myself, Mr. Rock was not aware that I supplied the prisoner with goods in the way I did—I did not look upon it as an irregularity.

MR. GIFFARD. Q. Did you ever know of his having helped himself to materials, and telling you of it afterwards? A. I did not—I had never heard of the leather that was taken in January, or the mill-boards for binding these books—I am quite sure of that.

The prisoner received an excellent character.

GUILTY.—Recommended to mercy by the Jury on account of his previous good character.— Confined Two Years .

502. THOMAS NEWMAN (44) , Burglary in the dwelling-house of Harvey Greenfield, and stealing a bottle of brandy, his property.

WILLIAM KIPP (Policeman, K 5). On the morning of 11th May, I was on duty at Old Ford, Bethnal-green, and met the prisoner carrying this basket on his shoulder—I asked what he had got in it—he said, "My tools"—I asked what they consisted of—he said, "Plumber's tools"—I said, "It looks very bulky; have you any objection for me to open the basket"—he said, "I have a bottle"—I said, "What does it contain "—he said, "A gallon of brandy"—I asked where he brought it from—he said, "From Stratford"—I asked where he was going to take it to—he said, "Shoreditch"—I was going to take the bottle out of the basket, and he smashed it on the pave-ment intentionally—I took him into custody, and found in his basket a screw-driver, a gimlet, hammer, two knives, and a paint-brush—I took him to the station and searched him, and found an old ink bottle full of paraffin, and a piece of paper with "Mitford Castle" in pencil on it—I went there, and saw the landlord—it is three quarters of a mile from where I stopped the prisoner—I examined it, and found four iron bars taken from the cellar window—an entry had been made, and this lock forced off—the marks on it correspond with this screw-driver.

Prisoner. Q. Can you swear that lock was not forced off with a crow-bar? A. I cannot—the bottle contained brandy of some sort.

HARVEY GREENFIELD . I am landlord of the Mitford Castle—I shut up the house myself on the night of 10th May—I did not close the door where the iron bars were, but left it open for ventilation—the bars were all right when I went to bed at 12—I was called up by the policeman—I found that the lock of the bar parlour-door had been taken off—I went into the cellar—I missed a two-gallon bottle, containing spruce, which was on the floor—it was safe the night before—I missed two gallons of brandy out of a quarter cask standing in the cellar—there was a tap to draw it out in the cellar—the bars of the window had been forced off—I saw the prisoner the day before in my back premises, at half-past 5 or 6 in the evening, and this basket was in my bar when he was at the back.

Prisoner. Q. Did you say you lost some port wine? A. I fancied I missed two bottles, which have been found in the adjoining premises—the bottle and cork correspond with the bottle and cork found in your possession.

Prisoner's Defence I certainly went into the man's house, and finding a place of convenience there, I put a memorandum on a piece of paper that I might know the place when I went that way again, but I know nothing of the burglary—the brandy I had was from a private still

GUILTY .— Confined Eighteen Months .

The following prisoners PLEADED GUILTY:—

503. ROBERT WILLIAM GOULD (15) , to forging and uttering an order for 35l. The prisoner received a good character.— Judgment respited .[Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

504. THOMAS GODFREY (26) , to stealing 4s. of Barnet Braham, his master.— Confined Twelve Months . [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

505. FREDERICK PERCIVAL (28) , to a burglary in the dwelling-house of Rosalie Neaves, and stealing 2 bottles of sweets and other goods.— Confined Twelve Months . [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

506. WILLIAM HAYWARD (15) , to stealing 20l. worth of postage-stamps and other goods of Jesse Bridge, his master.— Confined Twelve Months . [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

507. WILLIAM STRAHAN (34) , to stealing 6s. whilst employed in the postoffice.— Confined Twelve Months . [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

508. WILLIAM EDWARD BOND (27) , to stealing 2 post-letters whilst employed in the postoffice.— Five Year's Penal Servitude . [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

509. ANN BARGENT (33) , to stealing 11 damask table-cloths of Alfred Plantagenet Frederick Charles Somerset, her master.— Confined Twelve Months . [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

NEW COURT.—Monday, June 11th, 1866.

Before Mr. Common-Serjeant.

510. JOHN SMITH (22) , Unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.

MESSRS. CRAUFURD and COLERIDGE conducted the Prosecution.

EDMUND STEVENSON . My father keeps the Prince of Wales, Notting-hill—on 22d May the prisoner came between one and two o'clock for some gin and cold water—he gave me a florin—I put it to my teeth, broke it, and said, "I have been watching for you for three weeks, and have caught you this time"—he offered to pay, but showed me no other money—I went out for a constable, but could not see one—my father pushed him out of the bar, and let him go—I afterwards gave the florin to the constable.

Prisoner. Q. You own you were watching for me for three weeks; had you suspicion? A. Yes, because you came every day for the same thing at the same time, and offered me florins; they were not bad up to this time.

ELIZABETH UNTHANK . I am barmaid to Mr. Higgins, who keeps the Durham Castle—on 5th May, about a quarter-past 4 o'clock, I served the prisoner with some gin and cold water, which came to twopence-halfpenny—he gave me a florin, and I gave him the change—somebody drew my attention to the florin, I tried it, and found it was bad—I bent it, and spoke to the prisoner—he said that he was not aware that he had given it to me—he gave me back the change, and gave me good money—I kept it in my hand, and gave it to Mr. Higgins.

Prisoner. Q. How long was I at the bar. A. Ten minutes—a man in the other bar told me about the florin being bad—I did not go to the till—the florin was never out of my sight—I gave it to the landlord, and he gave it to the police.

FREDERICK JOHN HIGGINS . I am landlord of the Durham Castle—the last witness is my barmaid—she called me into the bar, and gave me a bad florin, saying that the prisoner tendered it to her—I chucked it back on the shelf, and gave it to prisoner when he came—I am sure it is the same.

GEORGE FISHER . I am a carpenter of Notting-hill. I was in the Prince of Wales, and saw the policeman tender a bad florin—I have heard what Stevenson stated; it is correct—I saw the prisoner turned out, and followed him, watched him for two hours, and saw him talking to a woman, who passed something into his hand—he then went into the Durham Castle not two minutes afterwards—I was in an area, and when he went in I went in after him, and heard the barmaid tell him the florin was bad—I told the prisoner that was the second time he had tried to pass a bad florin that afternoon, and said, "You do not remember seeing me in the Prince of Wales about two hours since?"—he hesitated at first, and then said be did not know it was bad.

Prisoner. Q. Did you ask the barmaid what I had given her? A. No; but another man did—he was in the opposite bar, but I was in the same bar as you were.

JOSEPH WOONTON (Policeman). On the 22d May the prisoner was given into my custody at the Durham Castle with the florin (produced).

Prisoner. Q. Who gave it to you? A. The landlord.

WILLIAM WEBSTER . I am inspector of coin to Her Majesty's Mint—these, coins are both bad.

The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate. I saw the barmaid put the 2s. piece in the till, and she closed the till.

Prisoner's defence. When Fisher came into the public-house, he asked her what I had given her. She said a 2s. piece, and went to the till and took it out

COURT TO G. FISHER . Q. Did you ask her what the prisoner had given? A. No; she did not put it into the till, she put it to the till with her fingers to bend it. GUILTY . He was further charged with having been before convicted to which he PLEADED GUILTY.— Five Years' Penal Servitude .

511. MARY EDDIS (23), was indicted for a like offence.

MESSRS. CRAUFURD and COLERIDGE conducted the Prosecution.

WILLIAM LITTLE . I am shopboy to Daniel Thorne, who keeps a cook's shop in Lisson-grove—on the 3rd of May the prisoner came at a little past ten o'clock and asked for a quarter of a pound of boiled pork and a halfpenny-worth of greens, which came to threepence-halfpenny—she gave me a shilling—I gave her eightpence-halfpenny, and put the shilling in the till—there was another shilling there and some small coins—she came back again soon after for some pork and greens, and gave me another shilling, which I put in the till—she came back again a few minutes afterwards for more pork and greens, and gave me another shilling, which I put in the till, and gave her the change—she came a fourth time for the same thing, and gave me another shilling—I put it in my mouth, and then took it to the detector and bent it, and laid it on the counter—I then went after the prisoner, and found her two doors away, took her back, and found the shilling where I had left it—I said, "You have been passing bad money"—she said that I had made a mistake, she had not been in the shop before—I said that she had been in four times—I called my master and gave him the bad shilling—I found one good shilling and three bad ones in the till—I had put no

shillings in the till except those I took from the prisoner—I gave them to my; master; they bent easily.

WILLIAM BUCK (Policeman 202 D). I received the prisoner in custody with the coins—I told her the charge—she said that the lad had made a mitakes, she had not been in the shop before—she offered to give back the meat and the greens, and the change also—she gave her address, 61, Earl-street—I said I did not think she lived there—she said, "Well, I will tell you the truth, if you will take the change back, and the meat and the greens"—she then said, 68, Wells-street, Oxford-market—the female searcher gave me a purse and duplicate and 5 3/4d. in copper, and told me in the prisoner's presence that she found them on her—I received the coin from Thorne.

WILLIAM WEBSTER . These 4s. are bad, 2 are from one mould, and 2 from another.

The Prisoner's statemen: I never asked him to let me go, and never gave the address Earl-street, for I never lived there in my life.

Prisoner's Defence. I went into the shop and paid the shilling; he said it was bad. He then began biting all the shillings, and said that I had passed them. I said, "How can you say so, I have never been in the shop before." GUILTY .— Confined Nine Months .

512. SARAH RAVEN (31), was indicted for a like offence.

MESSRS. CRAUFURD and COLERIDGE sconducted the Prosecution, and MR. PATER the Defence.

ROBERT STRETT . I am assistant to Mr. Carter, a tobacconist, of 13, Cannon-street—there is a post-office at the shop, and we sell stamps—the prisoner came in about seven o'clock on Monday evening, May 7th, for 4s. worth of stamps—she gave me 2 florins—the underneath one was very suspicious looking—I tried it, and found it was bad—I broke it—she had then left the shop—I put the pieces at the back of the till by themselves—I afterwards gave them up to the constable—on Tuesday, 15th of May, I saw the prisoner again about a quarter to six—that is the business time in the day, the time the letters are going out—I recognised her at once—she was at the other end of the shop—she asked for 5s, worth of stamps—she tendered in payment 2s., 6d., and half-a-crown—I saw Treen take up the half-crown and break it in the detector—I said to the prisoner, "You gave me a bad 2s. piece last week"—she said, "You must be mistaken "—I said, "I am not; I am quite certain you are the same party; I shall send for a policeman"—she said that she was a respectable woman, and received that half-crown from a gentleman—I sent for a policeman, and gave her in custody—Treen gave me the half-crown that he broke, and I gave it to the constable.

Cross-examined. Q. Is seven o'clock your business-time? A. No; there was no one in the shop; I was by myself; Treen had left it for a minute or two—there were several other customers in the shop on the second occasion, and Treen had just served a customer as the prisoner came in—nobody was assisting in the shop but Treen and I; she had been in the shop before the 7th.

FREDERICK JAMES TREEN . I assist in Mr. Syrett's shop as clerk and tobacconist's assistant—on the 15th of May the prisoner asked me for 5s. worth of stamps, and gave me a half-crown, two shillings, and a sixpence—I broke the half-crown in a detector, and Syrett, who was watching me,

spoke to the prisoner—I laid it on the counter, and Mr. Syrett took it up—I did not lose sight of it.

Cross-examined. Q. Did you hear her say she required the stamps to send into the country? A. Yes.

WILLIAM BATCHELLER . The prisoner was given into my custody with a broken half-crown—she said that she got her living by receiving gentleman, and supposed she got it with 10s. which she received from a gentleman that day—she was searched at the station, and a purse containing 6s. in good money found on her—I received a florin from Mr. Syrett at the station.

WILLIAM WEBSTER . The florin and this piece of a half-crown are bad.

The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate: "I never had a 2s. piece; I was at home at the time.

JURY to R. SYRETT. Q. Did you put the florin in the till when you first took it? A. No; I saw one was bad directly I took it into my hand, but she was out of the shop before I could take any steps, and I was by myself—I suspected her, because I had seen her in the shop before, and had found bad money—I never put this money in the till.

GUILTY .— Confined Nine Months .

513. SAMUEL FRANKLIN (19), was indicted for a like offence. MESSRS. CRAUFURD and STRAIGHT conducted the Prosecution, and MR. HORRY the Defence.

JANE WARD . I lived at 20, Bell-court, Gray's Inn-lane—I know the prisoner—on the 18th of April, about half-past eleven o'clock, I was passing Mr. Samuel's door, and the prisoner called me in—I went down-stairs and stayed some little time with him—he gave me a half-crown and twopence—I came out and went to a public-house in Farringdon-street—I had a glass of rum and water, which came to twopence-halfpenny—I paid with the half-crown the prisoner gave me—I did not know it was bad—I was given in custody and taken to Fleet-street station, and was afterwards allowed to go—I was taken to Legate-hill first, and saw the prisoner there—he was taken.

CHARLES RIDLER . I keep the Grapes public-house, Farringdon-street—I remember the last witness coming in and my bending a half-crown—I gave it to a policeman.

CHARLES TOWNSEND (City-Policeman, 259). Ward was given into my custody with this bad half-crown—I took her to a house on Ludgate-hill—the prisoner was there—he was allowed to remain in the shop, and was not taken that night—Ward was allowed to go.

JAMES BECKINGHAM . I am packer to Samuel Brothers, tailors, of Ludgate-hill—the prisoner has been their porter about two months—on the 18th of April I gave him some clothes to take to Mr. Seal, of East-street, Walworth, with an invoice for 8l. 8s.—next morning about nine o'clock he brought me eight sovereigns, three half-crowns, and sixpence in copper—the three half-crowns were bad—I asked him where he got them—he said that Mrs. Seal gave them to him, that he saw a servant who said they had got no change, and sent him to get change for a sovereign; that he went to a baker's shop and got the full change, which they took up-stairs and brought him down the money, and that he had got the three half-crowns from the baker among the change—I eventually handed them in with the cash, and gave them back to the prisoner the same morning, and told him to go back to Seal's and inquire about them—he came back about one o'clock, and said that Mrs. Saeal said she did not know that she paid him any bad money,

and that he went to the baker, who said that he was sure he had no bad money in the till; that he spoke to a policeman, who told him he could do nothing—I got the half-crowns back—the prisoner had a parcel book—I sent him on the Friday to book some parcels at the booking-office, and he never came back—I saw him next at Guildhall in Harris's custody.

Cross-examined. Q. At what time did you send him out with the parcels? A. Two or three o'clock; he came back just as we were closing; he brought me the money next morning; I did not ask him about it that evening because we had left.

ELIZA SEAL . I am the wife of John Seal, of 177, East-street, Walworth—on the 18th of April I paid the prisoner 8l. 8s. due to Mr. Samuels—my servant brought in the bill, and I gave her eight sovereigns, three florins, and two single shillings—I did not see the prisoner on the 19th of April.

HENRIETTA PROUSE . I was in Mr. Seal's service—I remember the prisoner coming with a parcel and a bill for eight guineas—I gave him a sovereign to get change, and he went over to the baker's—I do not remember what the change consisted of—I took it up to Mrs. Seal—I did not count it, and did not notice whether there were any half-crowns—my mistress gave me eight sovereigns, three florins, and two shillings to pay the bill—there were no half-crowns—I did not see the prisoner again till he was at the police-court.

ISAAC ISAACS . I am cashier to Mr. Samuels—on 19th April Beckingham gave me three half-crowns—I gave them to Mr. Smith, the manager.

GEORGE SMITH . I am manager to Mr. Samuels—on 19th April I received three half-crowns from Isaacs—I gave them to the officer.

Cross-examined. Q. Had you a satisfactory character with the prisoner when he came? A. Yes, or we should not have taken him.

JAMES HANN (City Detective). On 20th April I was sent for to Mr. Samuels' at a little before two o'clock—Mr. Smith called the prisoner into a room, and produced these three half-crowns—he was asked where he got them—he said "From Mr. Seal;" that he took a parcel there and a bill for 8l.8s. and received three sovereigns, three half-crowns, and 6d. in payment—Mr. Smith told him to go down to the packing-room while I made some inquiry—I asked him if he had been to see Mr. Seal—he said "Yes"—I think Mr. Smith asked him what the answer was, and he said that Mrs. Seal was not aware what change she gave him—I then went to Walworth to make inquiries, and when I came back I found he had been sent on an errand and had not returned—I received instructions to look for him, and on 20th May I took him in charge in Castle-street, Oxford-market, on a charge of passing three bad half-crowns, and stealing a parcel-book and 1s. the property of his master—he said that he got the three half-crowns from Mr. Seal—I asked him for the book—he said he had not got it—I said, "I believe you gave the book to a young man now in custody at Westminster"—he said "Yes "—I found no money on him—he gave no address—he said that he had been stopping at a lodging-house.

Cross-examined. Q. Has Phillips been convicted? A. Yes, last session, in this Court, of uttering counterfeit coin—I have heard that Phillips' friends are very respectable—he was taken in custody after the 18th.

WILLIAM WEBSTER . These half-crowns are all bad, and one of the three is from the same mould as one of those uttered.

The prisoner's father gave him a good character. GUILTY. Recommended to mercy by the Jury. Confined Nine Months .

514. SARAH DAVIS (46) was indicted for a like offence.

MESSRS. CRAUFURD and STRAIGHT conducted the Prosecution.

THOMAS PAVEY . I am a grocer, of 66, Broad-street Bloomsbury—on 1st May, the prisoner came in for three quarters of a pound of sausages, which came to 3 3/4;d.—she put down a half-crown—I took the milling of it off with my teeth, and found that it was bad—my wife bent it in a detector and returned it to me—I did not lose sight of it—I told the prisoner it was bad, and should detain her—I gave her in charge—she offered me a good one in exchange, but I would not take it—I gave her in custody—she went to Bow-street, and Mr. Flowers discharged her as she said that she took it from her employer in the Euston-road—I gave it to the constable.

HENRY CHARLES GEE . I was policeman 36 E in May—I received the prisoner in custody, and a half-crown, which I handed to 78 F. I took her to Bow-street the same day, and she was discharged—she gave me a good half-crown—she gave her name Sarah Collins, 14, Newton-street—I was present when she was before the Magistrate—a letter was handed up to the Magistrate, some one said by her husband, but I do not know what was in it—the Magistrate read it and then discharged the prisoner.

JANE SOAL TARRANT . I am shopwoman to Mr. Robb, a baker, of St. Martin's-lane—on 14th May the prisoner came for two penny sponge cakes, and put down a florin—I found it was bad, and handed it to Dixon the clerk.

JONAH WILSON DIXON . I am clerk to Mr. Robb—on 14th May I received a bad florin—the prisoner was in the shop, and the last witness said in her hearing that she had passed it—I told her it was bad, and asked her where she got it—she said she got it in change of a sovereign on Saturday night, and offered me a good florin—I gave her in charge with the florin.

CHARLES BROOKS (Policeman 78 T). I took the prisoner—Dixon gave me the bad florin—Gee afterwards gave me this bad half-crown—I asked the prisoner if she had any more bad money—she said "No"—the female searcher of Bow-street found a good florin on her.

WILLIAM WEBSTER . The half-crown and florin are bad.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate:—I took the bad half-crown of Mr. Morton, of the Euston-road; he wrote a letter and sent his card to the Magistrate at Bow-street; he gave me 5s. 7d. for my work; I think it was on Saturday morning.

Prisoner's Defence. He gave me a good one for the bad one, and said he was very sorry; I was not aware that either of them were bad.

GUILTY .— Confined Nine Months .

515. HARRIET MATILDA THOMAS (17) was indicted for a like offence. MESSRS. CRAUFURD and STRAIGHT conducted the Prosecution.

MARY ANNE MEAD . I am barmaid at the King's Head, Pudding-lane, City—on the 19th April, about 8 o'clock, the prisoner came in, and I served her with a glass of ale—she put down 1s.—I tried it and it bent—I gave it to my master—this is it (produced)—I saw her hand it to the constable.

EDWARD LATTER (City-Policeman, 528). I took the prisoner and tried this bad shilling—she said that a gentleman gave it to her in Shoreditch—she was taken to the Mansion-house the next day and discharged.

ELIZA WADESON . I keep the Bengal public-house, Birchin-lane—on 29th April I saw the prisoner there twice, morning and evening—when she left in the morning I found a bad florin in the till—I went to the till when she

left in the evening, after she had been there, and found a bad florin—there I were no other florins there, only shillings—I put both the florins in the fire, I and they melted directly—on Tuesday evening, 1st May, the prisoner came I again—I recognised her, and served her with half a quartern of gin, which I came to 21/2; d.—she gave me a bad florin—I passed it to a customer, who broke it between his teeth, and gave me the pieces—I kept them in my hand, and told the prisoner it was bad—she could not deny it—I told her I should give her in charge, and that she had been there yesterday and passed two—she said nothing—these are the pieces of the florin—I gave them to the constable.

Prisoner. I told you I did not come in the day before. Witness. You made no reply.

AGNES PEACOCK . I am barmaid to Mrs. Wadeson—on 30th April I served the prisoner with half a quartern of gin—she gave me a florin—I gave her the change and she left—I put it in the till—I do not think there was any other florin there—there was small change—I saw Mrs. Wadeson go to the. till not three minutes afterwards and take out the florin—I have no doubt it is the same.

Prisoner. I gave you a shilling that day. Witness. No, it was a florin.

JEREMIAH PAGE (City-policeman, 750). On 1st May I was called to the Bengal public-house, and the prisoner was given into my custody with the florin—the prisoner said, "I will own I offered it for the gin," but she did not say whether she knew it to be bad or good—I took her to the station—nothing was found on her.

WILLIAM WEBSTER . These coins are both bad—if a coin melts at once when thrown into the fire, it is a sure sign that it is bad.

Prisoner's Defence. It was given to me by a gentleman; I did not know it was bad. GUILTY .— Confined Six Months .

516. GEORGE WILLIAM WHEATLEY (25) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing 21 brooches, 22 lockets, and other articles, of William Zimmerman, master. Confined Twelve Months .

OLD COURT.—Tuesday, June 12th, 1866.

Before Mr. Recorder.

517. HENRY BUCKTHORPE (30) was indicted for stealing, on 21st September, 38 bonnets and 68 hats, of John Smith and another. Other counts for stealing other goods on 2d October and 20th December. Also for receiving the same. MR. DALEY conducted the Prosecution, and MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS the Defence.

WILLIAM NORTON (a prisoner). I have been in the service of Messrs. Smith and Lister, straw-hat manufacturers, in Friday-street—I went into their service about six years ago—I was warehouseman—I have known the prisoner between four and five years—he was a drapers' assistant part of the time, and the latter part he was in business on his own account—I remember his going into business in Addison-road, Notting-hill—the name of Adams was over the door of that shop—it was the maiden name of his wife—I have been in the habit of corresponding with him, and have several times borrowed

money of him—I remember having a conversation with him while he was in the employ of Mr. Cox, of Westbourne-grove—he asked me whether there would be any difference made in goods if I bought them or if he bought them himself—I said the difference would be very slight indeed—I said, if they were entered in my name, I should have to pay cash for them—I do not know that he made any answer exactly to that—he said he would not limit me to buy goods for him from Smith and Lister—I told him that if I had the goods for him anywhere else but from Smith and Lister, they would be stolen—he replied that he did not care, he was not particular where I got them, or how I got them, so long as I did get them, and could supply him with the quantity he wanted—he was complaining of the goods which his wife or which Miss Adams had previously bought of Smith and Lister, and he said he wanted a different character of goods to that—I asked him to give me some idea of the character of goods he would require—he said he should not mind buying goods for 6d. worth 5s., he was desirous of doing a very large trade, and of cutting all his neighbours out—I remember taking goods to his shop, but I do not remember any exact dates now—this invoice (produced) is in my handwriting—I took some goods to him in June, of the value, altogether, of about 10l. and I received 5l. from him on account—this is the receipt I gave him (read):" June 6th, 1866, received of Mr. Buckthorne the sum of 5l. on account, Wm. Norton "I saw the prisoner at his own house that day and gave him the hats—I cannot remember the number—I have had several walks with him when I have gone down to borrow money of him—I remember one night going down and seeing him, and having a walk with him, when he expressed himself very well satisfied with the goods I had sold him—he told me if any question was put to me by his wife, I was to say they were jobs that were bought by me in the Luton market, and, in addition to that, I was to be very careful in my correspondence with him to endeavour to prevent any suspicion in the transaction, between us—this receipt, dated 8th August, is my writing—I delivered goods to him on that day—69 hats, that is, 34 black hats at 9d. and 35 at 1s. 2d.—the proper wholesale value for those would be 1s. 3d. and 1s. 6d. or 1s. 11d.—he paid me for these—I cannot recollect whether he gave me an order for any more—this invoice, dated August 10th, is my writing—I supplied him on that day with 9 hats at 11d. 32 at 1s. and 9 at 1s. 3d.—the wholesale price for those would be 18d. 2s. and 2s. 3d. or half a crown—you could not obtain them for less than that at Smith and Lister's, or anywhere else—on 21st September, I supplied him with 38 bonnets at 1s. 4d. 33 hats at 1s. 33 at 6d. and 2 at 9d.—the whole-sale prices of those would be half a crown, 2s. 1s. 3d. or 1s. 6d. and 1s. 9d. or 2s.—on 2d October I supplied him with 13 hats at 1s. 12 at 9d. 1 bonnet at 2s. 40 bonnets at 1s. a feather at 5s. 6d. one spangles at 5s. 6d. 13 hats at 6d. 55 at 9d. 28 at 9d. and 136 at 6d.—the wholesale price of the 13 hats would be 2s. the 12 1s. 3d. or 1s. 6d. the 1 bonnet 3s. 6d. or 4s. the 40 bonnets 2s. the feather and spangles would be the same, the 13 hats at 6d. would be worth 18d. each, the 55 at 9d. would be worth 1s. 9d. or 1s. 11d. the 28 the same, and the 136 at 6d. would be worth quite 18d.—the goods named in this invoice of 20th December were delivered in three dates, but I was paid on 20th December: on 3d November three bonnets at 2s. 6d. worth 3s. 6d. or 4s.; two hats at 1s. worth 2s.; 4 bonnets at 1s. 6d. worth 2s. 6d. and 1 at half a crown, worth about 4s.—on 11th November, 6 bonnets at 2s. worth 3s. 6d.—on 20th November, 6 bonnets at 2s. 6d. worth about 3s. 6d. or 4s.; one at 3s. 6d. worth 5s. 6d. and three hats at 2s. 6d. worth

about 4s.—I have seen the prisoner at our warehouse several times—the latter part of the time I did business there I should think, at least, once a fortnight, or oftener than that—he dealt there for goods in the regular way, only for small quantities, the same character of goods I was supplying him with—I sometimes sold them to him—he paid the proper wholesale price for those—he said I was to write to him so as to avoid suspicion on the part of his wife—these (produced) are the class of goods that I sold at these prices—the letters he received from me were to be destroyed by him, and I was to do the same with his—these letters (selecting some) were all written by me to the prisoner.

Cross-examined. Q. What age are you? A. Twenty-five—I have been on very intimate terms with the prisoner—I visited at his house occasionally—he never visited at mine; he did sometimes at my father's—I have not lived with my father within the last three or four years—he is a clergyman—I am not aware that I introduced the prisoner to my family—I have a brother, and it is possible he may have introduced him—I do not recollect doing so—it has been very seldom that I have been to my father's in company with him—I have been, but not for some years—that was not from not visiting at the house—I was in the habit of visiting at my father's, not down to the time I was taken into custody, because my father lives at Newark—I have been at the prisoner's very often—I never dined there—I occasionally drank tea there—I was on terms of extreme intimacy with him and his wife; his wife managed the bonnet and hat department, himself included: she was the only person engaged in the millinery department—I have borrowed money of him for some long period—I can't say whether it was as early as 1862—I believe he always obliged me when he could—I have sometimes asked for time to pay; I have generally been pretty punctual with my payments—when I was arrested my salary was 150l. a year—I am married and have one child—I live in Walcot-square, Kennington-road—I have had that salary twelve months—before that I had 100l.—I began to rob my employers about twelve months ago—I have no letters belonging to the prisoner—I destroyed them all, as he desired me to do—I don't know what is meant by writing in cypher—I was taken into custody on this charge—the officer asked me what I had done with the goods—I said that I had sold several parcels of goods during the last twelve months to a man at Kennington; that he sometimes paid me the full value, and sometimes half the value: that his name was Buckthorpe, but that his wife's name was Adams, and that Adams was over the door—I believe I said that I had told Buckthorpe that I bought the goods at Luton, and that I did not think he himself was a judge of them—I pleaded guilty at the police-court—I made no statement there—I was sent here for trial, the prisoner having given evidence against me—he produced all these receipts—I was then brought to this Court and again pleaded guilty here—I did not make any statement in court inculpating the prisoner—I was in court when the judge who presided expressed some opinion about prosecuting the prisoner—I was removed on to the stairs out of the dock at that time—I heard part of a discussion that took place—the prosecutor said something to the effect of declining to prosecute—my father has communicated with me since I have been in Newgate—I saw an attorney about a fortnight or three weeks after—I made a statement in writing in letters to my wife and to my father—I have implicated Buckthorpe in them as being as guilty as myself—I did that a fortnight after my arrest—it was about six weeks ago that I was first examined by an attorney—I suppose that was three or four weeks

after I pleaded guilty—I then made a statement which was taken down—he produced these receipts to me at the time—I have no connections at Luton—I have friends there—Mr. George Hunt is one, my late employer there—I do not remember making any statement to the constable Gaylor—I did not tell him that the hats came from George Hunt of Luton—I made a similar statement to one of the officers—I said the hats came from Luton—I won't swear I said they came from Mr. Hunt—I won't swear whether I did or did not—Mr. Hunt is a manufacturer of straw hats and bonnets—I lived with him for some time—I told the officer that I said to Buckthorpe these were job lots which I had bought myself in the Luton market—I do not know where these letters of mine have come from that have been shown me to-day—they were shown to me before to-day by Mr. Wontner, the attorney—he did not tell me where he got them from—I could form no opinion—I have sold goods to other persons besides the prisoner; to Mr. Crowe of Hammersmith, Vyse of Ludgate-hill, and, I believe, I sold a very small lot to Mr. Norcot of Hammersmith—I also sold a small lot to a draper at Newark whose name I do not recollect now—I do not recollect any other—I would not be positive—the transaction with Vyse was first—it might be twelve months ago, or a little more, before I sold the goods to Buckthorpe—those were not jobs lots from Luton—I told Vyse they were goods from Luton—they were the property of Smith and Lister—they were stolen—the other goods were also goods that I had stolen from my employers—I told them something to the same effect that they were goods from Luton—the goods I sold to Crowe and Vyse were sold at a very different price to those sold to Buckthorpe—they were sold cheap—cheaper than they could have been sold over the counter, but a mere trifle—I used to drive about in a gig or trap—I did not represent myself as an agent for a house at Luton—I will swear that—I do not recollect ever doing so—I used sometimes to deliver the goods in the trap—it was the property of a horsedealer, of the name of Morris, in the Old Kent-road—I did not keep it—I used to drive about in it occasionally—I sent the goods out of the warehouse by my boy—it is a boy who was in the same employment—I employed him to take goods out of the warehouse—I do not wish to implicate the boy at all—I believe he did not know that I was taking them.

MR. DALEY. Q. Was Mr. Wontner the solicitor who appeared in the prosecution against you? A. Yes—I made no statement against Buckthorpe until after my trial—I did not mention it until Mr. Wontner called on me—the statement I made to Gaylor was when I was first taken into custody—I never wrote to Mr. Vyse or received any letters from him.

CHARLES THOMAS GAYLOR . On 15th March I went with Mr. Smith, one of the prosecutors, and the officer Hancock, to Buckthorpe's house—I received 201 hats and 36 bonnets from him—these are some of them—they are all different sorts—I took possession of a number of letters and invoices at the Mansion-house—they were brought there by Buckthorpe—I do not remember these letters—they were invoices that Buckthorpe brought to the Mansion-house—I did not take any letters from Buckthorpe's premises—he produced invoices of the goods at the Mansion-house—I do not remember anything of the letters.

Cross-examined. Q. Do you know anything at all about these letters? A. I know Buckthorde showed Mr. Smith, when we were down at his premises, some letters and invoices—Mr. Smith is one of the firm—he is

here—he showed some letters and invoices to Mr. Smith, and said that he had bought them as job lots—he produced the invoices, and as far as I observed he was quite open—I saw his wife—I do not know that she said anything relating to the millinery business—I went in with Hancock, the other officer, and told him we were officers, and were in search of goods missing from London; had he bought anything of that description?—he said, "No, I only buy of one person, that is a man named Norton, he is at Messrs. Smith and Lister's, of Cannon-street; I buy all my goods of him"—he then showed us what he had got, and Mr. Smith identified them, and we brought them away—the goods were in different parts; some were upstairs, and a good many were exposed in the window; the others were in square boxes—there was no concealment or hesitation—I did not see anything that would justify me in taking him into custody—he asked his wife to produce the invoices—she went up stairs and got them—he said that Norton had represented to him that he was the agent of a Luton house, and that they were job lots, some of which had been reblocked.

EDWARD HANCOCK (City-policeman, 499). I saw two of those letters (produced) at the prisoner's house—I do not recollect seeing the others—the prisoner himself produced these, and read them to Mr. Smith and myself—to the best of my recollection these are the letters.

Cross-examined. Q. Are you quite sure these were ever in the prisoner's possession? A. I believe so; I cannot swear positively—Mr. Smith can speak more distinctly.

JOHN SMITH . I am one of the firm of Smith and Lister—to the best of my recollection the prisoner showed me these letters when I went to his house in company with the officer—I do not know anything about the others—(Letter read, October 6th, 1865. "Dear Henry, I must apologize for having delayed in writing before now—I never was so busy as I have been this week, or I should have found time to have written before—I paid your account, as you will see per receipted invoice—I also send my own invoice of goods you have had up to the present time, and I will take this opportunity of saying that I cannot afford to have bill heads printed, for this reason: they will charge me as much for 50 as they would for 500, and that I cannot stand—perhaps the man who prints yours would print me fifty cheap, but we will talk about it when I see you. Hoping Mrs. B. and self are well, believe me, my dear friend, yours affectionately, William Norton."—The other letter, dated February 3d, 1866, contained a pressing request for a loan of 5l. for a week.

EDWARD HANCOCK (reexamined). I saw the prisoner sign this deposition—(The deposition was put in and read).

ANTHONY EWART LISTER . The wholesale prices of these hats are 3s. 6d. each—they would cost us that—the others are 3s. 9d.—I marked some of these at the police-court, and I see my mark here—I believe this hat, which I see is worth 3s. 6d. was spoken to by him as having bought it for 1s. 9d.—here is one which I believe was sold to the prisoner for 2s. 9d. which cost us 3s. 9d.—these bonnets I have not seen before—I believe they were brought away by Mr. Smith—these black hats are worth 3s.—I believe the prisoner stated that he bought them for 15d.

Cross-examined. Q. Is Luton a great place for the manufacture of articles of this kind? A. Yes; it is the seat of the straw-hat trade—old hats and bonnets that have been broken, are occasionally reblocked—they are done as well as they can be done, but they are a long way from being as good as new—I know that there are forced sales at the end of the season when job

lots are sold—goods are depreciated when the season is over—of course the price would be affected by the state of the money market at the time.

COURT. Q. What was the lowest price that you paid for any of the hats that came from the prisoner's house? A. I do not think I can tell that—we have hats as low as 6d. but not often.

C. T. GAYLOR (reexamined). There were other goods in the prisoner's shop, drapery goods, but, I think, no other bonnets—I think we cleared the whole of the stock.

The prisoner received a good character.— NOT GUILTY .

There was another indictment against the prisoner, on which MR. DALEY offered no evidence.

518. EDWARD PROBERT (22), and HENRY NYE (26) , Burglary in the dwelling-house of John Lawson, and stealing therein a pair of boots.

MR. DALEY conducted the Prosecution, and MR. M. WILLIAMS defended Nye.

THOMAS DREW (Policeman, N 174). On Sunday morning, 20th May, about half-past 2, I was on duty in the City-road, and saw the two prisoners coming from the front gate of 355, City-road—there is a garden in front—I followed them to the corner of Sydney-street—they went up the right-hand side of Sydney-street to Sydney-grove—Probert went down Sydney-grove for about a minute—he then came up—Pulley (Nye) came about thirty yards and crossed the road, stooping as if he was picking something up to throw at a window, as if he wanted to get in—he gave the name of Pulley—he then turned round, and walked up the left-hand side of the street, about forty yards, saying to Probert, who was on the right-hand side, "Good night, Bill; I am going home "—I followed them till I could see assistance, to the top of Sydney-street—Nye crossed over the road to Probert—I saw an inspector and two constables coming up—I called out, "Stop those fellows"—Probert went away to the left, and Nye turned sharp to the right—they were both taken into custody—I afterwards went back to 355, City-road, and found the front door open—I called the inmates up.

Cross-examined. Q. There are a number of trees in front of this house, are there not? A. Yes; Probert went down the grove—I did not stop them, because I knew I could not catch them both—I have not stated to anyone that the reason I did not stop them was because I was attending to a drunken woman—I will swear that—there was a woman in the street—I was not attending to a drunken woman; not at that time—I had seen a drunken woman previously on my beat; not for some time before—I have been in the force twelve months in July, I think—the garden in front of this house is ten or twelve yards long, from the front door to the gate.

Probert. Q. Were you not standing in the City-road, speaking to somebody? A. I was not speaking to a drunken woman—when I took you into custody, I asked you to give your name, and you said, "Oh, you have found my name out before now."

WILLIAM HENRY MASSEY (Police-inspector, G). On this Sunday morning, I was standing at the end of Sydney-street, Goswell-road, and saw both the prisoners—they were on the right-hand side, at the end of Sydney-grove, coming towards Goswell-road—I saw Probert cross over to the end of Sydney-place—Nye turned round into the Goswell-road, to the right—about a minute after, Probert came out from the end of Sydney-place, and called out," Bill, are you going home?"—Probert ran across the road, in the direction the other prisoner had gone—immediately afterwards, I heard some person in the street call out, "Stop them"—Probert was followed by a

constable, and brought back—I followed, and went after Nye, and brought him back—I went with him to the station, and then went to 355, City-road—I found the drawers in the kitchen partly open—the back kitchen window was open, and the entrance had been effected that way—you could get to the back of the house by getting over two gates and two walls—I should think the walls are about seven feet high, or a little more.

Cross-examined. Q. Are you quite sure it was Probert that called out, "Bill are you going home?" A. I am quite positive—what the last witness spoke to, occurred before I came up.

Probert. Q. After we were charged, did you not ask a constable to look at our trousers to see if they were torn in getting over the walls, or anything of that kind? A. Yes; the toes of your boots were all over mortar, as if they had been over the walls, and I took their boots off to see if any marks in the garden would correspond with them—they did not—there were some foot-marks, but the garden was dry—it was a smaller foot; no doubt one of the children who lived in the house.

CHARLES BLIGH (Policeman, G 262). I was on duty on this Sunday morning, in Goswell-road—I saw Probert run up Windmill-street, and I turned round back again, and followed him up Spencer-street into Northhampton-square—he was stopped by another constable, and I escorted him to the inspector—coming back I came down Spencer-grove, and picked up these two pair of boots, about ten yards down the grove—it was nowhere near where I saw Probert—it was eighty to a hundred yards away.

JOHN LAWSON . I live at 355, City-road, and am a chronometer maker—about half-past 12, on Sunday morning, I fastened up the house in front, and went to bed, not the back—I was called up, about 3 o'clock, by the police—I found the street door open, and the police standing there—the gas in the kitchen was lighted, and the window of the back kitchen open—these boots are my property—they were in my house before that night

Cross-examined. Q. Was there other property that could have been taken from the house? A. Yes; I don't know the grove where the boots were found.

ELIZABETH MANTON . I am servant to Mr. Lawson—I don't sleep in the house—I left about a quarter to 11 on this Saturday night—I fastened the back kitchen window, and closed the shutters, but I was suddenly called away, and I forgot to put the bolt up when I came back—I know these boots.

Probert's Defence. I was accidentally in the City-road, and I passed up Sydney-street; I came over to the left-hand side of the road, and I went into the court and came out again; one witness says I was in the court on one side of the way; the other on the other—I then passed to the top of the street, and hearing a constable or somebody calling out, "Stop that fellow," and thinking I might get into trouble, being out so late, I ran away, and was brought back by a constable. NOT GUILTY .

519. LUKE HEMMING (25) , Feloniously wounding Thomas Coulton, with intent to do grievous bodily harm.

MR. NICHOLSON conducted the Prosecution.

THOMAS COULTON . I reside at William-street, Chiswick—on 28th April, I was at the Feathers public-house, having a pint of beer—William Dawes, and Henry Carter, and the prisoner and his brother came in, and wanted to kick up a disturbance with William Holmes—he wanted to fight him, and he kicked up a bother for pretty well half an hour—I said to my mates

"We will go outside the bar"—the prisoner and his brother followed us out there, and I gave them a glass of beer between them—I was just going to drink, when the prisoner took the glass out of my hand, and drank the beer, and said, "I will fight you"—the landlady said, "Don't fight here"—when we got outside, the prisoners brother rushed at me and got hold of me, and while he had got hold of me, the prisoner came up with his knife in his hand, and he stabbed me under the arm, and then the prisoner's brother threw me on the ground underneath the window, and the prisoner drew the knife across my mouth—I don't know anything after that—I was taken away senseless to the hospital.

Prisoner. I was drunk; I am very sorry for it.

COURT. Q. Was he drunk? A. He knew very well what he was doing—he was not the worse for liquor—he could stand upright just before—he took an oath, and said he would be hung for some one that night

WILLIAM DAWES . I am a carpenter, and belong to the 3d Middlesex militia, and live at Ealing—on 28th April, I was at the Feathers public-house, at Chiswick—there was a disturbance there—the prisoner and his brother wanted me to stand a pot of beer—I said, "I have been drinking with some one else, and I don't want to drink with you"—then he used very bad language—I went to the bar, and the two men followed me, and wanted to fight with me—after that, they wanted to drink, and then one of them struck at me over another man's shoulders, and the prisoner's brother struck at me with a militiaman's belt which he had, across the head—I said, "Putting the belts on one side, I will fight, and if I get flogged, I get flogged," and I went out—I got the best of the prisoner's brother—the prisoner pulled out a knife and said, "I have a knife, and a long one, and I will kill any b—and be hung for six to-night"—while I was fighting his brother, he pulled out a knife and stabbed me—his brother got bested by the last witness, and the prisoner struck him under the right arm, and they fell together, and through the fall, he drew the knife across his mouth—I saw that.

DANIEL HILLWELL (Policeman, T 46). On the afternoon of 28th April, I heard a disturbance, and was called there about five minutes to 12, and took the prisoner into custody for stabbing the prosecutor—I saw no fighting.

COURT. Q. In what state was he at that time? A. He had had drink, but he was not drunk—he was a little the worse for liquor.

WALTER SMITH . I am house-surgeon at the West London Hospital—the prosecutor was brought to me on Saturday, 29th April—he was suffering from loss of blood from a large wound on the right side of the chest, about three and a half inches in length, and also a large wound on the left cheek—I should think this knife (produced) would have inflicted such wounds—the cut on the mouth was as if a knife had been drawn across, I should think, and the wound in the side was as if it had been thrust in, and then drawn out—it must have gone the whole length of the blade, to have made it that length.

DANIEL HILLWELL (reexamined). This knife was given to me by the landlady of the Feathers public-house, with blood on it

Prisoner's Defence. He kicked me, and ill-used me, and cut the belt on me. GUILTY of unlawfully wounding .— Confined Twelve Months .

520. WILLIAM HARRIS (42) , Burglary in the dwelling-house of John Shorton, and stealing therein 1 coat, and other articles, his property.

MR. NICHOLSON conducted the Prosecution.

MARGARET SHORTON . I live at 2, Love-court, Ratcliffe-highway—on Saturday night, 4th June, I was in my house waiting up for my son—I fell asleep beside the fire-place—I awoke at 3 o'clock in the morning, and saw the prisoner looking at me where I laid—I got frightened, and screamed for police, and asked who he was—he never answered me, but flew out of the door—I ran after him, and halloed out "Police"—the front door was shut when I went to sleep, but not bolted, and the inside door was latched—I did not miss anything at that time—I acquainted a policeman of it, and on my return, I picked up my husband's trousers and coat—I shortly afterwards went out again, and two policemen came down with the prisoner in custody—the policeman asked me, "Would I know the man"—I said, "Yes, that was he," and I looked again at him, and saw my husband's comforter round his neck, and my daughter said, "Mother, he has got my father's coat on him," and he had—I identified it.

JOHN FIDDLER (Policeman, K 138). I was on duty in Ratcliffe-highway, on Saturday, 4th June—I took the prisoner into custody, and brought him back to the prosecutrix—she identified this coat and comforter that he had on.

Prisoner's Defence. On Saturday night, I came ashore from my ship to buy some little articles to take aboard; I bought them and put them in my coat pocket; I got intoxicated, and lay in some court drunk till early in the morning, and when I woke, I found my coat and articles gone; I went into the first house that was open; I did not know where I was. My ship is in Shad well-basin now, and the officers could give me a character; I was never in London before; I did not know where I was.

JOHN FIDDLER (reexamined). The prisoner was not drunk when I took him—he had the appearance as if he had been drinking—he could walk, and he knew what he was about perfectly well—he did not run at all—I have not found out whether he had just left his ship—he gave me no address—he said his ship lay in Shadwell-basin.

MRS. SHORTON (reexamined). I think my husband's coat had been placed on a box by the side of the bed—the bed was in the room I was sitting in, on the first floor—the trousers and comforter were on the bed-rail—the out-side door was closed, and the inside door was latched—there was no open door for anybody to come in at, not without lifting the latch—that could be done from the outside. GUILTY.—Recommended to mercy.

Confined Three Months .

521. WILLIAM PATE (16) , PLEADED GUILTY to stealing 6 printed books and other books, the property of Augustus Goldsmid, his master.— Confined Twelve Months .

522. GEORGE HUBBARD (20) , to stealing 32l. 11s. 1d. of John James Jones and another, his masters.— Confined Nine Months . [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

523. WILLIAM COWPER (28) , to stealing 1 watch, the property of John Shepherd, from his person, having been before convicted of felony.**— Seven Years' Penal Servitude . [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

524. CHARLES ANDREWS (22) , to stealing.3 silver spoons and other articles, the property of Cecil Long, in his dwelling-house.— Confined Nine Months . [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

525. HENRY BOLTON (29) , to feloniously forging and uttering a receipt; also to obtaining money by false pretences, having been before convicted.**— Seven Years' Penal Servitude . [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

526. ALFRED HAYNES (32) , to embezzling 5l., the money of Charles Richardson, his master. The prisoner received a good character, and was recommended to mercy by the prosecutor; his deficiencies were stated to amount to about 50l.— Confined Twelve Months . [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

NEW COURT.—Tuesday, June 12th, 1866.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

527. MATTHEW BYRNE, (18) , Unlawfully obtaining 2s. by false pretences, with intent to defraud.

MESSRS. PATTISON and POLAND conducted the Prosecution, and MR. COLLINS the Defence.

ABRAHAM SHARP . I am a cigar-maker, of 5, Hutchinson's-avenue, Houndsditch—I know the prisoner as a postman in that district—he knocked at the door about 8 o'clock in the morning of 14th April, and said, "Here is a letter for you, I want 2s. please"—he handed me the letter, and I said, "That does not belong to me—this (produced) is the envelope—I said, "I will call up the party who it belongs to?"—I knocked at Mrs. Suckerman's door and said, "There is a letter for you; the postman wants 2s."—she got up and went to Mrs. Lefouski, her sister, who paid the 2s. to the postman, as she told me—I saw her with 2s. in her hand.

LEAH SUCKERMAN . I am the wife of Eris Suckerman, of Hutchinson's-avenue, Houndsditch—Sharp knocked at my door, but I was not there—the letter did not belong to me, but to my sister—I live in the back room, and my sister in the front—I called her up, and gave her the letter—she came down, and I saw her give the postman 2s.

Cross-examined. Q. Is your sister here? A. Yes, she is my sister-in-law.

HANNAH LEFOUSKI . I live with my husband at 5, Hutchinson's-avenue—on 14th April, I saw the prisoner—he asked for 2s. for a letter, and I gave him a florin—he asked in English, but I understood it

RACHEL VYSEBRUGH . I am the wife of Elias Vysebrugh, of 13, Hutchinson's-avenue, Houndsditch—Mrs. Rosen lived in the house till a fortnight or three weeks after Easter—shortly after she left, the prisoner came with a letter for her, with 2s. to pay—he said, "Will you receive it?"—I said, "No, I will show you the party where they have removed to"—he asked whether it was far—I said, "No, only round the corner"—I took him round to No. 3, and said, "Mrs. Rosen, there is a letter for you, 2s. to pay"—she said, "Dear me, 2s. to pay"—I said, "Yes"—the prisoner said, "Yes, 2s. to pay for the letter"—Mrs. Rosen said that she had no money, she must wait till her husband came in—she sent a little girl to her husband, and when the girl came back, she gave the prisoner a 2s. piece—he kept it—he gave her no change—I waited till she began to read the letter—the prisoner was dressed in his postman's clothes—a gentleman from the Post-office called on the afternoon of that day, to make inquiries of me—I told him what took place—the prisoner came with him.

BERTHA ROSEN . Iam the wife of Woolf Rosen, of Houndsditch—the prisoner came to our house in March, and said, "Mrs. Rosen, 2s. to pay"—I had no money, and sent my little girl to my husband, who told me where to find the money, and I paid the prisoner—my husband came in and said, "Good mornings" to him—it was a wonder for me to have to pay 2s., so I sent to the inspector and asked him.

Cross-examined. Q. Who came with the prisoner? A. Mrs. Vysebrugh.

WILLIAM WHEELER . I am a letter-carrier at the Shoreditch district office—Hutchinson's-avenue is in the prisoner's delivery—this letter to Rosen bears the postmark of April 14th—he prisoner would have to deliver it—1s. ought to be paid upon it—this letter, with the postmark of 9th May, was in the prisoner's delivery also; 1s. ought to be paid upon it.

Cross-examined. Q. Were you ever in this district collecting money from these into/ill/ligent people? A. Every day when I have foreign letters—these folks never charged me with taking 2s. when only 1s. was due; but a Jew in Petticoat-square, tried to defraud me about an American letter—I have, never heard of anyone else being charged in this way—it is twelve months last May since they charged me—I was not tried for it.

MR. METCALFE. Q. Was a complaint made against you? A. Yes; but the Post-office authorities were satisfied with my explanation.

JOHN BARTLETT . I am assistant inspector at the Shoreditch post-office—this letter of 19th May was brought to the district-office, and a complaint made that 2s. was charged on it—I took the prisoner into the locality, and confronted him with the person complaining—her statement appeared generally correct, and the prisoner denied it from beginning to end.

Cross-examined. Q. Are you the head of the office? A. No; it is my department to inspect cases of complaint—I was not present when the prisoner was searched—about six hours after the complaint was lodged against him, he took some money out of his pocket, and showed me 1s. and a few coppers.

MR. METCALFE. Q. Was he not searched? A. No, he took it out voluntarily.

MR. COLLINS contended that there was no proof that the prisoner did not pay over to the Post-office authorities the money he received. THE COURT considered that, as the false pretence was that 2s. was due, the offence was complete when the prisoner obtained the money.

MR. METCALFE to W. WHEELER. Q. Do you charge the letters to the man who takes them out? A. Yes; the charge is made in a book, which is here—on 9th May, I charged him 1s. 2d. for all the letters he had of me—I cannot say whether this letter came from me to him, but it would in the ordinary course—on 14th April, he had a total of 5s. 8d. to receive—the number of letters do not appear, only the amount—I book the amount to him before he goes out—I tell him the amount, and book it to him—I ask him if it is right, and he answers me.

MR. COLLINS. Q. When he pays the money over, is it entered in a book? A. I erase what he had—when I get the money, I erase the debt, and it is all erased regularly—I take it from him, and hand it to the charge taker—I do not remember giving him a letter for these same parties on the Saturday previous, with 2s. marked on it—I do not enter the addresses—on the Saturday before 14th April, the 7th, the total sum charged is 8d.—on the 6th, here is 3s. 2d.—there is no book to tell how the letters were addressed—the charge-taker would not be able to tell.

JURY. Q. Do any letters come to 2s.; A. A great many; it depends on where they come from, and the weight—the prisoner does not receive letters for delivery at that hour, from any person but me.

NOT GUILTY .

528. GEORGE PRATT (19), and FLORANCE WOLLAND (22) , Burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Samuel Allmey, and stealing therein 3s. worth of farthings, and I 1b. of cigars, his property.

MR. HOUSTON conducted the Prosecution.

SAMUEL THOMAS ALLMEY . I keep the Anchor and Hope, Horsley Branch-road—on Saturday-night, 20th May, I shut up my house at midnight—I was aroused in the morning by a violent knocking at the bottom of the stairs, and voices saying, "Come down, you have been robbed"—I found

the bar door open, and three cigar-cases emptied—the till was drawn out, and the money gone, also some biscuits and brandy—I searched the house, and found the kitchen window open, which was closed and fastened the night before—a panel of the kitchen door had been taken out, and it was open—I saw these cigars (produced) at dinner-time the same day at the station—I believe them to be mine—I lost about 3s. worth of farthings from the till, and about 2s. worth are here—the cigars were worth about 12s.—I find a peculiar farthing here—I described it previous to its being found—I know Wolland by seeing him occasionally—I do not know Pratt—my house is in the hamlet of Rateliffe.

Wolland. These cigars are not his property; I bought them; I bought fifty on Saturday morning.

JAMES NOYCE . Iam waiter and barman at this public-house—on this morning, about 6 o'clock, I found the back door and window open—I rang the bell, and knocked at the door, which separated the stairs from the other part of the house—Mr. Allmey came down and missed the cigars—it is his dwelling-house.

WILLIAM FEASTON (58 K). The prisoners were in custody on another charge—I received information of the burglary about 8 am. and then searched Wolland, and found eighteen farthings, four pence, eight halfpence, and sixteen cigars—I did not search Pratt—I showed the property to the prosecutor, who identified it—I went to Wolland's lodging, and found two jemmies, two files, and a skeleton key—both jemmies corresponded with the mark at the prosecutor's house—they are of different widths, and the marks of both were on the kitchen door, the bar door, and another door.

Wolland. It is eight months since I lived in the house where they found those implements; I left there in the winter. Witness. Your father and mother say that you slept there the night before.

Jury. Q. Did the prosecutor give a description of the peculiar farthing he missed? A. Yes, and it was found on Pratt.

S. T. ALLMEY (reexamined). This is the farthing I described—it was among my farthings on the night of the burglary—the peculiarity is that it has been dented as if with a punch.

JOHN PEAD (404 K). On Sunday morning, 25th May, between 3 and 4 o'clock, I saw the prisoners in Horseferry Branch-road, outside the prosecutor's back door, quarreling—I told them to go away from there, they must not kick up that noise at that time of the morning—I left them, and they went further down the road, and began quarreling again—I went to them—they got round me, and began to pull me about—there were several more with them, and I drew my staff in self-defence—Pratt flew at me, threw me down, and took my staff away—I got another constable's assistance, and took them both to the station—I found twenty-one farthings on Pratt—the marked one is one of them—he was very drunk—Wollard was not quite so drunk.

Wollard. Q. Did not we pass you under the railway arch about two minutes before the row? A. No.

Pratts Defence. I got these farthings when I went out costermongering. I gave them four of them, and gave Wolland sixpennyworth of them for sixpennyworth of cigars. The policemen tells you I was drunk; I know nothing about it.

Wolland's Defence. I have not lived for eight months where the constable says be found the implements, and the cigars I bought at the barracks

GUILTY .— Confined Twelve Months each .

529. DANIEL WEBB ('22), Stealing 1 watch and chain, the property of Robert Lane, from his person.

MR. COOPER conducted the Prosecution, and MR. WILLIAMS the Defence.

ROBERT LANE . On 21st May I went to West Drayton races—I had a, silver watch and a gold chain—I suddenly saw my chain hanging from the prisoner's hand—I supposed my watch was there, but did not see it—I was behind him—I laid hold of him and called a policeman—I saw Edward Matthews half a minute afterwards.

Cross-examined. Q. Was there a great crowd? A. Yes—I caught hold of the prisoner's hands behind him.

THOMAS WADE (Policeman). The prisoner was given into my custody—Mr. Lane said that he saw him gathering the chain into his hand—he said, "I did not have your watch."

EDWARD MATTHEWS . I live at Deptford—I was at West Drayton races, and saw a gold Albert chain hanging from the prisoner's hand—I heard a cry of "Police, " and put my hand to his collar—they were, as close to me as they could stand.

Cross-examined. Q. Were you called before the Magistrate? A. No, I was subpoened to come here.

GUILTY ,—He was further charged with having been before convicted at Croydon/, in May, 1865; to which he

PLEADED GUILTY.**— Seven Years' Penal Servitude .

530. JOHN RICH (18), and HENRY CLARK (18) , Breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Henry Griffiths, and stealing therein 151/2; yards of carpet, his property.

MR. HORRT conducted the Prosecution, and MR. COLLINS the Defence

HENRY GRIFFITHS . I occupy the first floor of 47, Skinner-street, Snow-hill—on the afternoon of 4th June, about half-past 3 o'clock, I went out and locked the door, leaving a roll of about fifteen yards of carpet there and two bags—I took the key with me—the street door is generally left open till dark—next morning I found my door fastened with a padlock, and a policeman there awaiting my arrival—the lock was broken, the woodwork broken away, and the door had been found open—I missed the carpet and the bags—I do not know the prisoners.

MARTHA CAREY . I am a widow—I occupy the third floor of 47, Skinner-street—about 5 o'clock on 4th June I was coming to the house, and saw Rich coming downstairs—it is a long staircase of twenty-one steps—he had twelve to descend, and he made a halt, and hurriedly stepped out when he came to the bottom—I went up towards my apartments, but found two more youths, the tallest of whom had a roll of carpet—I cannot swear to him—I went into Mr. Griffiths' room, and found a drawer hanging out—I ran downstairs, and saw the man with the carpet on Snow-hill—Rich then had the carpet—I laid hold of him, and asked him what he was going to do with it—he threw it at me, and they all three went off—I picked up a coarse apron which was round it, and gave the carpet to the officer.

Cross-examined. Q. How far was Rich from you when he threw the carpet at you? A. I had hold of his shoulder.

Rich. I was not in the house. I was passing when she ran down, and this was given to me.

HENRY KENNETT . I am a painter of Wallbrook—I was in Skinner-street with my wife at a few minutes past 5 o'clock, and saw Mrs. Carey touch Ricl—she spoke to the persons who were passing—Rich ran up Snow-hill,

and I followed him to the Old Bailey, crying "Stop thief"—he was stopped by a constable a very few steps ahead of me—I saw Clark run away when I went up, and have no doubt of his being one of them.

Cross-examined. Q. How many times were you examined before the Magistrate? A. Twice—the first time was the morning after the carpet was stolen—the facts were fresh in my recollection, and I believe I said that I had not the slightest doubt of Clark—I will not swear I did not say that I believed Clark to be one of them—I said on the second examination that I had not the slightest doubt—I firmly believed Clark to be one of them—this is my signature to my depositions—I believe the very words I used were "I believe Clark to be one of them"—it is not unnatural that I should talk the matter over with my wife—we were both examined last Friday, and I said that I had not the slightest doubt Clark was the man—there were many people on Snow-hill—the other man was just ahead of Rich—I do not know whether his name is Donovan—I saw the three—I do not think I said to anybody that the only thing I spoke to, was the man having a turn-down collar—I will not swear that I did not—I ran three or four yards after Rich—he ran away the moment I caught sight of him.

MR. HORRY. Q. Had you the opportunity of seeing the three? A. Yes; they all ran away together—I said before the Magistrate that I believed the man was Clark, and I believe so still—I did not see his face, only his back; they were all running up the hill together.

ELIZABETH KENNETT . I am the wife of the last witness, and was with him—I saw Clark come out of the house with a roll of carpet on his shoulder—Mrs. Carey spoke to me, as I was nearest the door—I followed Clark with the carpet on his shoulder, but when they turned the corner Rush had it on his shoulder—they both ran up Snow-hill, and Rich threw the carpet in Mrs. Carey's face with the apron—I did not see Clark till last Friday, before the Magistrate, when I picked him and Rich out from twelve or fourteen other prisoners.

Cross-examined. Q. Where was that? A. In Guildhall cell—there were three men in custody—I described the man to my husband, but we both saw him with the carpet—I was the nearest to him, and had a better view of him than my husband had—I never said that I knew him because he wore a turn-down collar—I went by his height and general appearance—I saw his full face—I did not say that I only saw him in a slanting position; what I meant by "slanting" was that he did not come out in a straight-forward manner, not in a genuine way, but I saw his face—the carpet was on his shoulder—I will not say which shoulder.

MR. HORRY. Q. Did you get such a view of him that you picked him out? A. saw his face as plain as I see yours.

WILLIAM GELLATLY (City-policeman, 278). On the evening of 4th June, at about 20 minutes to 5, I was in the Old Bailey—I heard a cry of "Stop thief"—I saw Rich running, and Kennett following him—I stopped him in Fleet-lane, and he was taken to the station—I went to the warehouse, and found the door broken open.

Rich. Q. Did I run? A. Yes, till I got close to you, and then you stopped.

WILLIAM HENRY TRAFFORD (City policeman, 281). On Monday afternoon, about 3 o'clock, I saw the prisoners in Cloth-fair, walking in the direction of Bartholomew-close—Clark was wearing this apron or a very similar one.

MARTHA CAREY (reexamined). This is the apron I picked up—it has a red stain, like iron mould on it

GEORGE BRICE HAINES (City-policeman, 285). About 7 in the evening of 4th June I took Clark in Cloth-fair, and charged him with breaking into the warehouse of Mr. Griffiths, and stealing a roll of carpet—he made no reply—I took him to the station—I also took Rich.

Cross-examined. Q. Did Clarke give a correct address? A. Yes.

Rich's Defence. I had an engagement to work that night, and as I was going home to tea this carpet was put on my shoulder.

RICH— GUILTY .— Confined Nine Months .

CLARK received a good character.— NOT GUILTY .

531. WALTER BUCHANAN (23), PLEADED GUILTY to stealing 4 printed books of George Williams, and others.— Judgment Respited ; and HANNAH CREED (43) , to .feloniously marrying Charles Stokes, her husband being alive. — Confined Three Months

NEW COURT.—Wednesday and Thursday, June I 3th and 14th, 1866.

Before Mr Justice Byles.

532. EMMA SHADBOLT (17), was indicted for the wilful murder of William Shadbolt; she was also charged on the Coroner's Inquisition with the like offence.

MESSRS. R. N. PHILIPPS & MR. COLLINS conducted the Prosecution, and

MR. RIBTON the Defence

JAMES MYNOTT (Policeman, 385 A). On Tuesday morning, 27th March, I was on duty in Highbury, close to the New-river, and at about twenty minutes past 5 I saw a child in the river, at the rear of the Pegasus public-house, near a foot bridge—it was floating—I stooped down, pulled out my truncheon, and drew the child towards me—it was dead—it appeared to be from six to seven months old—it had on this red flannel shirt, coloured petticoat, white petticoat with embroidery round the bottom, coloured stays and white skirt (produced)—its face was white—this piece of alpaca was pinned to its shoulder, brought over its head, and pinned so as to cover its head—it was single, so that the child could breathe through it—a small brass chain was fastened round the body, inside one of the white petticoats—I took the body to the Kingsland-road station, left it there, and fetched a doctor.

Cross-examined. Q. Is there a public foot-path close to the water? A. Yes, and an iron foot-bridge from one side to the other—I was on the foot-path by the side of the river—the water comes up to the foot-path—the

child was in reach of my truncheon.

ELIZA HARDS . I am the wife of William Hards, of 5, Nelson-terrace, Shakespeare-road, Newington—I know the prisoner—I used to live at the same house with her—I knew that she had a child—the last time I had it to nurse was in November—it was a delicate, child—she used to nurse it herself—she lived with her father and mother at Eden Cottages—she seemed very fond of it—its name was William—I identified it at the deadhouse on Tuesday, 27th March, as the prisoner's child—she told me on the Tuesday before Good Friday that the child was down at Brighton to be nursed—I also saw it in the dead-house on Good Friday afternoon—it was found on the Tuesday morning before Good Friday.

MARIA SHADBOLT . I am the prisoner's mother, and the wife of Elias Shadbolt—in April we were lodging at Eden Cottages, Newington—I changed my place of residence on that day, Monday, between seven and eight o'clock, and left Eden Cottages—I left my little children there, and my daughter and her little child, which was between six and seven months old—its name was William Shadbolt—I left seven children altogether in the house—I did not see my daughter again till the Tuesday in the middle of the day—when I asked her where the baby was, she said she had taken it on Monday night to Stamford-hill to a person to nurse—I saw the child in the dead-house on the following Sunday—this piece of alpaca belonged to me—I had some very much like it—I cannot swear to these clothes—I have seen a great many white things—my daughter was not married—the father of the child has given her a few shillings, but that is all—I have seen it given, both before her confinement and since—he has been a great trouble, and has broken her heart—she was always anxious about him, and her first words always are, "sHow is the father of the child"—he has brought her into great trouble, she had not the means to support the child, and he did not act as he ought to have acted.

Cross-examined. Q. How long did he keep company with her? A. I do not know, but I imagine about two years altogether—they were to have been married—I am her own mother—she is 18 years old—the father was in the habit of visiting her at my house, and walking out with her almost every evening—she continued to live at home after the birth of the child—she seemed to be fond of it, and treated it kindly—I was leaving the house—me and my husband had a quarrel, and I said I would separate and leave Emma at home till we could come to some better arrangement—I left all the children at home with this girl—it was on the same day as this misunderstanding happened—it was not a sudden affair—there had been previous unpleasantnesses between us—my other children's ages are from 1 year and 9 months up to 16—the prisoner has received very little education—she has been used to nurse her sisters and brothers—I kept her at home for that purpose—she can read and write a little, but not much—she has always been obliged to work hard—she has always been a good girl—this is the first stain on her character—my husband heard of her being seduced, and he reproached the young man in the street—the young man contributed something for some short time, but that ceased after the birth of the child—the child had been sent out to nurse—Mrs. Hards, who was a lodger in my house at the time, took it to nurse, and my daughter took a wet nurse's place—I had the baby about a week—I could not do my duty by it, having one of my own—it was before November that she took a wet nurse's place—she was only there a fortnight—it was at the Whittington and Cat—she had 12s. a week—the money was not brought home to me—it was for herself—she bought clothes for herself, and paid Eliza Hards 6s. a week for the child, but she came back home again in a fortnight and nursed the child herself, and continued to assist me in the house duties as she had before: she was in the place of a servant—I gave her no wages, only her food.

CHARLES SHADBOLT . I am the prisoner's father, and am an omnibus conductor—on 26th March I lived at Eden Cottages, Kingsland—on that day my wife went to another lodging—I saw the prisoner that night—I last saw her with her child that morning, when I came out to work—I returned home at 10 o'clock at night—my wife had then gone to her new lodging—I

said to the prisoner, about a quarter past 10, "Emma, where is Billy?"—she said, "I have put him out to Stamford-hill" (or Newington) "to nurse"—she went out and left the children, and when she came home after 10 o'clock, I asked her where she had been to, and how the child was getting on—she said very well, that the father agreed to pay half the money, and she was to pay the other.

HENRY PENN . I live at Woodland Cottages, Shakespeare-road, Hornsey—I saw the prisoner between 7 and 8 on Monday evening, 26th March—I went to remove some goods for her mother, and saw her sitting on a mattrass in the room, suckling the child—she was not dressed for going out—I asked her what things there were going—she told me and said, "Now mother is going I shall not stop long"—I asked her what she was going to do—she said that she was going to put the child out to nurse and go to service.

PATRICK JAMES NEWMAN (Policeman, 105). On the morning of 27th March I saw the dead body of a child at the police-station—On Thursday, 29th March, about a quarter past 11 at night I saw the prisoner in Shakespeare-road, Hornsey-new-road, more than half a mile from Eden Cottages—there is a public path there, but not a public road—I asked her where her child was—she said that it was at Brighton to be nursed, and that she took it there herself, in company of a young man—I asked her how long since—she said "A month and three days"—I asked her if she had seen or heard of the child since—she said, "I had a letter, and he was going on nicelys"—I asked her if she could produce that letter—she said that she could not—I said, "sI believe I can prove that your child is dead; I will take you to the station, and you will be detained until I see the young man who accompanied you to Brighton"—she said, "I hope you will not see him, he has had nothing to do with it"—before she got to the station she said, "I did not take it to Brighton myself; I took it to a woman at Stamford-hill, and she took it there "—she did not give the name or address of that party, but said that it was not the woman but her daughter, named Ann, living at Albany-gardens—the charge was read over to her at the station of causing the death of her child—she made no reply—I knew her—I had seen her before.

Cross-examined. Q. You asked her these questions, I suppose, with a view of giving her answers in evidence against her? A. Yes—I did not caution her—I knew that the child had been found.

WILLIAM R WOODMAN , M.D. I live at Vittoria Villas, Stoke Newington road—on Tuesday, 27th March, between 6 and 9 in the morning I was shown the body of a male child at the station-house—I examined it, and on the same day made a post-mortem examination—it appeared to me that death was caused by suffocation from drowning—the body had been in the water a very few hours.

COURT to J. MYNOTT. Q. How wide is the bridge? A. Between five and six feet—it is iron, and there is an iron rail about four feet high—there are open sides to the bridge, with one rail in the middle and one at the top—it is a simple iron bar in the centre and a rail on the top.

COURT to MARIA SHADBOLT. Q. Can you tell me when this child was born? A. On 4th July, 1865—it was eight months old, as near as possible.

COURT to CHARLES SHADBOLT. Q. Was it on Tuesday morning that you returned at 10 and asked for the child? A. Yes.

GUILTY of manslaughter—Recommended to mercy by the Jury on account of her youth.— Confined Eighteen Months .

533. THOMAS HOPKINS (22) for the wilful murder of Sarah Hopkins.

MR. SLEIGH conducted the Prosecution, and MR. THOMPSON and MR. RIBTON the Defence.

ROSETTA GILES . My husband's name is John—we live at 4, Eaton-place, Edmonton, next door to where the prisoner and his wife occupy two rooms—they took two rooms and let one—they live on the ground floor—I have known them twelve months—on the night of 21st May I was at the Bell at Edmonton—I cannot say the time, but the gas was alight—I was behind the bar, and saw the prisoner come in—I did not see his wife there then, but she came in an hour or half an hour afterwards—a soldier was playing the bagpipes in the tap-room, and the prisoner was jumping with the rest of us, they call it dancing—he dropped a paper feather from his cap and turned round and accused a woman there of taking it out—she said that she had not touched it—he said that she had, and Mrs. Hopkins got up off the seat, and said to the prisoner, "You have been out all day, and now you have come home for a d—d row, and if you begin I shall begin"—he said nothing to her—she got up again, and said, "If you don't hold your noise I shall put this pot at your head" or "on your head"—that was a quart pewter pot—I went to the other end of the room, and left them having words—I could not hear what they were saying—they afterwards passed by us and went out of the Bell—in about three quarters of an hour I heard that something had occurred, went to the prisoner's house, and saw the prisoner's wife lying on the floor, on her back, in one of the rooms they occupied—she was in a gore of blood—the prisoner came in, and Dr. Biddle, who took up a knife, end the prisoner said, "That is not the knife"—nothing had been said to him by the doctor which caused that remark—Dr. Biddle then took up another knife, and the prisoner made the reply that that was it—I saw some blood on it and said to the prisoner, "This is a shocking case, Tom"—he said, "Will you give me a knife or a rasor, to cut my throat?"—I said, "I should not like, Tom"—he said, "Will you hold the candle while I kiss her?"—I said, "I wills"—I took the candle off the table, and held it to her face—he knelt down and kissed her three times, and said, "sGod bless you; I would give all the world if you could speak once more"—I said, "You would, Tom, but it is too late"—he said, "I know it is too late; it is no use your telling me now; I have done it through jealousy "—a policeman came, and he gave himself in custody.

Cross-examined. Q. Had you known the prisoner and Mrs. Hopkins long? A. I knew them from the time they came there to live, and I knew Mrs. Hopkins before for two or three years. I have seen much of them since they have been married—they lived beside me—she was a very violent woman if she had drink, and a powerful woman—I have seen them quarrel, but have not seen her strike him, or catch him by the handkerchief—there were words only, not blows—I saw them quarrelling as recently as a fort-night or three weeks before Whitsuntide. I am not quite sure he used the words, "I have done it through jealousy," because I was so confused; but I know he said that he did it through jealousy, and jealousy was the cause of it—I am sure he used the word jealousy—when I said that I was not quite sure, I did not understand you—"I have done it, " he said, "through jealousy, and jealousy was the cause"—I was not taking much notice of your question, I was looking at the prisoner, because my trouble is great, being a neighbour and all—I am sure he said so—I know that his wife was jealous of him—he said it was jealousy that caused him to do it.

COURT. Q. You said at first that he said, "I have done it through jealousy, "

and the learned Counsel asked you, and you said, "No, I am not quite sure, "can you recollect the very words he said? A. All I can recollect is, that he said he had done it through jealousy.

ELIZABETH ABDY . I am the wife of James Abdy, and live in the same house that the prisoner and his wife lived in—on Monday night, 21st May, about half past eleven, I was sitting outside the door on a bench, and saw the prisoner coming towards the house—he was alone—he went and unlocked his door and lit his candle—I saw him go inside, and not many minutes afterwards he came out and asked my husband, who was with me, if he had seen his old woman—he said, "I have not seen her since the morning"—the prisoner went indoors, and I followed him in—he went to the cupboard, took some knives out, took one away and sharpened it on the hearth—I said, "Tom, what are you going to do?"—he said, "I'll see what I will do"—about a minute after he had sharpened the knife, his wife came in—she went into the passage—he just came out of the room, and she went towards him, and took his hat off his head—I did not see him do anything—I waited, and his wife called to me,"Bet, look at the blood running down my frock"—I caught her in my arms, and she said, "The b—has done for me, I am a done woman, and with that she fell out of my arms—he said, "I have stabbed my wife, and I will go and fetch a doctor"—he went away for a doctor, and I remained with his wife—not two minutes elapsed from the time she took hold of her husband's hat till she called out "Bet! Bet!"

Cross-examined. Q. Did you see her catch him round the neck? A. Yes, and she took his hat off with her right hand—I did not see her catch his neck-cloth—she did not catch him round the neck with both bands, that I saw—she pulled his hat off with one hand—they both of them had one another in the passage round their necks—I cannot say that she was clinging round his neck—I have known them quarrel before, and have seen quarrels take place—I never saw her catch him by the neck-cloth—I never saw them have a bother before—I have been living there nearly five weeks—I do not know that she was in the habit of catching him by the neck-cloth and twisting it round—I do not know whether he was in the habit of having supper late when he came home—there was a table in the room, and a table-cloth on the table—I did not see any meat or bread on the table.

COURT. Q. Was the table set for supper; were the knives and forks on it? A. No.

JAMES ABDY . I am the husband of the last witness—on the night this occurred, I was sitting outside my door with my wife, and saw the prisoner come up and go into his own place—that was about half-past 11, or a little later—he never spoke to me—he went in, opened the door, lit the candle, and came out, and asked me if I had seen his old woman—I said that I had not seen her since morning—he went in again, and I heard him sharpening a knife—shortly afterwards I saw his wife come in—when she came by me, she said, "It is most bed-time, is it not?"—I said, "Yes;" and just as she was going in, the prisoner was coming out—they met one another, put their arms round one another, and she took his billy-cock, and said, "Oh, you b—!

COURT. Q. Repeat that? A. His wife put one arm round his neck, and took his hat off with the other, and she said, "Oh, you b—! he has done it;" and she said to my wife,"Bet, Bet, look at the blood runinng down my throat"—she called out, "You b—!" at the moment—I saw the blood running down, and the prisoner said, "Go for a doctor, for I have stabbed my wife, "and then he ran off himself—I ran for a doctor too, and when I got back, the prisoner kissed his wife.

Cross-examined. Q. You say she put one arm round his neck and took his hat off with the other? A. Yes—I have never seen her catch him by the handkerchief—I have only known them five weeks—it was her left arm she put round his neck—they did not want much drawing towards one, another, because they were close together at first.

COURT. Q. You say his wife put her arm round his neck and took his hat off; how long was that before she said, "You have done it? A. It was done all in a moment—she spoke in the same tone we generally do.

LOUISA SOLE . I am a single woman, and lived in the same house with the prisoner—on Sunday morning, 21st May, I was out with the prisoner and his wife—we went to the Bell together, and then to the Eight Tuns—they were with me at both places—I saw the wife leave the prisoner at 11 in the morning, and saw nothing more of them till night.

Cross-examined. Q. Have you known them long? A. I have known him from a child, and his wife about twelve months—she was a very violent woman, and very strong and powerful—I have seen them quarrel several times, and have seen her strike him—I never saw her catch him round the neck—she struck him in his garden with her clenched fist in the face—she was in the habit of abusing him, and he likewise—I cannot tell you how recently before this I had seen her strike him, but about three weeks or a month—she could take a drop of drink, but I never saw her the worse for it—I saw her on the night before this happened, between 11 and 12 o'clock—she parted with me at the bottom of Eton-place, and went in search of her husband—I do not know that she stabbed him on one occasion.

MR. SLEIGH. Q. You say that yon saw her strike him with her fist; when was that? A. Three weeks or a month before—they have quarrelled, and one has been almost as bad as the other—I have seen him strike her several times.

COURT. Q. What age was she? A. Thirty-four—she was some years older than he.

MARY ANN ROGERS , I am single, and live at Eton-place—I saw the prisoner come home somewhere about 11 o'clock at night—he walked by us and came back, and said to Mr. Abdy, "Have you seen my wife?"—after that I heard him sharpening a knife—I did not see his wife coming towards him, but I saw him catch hold of her round the neck, as if he was going to kiss her, and she came and said to Mrs. Abdy, " Betty, look at the blood trinkling down ray dress"—instantly upon his putting his arm round her neck, she called out, "Bet, Bet" and I saw the blood trinkling down—she said, "I am a dead woman! I am a dead woman!" many times—with that, he came to the door, and said, "Now I will run for the doctor"—he did so, and came back, and said, "Now, where is a policeman to give me in custody?—when he ran out for a doctor, he said, "I have done it; I have done it at last!"

Cross-examined. Q. You did not see her take his hat off? A. No, nor put her arms round his neck—I knew them quarrel once before—I never saw her catch him by the neck, or by the handkerchief.

JAMES EDWARDS (Policeman, Y 231). On Tuesday morning, 22d May, about a quarter-past 12, in consequence of information, I went to the prisoner's house—he spoke first—he said that he had murdered his wife, and would go with me to the station—I told him he need not say anything to me unless he liked—he said that jealousy caused him to do it—I asked I him what he had done it with—he said, "A piece of iron"—I asked him what he had done with the iron—he said that he did not know—I went into the

house and saw the body of bis wife—there was blood on the prisoner's hands and on his slop.

Cross-examined. Q. Do yon know anything about their quarrels? A. I have seen them having a few words together—I have never seen blows.

GEORGE PARSONS (Police-sergeant, Y 18). I produce a knife which Dr. Biddle gave me—I saw the deceased lying on her back dead—I examined the hearthstone in the prisoner's room, and found some scratches, as if a knife had been sharpened—going to the station, he said, "I have killed my wife."

Cross-examined. Q. Do you know anything of their quarrels? A. I have seen them quarrel on several occasions, and have seen her catch him by his flannel jacket several times—I have not seen her catch him by the handkerchief—when she caught him by his flannel jacket, it was just by the collar—his neck-handkerchief was in her hand also—he was not nearly strangled—I have seen her catch hold of him two or three times—this was about a month before.

COURT. Q. This is a table-knife; did you look to see if there were other table-knives? A. Yes; but they were quite clean, and this was covered with blood—there were four others—the doctor has taken them to his house.

ELIZABETH BLACHAM . The deceased was my daughter—she was thirty-four on 9th February, and was married to the prisoner in December, 1864—on Sunday morning, coming from the Magistrate's, the prisoner shook hands with me and said that he hoped we should all forgive him for what he had done.

Cross-examined. Q. Did he seem in great excitement? A. Yes—I never saw the deceased strike him—I was three miles away—I do not know that she stabbed him once—they lived three miles from me, and I knew nothing of their affairs.

COURT. Q. Was she a woman of a warm temper? A. Not that I know of, HENRY COOPER BIDDLE, M. R. C. S. About midnight, I was called up by the prisoner and Mrs. Abdy—the prisoner asked me to go to his wife, as she was stabbed—I went to her, and found her quite dead on the floor, partly in the room, but with her extremities in the passage—I found six knives there—I made a post-mortem examination, and found a wound above the left clavicle, dividing the sub-clavian artery, and penetrating the left lung——the cavity of the chest was full of blood—the wound was the cause of death—when I went up to the dead body, the prisoner asked me if his wife was dead—I said, "Yes"—he said that it was a very bad job; he had done it, and jealousy was the cause of it.

COURT. Q. Where was the knife? A. On the table, with five others—I did not notice any plates on the table—the point of this knife is in precisely the same condition as when I received it—the blow would not have crooked the knife—I observed nothing about the other knives, except that they were very old—it is possible that if it struck a bone that might have turned the point.

MR. RIBTON proposed to adduce evidence of previous acts of violence by the deceased similar to that which he contended she was then about to repeat, to show that what the prisoner did might have been in self-defence. MR. JUSTICE BYLES inquired whether there was any authority for such evidence. MR. RIBTON admitted that there was none, as occasion for it had not arisen. MR. JUSTICE BYLES (having consulted MR. BARON BRAMWELL) ruled that the evidence must be distinctly confined to explaining the nature of the act now in question.

MR. RIBTON called—

WILLIAM GROVES . I have known the prisoner above seven years, and his wife about two and a-half years—I have seen her commit an act of violence on him by catching hold of his neck-handkerchief—he had his handkerchief like this (twice round), and she caught it in this way (single), and twisted it—she was just upon strangling him; he could not speak, only a glutter in his throat—he was making a noise in his throat—I caught hishandkerchief, took a knife out of my pocket, and cut the handkerchief, and that released him—on another occasion, I saw her do the same thing with the same effect, and he said to me, "Groves, here; cut my handkerchief, or else she will strangle me, and I cut it—that was the second time.

Cross-examined by MR. SLEIGH. Q. How long ago was it that this occurred the first time? A. I cannot say to a month; it might be nine or ten months ago, or a little more—it was at the top of Eton-place, not in the same row of houses, but in the same neighbourhood—it was at night—I did not live in the same house—I was there, because I had been with them both—Elizabeth Messenger was present when it occurred—she is here—I was not at the inquest on the deceased—I knew the prisoner was in custody—I did not go before the Magistrate and tell him—I knew that he was examined, and that there was a Coroner's Inquest—I did not attend either; I was not troubled with that—there was a quarrel between them before she twisted his handkerchief; words, but no blows—I do not know what it was about; they were rowing together—I saw no blows struck, only his wife got hold of his handkerchief—on the second occasion, the same woman was present—that was at night—both times were at slight, and both in the same place—it was not in a room, it was at the top of the Place—there were a good many people about.

MR. RIBTON. Q. You say that they were rowing together; I suppose you had heard that often? A. Yes—they were in the habit of quarrelling." BETSY MESSENGER. I live with William Grooves—I knew Mr. and Mrs. Hopkins—some, months since, I saw Mrs. Hopkins catch hold of the the prisoner's handkerchief—he became black in the face, and William Groves released him by cutting his handkerchief with his shut-knife—I have seen him do the same once since—they were having a few words on the second occasion, and she caught hold of his handkerchief in the same way—that is about twelve months ago—he was released by William Groves taking his pocket-knife out and cutting it—the prisoner said, "Groves, she has got hold of my handkerchief; cut it, or I shall be strangled. "

Cross-examined. Q. Where did this occur twelve months ago? A. In the passage of this house, at a little after 12 on Saturday evening, just as you enter the door—it was in the dark—there was no gas-light in the passage—I got a candle from the next-door neighbour, and when I brought it Groves had hold of the handkerchief, cutting it in the dark—he did not cut his throat or his fingers, though it was in the dark—it occurred again some months afterwards, I cannot exactly tell you where—it was by night, but I do not remember at what time, or what day it was—I have not the slightest recollection where it occurred—I did not go to the inquest.

ANN DELAY . I live at St. John's-yard, Tottenham—I know Charles Aikerman—I was with him at 4, Union-row, about six weeks ago—the prisoner was there, and his wife walked in not many minutes after he came there—she seized him by the handkerchief, and began to pull him about, and she got him on the ground—he said, "Cut the handkerchief, or I am

a dead man"—she had the handkerchief twisted round his neck, and he was black in the face—somebody cut the handkerchief but I do not know who—Aikerman tried to pull her away from him, but she was too strong—he showed me the handkerchief in the Wagon and Horses public-house, and said he was very lucky to get off as he did—I have seen that occur four times, and in each of those occurrences he has been rescued from her—whether the handkerchief has been cut on each occasion I cannot say—I have known him take his handkerchief off, if he knew she was in the house.

Cross-examined. Q. What is No. 4, Union-row? A. A house where some friends used to meet together and have a glass; Mr. Hopkins, and me, and Mathews—it is not a public-house; but we used to go there very often—I believe it was Hopkins's first time of going there—the first time I saw them quarrel was at the Vulture public-house—the first time I saw her pulling at his handkerchief was at Union-place, about six weeks ago, about midnight or near one in the morning—I do not know who found the knife by which the handkerchief was cut—I cannot give you an idea who cut it—a great many persons went to get him away—Aikerman was present—it occurred next at the Eagle at Edmonton—that was about a fortnight afterwards—it was in the public-house—somebody cut the handkerchief again—it was about half-past 11 at night—I did not know the person who cut the handkerchief—the third occasion was at the Three Tuns, about turning-out time; they turn out about 1 o'clock—the fourth time was at this house in Union-row, at very nearly 1 o'clock in the morning—Charles Aikerman was present—that is the only time that he frequented the house, that I know of—I did not go before the Coroner or the Magistrate.

CHARLES AJKERMAN . I knew Mr. and Mrs. Hopkins some time—I saw them at a house in Union-row with Ann Delay—the prisoner came in a few minutes after me—his wife made a rush at him, caught hold of his handkerchief, pulled him off his chair, chucked him on the floor, and began to twist his handkerchief—I saw him turning black in the face, and caught hold of him, and tried to pull him away, but could not—I called to another man to cut his handkerchief, which he did—I do not know who that man was; he was a stranger—I did not see that happen on more than one occasion, but I have seen them fighting.

COURT to H. C. BIDDLE. Q. Has the prisoner any marks upon his neck? A. He has marks of some old abscess, which has been perfectly healed for three or four years.

John Thoroughgood, a market gardener, Joseph Risley, a dealer, and Joseph Cordery, a dyer, all of Edmonton, gave the prisoner a good character.

GUILTY of Manslaughter.— Fifteen Year's Penal Servitude .

OLD COURT.—Wednesday, June 13th, and Thursday 14th, 1866.

Before Mr. Baron Bramwell.

534. WILLIAM SMITH (25), was indicted for the Wilful Murder of Sarah Milson—he was also charged, on the Coroner's inquisition, with the like offence.

MESSRS. METCALFE and STRAIGHT conducted the Prosecution, and MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE, MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS, and MR. LITTLER the Defence.

EDWARD KITT . I am in the service of Messrs. Bevington and Sons, No: 2, Cannon street, City—it is my duty to see the establishment locked up at

night, and see everybody leave—I think this plan (produced) is as correct as it possibly can be—Cannon-street is in front of the front door—Budge-row runs at the back of the warehouse—it comes up to an angle as it joins Cannon-street—I recollect Wednesday, the 11th of April—I went over the premises soon after half-past 7, to see that all was safe—it was all safe—the books locked up in the safe, and no one on the premises barring Mrs. Milson and the cook—when I lock up the premises, it is my duty to give the keys to Mrs. Milson—there is a bunch, and the key of the safe was separate from the others—the only access at night is from Cannon-street—I left at ten minutes past 8 on Wednesday night—the only access that night was from Cannon-street—the door leading into Cannon-street is closed by a bolt top and bottom, a latch, a lock, and a bar and a chain—there are four bolts to the doors, two to each door—three of them fasten themselves when the door is shut—there was gas over the door in the lobby, and a gas about five or six feet from the folding doors, and there are gas-lights on the left, in the bend as you turn round to go up the stairs—inside there are a couple of swing doors—there is a gas-light between the swing-doors and the front door—when I left, on Wednesday, 11th April, I called to Mrs. Milson, up the speaking tube—she came down to me, and I gave her the key—I left the gas-light in the lobby, the first gas by the entrance to the counting-house, and the first gas on the bend going towards the street—I pulled the door to after me—she saw me out.

Cross-examined. Q. Do you remember what sort of night it was? A. No, I do not—I cannot say positively whether it rained or not—I have been in the service between seven and eight years—I have known Mrs. Milson all the time—my hours at the warehouse are from eight in the morning until all have gone—I knew the majority of the persons who came in and went out—I do not know whether Mrs. Milaon had visitors during the daytime—I never saw any visitors to Mrs. Milson besides tradespeople—it was a rare thing for her ever to go out anywhere or at any time—from her appearance she was from 48 to 50 years of age; nearer fifty, I should think.

ELIZABETH LOWES . I am cook in the establishment of Messrs. Bevington—I have been there 91/2; years—Mrs. Milson had been there about the same time—after the premises were closed in the evening, I and Mrs. Milson were the only persons usually left on the premises—we both slept on the premises in the upper part of the house—the ground floor was used entirely for warehouses and counting-houses, also the first floor and part of the second—it is a very large building, sufficient to prevent me hearing what is going on below—on the 11th of April, after the place was closed, I heard a ring at the bell—Mrs. Milson was in the dining-room at the time, and I was in the bed-room—when the bell rang she passed out of the dining room and went downstairs—the bed-room is close by, on the same floor—the door was open—I did not see her, but she spoke to me; she said it was for her and she would go down—that was as near ten minutes past 9 as I can recollect—I believe I went out of my room myself a minute or two after she went down, and when I got into the dining-room it was ten minutes past 9—when she went down she seemed to be in perfect health; she had a bad leg—I never saw her alive again—at a quarter-past ten I thought I would go down and see if she was ready to go to bed—I took the candle, and when I got down to the bottom of the stairs I found her lying dead—my first impression was that she was in a fit—I took bold of her hand and called her; finding I could get no answer I went to the door—I saw a woman at

the door, as I supposed, standing there for shelter—she did not come in—I waited for a few minutes until I saw a police-constable—he came in, and saw Mrs. Milson lying, and then he asked me to wait while he went to the station and got assistance—when I went back with the constable I saw that she was really dead—after the house was closed in the evening persons very frequently came—very frequently there would be two or three rings of an evening—Mrs. Milson generally went down—when she did go down to answer the bell she frequently stopped down all the evening—she borrowed money from me on two occasions, 1l. each time—that was, as near as I can recollect, about two or three months from the time of the murder; the first time was on the Friday and the other on the Saturday—after I had lent her the sovereign on the Saturday I looked out of window and saw a man get in a cab at the corner of Budge-row by the lamp; I could not tell the time; I think it was between eight and nine; I am not certain—the bell had rung, and her sister had come in before I lent her that sovereign, but I do not recollect whether it rang afterwards or not—I think the man that got in the cab came out of the house—I did not see him directly he came out of the door, because there is a reflector over the door; but he went close from the door at any rate, and Mrs. Milson was looking out at the door after him—she had gone down not many minutes before he went out—I should think she had borrowed the sovereigns of me not more than five or ten minutes before she went down—she had been down before that, and she came straight upstairs to me and asked me for the sovereigns, and went down again directly.

COURT. Q. Was the body moved when the police saw it? A. No; it was at the bottom of the stairs.

Cross-examined. Q. How far in the doorway was the body? A. A good distance; close to the stairs, some yards within the doorway—the feet were towards the stairs; she was lying in rather a slanting direction, against some bales—I don't think that the policeman ascertained that she was dead before he went for assistance; he did not touch her, he merely came and looked at her—I don't know that he saw that she was injured; it was obvious that she was injured—there was a great deal of blood—he went for assistance, leaving me alone with her—I had known the deceased 91/2; years; we both went to Cannon-street together—we were always on perfectly friendly terms—she was a widow; her husband died while we were there, 6 years ago; I know that—I knew very few of her friends or associates, two or three—her late husband's sister, the two Misses Cox, and the Misses Strugnell, were the principal—they used to come sometimes of an evening and sometimes in the day; they always came upstairs when they came—she used frequently to go downstairs after business hours, and sometimes remain down the whole evening, very often it would be from eight to nine before I would see her, or from that till ten; then she would turn the gas out and come up—she would sometimes be away as much as two hours—an hour and a half was very usual—since her leg had been bad she stopped downstairs more on account of its being a trouble to her to get up and down stairs—she would say, "I am going down; I have got some letters to write, and I shall go in the counting house"—she had frequently sat down a good deal since her leg had been bad, that was quite two months—she had always been in the habit of answering the bell and receiving visitors—I never learnt from her who they were—she never used to tell me who they were unless I saw them—I never saw them, she always went herself, and when she was out nobody came—I rather gathered from that that the persons came by appointment

—she had always been in the habit of having visitors ever since she had been there, visitors whom I did not see—while her husband was alive, people came then that she did not have upstairs—she was of a very cheerful disposition—she used to receive a good many letters and write a good many—I never saw the addresses of the letters that she wrote—she never asked me to post them, she used to give them out to be posted, sometimes to some of the boys when they were going to the post, sometimes to the tradespeople when they came—I think it was between two and three months before her death that she borrowed the sovereigns of me on the Friday and Saturday—I saw a man on the Friday go into the dining-room, just the back of him, and on the Saturday I saw the man get into a cab—I could not tell exactly what time it was on the Friday; it was in the afternoon during business hours—on Saturday it was after business hours, I think between eight and nine, after the business was closed—that was the time I saw him get into the cab—I was up on the second storey—it was quite dark at that time—the cab was waiting for him—I can't tell whether it was a Hansom or a close cab.

MR. METCALFE. Q. You were asked whether you ever heard from Mrs. Milson who the persons were that called? A. She said the man that called for this money was named Denton, and gave his address in the Old-change, and called himself a solicitor—she told me that, when she borrowed the money of me—I saw the cab leave—I waited till it drove off—it went towards London-bridge—when I first came down on this night the gas was all out but one burner, and that was over where the body lay—the burner over the door was turned off.

COURT. Q. Whose duty was it to put the burners out? A. We always put them out the last thing when we locked up; Mrs. Milson generally did it when she was down—we always put all three out, and turned it off at the meter.

JAMES STEVENSON (City Policeman, 467). On the 11th April, about half past ten, I was called to Messrs. Bevington's warehouse by Elizabeth Lowes—I went in at the front door—I saw the body of Mrs. Milson lying on the floor on her back near the bottom of the stairs—the feet were towards the stairs and the head was facing outwards towards the swing-doors—she was lying completely on her back, with her face turned to the right—I took hold of her wrist—I saw that she was dead—there was a pool of blood on the right-hand side where she lay, and some underneath her head—there was blood on her face and on her dress—I went for Mr. May, the surgeon; he came with me and examined her—serjeant Ogbornecame in after me.

Cross-examined. Q. We understand there was a lamp burning? A. Yas, in the warehouse, opposite to the body—it might be about four or five feet from it, nearer to the head.

MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE to ELIZABETH LOWES. Q. What apartment did Mrs. Milson occupy at night? A. A bedroom, and she used to sit in the dining-room; the bedroom was hers entirely; that was above the dining room, on the top floor.

CHARLES OGBORNE (City Police-sergeant, 49). On Wednesday, the 11th of April, about twenty minutes to 11, I went to Messrs. Bevington's warehouse—I passed in through the front door and through the swing-doors—I saw the deceased lying dead on the floor at the foot of the stairs—I noticed a wound upon her—I found this crowbar (produced)—it was on a low packing-board by the side of the deceased, not more than a yard from where she was lying—there was no blood on it.

Cross-examined. Q. One of the wounds was on the scalp, was it not?

A. Yes, on the left side; it was a very serious wound—there were several wounds on the head—there was not a trace of blood or of hair on this instrument—it was a wet night, raining—it bad not been raining all the evening; it had commenced about half-past ten, shortly after ten—it was a dark night—I have not made inquiries as to the addresses on the letters that the deceased was in the habit of sending.

WILLIAM COSTALL MAY . I am a surgeon, of Great Trinity-lane, Cannon-street—on the night of 11th April, about half-past 10, I was called to Messrs. Bevingtons' premises, and there saw the body of Mrs. Milson lying—I found many very extensive wounds over the head and face—there was one causing an extensive fracture of the skull; two others on the left side of the head—death was caused by effusion of blood on the opposite side of the head—one of the wounds had ruptured a large vessel, and that was the immediate cause of death—there was much blood—the light was very bad—the light of the gas was shaded from the body as it lay by some cases of goods, but there was a large quantity of blood on the ground, which increased in quantity while I was there—it flowed while I was there—it had considerably increased when I left—the body was still warm when I got there—there was a small quantity of blood on the legs of the packing stool, which was opposite—there was no track of blood—it appeared to be one pool undisturbed, flowing from her head as she lay—some such instrument as this might have caused the wounds—I don't undertake to swear that it did—the wounds were of two classes—one class, which would be produced by a blunt, heavy instrument, and the other class, by a sharper instrument; such as one end of a weapon like this might produce—they were deep wounds; one of them in particular, extending from the outer orbit of the eye to the nose bone; a deep, penetrating wound—another went down deep into the flesh, and cut through a small bone—in my opinion it is possible for the sharp part of the instrument to have made one class of wounds, and this blunt part the other—there was no blood on the instrument that I could see—I looked—I should certainly have expected to find blood upon it, if it had been used—I certainly think there must have been blood on it as a consequence of wounds inflicted with that weapon; unless, of course, it had been very carefully cleaned afterwards—I made a post-mortem examination.

Cross-examined. Q. I take it for granted that several of the arteries were separated? A. Yes; many vessels were divided—the effect of the division of an artery is necessarily a spirting of blood—the blood from an artery would spirt out in jets—that is so invariably—it cannot be otherwise if a person is alive—the blood continued to flow during the time I was there—the blood continued to ooze—after the action of the heart had ceased from death, the jetting from the arteries would cease—I should say she had been dead an exceedingly short time—I should think not as much as an hour—I think I might with safety say under half an hour—I did not see any jets of blood; that might be accounted for by this theory, it may be that one serious wound was inflicted, that the blood from that did not fly to any very great distance; that then she fell, and after that the other wounds were inflicted; and the blood from those would not go to any great extent; that is my idea—I could not say, with any great certainty, which was the wound that felled her, supposing that was the case, but there was one wound which appeared to be the most formidable wound, inflicting the most damage on the soft parts, although I would speak with very great caution on the subject; if I was compelled to gay that one wound did it, I would

rather say it was that, but I would speak with very caution on the matter.

COURT. Q. Would she bleed touch from that wound? A. In all prebability not in proportion to the extent of the wound—braised torn wound does not bleed io proportion to its extent; not to the tame extent that a clean cut wound does—in all probability some hair would be torn away by the weapon that gave the wounds—I found small portions of the flesh detached, and remaining in the hair, and I think as there were those exceedingly small portions of flash detached, and remaining imbedded and matted in the hair and blood, the probability is there would be, possibly very minute, but still, probably, some portions of flesh, and with those some hair—(MR. METCALFE stated that the crowbar produced belonged to the premises).

ADAM SHELFORD (City police-inspector). I am stationed at Moor-lane station—on Wednesday, 11th April, I went to Messrs. Bevingtons' premises—I should think it was about half-past 11; from twenty minutes to half past—I cannot tell exactly—I continued there till the following day, and I went again the following morning—Mr. Smith put some boxes on the table before me—I searched them—I saw this letter taken out of one box—Mrs. Lowes was in the room at the time—I handed the letter to Sergeant Moss.

ELIZABETH LOWES (reexamined). I saw the constables search the box—it was Mrs. Milson's box.

JOHN MOSS (City police-detective). I was directed to make inquiries in this case—I received a letter which has been put in by the inspector, and took it, in company with other officers, to Eton—I went to 6, Eton-square, Eton, on Tuesday, 17th April—after waiting some little time, I saw the prisoner there—his mother was also present—I said to the prisoner, "Is your name William Smith?"—he said, "Yes"—I said, "When were you in London last?"—he said, "On 10th January, with my mother "—I then showed him this letter, signed Terry and Denton, and said, "Is this your handwriting?"—he said, "sYes, it is; I now know what you mean; I wrote a note for a man—I took it to her for him "—at that time his mother came into the room—she was not present during the first part of the conversation—she inquired what this all meant, the inspector of the Eton College police was with me in uniform—I then asked the prisoner if he was in London last week—I said, "When were you in London last?"

MR. SERJEANT BALLASTINE. Q. What are yon reading? A. From a memorandum I made at the time—I could not be positive to the words that occurred, unless I referred to this memorandum.

MR. METCALFE. Q. Go on; state what occurred? A. I said to him, "Were you in London last week?"—he said, "Let my mother answer you"—his mother said she thought not—I then asked what time her son came home last Wednesday night—she said she could not recollect the time; she was in bed, but she usually let him in at night—I said, "What time did you last see him during the day?"—she said, "I cannot recollect where he was on the Wednesday, but he has been a trial to me; he never did anything "—I searched the house, and found a coat, waistcoat, and pair of trousers—they were spotted, and had the appearance of blood, but it turns out not to be so; Dr. Letheby analysed it—it is shellac, which is used by hatters, I believe—he wore a tall hat to London, but I also found a billycock hat—after some further conversation with the mother, I told him I should charge him on suspicion of murdering Sarah Milson, at 2, Cannon-street City, on the night of 11th April, and that it was most important for him to

show me, or tell me, where he was that night from 7 to 10 o'clock—he considered, and said he was with a Mr. Harris—when I made the charge, he said, "It is a very serious charge indeed—I am as innocent as a baby—I have not been in London since the 1st of February, when I called on a Mr. Fuggle, at 10, Aldermanbury, about some money that was due to us: 10l. that my brother lent Mr. Fuggle"—he said, "I first went with that letter," alluding to the letter signed Terry and Denton—"the latter part of last year, I called, about 3 o'clock in the afternoon—she," (meaning Mrs. Milson) "was washing up, I believe—it was either Thursday or Friday, the first time I went; she told me to come on the Saturday—I said to him, "Did you write this receipt?" showing him the receipt signed W. Denton—he said, "Yes; it is no good denying that, for it can be proved to be my handwriting"—I said, "Why did you sign as W. Denton?"—he said, "I have sometimes used that name"—I said, "How many times have you called on Mrs. Milson?"—he said, "Three times—she has paid me two sovereigns, and I wrote her a receipt each time; I knew that was all wrong about the money, and I know Terry was not entitled to it, and that was the reason I did not sign my right name"—I asked him if he could tell where he was—he accounted for being with young Harris up to half-past 7 o'clock that night; that he then went out and met a young man, and they were going to a meeting, this young man went to the meeting, and he went for a walk—I believe he mentioned who the young man was, but I do not remember the name—I conveyed him to London, and charged him—the charge was read over to him, and he said he was innocent—(Letter read:—"Mrs. Milson, the bearer of this I have sent to you as my adviser—I have taken this course as I have received so much annoyance from Mrs. Webber that I can put up with it no longer—he will propose terms to you, which you may accept or not at your pleasure—failing to your agreeing to this proposal, he is instructed by me to see Mr. Bevington, or Mr. Harris, and explain to them how the matter stands—you know yourself what reasons you put forth for borrowing the money—doctors' bills, and physicians for your husband, which you know was not so—I shall also have him bring your sister before Mr. Bevington if necessity or your obstinacy compels my adviser to go the extreme, "signed George Terry.—(Receipt read:—"Received of Mrs. Milson 1l. W. Denton, for George Terry, 20, Old Change.")—I have made inquiries there, and I find that the prisoner has lodged there.

Cross-examined. Q. Let me see if I can assist you with the name of the person he mentioned who walked out with him; was it Jem Boddy? A. I have no recollection at all of the name—I have no doubt of it—I took down his answers to my questions as he was answering them, but this was mentioned as I was conveying him to the station, not at the time I made the memorandum—I took down his answers fairly to my questions—I was sitting at a table with my pencil—I did not put this down at that time—I put it down before I removed him from Windsor—I conveyed him to the Windsor police-station half-an-hour after the conversation—I did not put down Jem Boddy's name, because that did not happen at Windsor; but I do not know the name—I have forgotten it—I have not put down that he mentioned a name—I do not know why—I did not remember it—if I did not know the name I should not put it down—I put Harris's name down—I do not think he mentioned much that I did not put down—he might have said more—what I think was blood was not on the coat he had on; it was on another coat—he had on the coat he has now when I took him—I believe the other was a dark coat—I did not find a blue coat among his things—he

was wearing a light pair of trousers at the time—I did not when I found the coat say, "Oh, here it is, all right; here is plenty of blood "—I never made mention of anything of the kind; in fact, I did not know there was blood at that time—the clothes were examined when we got to the office—I did not make any observation about blood in any way—I swear that—he did not in answer to my observations say, "It is coggle"—not to me—I believe he did mention it to some person—he did not show me a bottle—no bottle was shown to me—some few days afterwards there was—it turns out not to be blood but coggle—I was first in communication about this murder on the 12th of April, the very day following—I first saw Mrs. Robins before the coroner, when she was examined as a witness—I had not had any communication with her before in any way—I saw a photograph on the wall at the prisoner's mothers', and asked whether that was his photograph—he said "No, it is not; here is one of mine," producing it—I took possession of it, and have had it ever since, and have got it now—this is it (produced)—I did not mention it in my evidence—he did not give it to me—it was taken down—I looked round the room and saw this and one of his brother—I believe I asked whether his brother's was his portrait, and he said "No," and pointed to this—I do not know when I first got into communication with Mrs. Robins—I saw her at the inquest, and I believe that was the first time I saw her—I did not show her the photograph—she has never seen it to my knowledge—I am sure she has not since I have had it, no more has any one else—I believe I showed it to my commissioner, and that was all—it is not a good resemblance—it is rather a flattering likeness—I was not the author of the plan of marching a manacled policeman in front of the house—I have heard that it was so—I did not see it—I did not tell Mrs. Robins that she might expect to see the prisoner pass the house—I am quite sure about that, nor did I tell anybody—I had nothing to do with it in any way—I took good care not to be present, so that it should not be said that I was with him—I took care that strangers were with him.

Q. I thought you knew nothing about it? A. I knew pretty well what happened, but I was not present—I gave certain directions that one or two constables should go, so that this woman as should not know them persons having anything to do with the case—it was partly my plan—I suggested that two men should walk by his side, so that he should not be taken through in custody, or handcuffed, or by his sleeve, but to take him fairly along the same as any other person—I did not suggest that anybody else should be manacled; I had nothing to do with that—I had not the slightest idea that anybody was going to have manacles put on them—I did not suggest that he should walk by Mr. Bevingtons'—it is the usual way we should take a man from Bow-lane to the Mansion-house—I did not know that he was to walk by the side of Mr. Bevington—I had no such arrangement—I merely sent two constables to assist in whatever was done—I believe they were Obey and Green—they are not here to my knowledge—they were to assist in conveying him to the Mansion-house—I had nothing to do in directing which way they were to go—I gave no directions to that effect—I heard that would be done—I believe it was done to give Mrs. Robins a fair chance of identifying him as he passed the house—I only sent the constables to assist—I had nothing to do with directing how or which way they should take him—my object in sending the men was because they were strangers in the inquiry—the prisoner was taken from Bow-lane station, which is at the corner of Bow-lane and Cloak-lane—the natural way of going to the Mansion-house would be down Cloak-lane into Queen-street, then into

Cannon-street, put Mr. Bevington's, and np Walbrook to the Mansion-house—that is the proper way, and he was taken the proper way, the same as any other prisoner would be taken—I did not know that Mrs. Robins was to be looking out of the window—prisoners are never taken along Bucklersbury, not in a general way—I should say the other way is the shortest—I directed the two constables to go, to assist in conveying the prisoner to the Mansion-house; I should properly have taken him there—I did not know Mrs. Robins and Catherine Collins were to be at the door when the prisoner passed—I knew that it was suggested that they should be on the look-out, but I did not know it, and I did not take any notice—I knew that it was suggested that Mrs. Robins should be on the look-out when the prisoner passed; I did not know it perfectly well—I will swear I did not—I knew that it was suggested that he should be taken past, and I knew nothing more—I did not know that he was going to be taken past—I have no doubt about it—it was left with the inspector who will be called before you—I say that I have no doubt that he must have passed them for the purpose of giving them a chance of seeing him in a fair way—if a man had been hand-cuffed any person would have known who he was, but he was not taken handcuffed, he was taken past fairly—after he was got to the Mansion-house he was put amongst a number of other people, not prisoners, for the purpose of being identified, so that it might be fairly done—I was present at the time—there was no constable there in fetters—I did not see the fetters on—I heard of it—I do not know who the constable was.

MR. METCALFE. Q. What was this that was done? did you know anything at all about it? A. Not of the passing in Cannon-street—I believe it was done so that Mrs. Robins might have pointed out the man, if she knew him, but that she should not have any more chance of picking him out than any other man unless she knew him—if the man had been taken by manacled, it would have been pointing out that he was the man—I believe she thought the man was taken in the cab, and I believe that was the reason why she did not see the prisoner—Bow-lane runs right and left of Cannon-street—the station is on the left of Cannon-street, as you pass from Walbrook to St. Paul's—Bow-lane is on the left—in taking the prisoner from Bow-lane, it was on the right—you have to come into Cannon-street—Cannon-street is much more free from people than Cheapeide—Cheapside would have been directly out of the way—this photograph of the prisoner was done when he had no moustache or whiskers, and his hair parted in a different way—I should not have identified him from this—I did not show it to any one.

JOHN FOULGER . I am an inspector of the city-police at Bow-lane station—on the day after the death of Mrs. Milson, Mrs. Robins came to the station and gave me some information respecting a man leaving the premises on the night of the murder—some days after that the prisoner was brought to the station—it was necessary to take him from Bow-lane to the Mansion-house—he was taken along St. Thomas Apostle to Queen-street, along Cannon-street and Walbrook to the Mansion-house—that is the way all prisoners are taken from Bow-lane-station—he walked with two other officers near him, but he was not handcuffed—there was nothing to indicate that he was a prisoner—there was no policeman manacled—the policeman was taken away in a cab previous to that—that was done in consequence of there being an immense crowd at the station, we could not get in or out, and we put a policeman in a cab, and the mob went away thinking he was the prisoner, and the prisoner walked as other people through the street—

there was no indication that he was a prisoner—he was not touched, or handled, or handcuffed—I had made a communication previously to that to Mrs. Robins—I told her to be at the door, and watch all persons that went through the street for the next quarter of an hour, and see if she saw any person like the man she had described to me—I did not go and walk by the prisoner's side—I was on some distance in front—after I had passed, Mrs. Robins, I believe, went in, and did not see the prisoner go by—as far as I could see nothing was done, or intended to be done, to point out the man in any way—everything was done to prevent his being pointed out by any person—no one knew who he was—in fact he walked to the Mansion-house without the notice of any one—I afterwards saw Mrs. Robins; in consequence of what she then told me, I asked her to come up to the Mansion-house—before she was allowed to see the prisoner, a number of persons, several of them strangers that I never saw before, were brought in and placed with the prisoner—they were in one room, Mrs. Robins was in a centre room, and they passed through that room into another, walked by and back again—I was standing a short distance from Mrs. Robins, and after they had passed the second time she said, "The third man was the man I saw"—that was the prisoner—nothing was done to indicate to her who the man was—not a word was spoken to her.

Cross-examined. Q. Who was it that told Mrs. Robins to be at the door to look? A. I did—I told her to be at the door, and to notice all persons who went through the street, and tell me if she saw the man that came out of the house on the night of the murder—that was all I told her, I am quite sure—I don't remember telling her anything else—I think I can safely swear I did not—I did not mention Mr. Bevington's name to her—I had no occasion—I am quite sure I did not mention it—I was on in front—I had not my uniform on—I was in plain clothes—she knew me; that was why I went away from the prisoner a long distance—the officers in charge, Obey and Green, were not in uniform—there were one or two other officers at a distance behind; they were not part of our party—they were going to the Mansion-house—they started from the station immediately after us—the prisoner was in charge of two officers only—he did not walk between the two; he walked by the side of one—the other was a little way behind—I was a good distance in front, some fifty yards—I saw Mrs. Robins and her servant at the door, when I passed—I can't say whether they saw me—I took no notice of them.

Q. How was it, if you were fifty yards in front, that you know that one policeman was by the prisoner's side, and the other behind him? A. I saw them—I could see them as I came along—as I went along I looked round occasionally to see how they were coming on—this was just before twelve o'clock, a busy time—I was able to keep the constables in view for fifty yards—as I passed I saw the two women at the door—the pavement is, perhaps, about two yards wide; they knew me—I did not give them a nod or anything—I took no notice of them; they may or may not have seen me.

Q. Have you the least doubt that they saw you, and knew perfectly well that you were in charge of the prisoner? A. They knew nothing about my being in charge of the prisoner—they did not know I was coming with him—I had not told them so—I told them to look at all the people who passed through the street in the next quarter of an hour—there was no pointing out—I had got to the end of Walbrook when they passed the door—the constable was on the prisoner's left, I believe as they walked, that would be next to the house—the prisoner was to the kerb—that would rather hide

him from view than not—none of the constables were in uniform—I swear that—I learnt from Mrs. Robins that she had not seen the man—she had gone in before they passed—that was what she told me—she said she had not seen him, she had not seen any man that she knew; those were her words—she told me she had gone in before they passed—the girl had recognised him, but Mrs. Robins had not—the girl told me so.

COURT. Q. Was the girl in the same place? A. Yes, and she was in the room at the Mansion-house with Mrs. Robins, but not in communication with her.

MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. You mean by that that the two women did not exchange a word? A. They did not—I stayed for the purpose of seeing that they did not, to see that no communication took place between them—knowing that the girl had identified him, I would not allow her to point—she told me, when I went back to the house, that she had identified him—I asked if she had seen him—that was in the presence of Mrs. Robins.

MR. METCALFE. Q. Tell us as nearly as you can what you said to Mrs. Robins when you went back? A. I asked her if she had seen any one that she knew—she said she had not—she said she went in after the mob went by and the cab, and she felt so confused (there was a great mob followed the cab in which they thought the prisoner was), she felt so confused she scarcely saw anybody in the street after that—that was immediately before the prisoner passed—she said she stopped in the passage, when she went in, she did not go away from the door—she did not say anything about seeing me—I was after the cab—I saw her at the door, and I have no doubt she saw me—the girl said she saw the man go by that she had seen come out there—she did not say whether or not her mistress was with her when she saw him.

COURT. Q. Was anything said by either of them as to whether they were at the door together, and whether they left the door together? A. No, they said nothing about that—the girl simply said that she saw the man go by whom she had seen come out of Messrs. Bevingtons' once or twice of an evening—she did not say that her mistress was by her—I think Mrs. Robins said on that, "Kate says she saw the man that she has seen come out. "

WILLIAM BETTISON . I am warehouseman to Messrs. Bevington—I saw the prisoner in the warehouse about four or five months ago—it was in the afternoon—he was on the top of the stairs on thesecond floor—I think it was about 3 o'clock, as near as I can say—he asked me either for Mrs. Milson or the housekeeper, I forget which—Mrs. Milson was the housekeeper—she was then standing at a table about ten yards from the top of the stairs—I believe she was washing up the dishes—he went to her, at least I pointed to her, I can't say whether he went to her—I left and went down stairs—I was in a hurry at the time.

Cross-examined. Q. Do you recollect whether it was on Friday or not? A. I canuot recollect the day; but I believe it to be either on Monday, Thursday, or Friday, because I had been out on business in the morning, and was in a hurry in the afternoon, and that applied to those three days.

ISABELLA COX . I live at 182, New Kent-road—I knew Mrs. Milson—I was frequently at the house, where she lived, as a visitor to her—I occasionally slept with her—when I have been there in the evening, I have heard the bell ring, and Mrs. Milson went down to answer it—I have some-times noticed that she has been rather agitated beforeshe went down when she heard the bell ring; that has been only once or twice—when she has

gone down to answer the bell she has remained some time—sometimes half an hour and sometimes three quarters—I have never seen the persons who came—I can't say how long ago this was when she appeared agitated; it was this year, since Christmas, not before—her foot was bad at that time—she has spoken to me on several occasions about the person who came.

Cross-examined. Q. You have never been either before the Magistrate or the Coroner? A. No—I was told to come here by Sergeant Moss—I was at Mr. Bevington's—I was a visitor to Mrs. Milson—I was so at the time of the murder—I was at home that night with my sister, not at Mr. Bevington's—I was there the night before—I went away the same morning as the murder was committed in the evening—I had remained there all night—I first began to visit Mrs. Milson about two years ago—I have seen the cook—I am no relation of Mrs. Milson's—I did not go there the day following the murder—I did not communicate with Sergeant Moss; he brought me a subpoena to come here last Thursday—I had seen him before—I first saw him on the Saturday after the murder was committed—I told Mr. Bevington of everything I knew on the Saturday after the murder.

MR. METCALFE. Q. And in consequence of that Moss brought you a subpoena? A. Yes.

AMELIA FRANCES LONG . I am a single woman, and live at 7, Rose-street, Smithfield—I knew Mrs. Milson—I did washing for her—I sometimes carried the washing home myself—on one occasion, when I carried the washing home there was a person at the door—that was between 6 and 7 in the evening—I do not remember what month it was in—I believe it was about Christmas time, in December—I went to the door and rang the bell, and this person was there, making his way to the door—Mrs. Milson came to the door, and she started back; drew herself back—she went back and made an exclamation—she appeared very much alarmed at the man that came up to the door—she asked me if I would follow him, and I did so—I went as far as Walbrook—he turned round and went up Walbrook—I saw him again that same evening—I could not swear to his features—I could not say who that man was—the man that I saw at Newgate by his walk seemed like the man at the bar—the prisoner is the man—I only go by his walk—I don't go by his features—he had a peculiar walk—I noticed it that night, and also when I saw him afterwards—Mrs. Milson borrowed some money of me in January—she told me what she wanted it for.

Cross-examined. Q. You were never examined before? A. No—the person I saw I think I should know again by his walk, by nothing else—I don't go by the features—I saw the prisoner in Newgate, in the courtyard—I spoke to him by his walk—all I mean to say is that that is the same man I saw in Newgate—I am a laundress, and live at 7, Rose-street, William-street, Shoreditch—I did not say Rose-street, Smithfield—I came to be a witness here in consequence of Mrs. Milson giving me a duplicate of a chain—I communicated with Mr. James Bevington on the Monday after the murder.

MR. METCALFE. Q. When did you receive the duplicate from Mrs. Milson? A. On the Monday previous to her death—I had it till the Monday following.

COURT. Q. You went to the door on this occasion with some things you had for her? A. Yes, and rang the bell—at the same moment a person approached, and when Mrs. Milson opened the door, she made some exclamation of alarm—the man did not go away—he stood for a moment at the door—he stood more than a minute at the door—he did not speak, but

him from view than not—none of the constables were in uniform—I swear that—I learnt from Mrs. Robins that she had not seen the man—she had gone in before they passed—that was what she told me—she said she had not seen him, she had not seen any man that she knew; those were her words—she told me she had gone in before they passed—the girl had recognised him, but Mrs. Robins had not—the girl told me so.

COURT. Q. Was the girl in the same place? A. Yes, and she was in the room at the Mansion-house with Mrs. Robins, but not in communication with her.

MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. You mean by that that the two women did not exchange a word? A. They did not—I stayed for the purpose of seeing that they did not, to see that no communication took place between them—knowing that the girl had identified him, I would not allow her to point—she told me, when I went back to the house, that she had identified him—I asked if she had seen him—that was in the presence of Mrs. Robins.

MR. METCALFE. Q. Tell us as nearly as you can what you said to Mrs. Robins when you went back? A. I asked her if she had seen any one that she knew—she said she had not—she said she went in after the mob went by and the cab, and she felt so confused (there was a great mob followed the cab in which they thought the prisoner was), she felt so confused she scarcely saw anybody in the street after that—that was immediately before the prisoner passed—she said she stopped in the passage, when she went in, she did not go away from the door—she did not say anything about seeing me—I was after the cab—I saw her at the door, and I have no doubt she saw me—the girl said she saw the man go by that she had seen come out there—she did not say whether or not her mistress was with her when she saw him.

COURT. Q. Was anything said by either of them as to whether they were at the door together, and whether they left the door together? A. No, they said nothing about that—the girl simply said that she saw the man go by whom she had seen come out of Messrs. Bevingtons' once or twice of an evening—she did not say that her mistress was by her—I think Mrs. Robins said on that, "Kate says she saw the man that she has seen come out."

WILLIAM BETTISON . I am warehouseman to Messrs. Bevington—I saw the prisoner in the warehouse about four or five months ago—it was in the afternoon—he was on the top of the stairs on the second floor—I think it was about 3 o'clock, as near as I can say—he asked me either for Mrs. Milson or the housekeeper, I forget which—Mrs. Milson was the housekeeper—she was then standing at a table about ten yards from the top of the stairs—I believe she was washing up the dishes—he went to her, at least I pointed to her, I can't say whether he went to her—I left and went down stairs—I was in a hurry at the time.

Cross-examined. Q. Do you recollect whether it was on Friday or not? A. I cannot recollect the day; but I believe it to be either on Monday, Thursday, or Friday, because I had been out on business in the morning, and was in a hurry in the afternoon, and that applied to those three days.

ISABELLA COX . I live at 182, New Kent-road—I knew Mrs. Milson—I was frequently at the house, where she lived, as a visitor to her—I occasionally slept with her—when I have been there in the evening, I have heard the bell ring, and Mrs. Milson went down to answer it—I have some-times noticed that she has been rather agitated before she went down when she heard the bell ring; that has been only once or twice—when she has

gone down to answer the bell she has remained some time—sometimes half an hour and sometimes three quarters—I have never seen the persons who came—I can't say how long ago this was when she appeared agitated; it was this year, since Christmas, not before—her foot was bad at that time—she has spoken to me on several occasions about the person who came.

Cross-examined. Q. You have never been either before the Magistrate or the Coroner? A. No—I was told to come here by Sergeant Moss—I Was at Mr. Bevington's—I was a visitor to Mrs. Milson—I was so at the time of the murder—I was at home that night with my sister, not at Mr. Bevington's—I was there the night before—I went away the same morning as the murder was committed in the evening—I had remained there all night—I first began to visit Mrs. Milson about two years ago—I have seen the cook—I am no relation of Mrs. Milson's—I did not go there the day following the murder—I did not communicate with Sergeant Moss; he brought me a subpoena to come here last Thursday—I had seen him before—I first saw him on the Saturday after the murder was committed—I told Mr. Bevington of everything I knew on the Saturday after the murder.

MR. METCALFE. Q. And in consequence of that Moss brought you a subpoena? A. Yes.

AMELIA FRANCES LONG . I am a single woman, and live at 7, Rose-street, Smithfield—I knew Mrs. Milson—I did washing for her—I sometimes carried the washing home myself—on one occasion, when I carried the washing home there was a person at the door—that was between 6 and 7 in the evening—I do not remember what month it was in—I believe it was about Christmas time, in December—I went to the door and rang the bell, and this person was there, making his way to the door—Mrs. Milson came to the door, and she started back; drew herself back—she went back and made an exclamation—she appeared very much alarmed at the man that came up to the door—she asked me if I would follow him, and I did so—I went as far as Walbrook—he turned round and went up Walbrook—I saw him again that same evening—I could not swear to his features—I could not say who that man was—the man that I saw at Newgate by his walk seemed like the man at the bar—the prisoner is the man—I only go by his walk—I don't go by his features—he had a peculiar walk—I noticed it that night, and also when I saw him afterwards—Mrs. Milson borrowed some money of me in January—she told me what she wanted it for.

Cross-examined. Q. You were never examined before? A. No—the person I saw I think I should know again by his walk, by nothing else—I don't go by the features—I saw the prisoner in Newgate, in the courtyard—I spoke to him by his walk—all I mean to say is that that is the same man I saw in Newgate—I am a laundress, and live at 7, Rose-street, William-street, Shoreditch—I did not say Rose-street, Smithfield—I came to be a witness here in consequence of Mrs. Milson giving me a duplicate of a chain—I communicated with Mr. James Bevington on the Monday after the murder.

MR. METCALFE. Q. When did you receive the duplicate from Mrs. Milson? A. On the Monday previous to her death—I had it till the Monday following.

COURT. Q. You went to the door on this occasion with some things you had for her? A. Yes, and rang the bell—at the same moment a person approached, and when Mrs. Milson opened the door, she made some exclamation of alarm—the man did not go away—he stood for a moment at the door—he stood more than a minute at the door—he did not speak, but

Mrs. Milson drew back—I saw the man's face then, but he appeared a much older man than the prisoner—I would not swear to the man by his features—as far as my observation of the man's face went, it was not the face of the prisoner; he looked older, but the walk was the walk of the prisoner—by his face I should say he was not the man—by his walk I should say he might be.

CATHERINE COLLINS . I am servant to Mrs. Robins, No. 1, Cannon-street, next door to Messrs. Bevington's—during the last two or three months I believe I have seen the prisoner at Messrs. Bevington's—I believe he is the man I have seen come out of Messrs. Bevington's—I think it was after nine o'clock, as near as I can recollect, I saw him come out of Messrs. Bevington's door once—I was at Mr. Mackintosh's door when I saw him leave the house—on Wednesday, 11th April, my mistress was out—she came in at ten minutes past ten o'clock—I let her in, and she said something to me when she came in—next day I went out and heard about the murder—to the best of my belief the prisoner is the man that I saw come from Messrs. Bevington's—I am not speaking of the night of the murder—I recollect seeing Inspector Foulger—the next time I saw the prisoner was the day he was taken to the Mansion-house—he was not pointed out to me—I knew his face—I knew him again, when I saw him before he got to Messrs. Bevington's door—I did not pick him out at all—I thought, but I did not say anything at the time—nobody pointed him out to me.

Cross-examined. Q. Do you remember whether it was on a Saturday evening, some two or three months before the murder, that you saw the man? A. I could not say what evening it was—I think it was two or three months before the murder—I have not had any communication with the police or with anybody to-day—I expected to see a man pass by—Inspector Foulger told me to be at the door, and see if I knew anybody that might pass—he told us to go to the door—that might be just after eleven—he did not tell us how long we were to wait at the door—I and Mrs. Robins waited at the door—I saw Mr. Foulger first—I do not know who came afterwards—I think the prisoner was in the middle—there were three, and three, and three—I think that was how it was—I think the prisoner was like in between the nine—there were nine passed me—I think he was in the middle row, I could not be positive, but I knew him again—I think he was between two other persons, and I think there were three others behind, the prisoner and the other two were not very far apart from Mr. Foulger—I could not say how near—I could not form an idea at all about it—I should not think they were so far apart as the length of the jury-box—Mrs. Robins was with me—she never said anything to me about the man—she did not go in before they passed—we both stood there and remained there, and she made no observation whatever—I do not know whether she had the same opportunity of seeing that I had: there was no difference that I know of—she was not very much excited by anything while she was out with me—she did not exhibit any fear—she was confused by a cab going by before—there was a cab and a great crowd of people—we thought the prisoner was in that, and she was confused then—we were at the window then, when the cab went by; we were not at the door at all then, we came down to the door afterwards after the cab went by—I knew Mr. Foulger, of course, when he passed—none of the other men were in uniform, that I know of—I never saw any in uniform.

MR. METCALFE. Q. You were asked what day it was you saw the prisoner come out of the house, and you did not say—there were two evenings,

if I understood you rightly? A. Yes, there were—Icould not say how near one was to the other.

COURT. Q. Did you know the two policemen who were walking with the man? A. No, I did not. I did not know any one beside Mr. Foulger—I did not know they were policemen—there was nothing about them to make me think they were anybody but ordinary passers-by—they did not seem to be walking with Foulger—some went on first, then another row, and then another, something like that—I did not know anybody but Mr. Foulger—he was first—there were other people going in the same direction, and then came these three—the three were not next to Foulger—there were other people passing with them, the public—there was nothing to mark that this man was in custody or being taken care of—I could not tell that—my mistress was at the door at the time when this man passed, and I recognised him—I did not say anything at all, not till they had all gone by, and then I said to Mrs. Robins, "Have you seen anybody you know?"—she said "No!" and with that I went out on the pavement and looked after them again, and I said, "I have seen the man that I believe came out of there "—that was all, there was nothing else said—she could not tell which of the men it was I meant; it might have been one of the passers-by, or any one—there was nothing to show that the prisoner was in custody, and I did not know that the persons who were with him were policemen—Mrs. Robins told me that she did not see any of them, for she was so confused that she did not notice them passing—I did not point the prisoner out to her—she and I were alone at the door.

ARABELLA ROBINS . I am a widow, and housekeeper at No. 1, Cannon-street, City, next door to Messrs. Bevington—I live on the premises with my servant, Catherine Collins—I have resided there turned eleven years—on Wednesday, 11th April, I went out about ten minutes to eight, and returned again about ten minutes past ten—I rang the bell—just as I rang it, I was very much frightened by the violent slamming of Messrs. Bevington's door, and I saw a man leave Messrs. Bevington's steps—he passed me on the right, and gave me a side look as he was opposite my door, and his left eye and my right eye met at the same moment—No. 1 is on the left hand side of Cannon-street, at the corner of Budge-row—it used to be Cannon-street West, but it is altered now to Cannon-street—No. 2 is nearer St. Paul's than No. 1—a person leaving No. 2 and passing No. 1 would be going towards London-bridge—he might also go round Budge-row towards St. paul's—the nearer way to St. Paul's would be turning the other way instead of passing me—at the time he passed me I stood near the door, and he stood just where the reflection of our hall lamp shone on his face—he was some little distance from me—I could not have touched him—he gave me a side look when he passed me, and that made me notice him—I could not say exactly how long I noticed him—it might have been two minutes, it may have been more, I could not say—he walked in a very hurried manner, and he leant forward as he walked—I saw him go to the end of the pavement towards London-bridge, and then my door opeued and I went in—I noticed that his legs were very thin, and his feet broad, and he walked flatfooted—I believe the prisoner to be the man—I next saw him at the Mansion-house—there were fourteen people altogether passed me—they came by me, and directly they came through the door I knew the prisoner, but did not say a word until he passed back again, and then I said, "I believe that is the man I saw leave Messrs. Bevington's"—I was not told he was with them, I was merely told to look and see if I saw any one like the man I had seen—I

nearly touched him, and I said, "I believe him to be the man I saw"—before I went to the Mansion-house, Inspector Foulger said to me, "I should like you to be at the door and see if you can see any one like the man you saw," but I was so confused and so bothered that I did not see the man then, not to notice him—I saw a cab go by before, and a large number of people following—I was then in my own sitting-room upstairs—I looked in the cab particularly to see if I could see the prisoner, and I could not, but I recognised the superintendant in the cab—I heard of the murder at twelve o'clock on the morning of the 12th, and I made a communication between three and four o'clock in the afternoon—I called a policeman across first, and told him, and he asked me to go to the station-house, and I went and told Inspector Foulger, and gave a description of the person—I said he was dressed in dark clothes, and he had a high hat.

Cross-examined. Q. What do you mean by a high hat? A. An ordinary hat—I had gone out that evening to do a little shopping, and I had gone into a friend's in Watling-street—they kept me talking or I should not have been out so long—the friend did not come home with me—it was a married lady and gentleman—it was a wet and dark night, but it was not raining when I went home—it had been—I was out from eight till nine, when I went into my friends', and they kept me talking, and it was past ten when I left their house, and I think about ten minutes past ten when I entered my own house—the man I saw seemed not to walk so fast at the moment he got to our door, but then he went on in a hurried manner afterwards—I first heard the slam of the door, and then I saw him leave the steps, and I turned my back and turned sideways, and he passed me on the right—I never saw him standing still, only as he passed—he hastened his pace as he passed—he did not walk as fast when he got to me, but when he got past me he went fast—he slackened his pace at the moment at our door just under the lamp—it seemed to me that he did not go so fast then—my lamp was alight—I am positive of that—I have not seen any photograph of the prisoner—I have never been shown any—I did not see him pass the corner of Budge-row—I saw him under the lamp at the corner—I did not see him go beyond Budge-row—he had just got to the pavement where there is a turning to go up Budge-row—he appeared to be going straight—I did not see him turn the corner—if he had gone straight on, he would have gone towards London-bridge, but he could have turned—he appeared to me to be going towards London-bridge—No. 1, Cannon-street, stands at the edge of Budge-row—the back of our house is in Budge-row, and the office entrance is in Cannon-street—we have two entrances—Budge-row is a continuation of Watling-street—a person going up Budge-row could go up Watling-street, and get into St. Paul's-churchyard—it appeared to me that the man was going towards London-bridge—he went that way—I could not tell whether he turned or not—our front door, I should think, is ten yards from Budge-row—at the time the man passed me, I thought he had been in business very late, and from his hurried manner I thought he wanted a cab—he was on the left side when I first saw him, and then he passed me on the right, about five yards off—he might have turned in the other direction without passing me if he had liked—if he had wanted to go towards St. Paul's, he would not have passed me.

Q. You had no doubt, had you, that the person you were sent for to identify would be among the persons who were shown to you at the Mansion-house? A. I was not told so—I thought he would be among them—I really did not know—I looked—I assure you I did not know whether he would be

among them—he might or might not—I was told to be there, and to see if I could see any one like the man I saw—I had seen Mr. Foulger pass our street—I had seen him before many times, and of course I knew his face again—I was not on terms of acquaintanceship with him—I never spoke to him until this affair, until I told him what I had seen—he asked me to be at the door and look at the persons that passed up and down the street, and see if I could see any one—I was at the window when the cab passed—it passed with such a confusion that it flurried me—I did not go down to the door directly—I did very soon after—I waited to recover my nerves—we were standing inside of our door—my girl was standing on my right side, and I was standing just inside—I saw Foulger, but I took no notice, and then, when a lot had passed by, my girl said to me, "Did you see any one like the man I saw?"—I said, "Kate, I saw nobody "—I never noticed anybody behind Foulger—I was in a state of very great confusion—I do not know what there was to make me so, only the mob of people that went by with the cab—I waited some minutes after that before I went down—I did not get quite right, I was not quite right when I went to the Mansion-house—I was not in quite so much confusion then, because more than two hours had elapsed, and I had sat down quietly for two hours in my own place—Inspector Foulger came back to know if we had seen any one, and Kate said what she saw, and he said, "Well, Mrs. Robins, I should like you to see if you can see the man, without going to the Old Bailey "—I was told to go to the Mansion-house, and downstairs there I was told to see if I could see anybody—I went with Foulger to the Mansion-house—I told him that I had been in such confusion that I had not seen the man as he passed—I do not know whether my nerves were in good order when I heard the door slam and he hurriedly passed me—I merely said, when I went indoors, that some one had left Messrs. Bevington's—I was frightened at the door banging, certainly—it was a regular loud slam—I looked round and saw what it was—I was not in so much fright then—I was in a little alarm when the door slammed—the confusion when the cab passed was a great deal more than when the door slammed—of course I was frightened, I was startled, I was not actually frightened—I took particular notice of the man's legs, and why I did so was because the reflection of the lamp caused me to notice it—that was in front—I mean the street lamp, not our lamp—his trousers were dark, I could not see whether they were black or not—I could not swear his trousers were dark—I believe his clothes were all dark, they looked so—I could not see nothing about the trousers—I say I believe the clothes he wore were dark—his trousers appeared to me dark—I do not feel any doubt about it—the whole of the clothes seemed dark—that is all I can say—it had been raining during the day, but it was not raining then,—it was wet under foot.

MR. METCALFE. Q. "When you, went in did you make any communication to your servant about this? A. I did, directly she opened the door.

GEORGE TERRY . I am at present an inmate of St. Olave's workhouse, Southwark—I knew Mrs. Milson for some years before her death—during her husband's life-time she was living next door to me—she was friendly with my wife at that time—some years ago I got a Mrs. Webber to lend Mrs. Milson some money—I don't think it was so much as 35l.—some time after that I got into difficulties, and ultimately got into the workhouse—at the end of last year I was lodging in Dancer-street, near the Mint—I knew the prisoner then, by sight, that was all—he was living at the same lodging-house—I don't know how long he had been there—I was there four or five

weeks at the furthest—I only knew him by the name of Bill—some time after I spoke to him about the money owing from Mrs. Milson; it was while he was there—I told him that I had some money owing to me—he said that be could get it—I talked to him about the affair, and he said, "Well, we will see about it"—after that, I don't know whether it might have been the next morning or not, he and I went out together, and I think I bought a piece of paper as we went along—we then went to the Globe public-house, and he wrote a note—I cannot explain exactly now what was in the note—he wrote it to take with him to Mrs. Milson—he was going with me—I was going to show him the place—I showed him Messrs. Bevington's place, and he went in—I cannot recollect when this was: it was last year, somewhere close upon Christmas—it was cold weather—I know it was dark very early, about half-past 3 or 4 o'clock—when he came out, he said they had told him he could not see Mrs. Milson then; he was to come about 3 o'clock—he went back that same afternoon after 3—I saw him go in again—I should say he remained more than half an hour, or full half an hour—when he came out I was waiting outside the public-house—he came to me, and we both went in the public-house—he said, "How much do you think I have got?"—I said, "2l."—he said, "No, I have not"—to the best of my recollection he said he had about 12s., or he might have had more—he handed me 14s., and said Mrs. Milson had to borrow some of the cook, or of the other servant, to make it up—she only had, I think he said, half a sovereign—he gave it to me, and I gave him 5s. out of it for his trouble—I never sent him there again—I did not know that he had received two sums of 1l. each—I knew that he had been once since, but I did not believe in him—he did not tell me he had been—I heard it—I did not tax him with it, I never saw him—the only time I said anything to him about it was when I heard he had received 2l. 10s. on the Sunday—I did say a few words to him about it, and he denied it—the next morning, Monday, he got up early, about 7 o'clock, and went out, and he never came back to the lodging—I did not know that he was going—I never saw him again till I saw him at Windsor, when I was taken there by the police.

Cross-examined. Q. Have you ever been in Messrs. Bevington's employment? A. Yes; some time ago—I left it on my own account; I was not discharged—I had been drinking for about a week, along with one or two more; that was how I left—Mrs. Milson had contracted this debt with my wife, as I call her, but it was a woman I lived with—her proper name, I believe, was Hinton—she had frequently lent Mrs. Milson money—I believe she had had some money of us before this money, and paid it all back—Mrs. Hinton is alive, for what I know—I am not living with her now—I am in the workhouse, and she is out of it—I cannot tell whether this transaction might have taken place on 6th January—I can't say, it might not—the prisoner left the lodging on the Monday morning—I don't know where he went—he left me to go out to get something for our breakfast, but he never returned.

SARAH WEBBER . I live at 58, West-lane, Rotherhithe—I believe my husband is alive; he is in Australia—I know Terry—I never gave him any money—I gave his wife money to lend to Mrs. Milson; it was 33l.—it was to be paid off by 10s. a week; but she left off paying—I saw Mrs. Milson, and had some payments—this is the paper that was drawn up (produced)—she left 25l. 15s. unpaid—after that I had 2s., 2s. 6d., and 3s. worth of of stamps sent to me—I received in all about 8l.—I never authorised Terry to receive any money for me, nor the prisoner—I never knew or saw him in

my life—Mrs. Milson called on me, to tell me about the man coming, and I told her not to pay him, she knew the money did not belong to him—I told her to pay the money to me.

COURT. Q. Do you remember where it was you told her not to pay the man? A. When she called to tell me that the person came after the money; that was this year—I could not tell in what month it was—she told me that it had happened on two occasions—she did not tell me that any further application had been made to her.

HENRY HUNT (Policeman, M 34). I knew Mrs. Milson—she came to me—I will not be positive to the date—I said at the Mansion-house it was in February—it might have been in January—she made a complaint, showed me this letter and receipt, and asked me for advice—on the following Wednesday I went with her to endeavour to find Terry and Denton, the person, she stated, had been to her, and obtained money—I did not go to Old Change—I had a second receipt shown to me on the same occasion; it was on a Sunday.

HENRY GILES . I live at Brockhurst-lane, Eton, and am in the employ of Mr. Tolliday, the boat-builder—I know the prisoner—he lived in Eton-square—I recollect seeing him at Binfield's beer-house in April last—I can't remember whether it was Wednesday or Thursday—it was the 11th or 12th, about 7 o'clock at night—he had a black hat on, an ordinary chimney-pot, a black coat, and dark trousers—he sometimes wears a billy-cock hat, or a deer-stalker—he came in while I was sitting there, and he was asked to play at dominoes—he said he could not, as he had forty miles to go that night—I said, "You cannot go forty miles to-night?—he said, "Yes, I can; supposing I was to go to London and back, that would make it, would it not?"—I said, "Yes; but you are not going to London to night?"—he said, "Ain't I?"—I said, "No; if you say you are going, you are a liar "I then left the house—it was as near 7 as I could say, when I left—I don't know whether it was five minutes either way—that was the last I saw of him until he was in custody—Binfield's beer-house is down Mill-lane, Eton.

Cross-examined. Q. Have you any regular employment? A. No; only in the summer time—in the winter I do anything I can get to do; that is very little indeed—I live at home with my mother; she keeps me when I have no work—I don't recollect who was in the beer-shop—they had been playing dominoes—there were a few there—I don't know them; not one of them—I have lived at Eton all my life—I know some few of the people that go to the beer-shop—I cannot recollect a single person that was there that night—I don't know who asked me to play dominoes—I had been there about twenty minutes or half an hour—I don't know whether the other persons heard what was said; I should think it was said loud enough for them to hear—I did not believe what he said; I though he was chaffing; I should fancy so now—this was in the tap-room—there is a landlord and landlady—neither of them were there, to my knowledge—I say it was either Wednesday or Thursday, because I cannot recollect which it was—I happened to go down there either Wednesday or Thursday that week, to have a pint of beer—that was no uncommon thing; but I had not been there for some time—when I heard of the prisoner's apprehension, I said to the man who works with me, "Why, he was saying last week, when I was at Binfield's, that he was going forty miles; it seems a strange thing"—I know it was either Wednesday or Thursday—I know it was not Friday, because I was at another house—I know it was not the Wednesday or Thursday of the week before, because I had not come down there the week before, nor the week before that—that was the only day I had been there

for several weeks, and I have only been there once since—I know Swain, A carpenter—he was not there, that I am aware of—I can't swear he was not—William Feary was not there while I was, nor Barnes—they were not there at the time this conversation took place—I never saw them, not to my recollection—I can't recollect who was there—I am living now by working for Mr. Tolliday—I get 12s. a week, besides what I earn—I am not in regular employment—I got 12s. last week, more than that, by what I earn going out in boats with gentlemen—I get 10s. a week as regular wages; I got that last week—I have not been paid any money by the prosecution, only 4s. 6d. at the inquest, and half-a-crown.

HENRY BLACKMAN . I live at 1, Mill-lane, Eton, and work at the Eton gas works—on Wednesday, 11th April, I left work at 7 o'clock at night, and went in the direction of Slough—I was going to light my lamps—the farthest place to which I go in that direction is Willow-brook, or Jarvey's stile—I went there—I was at the Fifteen-arch bridge about half-past 7, or thereabout; that is on the road leading from Eton to Slough—I saw the prisoner between Fifteen-arch and Willow-brook, about half-way—that was about half-past 7, within five minutes—he was going in the directon of Slough—he had got his best clothes on, a black coat, and a high bat—I spoke to him—I said, "What, Billy," and nodded my head, as I passed—I did not stop to speak to him—Willow-brook is a little over a mile from the Slough station.

Cross-examined. Q. Fifteen-arch bridge leads to a variety of places, does it not? A. Yes; you may go to a great many places, Windsor, Farnham, Stoke, and other places, and you may go to London that way, through Datchet—I can't say the time to five minutes; it was within five minutes of half-past 7, either way.

JOHN WHITEHOUSE . I am surveyor of turn pike-roads, and live in the Slough-road—I know the prisoner by sight—on the evening of 11th April last, I saw him near Eton-college, in the Slough-road—it must have been about half-past 7—I can't be positive, having left home about a quarter or ten minutes past—he was going towards Slough—it is a mile and a half from Fifteen-arch-bridge to Slough, and he was 150 yards further than that, over a mile and a half—I was going to a theatrical performance there, which was to take place at half-past 7—that fixes the time and the night with me—I was in good time for the performance—he was dressed in dark clothes, and the usual sort of hat, I believe.

Cross-examined. Q. You say he was dressed in dark clothes; do you merely speak generally about that, or would you say that each article of dress was dark? A. My impression is that it was dark; I cannot define the particulars—I should not like to say positively that his trousers were dark, but the impression on my mind is that they were dark—I should not like to swear so—I have not seen him exactly on the same spot before—I have seen him in the college and about Eton—I have not seen him about with anybody in particular—the private theatricals that night were at the Mathematical School, and also on the Friday night; I was there on both occasions; the admission was free; there were no theatricals any other day that week that I know of—I speak to the half-hour with tolerable confidence; it must have been a trifle over perhaps, if anything—it might have been a minute or so over the half-hour; it must have been very near indeed—I know a place called the Seven Chimneys; it was about there that I met him.

WILLIAM CLARK . I am No. 11 of the Bucks constabulary stationed at

Eton—I know the prisoner perfectly well—I recollect Wednesday night, the 11th of April—I was relieved from duty at twelve o'clock that night—I saw the prisoner that night about a quarter to twelve, I could not say to a few minutes either way, in the High-street, Eton—he was coming from the direction of Windsor-bridge, going in the direction of his own home—he was dressed in dark clothes, and had got a high hat on—the direction of Windsor-bridge was also the direction of the Great Western Station—he had a walking-stick in his hand—there was no one with him at the time I saw him—he was coming down the street opposite the Adam and Eve—he came to the corner of Eton-square, and he stopped and eased himself opposite Mrs. Dewlap's—I should think when I first saw him he was about five minutes' walk from the Great Western Station—I could walk it well in about five minutes.

Cross-examined. Q. Was that near the Adam and Eve? A. I saw him coming past there; that is in High-street, Eton, about a minute or two's walk from where he lives; Mrs. Dewlap's, the greengrocer's, where I saw him stop, is at the corner of Eton-square, one part is in the High-street; it is about five or six houses from the Adam and Eve; I don't think it is half a mile from the Adam and Eve to the Windsor Station; I have never measured it—when I say this was at a quarter to 12, I would not say to a few minutes either way; I did not look at my watch; I could not say to five minutes; I know it was just before I was relieved from duty—I did not, when I first mentioned this, say it was a quarter-past 11 when I met him—I have not said it, not in the court; I have not said it out of court that I am aware of; I don't know that I said it anywhere; I am positive of it; I know Mr. Harris, a hatter; I will swear that I did not tell him, in the presence of his son, that it was a quarter-past 11; I told Harris that I saw him come home that night; I did not fix any time; I said it was after eleven.

MR. METCALFE. Q. Are you sure it was somewhere about twenty minutes before you were relieved? A. It was a very short time before I was relieved from duty—that is the statement I have always made.

MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. There was some row once between you and the prisoner, was there not? A. There has never been any row that I am aware of—he never assaulted me—I never charged him with it—he was fined for drunken and riotous behaviour; I was the complainant; there was no assault upon me, nor upon any constable that I am aware of.

MR. METCALFE. Q. When was it that he was charged with riotous and drunken behaviour? A. I could not say whether it was about September.

ALFRED LAWRENCE FOSTER . I am a superintendent of the City-police—I have measured the distance from Eton-square to 15-arch bridge—from Eton-square to Beggar's bridge, is 1 mile and 2 furlongs, 73 yards; from Eton-square to Mill-lane is 1 mile, 7 furlongs, 130 yards; and from Eton-square to the Slough Station it is 90 yards short of 2 miles; from 15-arch bridge it would be about 200 yards further—I have not got the distance from the Seven Chimneys—it is 700 yards from Eton-square to the Great Western Railway—I walked the distance—it took me under five minutes—four or five—I walked fairly, as I thought a man would walk knowing the place.

Cross-examined. Q. Have you had the conduct of this case? A. Yes; no surveyor has been employed; I did it from my instructions—I never did such a thing before—I heard Mr. Montagu Williams at the Mansion-house ask a question with regard to the distances being measured—I knew the

time it was supposed the prisoner left and returned, and that it was of vast importance to ascertain the distances—I did it with a wheel-measure—the distance from Slough Station to 15-arch bridge is 1 mile, 3 furlongs, 123 yards—I don't know how far the Seven Chimneys are from 15-arch bridge—I can't say that I ever heard the name Seven Chimneys before—Mr. Whitehouse did not mention the Seven Chimneys, nor could he clearly point out where he did meet the prisoner; he said he met him between Eton and the 15-arch bridge—these were all the measurements I took—I do not know the Adam and Eve.

COURT. Q. You say from the Great Western Station to Eton square is 700 yards? A. Yes, I walked that in from four to five minutes—I walked at the rate of from five to six miles an hour—I call that ordinary walking; I call four miles an hour marching pace—I took my watch out, therefore I can speak positively about the time—I took it out at the station, and examined it when I arrived at Eton-square.

ELIAS HEATH . I am a guard on the Great Western Railway—on Wednesday, the 11th of April, I worked the 7.43 train from Slough to Paddington—it left Slough at the proper time, and arrived at Paddington at 8.40, at the time it was due.

Cross-examined. Q. I suppose there are clerks from whom tickets would be taken? A. Yes; there would be only one issuing tickets at that time—I could not say for certain whether any person gut in at Slough—most likely there would be some—there generally is by that train—I cannot say that anybody did get in—I cannot remember—the ticket-issuer would know whether he issued a ticket or not for that train—but he would not know whether any one got into the train—I live in London.

WILLIAM DENNING . I am a guard of the Great Western Railway—I took the 10.45 train at night from Paddington to Windsor on the 11th of April; we arrived at Windsor at 11.43—I know the Paddington Station and the Bishop's road Station—I should say any body under ordinary circumstances would walk it well in three minutes or less if they were in a hurry, from Paddington Station to the Bishop's-road—to Metropolitan line runs from the Bishop's road to Farringdon-street and Moorgate-street—those trains are advertised to go every five and ten minutes—it takes about twenty or twenty-three minutes to run from Paddington to Farringdon-street

Cross-examined. Q. I suppose you cannot pledge yourself that there was any train going at that time of night at the city end? A. No; I cannot say anything about that—I live at Windsor—I never saw the prisoner in my life to my recollection—we generally let out three or four, or half-a-dozen people at Windsor by that train, and sometimes eight or ten—I do not remember ever taking an empty train in—that train stops at Windsor.

EDWARD MOSS (reexamined). I have used the Metropolitan line at night up to twelve o'clock—trains run through from Moorgate-street and Farringdon-street to Paddingdon—there are different trains—there are trains they call Great Western trains; they only run to Aldersgate-street—they are not through trains—they are about twenty minutes on the road to Paddington—the most direct way of getting from Cannon-street to the Moorgate Station would be up Walbrook by the Bank—the nearest way to Farringdon-street Station would be through St. Paul's Churchyard; but the Alderegate Station would be the best way.

Adjourned.

THURSDAY, June 14th.

The following witnesses were called for the Defence:

HENRY HARRIS . I am a hatter, and live at 3, Eton-square, Eton—I have not served my time—I am an apprentice to my father, who carries on the business of a hatter at Eton, and has done so for a great many years, all my life—I know the prisoner quite well—he has worked for my father several times—I remember hearing of the murder in Cannon-street on the night before the Sunday when the prisoner was taken into custody—on the Wednesday before that I was at work in my father's shop all day up to a quarter to seven—the prisoner was at work for my father during the whole of that day—he was also there on the Tuesday and on the Thursday—I left the shop at a quarter to seven on the Wednesday evening—I and the prisoner left together—I am quite sure about the day, because my father went to a meeting at Burnham on the Tuesday evening, and I went to a literary entertainment at Mr. Kalner's on that same Tuesday evening, and we had a friend at our house who I saw off on the Wednesday morning—she was at our house on the Sunday evening and Tuesday, and I and my father saw her off on Wednesday morning—after leaving the shop at a quarter-past seven Smith bade me good-night, as he said he was going to Slough turnpike to meet a woman—I went in-doors to clean myself, and went out about a quarter-past 8—I walked up Eton square and met the prisoner at the top of the square about twenty minutes past 8—we went for a. walk up Windsor, where we met Henry Costen and John Matthews—they asked us if we were going into Wheeler's—I said I did not mind, but the prisoner said he would go for a little walk first—we went down Peascod-street, down Victoria-street, up Steep-street, and into High-street, and then we went into Wheeler's—it was about a quarter to nine as near as I can recollect when we got there—I remained at Wheeler's till ten minutes past ten—I know John Starling and Frederick Holderness—they were not at Wheeler's when I left—I and Costen left together, leaving the prisoner behind, and George Dobner, the landlord, and a bricklayer, whose name I believe is Taylor, and went home—Wheeler's is a beerhouse—I am not in the habit of going there—I have been in the house altogether about four times—I was there on the Saturday night that same week—I was not there any other day that week except Wednesday and Saturday—the prisoner was taken in custody at my father's shop—he was at work there at the time—I did not know on what charge be was taken then—I heard the day on which the murder was committed, on the Sunday before he was taken on the Tuesday—I heard that he was accused of the murder the same evening as he was taken—I did not make any communication to any one then—two policemen came to me that same evening to inquire about the prisoner—I said I could not remember anything then, and I would let inspector Pearman know—he came to me in the morning—I did not state to him then that I was with the prisoner on the Wednesday evening, because I could not tell it to my mind—I have since called it to my mind, and I stated it to Mr. Moss—I have not any doubt about it.

Cross-examined. Q. What day was it you first told the policeman that you could not remember? A. On the Tuesday evening, the 17th—the two policemen were Nos. 11 and 79—Clark was one of them, who has been examined—he asked me if I could remember anything about whether I was with William Smith on the Wednesday evening—I told him he was with

me in my father's shop till a quarter-past seven, and he left and bade me good-night, as he was going to Slough turnpike to meet a woman, and I told him I could not remember anything more then, but if I did remember I would let inspector Pearman know—Pearman is the inspector of the Eton police—I saw him on the Wednesday morning, and told him the same—I described to him what clothes the prisoner wore—he had a light pair of trousers, a dark waistcoat, and a frock coat, and a black hat, and a walking-stick—I told him I could not remember anything more then—I did not tell either of the constables that I was with the prisoner at this beershop, but that I could not remember whether it was Monday or Tuesday—I did not say anything about being at Wheeler's beershop either to the policemen or to Pearman—there was no one with me while I was speaking to Pearman or Clark—I am sure of that—Dobner was not with me—Pearman came down to me in the garden from the shop—Dobner was not with me when Clark spoke to me—I first remembered this on the Thursday when Moss came to me—I had not seen anybody in the meantime—I had not seen Dobner or Holderness, or any of the others I have mentioned—I am quite sure of that—I had not been to Wheeler's—I had not talked it over with anybody—it came into my mind quite suddenly without talking with any one—I did not go to Wheeler's to inquire about it—I have not been to Wheeler's since the Saturday night in the same week the prisoner was taken—I have not been in the house since—I have only seen Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler up here waiting outside—that is all I saw of them—I did not go to Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler and ask them whether it was on the Wednesday that I was in the house with Smith—Slough turnpike is about a mile and a quarter from Wheeler's—I suppose it is about the same distance from our shop—I do not live next door to Smith—Costen lives in Eton-square—Matthews lives in Mill-field, close by, and Holderness in the same house—Dobner lives in Eton-place, and Starling lives m High-street, at Mr. Davis's—we were playing cards at the beershop—not all of us—myself, Dobner, Starling, and Costen played first, and there were others played afterwards—I cannot remember the others who played—Smith did not play—we were playing at don—the prisoner had been working for my father for some time—my father often gave him a job, as he had nothing else to do—he did not regularly employ him—he was there on the Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, and every day that week—I think he is an upholsterer by trade—it was raining that night—it was showery—the rain began the fore part of the evening, while we were strolling about—it rained rather heavily some part of the time.

MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. I suppose, that being at work all day long; you are not particular about a shower? A. No, I am not—I did not mention the circumstances of this evening, until the Thursday, when I mentioned them to Moss—I had, in the meanwhile, endeavoured to recollect the day—the circumstances came to my mind on the Wednesday evening—Mrs. Butler was the name of the person I saw off on the Wednesday morning—she came to our house on Sunday, and stayed there Sunday night—she went off on Monday to her sister's, at Colebrook—she returned back to Eton that same Monday evening, as her sister was not at home; but she did not come to our house till the Tuesday evening—that was the evening of my father's lodge—she went to her daughter's, and stayed with her daughter on the Monday evening—I have no doubt whatever that it was on the Tuesday evening that she came to our house again—we have known her for some years, and my father and I saw her off on the Wednesday morning, at the Great Western station—recollecting those circumstance, I have not

any doubt that it was on the Wednesday evening that I was out with the prisoner—when I saw Moss on the Thursday, I told him all I have told to-day—I did not tell him about Mrs. Butler—I told him that I was certain it was on the Wednesday morning—I have been with the prisoner through Slough several times, three or four weeks running, walking with him.

JOHN HARRIS . I am a hatter at Eton—I have frequently employed the prisoner—I saw the account of this murder in the paper the following morning—on that day the prisoner was at work with me—he had been at work for me on the preceding day—on that Wednesday evening, I left him in the shop at, it may be, half-past 6 or a quarter to 7—he was on job-work—he was not fixed to any particular time—he might have left at any time in the day—he would not get any wages that day, so that there was no object in waiting till 7—I belong to the Loyal Etonian Lodge, which holds its meetings on Thursday evenings only—there might be a committees meeting or a special meeting—there was no special meeting that week at our lodge—there was a special visit to Burnham lodge from the Etonian lodge—that was on the Tuesday; I attended that—a Mrs. Butler was on a visit at my house on the Tuesday—she slept there on the Tuesday night—she went away on the Wednesday morning by the half-past 8 or quarter to 9 train—I and my son went up to Windsor with her, to see her off—one of the policemen, No. 11, Clark, came and made inquiries of me, in relation to the prisoner—he told me at what time he had met the prisoner on the Wednesday night—he told me in the first place, that it was ten minutes past 11—we were talking about the probabilities of his going to and from London on that night, and I thought it was almost impossible for a man to be loitering about the shop as he was that evening, to go to the train, and get to the train, and return as he said—then he said there was a train started a little after 7—I said that was very well, and he said, "I saw him myself come over Windsor-bridge at ten minutes past 11"—I said that would almost meet the idea that he could go up and down by the South Westerm, inasmuch as I had come down by the train myself and the train came in about that time; and he took me up at my word, and said, "I am sure it was not a quarter past"—I had come down several times by the train that arrives at Windsor about that time—the South Western terminus is in Datchet-road—it is about three minutes walk from Eton-square or Windsor bridge—there is a South Western train that comes in soon after 11—I would not be positive as to the time, somewhere about 11-18—a person coming from that train to Eton-square, would pass over Windsor-bridge—I won't be positive as to what time the train starts from Waterloo—I suppose it would be about 10 o'clock, inasmuch as we are about an hour and a quarter coming down.

Cross-examined. Q. Can you say at what time the prisoner left the shop on the Tuesday night? A. I left him in the shop when I started to Burnham, which was something like ten minutes after 7—I was rather late, and the party were waiting with the trap—my son was there too—I left him in the shop again on the Wednesday night, something like half-past 6, and I went indoors—I was going to bed, on account of having been out over night, and kept it up rather late—the prisoner was there as usual, on the Wednesday night—when I spoke to the policeman of his "loitering" about the shop, I meant in the cool manner he was, that he was; not putting himself out—he was jobbing about that day—he was in and out—he did jobs for other persons as well—I only paid him for what he actually did—I gave him a small amount on Saturday night—perhaps I did not pay him adequate to

what he did—it was more to occupy his time than otherwise, very often—I could not speak to his dress on Tuesday or Wednesday—sometimes he is dressed one way, and sometimes another—I did not take any notice—most of his clothes were dark—he has another dress—I could not pretend to say which he had on.

MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. How long have you been a tradesman in Eton? A. About twelve years at Eton; at Eton and Windsor, quite twenty years.

HENRY COSTEN . I live at 35, Eton-square, and am a photographer—I know the prisoner—I remember seeing him on the evening of 11th April—I am positive of the day—it was a Wednesday, and it was the only day that I went into Mr. Wheeler's—it was between 8 and half-past, when I first saw him, against Proby's, at the bottom of Windsor-hill—Henry Harris was with him—John Matthews and James White were with me—we went for a walk—White did not go with us; he went home—the others went with me—we walked, I should say, about ten minutes—we then went into Mr. Wheeler's—we staid there about an hour and a quarter—the prisoner staid with us—he stopped after I left—George Dobner was there, John Starling, and Federick Holderness—they were playing cards—I left about ten minutes past 10, as near as I can say—there was no clock in the room—I left Smith them.

Cross-examined. Q. How often did you go to Wheeler's? A. Not very often—I went twice that week—that was on the Wednesday and Saturday—I had been there about a week before that—I could not tell on what day—when I went on the Saturday, I met the same party there, all of them—I did not meet the same party the previous week—I can't remember who was there, or whether any of them were there—I am often with Matthews—I work with him—I played one game of cards, at a game called Don—there was me, Matthews, Dobner, and Holderness—two of four can play at it—Smith did not play—he was sitting down by the side of Harris-Harris played, and Smith looked over his hand, and showed him how to play—there was some drinking going on—the landlord was there, not all the time—I think he went down once; he was there the greater part of the time—I did not see the landlady come in—I saw her down at the bar—I don't know whether she saw me—it was only when I passed in at the door—I did not speak to her—the landlord waited upon us; there is no potboy—I can't remember whether the landlord's daughter waited on us or not—I don't recollect whether I saw her that evening—I recollected that Smith was with me on this evening, the day he was taken—I first told Inspector Pearman, not on that day; I don't remember what day it was—we went down at night and told him—I don't remember which night it was—I should think it was about two days after the prisoner was taken—I heard that he was taken, but I did not know why, till a little while after—I knew that he was taken for murder, a little while after, the same day—I did not keep this to myself for two days—I told the others—I told Henry Harris the next day after he was taken; that would be on the Wednesday—I told him that he was in our company on the night of the murder—I also told Dobner, Starling, and Holderness—they remembered it as well, but they would not be certain, not for a moment, till we brought it to our minds—we soon brought it to our recollection—Dobner, at first thought it was the week before; Harris thought it was that night; Starliag thought so too, and so did Holderness, that that was the night Smith was with us—I mentioned it first—Henry Harris was not with us at first, not when we came out of Brockhurst—I, Stirling, Holderness, and Dobner, were at

Brockhurst—I mentioned it first to them—I told them it was the night Smith was with us; the night we were at Wheeler's—they said that was right—I saw Harris afterwards—Dobner said, at first, he thought it was the previous week; but then he brought it to his recollection that that was the night—we were talking about it—none of them said they thought it was on the Tuesday—I saw Harris afterwards, that same evening, and told him, and he agreed with me that it was on the Wednesday—we went to Wheeler's while we were talking about it, and asked whether it was on the Wednesday or not—I, Dobner, Starling, and Holderness went, not Harris; we met him outside of the door—we went to Wheeler's before we saw him—we asked Wheeler whether Smith was not in the house on Wednesday, 11th April—we were discussing it on Windsor-hill—we went from Brock-hurst to Wheeler's, discussing it among ourselves—the discussion was not whether it was on the Tuesday or Wednesday, because we said it was on the Wednesday, and we went up to see if Mr. Wheeler could recollect whether that was the night that Smith was there—we were talking about it, and saying that that was the night; not whether it was that night, but that it was that night—we went straight up into Wheeler's room, and we spoke to Mr. Wheeler, not to Mrs. Wheeler.

MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. Was Wheeler aware that this card-playing was going our at his house? A. Yes—the prisoner did not play cards at all, because he bad no money—he was not asked to play that I recollect—he said he did not have any money, that was why he did not play—he said he would look over Henry Harris's hand, and show him the way to play—we played at Don—we played for pints of beer—Wheeler permits this—I am a photographer, in the employment of Gold and Saunders, at Eton—I have been in that employment about two years, regularly—it was on the Thursday that I went to Peatman—I can't say the particular time; I should think it was from half-past 8 to 9—I did not tell him everything—we told him we were in Smith's company on 11th April, and he put our names down—we gave the names of those that were there on the Wednesday evening—I am positive it was that evening.

COURT. Q. Can you give any reason why you should be sure it was a Wednesday any more than any other night? A. I went to meet my father on Tuesday night, and on Thursday I went for a walk with White, and they were French polishing a new house at Barnspool-bridge—on Monday I went to my cricket club, not to play, to pay for the week—on Friday I went to the mathematical school, and on Saturday I went into Wheeler's again—Smith was there—I know it was the Wednesday before he was taken, because I am positive of it—it was not the week before—I am certain it was not so far back as that.

JOHN STARLING . I am a brazier, and work for Mr. Daley, of 25, High-street, Eton—I live with my aunt in Eton-square—my father and mother are dead—I know the prisoner, and Costen, Holderness, and Dobner—I remember being in their company one night early in April—it was Wednesday, the 11th—I know it was that Wednesday—there was an amateur performance at the mathematical school that Wednesday—on the Monday night I attended a cricket club—on the Tuesday night I was at my aunt's—on Wednesday, the 11th, I was at Wheeler's—before I went to Wheeler's I had been down to Eton with Holderness—I met him as I was shutting up the the shop in High-street, or rather he met me, and we went as far as Barnspool-bridge—that is a very short distance from our shop—he had to take some flower seeds there, to a Mr. Joel's—we then came up Eton—previous

to that we met Dobner in High-street, and we came up as far as Mill-lane, Eton—we stopped at the top, and Holderness went and fetched his boots—after that we went to Wheeler's—I saw Smith there—we had a game of cards there—Gray was the name of the bootmaker that Holderness went to.

Cross-examined. Q. When did you first mention this to anybody? A. I can't say—it was general talk all through the place when Smith was apprehended—it was in Eton that I first mentioned it, but who to I don't know—it was the next day after he was apprehended—I am quite sure I mentioned it in Eton—a young man, named Dry was with me and Dobner—we were opposite the Turk's Head in Eton—there was no one else there with me—I did not say then that our meeting at Wheeler's was on the Wednesday—they said, "Is it right about Smith?" or something to that effect, and I said, "What?"—they said, "That he is apprehended on a charge of murder"—I said, "I don't believe it is him, if he his"—I knew then that the murder was said to have taken place on the Wednesday.

Q. Why did not you then say, "Why, it could not be he"? A. If anybody is taken at a minute, they could not always say—I daresay it first occurred to me that evening—I spoke to Dry and Dobner—I was at home then—nobody was with me—I spoke about it that evening—we were at cricket at Brockhurst, and we got talking about it—Costen, I think it was, I know it was 'one of them, and then I said to him, "It was about Wednesday, I think, we were with him up at Wheeler's"—I said it was about Wednesday, or Wednesday that we were there with him—I said that to Costen—there were others there, but I spoke to him—Costen said, "Yes; I am pretty near sure it was then"—Dobner was there—I don't know what he said—he was at the other end of the wicket—I don't recollect whether be took any part in the conversation that evening—he did not say, "No; it was the week before that we were there"—I am quite certain he did not say it was the week before—I don't think Holderness was there—from the cricket ground we had a walk up Windsor way—I had to get in at 10 o'clock, and I went home—I did not go to Wheeler's—I have not been there since I was with Smith—I am quite sure of that—I did not go there with Costen, Holderness, and Dobner the night after the prisoner's apprehension—I went up with most of the other young fellows that are witnesses, but I did not go into the bar with them—I was outside—I think that was the night after we were out at Brockhurst—I went to the door, but did not go in—we had been talking about it, and they went in to ask Wheeler whether it was the Wednesday—I did not go to Gray's; some of the others did—they told me they were going to make inquiry as to whether it was the Wednesday—I saw Gray afterwards, and asked him whether it was Wednesday.

MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. You lads all met in the cricket ground, did you? A. Yes, at Brockhurst; and we talked about it—I thought well about it before I took my oath upon it—I have not the least doubt about it.

COURT. Q. Had you ever been to Wheeler's before? A. Yes; I might have been there on a Wednesday before—I can't say; I don't know whether I had been there the week before—I might have been, or I might not.

FREDERICK GEORGE HOLDERNESS . I am a gardener, and live in Mill-lane, Eton—I remember going with the prisoner to Mr. Gray's, the bootmaker, to take a pair of boots to be mended—it was on Wednesday, 11th April—I saw the prisoner after I took the boots to be mended—I left them at Gray's as near half-past 8 as I could guess—I then came from Gray's, and went to Mr. Wheeler's—the prisoner was there then—I am quite sure of that—I

have not the least doubt of it—I had not taken any boots to be mended the week before, or the week before that—that was the only pair I ever took to Gray's to be mended—I am quite sure it was on that evening that I saw Smith at Wheeler's.

COURT. Q. When did you get the boots back? A. On the Saturday night following.

Cross-examined. Q. Was Wheeler there? A. He kept on coming in and out of the room—I do not believe he was in the room when we first went in—there was a lodger of Wheeler's there—I do not know his name—he came in while we were playing at cards, and Mrs. Wheeler came in more than once; several times while we were there—I had been to Wheeler's before that—not that week or the week before—I had not been for two or three weeks before—I went there again on the Saturday night following—I know I went twice that week, and that was all—I had often played at cards at Wheeler's before—the same lot of us—I did not play with the same lot on Saturday—there was only John Starling—he was in the room with us on Saturday night, and he was the only one, I think, that was with us on the Wednesday night as well—I do not know who was there on Saturday besides—I know Starling was there, and Smith, and Costen—I cannot say about Harris—I do not know that I ever saw Smith in the house before the Wednesday night—I first spoke about seeing Smith there on Wednesday night, or the Tuesday week following—I mean on the day he was apprehended—I know it was on the Tuesday—they said, "There is Bill Smith taken up for murder," and I said, "Why, I was with him on that Wednesday"—I said that to my mother at home—I do not know who I told next of it—I did not go at once to the police—I went out to cricket after telling my mother—I went to the police the same Tuesday night—I saw Mr. Pearman on the Tuesday night, and told him what I have stated now—I believe it was that same night—I am not quite positive—I had a walk with Starling and Dobner after cricket—I do not know whether it was on Tuesday or Wednesday that we played—it is so long ago I cannot remember—several of us were playing—we did say a word or two about the prisoner being at Wheeler's—it was either Tuesday or Wednesday that we were at cricket and we asked one another whether Smith was there at Wheeler's, whether we could remember it—we asked one another whether we could recollect what night it was—I did not hear anybody say that it was not that night at all, but the previous week—we went to Wheeler's to inquire of him whether he recollected whether it was the Wednesday or not—I also went to Gray's—it was after that that I told Pearman, the same night—I cannot recollect the time we went to Wheeler's—I cannot be certain whether I went to Pearman's the same night, or the next day.

MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. What was your purpose in going to Gray's? A. To ask him whether he could recollect what day I brought my shoes to be mended—I am quite certain that it was the same day that I went to Wheeler's—I am certain about the day.

GEORGE DOBNER . I am a carpenter, and live at 3, Eton-place, Eton—I remember going with Holderness to Gray's the boot-maker with a pair of boots—it was on the 11th—I am quite sure of the date—it was on a Wednesday—I remember going after that with Starling and Holderness to Wheeler's—there was Starling, Holderness, Matthews, Costen, and Smith there—I am quite certain Smith was there that night.

Cross-examined. Q. Are you quite positive it was the Wednesday night? A. Yes, quite certain—I swear it positively—I have not doubted it before;

ver—I never had the least doubt about it—I was first spoken to about it on the Tuesday, as Smith was taken, on the Tuesday—Clark spoke to me about it—I could not bring it to my recollection just then—I told Clark I was in the prisoner's company, but I could not tell the time that I was in his company—I did not tell him that the others were in his company with me—he only asked me about myself—he and Stone the baker were together—I was alone—I did not say at first that I could not remember—I said that I was with him one night, but I could not bring it to my recollection just then—I said that I thought it wad either Monday or Tuesday, but I could not swear to it—Clark said, "It is no use to swear to it, unless you are positive"—I am quite positive now—I became positive by going to a funeral on the Tuesday—it was the funeral of Mr. Plumridge—that was on the Tuesday before the Wednesday—it was in the afternoon—they buried him at 4 o'clock—I was at home all the Monday evening, making picture frames—after I had the conversation with Clark, there were three or four of us met together on Windsor-bridge, and they named one thing and another—there was Holderness, and Starling, and Costen—we stopped there, and we went and asked Gray—that was after our cricket—we asked Gray which night it was—I cannot say which one asked him—I said that I was sure of the night—I did not say that I thought it was the week before—I never said so to anybody—I did not say so to Costen—I am quite sure of that—I said there was no doubt about the time of being with Smith—I cannot say whether anybody thought there was a doubt—I cannot bring it to my recollection whether any one said that they thought it was the Tuesday previous—I went up to Wheeler's with the others to ask whether it was the Wednesday, or not—Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler were both there on that Wednesday night—I was one of the last to leave—I left because it was turn-out time, 11 o'clock, and Mrs. Wheeler made the remark, "Hark, at my baby crying"—that was the town clock striking—Smith came away with me at 11 o'clock, or it might be a minute or two after—we Went together down as far as 3, Eton-place, where I live—that is close to Eton-square—Wheeler's is in Thames-street, Windsor—I came over the bridge with the prisoner—after I left him he had about fifty yards to walk to his own house—he went towards his own home when I left him.

MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. Did he borrow anything of yon that night? A. Yes, twopence as he was going over Windsor-bridge after we left Wheeler's, and he asked me to go into John Harding's to have a pint of beer—I said that I did not want it—I did not go—I lent him the two-pence.

WILLAM GRAY . I am a shoemaker, of 2, Collin's-buildings, Windsor—I remember Holderness bringing me a pair of boots to be mended—it was on Wednesday, 11th April—I am certain of that—he took them away again on the Saturday night—I do not enter these things in a book, but I have no doubt of it being a Wednesday.

JOHN MATTHEWS . I am a photographic printer—I know the prisoner—I heard of this murder in Cannon-street—I remember being in company with the prisoner on Wednesday night, 11th April—I met him between 8 and half-past—I had some doubt about the day at one time, until I thought of it—I have thought of it now, and am certain it was that day—I met him at the bottom of Thames Street-hill.

Cross-examined. Q. What day did you think it was? A. I did not know for certain whether it was Thursday or Wednesday; I only continued in that doubt for a day or two—I did not play at cricket at Brockhurst

the day after the prisoner was apprehended—I did not meet him on Windsor-bridge after the cricket—I did not talk to the others about it—I met Costen and White at the end of Peascod-street, I did not talk to them about it—Costen did not say anything to me about it—I afterwards went to Wheeler's—I was playing at cards there with the others—I first spoke about this on the Friday after the prisoner was apprehended, to Costen—we worked together, and we were talking over it at our shop in the High-street—I had seen him on the Wednesday and Thursday, but I first spoke to him about it on the Friday—he was talking of Smith's apprehension—he did not tell me that Smith was apprehended until the Friday, and I did not know it until the Friday—I am quite sure of that—he asked me if I recollected whether we were at cards on Wednesday evening—I said, "Yes"—I was quite sure that was the nights—it was on the Thursday night that I had a doubt in my mind about the day—I knew that he was apprehended on the Thursday—I first knew that he had been taken on the Friday—Costen told me—it was at a different time that he asked me whether it was on the Wednesday he was there—he told me of it at dinner-time, and then he asked me in the evening whether it was Wednesday we were there—that was the time I doubted, between dinner-time and the evening—nobody asked me about the Wednesday then—when Costen told me about his apprehension, he did not ask me anything about the Wednesday night—I told Costen in the afternoon that I was not certain whether it was on the Wednesday night that we were playing at cards—he did not ask me then—I had not seen Harris or Dobner, or any of the others, on the Thursday or Friday—I saw them on the Saturday.

COURT. Q. Was it on the Friday after he was taken that you first heard that he had been taken? A. Yes—Costen told me he had been taken for murder—he then told me that he was supposed to have committed the murder on the Wednesday evening, the 11th—he did not ask me at that time if I remembered being in his company—I thought the matter over before I spoke to him again—I was in doubt about it in the afternoon—after that, I made up my mind that it was on the Wednesday, because I could account for where I was every other night in the week—on the Thursday, I was with Costen and White, walking out at Eton—on the Friday I was at the Mathematical School, at an entertainment there, and on the Tuesday I was at the Windsor penny reading.

FREDERICK STONE . I am a baker, of Eton—I know the prisoner—I know a public-house in Eton-square kept by Mr. Goddard—that is near the prisoner's residence—on Wednesday night, 11th April, I saw the prisoner at Mr. Goddard's at a quarter past 11, within a minute or two either way—I went out just before 12 o'clock, and he followed me—my reason for fixing the night as Wednesday is that, after I had done my work at 6 o'clock, I went to visit a friend who was ill in Eton-road—I had a little more to do soon after 7 at work, and when I came back, the people were going to the Mathematical School to the private theatricals—when I came up the town, I met Mrs. Goddard and Mrs. Noon—they were going to the theatrical performance—I went into the shop—I had a little more work to do at Messrs. Sedding's—then I went home, I should think, not half an hour after that altogether—it was half-past 7 when I went home—I left home again at half-past 9, and went to work till nearly a quarter past 10—I then returned home, as I usually do, and from there to the New Inn, Goddard's—I have no more reason for remembering it than that—I have lived at Mr. Sedding's twenty-eight years.

Cross-examined. Q. When you went to Goddard's, was Mr. Goddard there? A. When I went in there after I had done my work he was there—that was at a quarter after 10, or a little more—he was there when I came away—he is the keeper of the house—I went there after I had done my work, at a quarter after 10—it is close to my house—I was not there twice that night—Goddard was at the bar the greater part of the time I was there—he is not here to-day, Mrs. Goddard is—I did not see her after I saw her going to the performance—that was over about a quarter to 11—I did not see her after that—Goddard was at the bar—I was in the parlour on the opposite side—there might be seven or eight there beside me and the prisoner—a Mr. Hodges was there and Mr. Hammond—they are neighbours, and a person named Woods came in just before the prisoner came in—he remained there after the prisoner left—neither of those persons are here—I first went and gave information to the prisoner's mother respecting his being with me on this Wednesday night—I did that the day he was taken—I did not go to the police, they met me as I was coming from his mother's house—No. 11 and 72, I think, of the Bucks police met me—I told them what I have stated to-day—I did not tell them about Goddard being there—I told them that Mr. Hodges heard the conversation—I go to Goddard's every n got when I am in good health—that is not very often—I might have missed one night that week, but not more, I think.

MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. Are you or are you not sure that this was on the night of the theatricals? A. I am quite sure—there were—theatricals on the Wednesday, and again on the Friday—on the Friday night I was at home—the prisoner came in and said he should like to go to the performance that night, and he went—I told the policeman what I had told the prisoner's mother, about my having been in company with her son at a quarter past 11—the other policeman said to me, "You know this is a very serious thing for a young man in our neighbourhood to take place; we must try and get him out of it if we can," or something to that effect—I said, "It was a quarter past 11 when we were going down the town"—he said "Don't you think it was later than a quarter past 11?"—I said, "No; I could be on my oath it was not five minutes either way from the quarter"—we went to the shop where I work, and he went in and got a bit of paper; and as he was writing, he said, "Don't you think it was later than the time you have stated?"—I said, "No; what I have stated I am sure of."

COURT. You say you talked with the prisoner on this Wednesday night? A. Yes—he asked me, "Are you going to the races to-morrow?"—I said, No, I cannot afford it"—it was the City and Suburban race, at the Epsom Spring meeting—he said, "What will win?"—I said, "Copenhagen"—he said, "It will win, and no other; it will be half a sovereign in my way; it will be sure to win"—I said, "I shall win thirty shillings"—he said, "We shall have to go in our shop to-morrow; you will come, won't you?"—I said, "Yes, I will"—the prisoner and I had not been friends for some time before this, and this was the first conversation we had, and I was pleased to meet him in that way—the City and Suburban race was on the Thursday—I am sure of that—Copenhagen did not win, and I did not see the prisoner again—I never met him but once since—that was on the Sunday morning before he was taken—I knew on the Thursday evening that Copenhagen had not won—I had told the prisoner I would meet him next day—we were to have a drink over the bet—the horse did not win, and I did not go—I found out that the horse had not won before the time that we were to meet.

GABRIEL WOOD . I am living at the Rev. William Waite's, one of the

masters of Eton College, as butler—I know the prisoner—I am well aware of the night of the private theatricals—they took place on a Wednesday—there were two days, one was on a Wednesday, and the other on a Friday—I went on the Wednesday—they were held at the Mathematical School—I was going home after my work—I don't sleep in the house—I go home—I have a shop also at Eton—I met the prisoner that evening within a few doors of my own house, as near 8 o'clock as I can judge—I knew him well—he had been in the habit of coming to the house once or twice a week with errands—his mother is laundress to a great portion of Eton, and for the house that I am at—she has part of the work, a certain part of the work, not the whole—he has been in the habit of bringing the things home, fetching them on a Monday, and bringing them home on a Friday—I am perfectly certain I saw him that night, and at the time I mentioned as near as possible—I will not swear to five minutes.

Cross-examined. Q. Where was it you met him? A. In the High-street, within a few doors of my house—my house is in the High-street—he was alone—I did not say I went to the private theatricals that night—I said that was the night: I did not go—I did not leave my house after I once entered that night—I did not go that night—I was walking home from my situation—I leave at all times—there is no particular time—I know what time it was on this night, because at ten minutes past 7 a fellow-servant came into the pantry—I was then at work—she said, "Are you at work till this time of night"—I said, "Yes, I am endeavouring to finish this job if I can to-night"—she said she was going, she looked at the clock and saw it was ten minutes past 7, and it would have taken me from half to three quarters of an hour to close the house, change my clothes, and go up to where I saw the prisoner—I am certain I could not have got away from the house in less than half an hour, even if I had left work at the time—the place I speak of is about three quarters of a mile from the Windsor and Eton Bridge—it is not towards the barracks—it is towards Slough, the house I am in—it is the last house in Eton—Smith was coming towards his own residence—he was on my right hand when I saw him, and he crossed towards his own home on my left—it would be considerably above a mile from the turnpike—it is not because there was a theatrical performance that night that I fix that night—the reason why I can fix it more particularly is that I had promised to take my children for a long walk, Wednesday being a half-holiday, and they were to meet me after their dinner in the college—the rain came on and prevented their coming, but later in the afternoon they sent to know if I would take them if it gave over raining, and I said "No," as I should continue my work that day, and the first dry day they should come out of school earlier, which they did on the following Thursday—I first mentioned this some weeks ago, in fact, immediately after the prisoner's apprehension—I believe I called it to mind the same day—I went straight home after seeing him—I did not come out again—I am not the person who has been spoken of as being at Goddard's—I believe I first mentioned this to some workpeople in the house who told me of the apprehension—I did not go to the police or mention it to them—I had no evidence to give, I considered—I read the case in the paper afterwards, but I saw that there was no defence taken—I feel confident that I am not mistaken in the day.

COURT. Q. How far is the turnpike from the Slough station? A. Half or three-quarters of a mile—the place were I met the prisoner must be more than a mile and three quarters from the Slough station—I should say it would be about two miles—the place where Mr. Whitehouse met the

prisoner is nearer where I live—half-an-hour would be enough for a person to go from that place to the turnpike, and come back to where I saw the prisoner—they might walk it leisurely in that time—I should think it would be under four miles an hour.

GEORGE SWAINE . I do not remember the day on which the City and Suburban race took place—the day before that race I was at Binfield's—I believe I remember a race being talked about as occurring the next day—I was at Binfield's from 6 in the evening till past 10 at night—it is the Jolly Millers—I know Henry Giles—he was not there that night, I am quite positive—Smith was not there; I am quite positive of that.

Cross-examined. Q. Were you there all the evening? A. Yes, from 6 till half-past 10—there were not many persons there when we first went in—the men generally come about 8, after they have been home to have their tea—there is only one room there where customers go to drink of an evening—I do not go into any private room—I go into the tap-room always—the other room is only a little room where tradesmen go in to have a glass—I cannot swear positively that Giles was not there that night at all—the first time I spoke about this was when I read Giles' evidence in the paper—I then said it was not true—I did not go to the police and tell them—I saw that gentleman (the solicitor), Mr. and Mrs. Binfield were there on this night—they are not here.

COURT. Q. What was it you read in the paper about Giles? A. He said that he was at Binfield's on the Wednesday-evening, the 11th of April—I am positive he was not there on Wednesday—I was not there on Thursday—he may have been there on the Thursday for anything I know—all I say is that he was not there on the Wednesday.

WILLIAM BARNES . I am a paperhanger and painter at Eton—I was at Binfield's public-house, and saw Swaine there on Wednesday, 11th April—I was in the tap-room—I went in about twenty minutes before 6, and left about ten minutes after 8—I know Harry Giles—he was not there that night during the time I was there—I know the prisoner well—he was not there during the time I was there—I had seen him there about a fortnight before.

Cross-examined. Q. You do not go there often? A. Yes, I do nearly every evening—it is close to my house—I was there on the Thursday in the evening, I cannot say what time—I went in when I left off work, about half-past 5, but I did not stop long, perhaps ten minutes—I went again about 9 in the evening—I have seen Smith there on several occasions—I did not see him there after the Wednesday—I saw him in Mill-lane on Saturday morning, and I have not seen him in the house since—I have seen Giles there several times—he was not there that night while I was there—I remember this night because I have the management of the college sedan chairs, and I was ordered not to be away, in case they might be wanted for the ladies at the theatrical performance—they were not wanted, but I was ordered not to be away, in case they might be wanted—I left word at home where I was—I did not do it on Friday also; that was not a gentry night—it was a night given to the friends of those who performed—they did not want sedan chairs—Mr. Swaine did not speak to me about this—Mr. Perkins asked me whether I was at Binfield's on the Wednesday night, and I told him, "Yes"—he asked me what caused me to be there that I could recollect that night, and I told him the same as I have told now—he asked me if I saw Giles there and Smith, and I said, "No, not during the time I was there"—that was only last Saturday—that was the first time I was

spoken to about it—my memory is pretty good—I go to Binfield's very often—there were but three of us in the room besides the landlord that night.

MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. Have you any doubt at all on the subject? A. No doubt at all—Mr. Perkins was formerly inspector of the Eton police for a great number of years.

MRS. GODDARD. I am the wife of the proprietor of the New Inn, at Eton—I remember the night of the private theatricals there quite well—there was a fashionable night and a night for the common people—I went on the Wednesday, the fashionable night—I got home a little before eleven—I know the prisoner quite well—I believe I saw him that night—I served him with a pint of beer as he came in with twopence—that must have been from a quarter to twenty minutes past eleven—I did not notice anything in his hand with the exception of his money, the twopence.

Cross-examined. Q. First of all you said that you could not recollect whether he was there at all, and then you said that you recollected he had twopence? A. I did not say so—I belive that was the night because I had been to the performance, and I had not taken off my things; I went up stairs before twelve o'clock to go to bed, therefore I did not see him leave the house—I cannot say whether he was there when I first went in; I know he was there that night; I am sure of that; I said that I believed it was that night—I do believe it—Mr. Stone was there; he was there every evening—I cannot say that I saw him that night—I did not go into the room where he was, but I know he was there every evening—the prisoner was not in a different room fcom Mr. Stone; he goes into the same room—I served him as he came in at the bar—my husband was at home, but he did not serve him; he had been at home all the evening—I am quite sure it was the first night of the theatrical performances that I went to—I have seen the prisoner's attorney, and so has my husband—there were several persons there that night who are in the habit of coming, but I did not go into the room where they were; I merely served the pint of beer, and soon after I went to bed; I did not go into the room that he took the plot of beer into.

MR. SERJEANT BALLANTINE. Q. Are you or are you not sure that you saw the prisoner one evening that week? A. I saw him two evenings; I saw him on Tuesday evening, I cannot say at what time—I am sure the other evening on which I saw him was the evening I had been out—I had not been out so late on any other evening that week—my husband was attending to his business.

COURT. Q. You say that you are sure you saw him twice that week? A. Yes; one of those nights was Tuesday, I am sure the other night was a night that I had been out somewhere, and that night was Wednesday—I said that I believed it was that night, because those were the two nights in the middle of the week—I feel almost certain about it.

JANE SMITH . I am the prisoners sister—he lived at home with my mother and my other sister—my mother is, and has been for a great number of years laundress to several of the colleges—I am a machinist, and work at Mr. Gray's, in High-street, Eton—my sister assists my mother a little—on Wednesday, the 11th, I was at home the whole evening—I did not go out—nobody sat up for my brother—I got up and let him in—it was a little after twelve—I had no knowledge of his going out in the morning—when I let him in he came up to bed—I only unlocked the door—I was not a minute with him—I did not observe anything at all unusual about him—I know

the clothes he generally wore—he had one shirt, which used to be washed for him—I don't know of that shirt being washed that week—I can hardly say—no clothes were removed or destroyed—I am quite positive of that—my sister is more at home than I am—my mother is not well.

LOUISA SMITH . I am the prisoner's sister—I know nothing of his coming home on the night of the murder—I had gone to bed—I saw him next morning at breakfast—he breakfasted at the usual time—I had seen him in the morning of Wednesday—he wore light trousers and a dark coat on Wednesday morning—no clothing or articles of wearing apparel have been removed from the premises to my knowledge—he was out during the day—he was mostly at the hatter's shop—on the Friday we went to the private theatricals—we did not go with him, we met him there—he came home with us—we got there about half-past seven or a little before—they lasted till half-past ten—I knew of the private theatricals on the Wednesday.

NOT GUILTY .

THIRD COURT—Wednesday, June 13th, 1866.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

535. GEORGE BRIGGS (23), JOHN MARTIN (17) , Robbery on James Butler, and stealing from him a watch and other articles, his property.

MR. BESLEY conducted the Prosecution, and MR. BROOKE defended Martin.

JAMES BUTLER . I reside at 9, Chapel-place, Cavendish-square—I was living there on the 7th of May—I never resided at Highgate—I am clerk to my father, who is a tailor—on Monday afternoon, the 7th of May, I went to the Spaniards Inn at Hampstead—that is across the Heath—I remained there about two or three hours I think—it might be six or seven o'clock when I left—I was intoxicated at that time—I could only just walk—I had a bull-terrier with me—it had on a collar with raised letters on it, all run into one another—the letters were S.M.R.C., South Middlesex Rifle Corps—I took them off a belt; it was in a monogram; the collar was black leather, with a lot of German-silver bars—the letters might have been German silver, but being worn by the dog, they had turned, and looked like brass—after I left the Spaniards I went into the Black Boy and lit my pipe—I believe they refused to give me drink there—one man got into my company there—being drunk, I would not swear positively, but I believe Briggs to be that man—I can't say how long I remained at the Black Boy—I went with one man from there to the Yorkshire Grey public-house in the York-shire Grey yard—at the time I entered the Yorkshire Grey I recollect one man being in my company, but being in a stupid sort of state, I think there was another one—after coming out of the Yorkshire Grey I remember perfectly well a policeman speaking to me—I believe at that time the person whom I believe to be Briggs was in my company—I don't think he could hear what the policeman said—I think I inquired for the dog at that time—I afterwards found myself in the Belsize Tavern—I don't know how I got there, but I have a recollection of being pulled there by some one—after leaving the Belsize Tavern I recollect the same man who was with me at the Black Boy being with me—I heard a whistle, and found myself seized—a knee was put to my back, and my throat was pressed, and I received a blow—the voice sounded to me to be the same as that of the man who had been with me all the evening—it was a short man that held me—when I awoke I felt stiff,

and then I walked straight home—when I came to myself I was on the ground—I found my dog by my side—I felt for my pipe to smoke it, and I found watch and chain and everything gone, and when I came to think it over I recollected how it was gone—I also missed a locket, a scarf ring, my meerschaum pipe, my pouch, and even my lights—my chain was passed through an eyelet-hole in my waistcoat—this is my watch-chain (produced)—my dog's collar was also gone, and there was blood on his neck—I saw the collar on him when I spoke to the policeman at the Belsize Tavern—I also had my watch and chain there—it struck 12 o'clock when I got to Baker-street, near my home—I believe I walked straight from where I was knocked down to my home—I might have gone round the park, as some of the gates were closed.

COURT. Q. When did you next see Briggs? A. It might have been two or three days afterwards—I went up to the police-court the following night, but did not see him; I saw him three days after, before the following Sunday—I think it was on the Thursday—I never saw either of the, prisoners before—I found myself very much bruised all over—I had two black eyes—I had my nose knocked, and was covered with blood inside my clothes, all down my legs—I have got scars now—I don't know whether I was kicked—no surgeon saw me—I kept it all to myself barring my father; I had to keep to my bed for two days; the first day I could not swallow at all—all I feel now is my knee and my back Q. Had the man, who you think was Briggs, any stick with him? A. I should not like to say any more than what I have, because I was intoxicated.

BENJAMIN HILL (Policeman, S 172). I am stationed at Hampstead—on Monday morning, 7th May, I was on duty in High-street, Hampstead, and saw the prosecutor outside the Black Boy and Still, lighting his pipe—the prisoner Briggs was standing in front of him, as though in conversation with him—the prosecutor was the worse for liquor—he appeared to be able to walk very well—I saw him go away up the passage towards the Yorkshire Grey-yard to the Yorkshire Grey public-house—Briggs followed him—about twenty minutes after I went into the Yorkshire Grey—it was the way of my beat—I heard a disturbance, and found the landlord endeavouring to turn the prosecutor out of the house—he called me to assist him, which I did—he was turned out—there was a dog inside the house—I persuaded the prosecutor to go home—he said he would when he got his dog—the dog was brought out—it had a collar on—the landlord then called me to assist in turning Briggs out—he was sober—I have known him for years—I am quite sure it was Briggs—I asked the prosecutor, in Briggs's hearing, if his watch and chain were all right—he felt for his watch and said, "Yes, it is all right"—I saw the chain on him then—I did not notice his scarf-ring—he threw his tobacco-pouch down to the door for the dog to pick up—it would not touch it—I afterwards saw the pouch in the prosecutor's hand—Briggs said he knew the gentleman, he would take him home—I told him to go home about his business and let the gentleman alone—there were a great number of people there at that time—I noticed the prisoner Martin amongst them—I took hold of the prosecutor's arm to lead him down the Yorkshire Grey-yard, and then the prosecutor took held of Martin's arm, and Martin said, "All right, Mr. Hill, I will take him home"—I knew Martin very well—up to that time I believed him to be a respectable lad—I allowed him to go away with the prosecutor—they went towards the Conduit-fields, arm-in-arm—Briggs followed—I did not see anything more of them that night—I saw Briggs in the town the following day, the 9th, about eleven in the

morning—I had heard of the robbery then—I had not seen the prosecutor—Briggs was taken on the morning of the 9th, and brought before the Magistrate on the morning of the 10th—the prosecutor was there—I took Martin in custody on Thursday morning, the 17th, at his father's house—I told him he must consider himself in my custody for being concerned with Briggs in stealing a gentleman's watch and property—he said he knew nothing about the gentleman's property, he was in the Belsize tavern with Briggs and the gentleman, in the back parlour; Briggs struck the gentleman on the nose, and knocked him down—he said the gentleman felt for his pipe and could not find it, and they all three came out of the house together; Briggs ran up the lane and he followed him; that he saw Briggs shortly afterwards up in the town talking to another lad—I asked Martin what became of the gentleman's watch and chain—he said, "The gentleman had the watch and chain when I left him outside the public-houses"—I said, "You were sober when I left you, you did not have any more drink down at the tavern?"—he said, "Yes, we had a pot of beer, and Briggs paid for it; Briggs had plenty of money"—I asked him what had become of the black coat he was wearing on the night of the robbery—he said he had pawned it at Mr. Melhuish's, Maldon-road, Kentish-town, for 6s. and he gave me this ticket (produced) for a coat pawned on 11th May for 6s. in the name of William Stevens, at Mr. Melhuish's—I asked him where he bought the light coat he was then wearing—he said he bought it at a shop in Tottenham-court-road for 6s.; he said he had 10s. 6d. when he left home on Friday—I asked him who pawned the watch—he said, "I did not pawn it"—I had found out at that time that the watch had been pawned—I believe it was pawned on the 8th.

Cross-examined. Q. I think you said you first saw Martin near the York-shire Grey? A. I saw him near the Yorkshire Grey—the prosecutor caught hold of his arm—I asked him if he knew whose company he had been in—he said, "Perfectly well"—he did not say he knew Martin—he did not assign any reason for catching hold of Martin's arm—I knew Martin very well, and knowing him to be a respectable man, I allowed him to take care of the prosecutor—I should say it is about half a mile from the Yorkshire Grey to the Belsize Tavern, nearer towards London—this robbery took place on the 7th—when I asked Martin about the coat, he told me all immediately—he denied having pawned the watch.

Briggs. Q. Did you not see the gentleman lay hold of me round the waist ns I was going up to the Yorkshire Grey. A. No.

MR. BESLEY. Q. Did you know where Martin lived? A. Yes—before the Thureday when Briggs was taken, I was about Hampstead—I did not see Martin at all between the robbery and the Thursday week following—I went to his father's house several times—he lives at White Hart Yard, High-street, Hampstead.

MR. BROOKE. Q. I believe it was in Derby week that he was apprehended? A. Yes, it was—I heard him say something about going to the Derby; whether it was to me or his mother I cannot say—I told his parents what I wanted him for—I found him at home on the Thursday morning—that was after the Derby had been run—he told his mother something, I don't recollect what he did say now, that he went to Epsom, and went to different places—I first called at his house on the Wednesday, the same time that Briggs was taken.

COURT. Q. You say your attention was attracted by a noise in the York-shire Grey? A. Yes, the prosecutor was rather riotous—there had been

some disturbance between the prosecutor and Brigga—Briggs was sober—the prosecutor did not show any marks of violence about him at that time—it was in consequence of hearing that there had been this disturbance that I asked him if his watch was all right—the Belsize Tavern is not on my beat—I did not hear any quarrelling between Briggs and the prosecutor, only what I was told—it was principally about the dog—the dog ran behind the bar, and Briggs insulted the landlord's daughter—the prosecutor then felt offended at Briggs, and that was the cause of the disturbance between them—Briggs had no stick with him that I saw—Martin answered all the questions I put to him.

CHARLES KEMP . I am a detached sergeant in the metropolitan police—on 7th May, at a quarter to nine in the evening, I was coming from Conduit Fields towards Hampstead—the Conduit Fields are about half a mile from the Belsize Tavern—I met the prosecutor and the two prisoners about twenty yards in the first field leading from Hampstead in the footpath leading towards the Swiss Cottage—they were walking—Martin had hold of the prosecutor's right arm, and Briggs had hold of his left arm—as I came up to them, I heard the prosecutor say, "This is my way," indicating the way to the Swias Cottage—that would be the direct way to Chapel-street, Cavendish-square—Briggs said "That is not your way; I know you, and where you live, and I will take you home"—he was pulling him towards another footpath, which led to the Belsize Tavern—this was a quarter to nine—I had seen the prosecutor before—I noticed his watch-chain hanging in its usual place—all appeared to be correct then—I noticed the dog—I cannot say about the colour of it—I left them there and went into the Conduit-passage, where I remained some time—when I left them they had not made up their minds where they were going—Martin was then wearing a dark coat.

Cross-examined. Q. Would a person going from the Yorkshire Grey public-house to the Belsize Tavern have to pass through the Conduit Fields? A. Yes, along the Conduit-passage and through the Conduit Fields—there is a road from the Belsize Tavern to St. John's-wood—Belsize-lane goes past the tavern on towards the Swiss Cottage—a person going to the West, end would go direct from the Conduit-passage to the Swiss Cottage, and then down through St. John's wood and Baker-street—the road past the Belsize Tavern leads towards the Swiss Cottage, but it is a considerable distance round—it is not frequented by people going from London to Hampstead.

COURT. Q. How was it with regard to light? A. It was a nice evening—it was getting dark—I should think Briggs knew me.

HENRY RIDDLES (Policeman, S 155). On Monday, 7th May, I was on duty near the Belsize Tavern, at half-past nine in the evening—I saw the prosecutor and the two prisoners in the tavern through the glass window—the prosecutor came out to me—Briggs might have heard what he said—he said, "Am I to be knocked about this way?"—I said "No, decidedly not; who struck you?"—he said, "Come in here"—I said, "I can't come in," and called him back again, but he would not come—he had a little blood on his moustache—I asked the potman what caused it—he said, "They have been sparring together inside the house"—Briggs might have heard that, he was outside—I said to him, "Was that you struck him?"—he said "No"—the potman said the sparring had been between the prosecutor and Briggs—Briggs might have heard that—he did not say anything—Martin, was inside—Briggs said to him, "Come on, let's go home," and Martin shook his head—that was after the prosecutor went in—Martin was talking to him—

I left them there—Briggs was then standing at the door—about half an hour after I went down and they were all gone.

COURT. Q. Did you know both Briggs and Martin? A. I knew Martin well—I have known him for years by seeing him about the town—I have known Briggs for years—they knew me.

EDWARD HILL . I am potman at the Belsize Tavern, Belsize-lane, Hamp-stead—on Monday evening, 7th May, the prosecutor came to our house, about five minutes to nine—our clock was about seven minutes fast—Martin and Briggs were with him—they came into the bar, and went from there into the back parlour—I had known Briggs about two years, and Martin about the same time, seeing him about—the prosecutor was the worse for liquor—the prisoners were sober—two glasses of mild ale and stout were called for—I took that into the back parlour—Mr. Butler upset a glass by accident and gave another glass to Mr. Smith, who was in there—he remained there some few minutes, and then went down stairs—he had been lodging there two or three nights—there was no one there then except Mr. Butler and the two prisoners—the prosecutor pulled off his coat and wanted to spar before Mr. Smith had left—I went out, and then I heard a noise, and came in again, and found Briggs on the floor, and the prosecutor on the top of him, with his nose bleeding—I picked him up—I noticed blood on his moustache—I saw Riddles after that had happened—they did not remain at the tavern above two or three minutes—I was called away, and when I came back, Briggs had returned again, and asked me to lend him 6d.—I did not see the three leave—they were at the bar when I last saw them—before that, I heard Martin say he would take him home, he lived at Highgate—I am quite sure I heard Martin say that—I asked him if he knew the gentleman—he said he lived at Highgate, and he would see him home—it was after that that Briggs came to borrow the 6d.—he remained about a quarter of an hour—Martin was present when the landlord's daughter said something to Mr. Butler—that happened in the back parlour, a few minutes before they left—I did not go in then—I said, "The gentleman has lost his ring," and Martin said, "No, it is just down in his waist-coat," and he pulled it up in its place—I noticed his chain—he was wearing that at the time in its proper place—I noticed a dog there—I have lived at that tavern two years—it bears a nick-name, "The Miserable Man. "

Cross-examined. Q. Had they anything to drink at the bar? A. I did not notice—they had nothing when they came in—the prosecutor was tipsy, Martin was sober—I can't say whether he had been drinking at all—he was not the worse for liquor—I should not have liked to have taken the prosecutor to Highgate that night—it would have been rather a difficult job.

JURY. Q. Is there a landlord? A. No; I did not lend Briggs the 6d.—I had not got one.

MR. BESLEY. Q. Had you any difficulty in lifting the prosecutor off Briggs? A. No; he was drunk—I did not serve either of them with a pot of beer.

COURT. Q. Briggs did not ask for the 6d. till after the others were gone, did he? A. No; he came back about three minutes after they left as near as I can say.

ANN HEPWELL . I live at 3, Bradley's-buildings, Hampstead, and am single—I have known Briggs some time—on Monday evening, 7th May, at half-past 9, I was walking from Hampstead up Haverstock-hill—I passed the George public-house, which is near Belsize-lane, and looked at a clock

there—I can speak to the time—I saw Briggs alone, going up Haverstock-hill, towards Hampstead—I said to him, "Halloa, George, how proud you get," and he said, "Halloa, Anne," and asked me where I had been to—he showed me a leather collar with rails at one side—I did not notice his face, he seemed sober—he told me the collar was a champion's collar, and he got it from Nat Langham's—I said, "Very likely it is a dog's collar; very likely you have been and took it off some dog's neck"—he said, "No, Annie, I don't do such things"—he put it round his neck and said, "See how it fits me"—I was with him very nigh half an hour—we walked on towards Hampstead all that time—I got home a few minutes before 10—I left him at the corner of Flaskwalk, which leads to his house.

SAMUEL EARL (Policeman, S 183). On Monday evening, 7th May, I was on duty in Heath-street—I saw Briggs going up Heath-street in the direction of the Heath, at a few minutes past 10 at night—I know the spot where the last witness has described she left him—it was about a minute's walk from that place that I saw him—the distance from the place where Mr. Butler was attacked to where Hepwell first met Briggs, is about a quarter of a mile.

Briggs. I was going up towards the Horse and Groom.

COURT. Q. You knew him and he knew you, I suppose? A. Yes; some years—the direction he was going in leads to the Horse and Groom.

JOSEPH CAMPBELL (Policeman, 138). In consequence of some communication made to me I took Briggs on Wednesday evening, 9th May—he came with me to the police-station quietly—the charge against him was stealing a gold Albert chain and a silver watch, and other property, from a Mr. Butler, on Monday evening, in Belsize-lane—Briggs said he was in company with a gentleman, but he knew nothing of the robbery; he was innocent of it—he said, "I left Martin and a gentleman in Belsize Tavern, and I came home to Hampstead about half-past 9 o'clock"—he said he saw Martin again in the town of Hampstead afterwards, that night.

JOHN WILLIAM AYLIFPE (Police-inspector, S). I got this watch and chain from Mr. Melhuish's, a pawnbroker's, in Maldon-road—this is the ticket—they were pledged in the name of Buckle, on 8th May—I was present when Briggs and his father were together—before they had any conversation, I said to the father, "sYou can see your son in my presence or in the presence of a constable, but whatever he says may be given in evidence against him—I took him to the cell door with policeman Hill—he asked his son "Do you know anything of the gentleman's watch?"—Briggs said, "No, I do not"—the father then said, "George, do you know anything of the dog's collar?"—he said, "Yes, I do; I took the dog up in the Belsize Tavern, and his collar came off and I took it away, and after I had heard that the gentleman had lost his watch, I stamped the collar to pieces in the street"—Mr. Butler said he was knocked down not a minute's walk from the tavern—the spot pointed out as the place of the robbery was about twelve yards from the tavern—it is about three or four minutes' walk from that place to where Hepwell says she met Briggs that night—I can walk it in about four minutes—it is not a quarter of a mile.

Cross-examined. Q. When was this robbery first reported to you? A. On Tuesday night, 8th May—that was the first I heard of it—the report was made to me at the station by Mr. Butler the following night after the robbery—I saw the disfigurements on his face—a fearful face he had got, and both his eyes were black—I have never heard anything against Martin's character, except that he has not been home at night lately—I know his

parents—I have nothing against them whatever—I know the Belsize Tavern—it is much frequented; it is chiefly used by the workmen on the Belaize estate, of whom Briggs was one—he was working for some sub-workman there.

Briggs. The gentleman said he would not give anybody in charge.

COURT. Q. Did he refuse to give anybody into custody? A. Yes; he complained very much of what had been done to him, and he said although he was drunk, they had no right in a free country like this to knock him about, and I thought it was a case for investigation.

EDWARD HARVEY . I am assistant to Mr. Melhuish, of 50, Maldon-road, pawnbroker—on Tuesday, 8th May, this watch, chain, and seal were pawned at his shop—I believe they were brought by Briggs—it was somewhere about 11 or 12 in the morning—he asked 15s. on them—I asked him if the chain was gold—he said it was—I asked him if it belonged to him—he said it did, and I advanced him 15s.—he gave the name of George Buckley—this is the duplicate in reference to it—Martin pledged a dark coat at our shop on the 11th for 6s.—the ticket is here.

Briggs. Can you swear to me? A. I don't swear to you—to the best of my belief you are the man that pledged it, bat I cannot swear to it.

MR. BESLEY. Q. What is the foundation of your belief? A. It was a man about the same height; he had dark clothes and a low hat, similar to what Briggs wears.

Briggs. The potman can swear I was at work on that day.

EDWARD HILL (reexamined). On Tuesday, 8th May, I saw Briggs at a quarter before 8 in the morning, and saw him at work afterwards about half-past 10 on the estate—I did not see him after that—I am not about the buildings—I take the beer down—his time for leaving was half-past 5—it would not be right for him to be away at 11 or 12—he would be leaving his work.

JOHN WILLIAM AYLIFFE (reexamined). Mr. Melhuish's would be about a quarter of an hour's walk, if a man went straight there from the estate.

CHARLES KEMP (reexamined). On this Tuesday morning I saw Briggs standing in High-street, Hampstead, about 10 or half-past—that would be about half a mile from his work, in an opposite direction to the pawnbroker's, about a mile from the pawnbroker's—I left him standing there.

The prisoners' Statements before the Magistrate. Briggs says, "I am not guilty of taking the watch and chain, nor of the pipe or tobaceo pouch, but I own I am guilty of stealing the dog's collar. "

Martin says, "I am not guilty of the charge made against me."

Briggs' Defence. I am not guilty. NOT GUILTY .

536. CHARLOTTE HARRIET STOLLARD (38) , Feloniously wounding Richard Stollard, with intent to do him some grievous bodily harm.

MR. GRIFFITH conducted the Prosecution, and MR. F. H. LEWIS the Defence. RICHARD STOLLARD. I am a lighterman—on 11th May, I lived at 3, St. James'-street, St. George's—the prisoner is my wife—about 4 o'clock on 11th May I went home and went up stairs—my wife was there—we lived on the first-floor back room—I had no sooner got into the room than I walked towards the fireplace—I saw my wife standing against the window—I walked over towards her—I saw a piece of iron in the fire like a skewer, used as a small poker—I had no sooner got near her than she said, "You b—, I will do for you," and she took this piece of iron (produced) out of

the fire and ran it into my eye—the end of it was not quite so hot as the other part—the other part burnt my hand, and I put it in the hand basin—it burnt my eye—the blood flew directly—my wife stopped in the room all the time—I said, "You have done it now," and I called out "plioce!" immediately and ran away downstairs—my wife was not sober—she had been at the Thames Police Court all day, and had been drinking the best part of the day—on Sunday we had a few words—she was drunk on Sunday morning, and she took the dinner off the fire and threw it all over, and said she would do for me.

Cross-examined. Q. Are you generally a kind husband to your wife? A. I have been—about two years ago I was away from her on account of her drunken and dirty habits—I was in the House of Correction, not for desertion, because my wife was receiving money from me the whole time—I don't know what it was for—when I came out I did not go back to her—I did not go and live with a woman—I do not know a woman named Sarah Thistle, not for months—I lived with her some time after—at that time I allowed my wife 12s. 6d. a week—I do not exactly know how long I lived with Sarah Thistle—I have not lived with any person of the name of Sarah Sillers—Sarah Miller, perhaps—I did not hear that my wife's friends had furnished her two rooms, and I did not then insist on going back to live with her, for she used to come down and trouble me—although the children were starving she was drinking their money all away—my effigy was carried about the shores of the Thames whilst I was living with one of these women—my fellow-workmen did not cry out, "That is Stollard, who starves his wife and children"—it was because I tried to prosecute men for stealing coals, my effigy was carried about—I came back to live with my wife nearly a twelve-month ago—Mrs. Sharp is one of her associates—I did not knock two teeth out of Mrs. Sharp's mouth—I was remanded on bail on that charge and then discharged—neither Mrs. Sharp nor my wife interceded for me—I have not, since I have been back to my wife, been spending my wages on other women—this skewer was run into my eye, against the top of the eye.

MR. GRIFFITH. Q. You say it stuck in your eye and you had to pull it out? A. Yes; my eye bled—it stuck in my eye, and in pulling it out it burnt my hands—I went direct to the London Hospital—I left the piece of iron in the hand-basin.

WILLIAM HATT . I am a carman, and live in the same house as the prosecutor—at 4 o'clock on 11th May he came home—I was sitting in the front room downstairs—he went upstairs—as soon as he got up she ran to the door and said, "You b—, I'll do for you"—I heard her say that—he then came down stairs with his eye lying on his cheek—he was bleeding—he put a handkerchief up to his eye and held his eye in—I went for a sister—he came down against my room—a constable was fetched—the prosecutor said to the prisoner, "You have done it now."

Cross-examined. Q. Do you mean to represent that you heard her say, "You b—I will do for you now?" A. Yes—I was examined before the Magistrate—I said that there—I said there were no words between them—I said, "I saw the prosecutor go upstairs, and as soon as he got up he cried 'Police!"—she did say, "You b—I will do for you!"—told the Magistrate about that—I did say it before the Magistrate.

WILLIAM CARD (Policeman, K 385). I saw the prosecutor on 11th May, about half-past 4, at his house—his eye was bandaged up with an hospital-bandage—I saw the prisoner in her own room upstairs—I believe she had been drinking, but she knew what she was saying—I believe she knew what

she was about—I told her what she was charged with—she said, "It was not done with that, it was done by the key of the door"—I got this poker out of the fender—it was hot then.

Cross-examined. Q. Were the words she used, "It was done with the key," or, "He fell against the key?" A. That he fell against the key of the door—either "He fell against the key," or "He must have fallen against the key"—it was "He must have fallen against the key"—I believe I took this iron out of the fender—I might have taken it off the fire—I think it was on the top of the grate, not in the fire—I think I took it off the grate—out of the fire, or off the grate—it was not exactly in the fire—I meant the grate when I said I took it out of the fender.

GRIFFITH. Q. At all events, you found it in the grate? A. Yes—I am sure it was in the room.

GEORGE ARTHUR ROGERS . I am house-surgeon at the London Hospital—on 11th May I examined the prosecutor's eye—the left eyelid was very much swollen and completely closed, and there was a superficial discolouration on the upper eyelid—I opened the eyelid and found the conjunctiva very much congested—I did not see any blood—all I saw was this discolouration, which might have been a burn—this piece of iron would have caused it—supposing he had fallen against a door-key, that might have done it—he could not open his eye himself—if he had fallen on a door-key I should have expected to have found a bruise—there was no bruise—there was a large amount of swelling.

Cross-examined. Q. You don't mean to tell me you would have found a bruise immediately after? A. I don't know when it was done—you would not find a bruise while the swelling was there—supposing it to have been a burn I should not have expected blood to have flown—if there had been bleeding from the eye, I should draw the conclusion that the instrument was not hot—the man did not offer to show me his hands.

GRIFFITH. Q. In the event of a person getting a blow in the eye would I he not have a black eye? A. If he had a blow he would get a black eye very soon.

COURT. Q. If he had a blow in the eye with a hot instrument you would be more likely to find a discolouration and not a bruise? A. Yes.

GUILTY of unlawfully wounding.— Confined Three Months .

537. WILLIAM FRANCIS (37) , Feloniously wounding Herman Will, with intent to do him some grievous bodily harm.

MR. NICHOLSON conducted the Prosecution.

HERMAN WILL . I live at 7, High-street, Shadwell—on 28th May, between 1 and 2 in the morning, I was disturbed by a noise at my door—I opened the door and saw Martin Gertz, a man who belonged to the house, lying on the ground, and two men and a woman beating him—I said to them, "Let him get up, what are you trying to do with him?"—I put my left arm out and tried to drag him in-doors, and I got a cut on my left arm from a man named Robinson—I tried to catch him, and I caught him by his coat-collar, and at the same time I got a stab from William Francis on my right side—I called "Police!" and gave him in custody—I did not see the instrument he did it with—I am sure he is the man—no one else was there but Robinson and the girl.

MARTIN GERTZ . I live at 7, High-street, Shadwell—on the morning of 20th May I was at my door—I saw the prisoner there—I am quite sure he was one of the men—I was about fifty yards from my door, and passed two

men and a woman—they gave me a shove with the arm—I looked round and told them to leave people alone in the street, and go off to their own business—a big man, not this one, came up and hit me—that was the man, (Robinson)—I began to run, and the two men and the woman ran after me—Francis was the other man—I knocked at my door and sung out for the man that was upstairs—the two men knocked me down at my door, and then Will came and opened the door, and caught hold of me by the coat to draw me in—he sung out, "I have got a cut"—I then caught hold of the big man, and Will afterwards sung out, "I have got another cut "—he had collared the big man when be got the first cut—when he got the second cut the prisoner was by his side—I saw him—I saw no instrument—they dropped a brass knocker before the police-station door.

Prisoner. Q. Did you see me strike that man? A. I did not say you struck him—you were standing alongside of him when he called out.

DANIEL ROSS . I am a surgeon, residing in the Commercial-road—I examined the prosecutor at the station—I found a small punctured wound immediately below the last rib on the right side—a sharppointed instrument like a penknife would produce such a wound—it was not deep—it penetrated his clothes—there was not much blood—it was fortunately immediately over the liver—if it had gone much further in it might have been fatal.

THOMAS GUDGIN (Policeman, K 376). I was on duty near High-street, Shad well, on 20th May—I heard a cry of "Police!" and came up to the prosecutor—the prisoner was given into my custody—the prosecutor had a out on his arm through this shirt—he had no coat on—the men did not try to run away—they said they had not done it.

Prisoner's Defence. I never used no knife—the policeman came up and said I must go to prison—I said "All right!" and went with him.

GUILTY of unlawfully wounding.— Confined Nine Months .

538. JOHN ROBINSON (22) was indicted for the like offence.

MR. NICHOLSON conducted the Prosecution.

HERMAN WILL . The witness's evidence as given in the last case was read over to him, to which he assented, and added:—The prisoner is the man who gave me a cut on the left arm.

Prisoner. I did not stab the man. I had no knife with me to stab him with—the woman I know nothing about.

MARTIN GERTZ . This witness's evidence was also read over to him, to which he added—Robinson was near the prosecutor when he said "I have got a cut" the first time—I was lying on the floor—I had not had anything to drink.

Prisoner. Q. Did you not strike me when yon were at the door? A. No, I was lying on the floor.

DANIEL BOSS . The wound on the arm was an incised wound, about 3 inches in length, simply dividing the skin—superficial—it was done with a sharp cutting instrument—it was a clean cut.

Prisoner. Q. Was there a bruise on my face? A. I did not notice it.

THOMAS GUDGIN (Policeman, K 376). I took these men in custody—I found a sheath or a belt on this man, what they carry their knife in.

Court. Q. Was his face bruised? A. I think he had his lip bruised, or something like that.

Prisoner's Defence. We came ashore on the Saturday, and were searched by the dock gatekeeper—I had no knife.

GUILTY of unlawfully wounding. — Confined Nine Months .

539. FRANCIS STONE (37) , Stealing 401bs of mutton of George Richardson.

FRANK TEMPLEMAN . I mind carts in Newgate Maiket—one Friday morning, in May, at five minutes to 9, I was standing in Newgate-street, and I saw the prisoner get up in a van and get bold of a pair of hind quarters of mutton—he lifted them on his shoulder, got out of the van, and walked up Giltspur-street as far as Cock-lane—there was a cart there, and he chucked them in the cart—I saw a policeman and called him over—the policeman asked him where he got them from—he said a porter gave them to him to carry them out of the market and put them in a cart—he was taken in custody.

SIMEON HATCHWELL (City-Policeman, 202). On 11th May I was on duty an Giltspur-street, and saw the prisoner coming with a pair of hind quarters of mutton on his shoulders, and saw him put them into a cart standing at the corner of Cock-lane—the last witness called me up and told me, in his hearing, that he had stolen it from a van in Newgate-street—I asked the prisoner where he got it from—he said, "A porter gave it me in the market to bring down here to put in a cart"—I asked him who the porter was—he said he did not know his name—I asked him if he knew the owner of the cart he was to put it in—he said, "No"—I then took him to the station—I found 31/2;d. on him—the address on the cart he put the meat in was "William Smeeton, slaughterman, Newgate-market"—I afterwards ascertained it was not his mutton.

GEORGE WILLIAM RICHARDSON . I am a butcher at Highbury—my cart was in Newgate-market on 11th May, standing in Newgate-street—I had several hind-quarters of mutton in it—I afterwards missed one—I had not given any one authority to get up and take it—I had the mutton back again shortly afterwards—I could identify it by its having a black piece of woo—at the lend.

Prisoner's Defence. I was asked to take this mutton to the cart, and the man did not come; before he came I was given in custody for it.

GUILTY .— Confined Six Months .

540. RICHARD BURT (31) , Stealing a horse, a cab, and a set of harness, the property of John Angle.

MR. HORREY conducted the Prosecution.

HENRY LAMBERT . I am in the service of Mr. John Angle, 1, Tyndale place, Islington, hackney-cab proprietor—on 26th May, at twenty-five minutes to 11—I left my cab on the stand near St. Clement's Church, to go and get some refreshment—I was away about five minutes—when I came it was gone—it was No. 10784—I then got on another cab with the coach-man, and went and told my master—I then came back with Inchley the under-foreman in a chaise-cart, and went about to look for my cab—about a quarter past 12 in the morning, I saw my cab coming down Fleet-street towards St. Paul's—the prisoner was driving, and there was a lady and gentleman inside—we turned round and followed the cab—he went up Ludgate-hill—Hinchley got out of the cart as I was driving along, and went and stopped the horse, and I saw the prisoner get down off the cab and run—Hinchley ran after him, and stopped him—I gave him into custody, and charged him with stealing the cab and horse—he did not say anything at the time—when he was taken to the station, he said he did not take it; it was the man inside who was the driver of it; he was inside with a woman—I don't know what became of the man and woman—I can't say that I had seen the prisoner before.

Prisoner. I wish to acknowledge taking the cab, but was only trying to get a shilling with it; I had no intention of stealing it.

CHARLES BALLARD . I am a cabman—about half-past 11 on Saturday evening, 26th May, I was with my cab on the stand by St. Clement's church—I saw the last witness and two others go and have a glass of something to drink at the George and Dragon—the prisoner was standing smoking a pipe at the corner—he makes across the road to the horse's head and leans on the shaft, and faces me—directly I turned my back to my own horse, the cab was gone—the last witness came out of the public-house, and said, "Where is my cab?"—I said, "There it is, through Temple-bar, with the man with a light coat on"—I am sure this is the man.

GEORGE HINCHLEY . I live at 11, pickering-street, Islington, and am underforeman to Mr. Angle—on Saturday night, 26th May, the last witness came to me and said he had lost his cab—I got into a chaise-cart, and went off with him in search of it—we found it coming down Fleet-street—the prisoner was driving it—I got out of the cart, and went after him—I told him to stop—he would not stop—he was going to hit the horse just as I caught hold of its head—he then got down, and ran away—the lady and gentleman inside said, "Stop, stop!" and I opened the door, and let them out—I did not hear from them where they were going—I found the prisoner standing at the corner of Bridge-street, close by—I never said anything to him—I followed him up, and he was given into custody.

JOHN MCGREGOR (City Policeman, 474). About half-past 12 on Sunday morning, 27th May, I was on Ludgate-hill, and heard cries of "Stop thief," and saw the prisoner running—I pursued him, and took him into custody—I asked him why he was running—he made no answer—Lambert came up, and gave him in custody for stealing his horse and cab—at Bow-street the prisoner said that he did not take the cab with the intention of stealing it—he said the driver was inside with a woman, and ordered him to drive it

JAMES JOHN HINCHLEY . I am foreman to Mr. Angle, a hackney-carriage proprietor at Islington—this cab was his property—I have seen it—it is No. 10784—the cab, harness, and horse, all belonged to him—it is worth about 40l.

Prisoner's statement before the Magistrate. I did not take the cab with the intention of stealing it

Prisoner's Defence. All I took it for, was to earn a shilling with; I wished to earn a shilling; I was out of place; I had been a driver.

NOT GUILTY .

541. THOMAS TINING (20) , Stealing a carpet-bag, one pair of slippers, and other articles, of Moses Kemp.

MR. LANGFORD conducted the Prosecution.

MOSES KEMP . I am coachman to a job-master, at Lower Norwood—on the morning of 18th May, I drove a lady, Mrs. Catherine Banister, to Mr. Silver's shop, 66, Cornhill, in a brougham—she went into the shop, while I was standing outside—I cast my eyes round, and saw the prisoner's arm in the carriage-door, and saw him remove a carpet-bag—it had a pair of slippers and a roll of silk in it—I jumped off the box, and caught him, and gave him in charge—I have no doubt at all about this being the man—he went away with the bag, and I jumped off the box and caught him with it in his possession.

Prisoner. Q. Did you pick the carpet-bag up? A. No; I saw you take

it from the window—I waited till I thought you had got them quite safe, and then I jumped off the box, and caught you—you took a shawl at the same time, and you were in the act of winding the shawl round the carpet-bag when I saw you.

SYDNEY OWEN . I am a clerk at 25, Mark-lane—on the morning of 18th May, about 11 o'clock, I was in Cornhill, and saw the prisoner walking off with this carpet-bag and shawl—I saw the last witness stop him—be had them in his hand at the time.

ROBERT RUDDOCK (City-policeman, 625). I took the prisoner.

Prisoner's Defence. I was crossing the road, and the carpet-bag was thrown down near to me; the footman was running after the person who had it, and he dropped it, and the men laid hold of me, and thought it was me.

GUILTY .—He PLEADED GUILTY to a former conviction at Clerkenwell, in April, 1860, in the name of Thomas Bateman.—Sentence, Confined Eighteen Months.**— Seven Years' Penal Servitude .

542. GEORGE HARRIS (22) , Stealing a coat, the property of William Howell.

WILLIAM HOWELL . I am a carman, of 3, Queen-street, Grosvenor-square—or 14 th May, I was out with my van on Tower-hill—my coat laid on the box—I stood about five or ten yards from the van, on the pavement—I saw the prisoner go from behind the van with my coat under his arm—I followed him—I was on one side of the van, and he on the other—I followed him as far as Thomas-street, seized him by the collar, and took my coat, and gave him in charge.

ROBEBT FOX (City-policeman, 597). I took the prisoner—the prosecutor charged him with stealing his coat.

The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate. The man that gave me this coat says: "Take this, and wait at the corner of Beer-lane;" he had asked me if I wanted a job.

Prisoner's Defence. The man asked me if I wanted a job, and told me to wait at the corner of Beer-lane.

GUILTY .— Confined Six Month .

543. ARTHUR RICKETT (35) , PLEADED GUILTY to embezzling the sums of 25l., 10l. and 9l. 19s. 9d. of Charles Walton and another his masters.

Recommended to mercy by the prosecutors.— Confined Two Years .

FOURTH COURT.—Wednesday, June 13th, 1866.

Before Mr. Recorder.

544. JOHN SMYRK (19), and JOHN DALEY (18) , Robbery on John Groves, and stealing from him 1 watch, his property.

MR. COOPER conducted the Prosecution.

JOHN GROVES . I live at 10, Dereham-terrace, Chelsea—about 5 o'clock, on 29th May, I was in Charles-street, Westminster—I went into a public-house—the two prisoners were there—I entered into conversation with them—I ordered a pot of beer and paid for it, and they assisted to drink it—I went into the back yard, and on returning, I found some one's hand in my

waistcoat-pocket—there were several people round me then, and I could not tell whose hand it was—I pulled it out, and told them to keep their hands out of my pockets—the prisoners were amongst the people—some one knocked me down with his fist—I ran away, and was collared by the back of the neck, and thrown down on the pavement—I felt my watch-chain broken, and I seized the prisoner Daley—shortly afterwards a constable brought back Smyrk—I saw Daley pass something to Smyrk—I gave them both in custody—the watch that was afterwards produced was mine, and was worth 2l.—I was sober.

AARON SKINNER (Policeman, A 557). About 5 o'clock, on this afternoon, I was in Charles-street, and saw Groves' holding Daley by the collar—they were struggling—I saw Daley take something from his breast, and pass it to Smyrk—Smyrk ran away, and I followed him, and called out, "Stop thief!" and he was stopped about seventy yards from the spot—I was taking him back, when a gentleman said, "A lad has picked up the watch, police-man," and produced it—I did not see it picked up—there was no one running but Smyrk—I took the prisoners to the station—they struggled very violently—Groves had had a little drink, but was perfectly sober—I was about thirty yards off when I first saw him on the ground.

SMYRK— GUILTY .— Confined Twelve Months .—DALEY— GUILTY .—He was further charged with having been before convicted, to which he PLEADED GUILTY.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude .

545. WILLIAM HIGGINS (26), JOHN CARTER (25), and HENRY AUSTIN (25) , Burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Reginald Davis, and stealing therein a silk gown, and other articles, his property. . MR. G. H. LEWIS conducted the Prosecution

ELIZABETH CATHERMILL . I am housemaid in the service of Mr. Davis, of 2, South-villas, Camden-hill—on the evening of 25th April, between 10 and 11, I fastened the window of the boot-room and the street door—the boot-room window opens into the garden—next morning, between 5 and 6, I went out, with Sarah Hooper and a sweep named Elson—I saw two men in the road, and one getting over the wall—Higgins was one but I did not see the faces of any of them until I got to Sheffield Gardens, and I ran after them to Sheffield Gardens, and I had not lost sight of them—I cannot identify the others, excepting their dresses.

SARAH HOOPER . I am the prosecutor's cook—on the morning of 26th April, I was expecting the sweeps, and came down stairs at a quarter to 5—the housemaid came down after me—after the sweeps came, we found the boot-room had been entered—about twenty minutes' past 5, I saw two men getting over the wall of Captain Spry's house, and I called his servant—from a quarter to 5 I remained in the kitchen, or about the house, until the sweeps came—one man was dressed in a round hat and blue coat—I believe that to be Austin—I cried out, "There they are"—I went after them, the sweeps and housemaid following—the house had been entered from a window at the back, which could be pulled down—I examined the place to see what had been removed, and found some boots and buckles tied up in a silk robe, all of which were Mr. Davis' property—these silver buckles (produced) were kept in a small box on a shelf in the boot-room—they were found in Captain Spry's house by his cook.

Higgins. Q. Did you fasten the window of the boot-room the night before the burglary? A. No; the housemaid did—I followed you until I

was exhausted, and then I returned to the house—I can recognise you all by your dress—I only saw your back.

Carter. Q. Do you swear to me? A. Yes.

Austin. Q. Can you positively swear to me? A. Yes, I saw you in the garden.

GEORGE ELSON . I am a chimney-sweep—on the morning of 26th April, I went to Mr. Davis' house, at about half-past 5—I heard the cook call for assistance—I ran to the front gate—when I turned the corner of Lark-hill, I saw three men running in the road—I and the housemaid followed them—I overtook them at Palace-garden terrace—I said, "What are you running for?"—one of them said something about them wanting a walk—the prisoners are the three men—Higgins put his hand on my shoulder as though he were going to pat me on the back, but he gripped me by the the collar, and Austin struck me two blows with his fist—then Higgins and Austin closed upon me, and threw me on my back, and Austin held my hands—I saw Higgins pull a life-preserver out of his coat-pocket—he hit me on the head several times—I do not know how many, but I had four distinct marks—Carter said, "Kick him; kick him;" and I was kicked on the shoulder and back—they fled—I lost my senses for a moment, but followed them directly I came to—blood was streaming down my face—they were ultimately stopped, and handed over to the police.

Higgins. Q. Do you recognise me as one of the three? A. Yes; I recognise you as the one that had the life preserver—you all three turned your faces repeatedly.

Carter. Q. You say you heard me say, "Kick him; kick him"—where was I? A. Standing on the kerb, looking on—at the police-court I said, I "thought" so, because then I was not sure, but I am now.

GEORGE SNELLING . I am a labourer—on the morning of 26th April, I saw Elson knocked down with a life preserver—I was going to work, and was about four yards off—Higgins struck him, but they were all three together—I saw them run away—when Higgins was caught, I saw a life preserver in his pocket—they were stopped about 400 yards from the spot where I first saw Elson—I kept them in sight all the time—the prisoners are the three men I saw.

Higgins. Q. What part of the street was it that the man was struck? A. Nearly opposite the model lodging-houses—it is called Palace-garden-terrace, and it is called the "Mall"—I saw you strike the sweep—I did not see the commencement of it—I do not know which end of the street it was exactly, but I saw you hit him.

Carter. Q. Did you see me do anything? A. No, I did not—I was only four yards off—I never heard you speak a word.

Austin. Q. Where was I when the sweep was struck? A. You were all together, opposite the "Mall" tavern.

COURT. Q. Do you say that where they were stopped was close to the place were the sweep was knocked down? A. Yes—they were stopped by a working man—I saw the policeman pull the life-preserver out of Higgins' pocket.

RICHARD WEBBER . I am a stone-mason—on the morning of 26th April, about twenty minutes to 6, I saw three men running—Elson and two women were running after them—the prisoners are the three men—I did not go after them, but went on towards my work—shortly afterwards, I saw them again, coming down another street—the sweep was behind them—he called out to me to stop them, and be said they had nearly murdered him—he was

bleeding—I and a fellow-workman ran towards them—they stopped, and wanted to know the reason we stopped them—I told them I did not know, but if they would wait a minute until the sweep came up, they would know—the sweep came up, and told us they had broken into a house just before, and begged of us to stop them, and keep them until a policeman came—Austin struck me on the arm with a life-preserver—he said if we wore anything like men, we would let them go, and they would make it up to us some day—they spoke to each other for a few minutes, and then said, "Let us go back," and they turned round and went towards the "Mall"—I said, "You can go which way you like, we will follow you"—we sent another man to get two policemen, and they came to our assistance—I took Higgins, and the police took the other two—as I was walking with Higgins, my fellow-workman said, "sLook out, he is going to take something out of his pocket"—he had a life-preserver in his hand—he said he could have smashed my head as he was going along, if he had liked.

Higgins. Q. Where did you first see the sweep bleeding? A. When he was about 100 yards behind you—I was in Church-street at the time, and you were running towards me—I first saw you in Sheffield-gardens.

Carter. Q. Are you sure you saw me? A. Yes, and felt your fist Austin. Q. Are you sure you saw me? A. Yes, and felt the blow you gave me with the life-preserver.

GRACE REEGAN . I am a servant, in the employ of Captain Spry, who lives next door to Mr. Davis—these buckles I found on our copper about half-past 7 on the morning of 26th April—the dining-room and drawing-room of our house were all upset—they were all right the night before.

Higgins. Q. Do you know me? A. No, I do not.

WILLIAM BUTCHER (Policeman, T 163). I recollect hearing the cry of "Murder" on the morning of 26th April—I went in the direction of the cries, and met Elson with blood upon his face—he pointed the three prisoners out to me—at that time, they were being detained by the last witness, and another man—I took from Higgins' coat pocket this life-preserver—I took Carter to the station. GUILTY.—They were further charged with having been previously convicted.

WILLIAM HOWSE (Policeman, D 97). I was present at this court when Higgins was tried, in the name of John Lane, for burglary, and sentenced to Six Years' Penal Servitude. I was the officer in that case.

JOSEPH KING . I am a warder at the House of Correction—I produce a certificate of conviction against Carter, dated 21st January, 1861, in the name of Edward Cooper; he was then charged with having been previously convicted, and sentenced to Six Years' Penal Servitude. I was present at the trial; that man was Carter. I also produce a certificate against Austin, in the name of George Goddard; he had Three Months, and was afterwards detained in a Reformatory school. I was present at the trial; the prisoner Austin is the same person.

HUGGINS— GUILTY .— Twenty Years' Penal Servitude

CARTER— GUILTY .— Fifteen Years' Penal Servitude

AUSTIN— GUILTY .— Ten Years' Penal Servitude .

There were forty-five convictions against the three prisoners. THE COURT ordered 10l. to be paid to ELSON for the part he had taken in bringing them to justice.

546. THOMAS BURBERRY (35) , Feloniously receiving 58 gallons of Port-wine, the property of John Smithers.

MR. GOUGH conducted the Prosecution, and MR. DALY the Defence.

SAMUEL NEAL . I am a carman in the employ of Mr. John Smithers, who carries on business at 3, Well-street, Well-close-square—on 8th Feb-ruary I went to the docks to fetch a pipe of port-wine to take to Mr. Potter's, of Tower-hill, which I did—the wine was in the cart, and I left the horse and cart outside, while I went in to speak to Mr. Potter—I was there about five minutes, and when I went out the horse, and cart, and wine, was gone—the horse and cart was brought home by some one next morning.

WILLIAM SMITHERS . I manage the business of my father, the prosecutor—he is a town carrier—I went to Mr. Woodin's, the "Shades," Bishopsgate-street, about a fortnight after it was stolen, and got a sample of wine—I showed that sample to Mr. Morris—I have a great deal to do with wine; nine-tenths of my business is wine—I then took a sample of the wine that had been stolen to Mr. Woodin, and compared it with some he had, and it was of precisely the same character; but Mr. Woodin's was rather heavy, which might have been caused by being rolled about—two detectives were present when I compared the wine—I took a sample away with me—young Mr. Woodin was also present—I noticed that the wine was in brandy casks, and that the casks were not trimmed as a cooper would do it—they had ginger-beer corks in the head.

Cross-examined. Q. Did you take a sample of the wine from the Docks? A. Yes, a sample of that mark—I took it in a half-pint bottle—I took a sample from Messrs. Potter's to Mr. Woodin's—I brought it away with me, and handed it over to the police—this is the sample (produced)I got from Mr. Woodin's—this writing on the bottle is one of our clerks'—by tasting this wine, I could tell you what kind of wine it is—I would not undertake to say what it was made of.

ANTHONY WILSON MONOGER . I have seen this bottle before—I saw the wine drawn from a cask at Mr. Woodin's and put into this bottle—it was given to Mr. Smithers' clerk, who put this label on it, who gave it to me, and it has been under look and key since.

Cross-examined. Q. Were you examined before the Magistrate. A. I was not—I had this bottle in my pocket—Mr. Smithers put it into the bottle.

EDWIN MORRIS I am a traveller to Mr. Potter, a wine-merchant of 88, Tower-hill—I have been in the trade nine years—I tasted the samples of wine obtained from Mr. Woodin, and some like what was stolen, and I should say they were the same.

Cross-examined. Q. When did you taste it? A. A fortnight or three weeks after the robbery—this wine was worth about 17s. a gallon—if it is not the same wine, it is very much like it.

THOMAS SMART (City-policeman). I went to the prisoner's house on 6th May, with Monger—I knocked at the door, and the prisoner answered it—I told him I wanted to speak in reference to some wine-we went into his parlour—I told him we were officers, and asked him if he had sold any wine, by sample, to Mr. Woodin?—he hesitated for a moment or two, and then said, "Yes, I have; I do remember selling some"—I said, "What is the reason you have not called for the money?"—he said, "I sold it for a man named Childs, and I was to have 6d. a gallon commission for selling"—I said, "What Childs do you mean? do you mean Childs who has been already convicted?"—he said, "Yes; Childs was outside the door during the time I was in Mr. Woodin's house on one occasion"—I said, "How is it you have

not applied for the money?"—he said "he never was to apply for it—it was understood he was never to apply for it"—I said, "You were in Mr. Woodin's house the same night that the wine was delivered, and your attention was called to the wine by young Mr. Woodin, and you asked him to put it out of sight, as it was "maced"—he said, "I deny that"—I have been in the police fifteen years—I have always understood "maced" to mean goods obtained with a view never to pay for them—I took him to the station—I was at Mr. Woodin's house on the 23d February—Mr. Smithers was there, and he took this sample of wine from a cask.

THOMAS WOODIN . I live at the "Shades," Bishopsgate-street—my father is the landlord—I remember a quantity of wine being brought to our house in February last—that is the wine that is the subject of this inquiry—it was brought in a covered cart, and was in two brandy "quarter"—that is not the usual way wine is sent home—they were placed inside our bar—the prisoner did not come with them, but I had seen him before—a police-officer named Galer was present, and I said to the prisoner, "That wine has not arrived yets"—he said, "No, it has not, but it will be here tomorrow afternoon at four o'clock "—I saw him on the evening of the next day, and said, "That wine has come," he said, "You had better put it out of the way as soon as possible," as it is "maced"—I did not know the meaning of the word, and I did not know what it meant.

Cross-examined. Q. Was there not a ring being handed about the bar, and did the prisoner not make some disparaging remarks about it, saying it was not worth much? A. I was showing a ring that I had lately bought, but I do not remember what the prisoner said—the word "maced" might have applied to the ring.

JESSE PICKETT . I am a greengrocer, and carry on business at 129, King's Cross-road—I cart goods—I know a man named Childs—he used to live two or three hundred yards from me—I remember seeing him in the early part of last February—he made a statement to me, and in consequence I took a horse and cart to his door to remove a cask of tools.

The COURT considered that there was no evidence that the prisoner had received the wine. NOT GUILTY .

547. THOMAS COOPER (55) , Feloniously forging and uttering a cheque for 29l. 4s. with intent to defraud.

MR. BESLEY conducted the Prosecution, and MR. DALY the Defence.

KAUFFMAN GREENBAUM . I am a boot and shoe manufacturer, of 48, Craven-street, Finsbury—in 1865 I had an account at the London and County Bank, Islington-branch—I usually kept my cheque-book in my desk, and sometimes in the safe—in May, 1866, I drew a cheque in favour Messrs. Somerville for 29l. 4s.—that cheque I received back from the bank, and filed it—it is now missing—the prisoner was in my service—he had only been with me a few months—he was with me before Christmas last, and left about 9th January this year—he was a clicker—two men named Wheeler and Wilson were also in my service—about 13th January I had occasion to look at my cheque-book, and I found two cheques missing—this cheque (produced) I first saw on 13th January—it is signed in my name, but not by me, and I never authorized anyone to sign it—I have seen the prisoner write, and am acquainted with his writing—I believe this cheque is in his writing—the whole of it—"Somerville & Co." and "sKauffman Greenbaum," is an imitation of my writing, but the date is different—after the 13th

January I communicated with the police—the man Wheeler was given into custody upon another charge—the prisoner had access to my desk.

Cross-examined. Q. Had not other people access besides! A. Yes, any one might have gone to it—I suspected my traveller at the same time—I and the detective looked at the traveller's writing, and then at the prisoner's, and finally the detective thought the prisoner was the man—I did not know the prisoner was about leaving my employ, and I did not know he had got a place where he could go home to dinner and tea—he sent me a message to say he was ill, and when he came back he said he could better himself, and thanked me for my employment—I offered a sum of money to any one who would find out the man who forged the cheque—I never carry blank cheques in my purse.

THOMAS EDWARD WILSON . I am a traveller in Mr. Greenbaum's service—I have seen the prisoner write, but I have not watched his writing—the "7'' on this cheque is particularly like his, but I could not speak to anyother—I was not aware of cheques being taken from the cheque-book—a man named Wheeler was also in Mr. Greenbaum's service.

Cross-examined. Q. Were you sure of the "7" at the police-court? A. I was not asked, and I did not say anything about it.

WILLIAM WHEELER . I am a boot-closer of 3, Sawyer's-place, Lambs-passage, Chiswell-street—Joseph Wheeler is my son—I went to see him at the House of Detention, and I met the prisoner coming out—he told me be had been to see my son, and I asked him what for—he said to make it all right regarding the cheque, and he hoped my son would hold his tongue, as he would swear before fifty b—judges that he saw the governor write it himself.

Cross-examined. Q. Did you ever state that to anyone before to-day? A. Yes; I told Mr. Greenbaum, and several people—I was not examined before the Magistrate—I told Mr. Greenbaum of it when the examination was going on at Worship-street—the prisoner also told me that he was going to Pocock's, in the Blackfriars-road, after a situation—I get my living by boot closing—I do not keep a shop—my son lived at 18, Hook-street, Hackney-road—I work for Dawson's in Basingball-street, and other houses.JOSEPH WHEELER. I was convicted of robbing Mr. Greenbaum, and am now a prisoner in the House of Correction—I was in Mr. Greenbaum's employ—shortly before Christmas I went to the shop a little before 9 in the morning—the prisoner was the only person there—he had a cheque laid on a pane of glass, and he was tracing it with pen and ink—I could see "London and County Bank," and "Somerville and Co."—I believe this is the cheque—he knew that I saw him—he destroyed one of the cheques, the one he was copying from—at dinner-time on the same day I was in the Weavers' Arms with him—Smith was there, and the prisoner sent him to fetch a man named Shepherd—when they returned, he put a date to a cheque, and gave it to Smith and Shepherd to get cashed at the bank—they came back again about 2 o'clock—Smith had some money in a brown paper bag—I saw them again at tea time, in a coffee-house, two doors from Clifton-street—the prisoner and Smith were there—the prisoner gave Smith 5l. and told him that was his share—he had another cheque in his hand, but I do not know whether this is the one—Smith was asked to take it to Shepherd, which I believe he did, and Shepherd refused to take it—the prisoner gave me 4l. in the Weavers' Arms—the prisoner came to me at the House of Detention—I told him Mr. Greenbaum had been, and that I had told him about the cheque—he said I could do as I liked, but, if he was me, he

should say that the governor wrote them, and if he was taken up he would swear that he saw him write them—my father called to see me the same day.

Cross-examined. Q. Did you say anything about that before the magistrate? A. No; I did not say anything more than I was asked—I told the solicitor the same story I have told you to-day—I have been convicted for what the prisoner brought to my place—I have not been sentenced yet—the prisoner was foreman—the prisoner wrote the cheque with a steel pen—he held the Cheque perpendicularly.

MR. BESLEY. Q. Was it after you had been examined before the magistrate that you told the solicitor of that conversationt? A. Yes; on the same day.

COURT. Q. When were you convicted? A. On 2d May—I was in the House of Detention before I was tried—the prisoner was not a witness against me at my trial

FREDERICK SMITH . Joseph Wheeler is my brother-in-law—the prisoner sent word by him that he wanted to speak to me—I went to the prisoner at the Weavers' Arms—it was the latter end of December or the beginning of January—the prisoner said he wanted me to go to a man named Shepherd, who lived down one of the turnings in Cannon-street, St George's in the East, and ask him if he would present a cheque for him—he said that his master was going to be bankrupt, and in consequence he would not get any money, and he would take one of the cheques that his master had written for one of his creditors—I went to Shepherd's, and he came back with me—this is the cheque the prisoner gave me—I saw him first in the morning—he gave me the cheque and told me to bring Shepherd round at dinner-time, which I did—he dated the cheque then—I saw him write the date—he said Shepherd was to take the cheque into the bank, and I was to remain outside, and that he was to bring it in gold and silver—we took a bus to the bank, and the prisoner gave me a shilling to pay the fare—when we got to the bank, Shepherd took the cheque in—when he came out we jumped into a bus, and rode down Goswell-road—then we got out and went into a public-house—Shepherd had then a bag with 20l. in gold, and another one with 9l. 4s. in silver—he gave me all but 8l., which he had for himself—I directed him to Hoxton Church, and we parted—I then went to Mr. Greenbaum's shop, and looked in at the window—the prisoner saw me and came out—I told him I had the money—he said he would not take it then, and asked me to meet him with it at the coffee-shop at tea-time—he said in case it was found out that evening he would not have the money—I went to the coffee-shop—the prisoner and Wheeler were there—I took 5l. of the money, and handed the remainder to the prisoner—he said I ought not to have taken 5l., and if he had known it he would have done it himself, but as I knew it, would I go down to Shepherd and ask him if he would present another one—I did not see the cheque, but he told me he had another for 20l.—I went to Shepherd's the next morning, but he would not have anything to do with it; that he was quite satisfied, and did not want to have anything more to do with it—I told the prisoner what he said—he replied, "I do not want him if he wished"—he also said he should stay away from work, and then leave.

Cross-examined. Q. Are you in any employment? A. No—I have never been in Greenbaum's employment—I was working for myself at this time—I am a jeweller, but I have no shop—I buy and sell—I live at No. 3, Sawyer's-place, Chiswell-street, where I have lived about two years—I have

only one room there—it is a front room—I pay my mother 5s. a week for it—I buy jewellery of different manufacturers in Clerkenwell, and I sell it again to people in the trade—some of it to Jews—I buy at wholesale price and sell at an advanced price—any one in the trade can get it at wholesale price as well as me—I knew the prisoner through my brother-in-law working at the same place—I had known him about six or seven weeks, and during that time I had met him two or three dozen times in a public-house—he told me to offer 4l. for Shepherd, and I should have more for myself—I made a statement to Mr. Greenbaum and Mr. Miller.

MR. BESLEY. Q. You have been asked about a statement—just look at that paper, and see if that is your signature at the bottom? A. Yes—I did not know Shepherd before, but I knew the prisoner.

JAMES SHEPHERD . I live at 22, Sydney-street, Commercial-road—I am a clicker in the employment of Mr. Shares, of No. 22, Lower Chapman-street, Caansnon-street-road, East—I have never spoken to the prisoner in my life—I remember Frederic Smith coming to me at Mr. Shares'—I cannot say the date—I went to the bank with him—I saw the prisoner at the public-house, but did not speak to him—Smith spoke to him, and then beckoned me out—I said, "Where are you going to now"—he said, "To the bank"—we got into a bus, and went to the bank—Smith said to me, "Just get this cheque changed," and I went in and changed it—when I came out, I gave Smith the money—we got into a bus and went down the road—then we got out and went into a public-house—when Smith said, "I am going to give you 8l.," I said, "What for?"—he said, "The cheque is a bad one; I have taken it from my master"—I said, "Well, what am I to do?"—he said, "Well, you take this 8l."—I said, "No, I won't"—he said, "I am clerk there at the books, and it will never be found out"—he said, "I shall leave you now"—I said, "I do not know my way," and he directed me to Shoreditch—I never saw the prisoner after—I had for the cheque 20l. in gold, and the remainder in silver—Smith had been to my place twice with a sample of leather, and we went each time and had something to drink together—he brought me a second cheque, but I told him I would have nothing to do with it.

Cross-examined. Q. Then you did not deduct the 8l.? A. No—he gave it to me—I had not seen the prisoner before Smith came to me.

FREDERICK WILLIAMS . I am one of the cashiers at the Islington Branch of the London and County Bank—I produce these two cheques—I cashed this one of 7th January—I cannot say to whom I gave the money—it was all paid in coin—I cashed the other cheque, but I do not know to whom I paid the money—there was one note.

MR. BESLEY to KAUFFMAN GREENBAUM. Q. Were more than two cheques taken out of your bank? A. No—the counterparts were also torn out—the cheques in that bookwere all of the same number.

WILLIAM MILLER (Policeman, 148 G). I took the, prisoner on Monday, 8th January—I told him I should take him into custody for forging one of his employer's cheques—he said, "I expected you"—I said, "Well, you will have to go to the police-station with me; there are some people there that will identify you, and whom you do not expect to see"—he said, "I do not think you have got it quite enough against me jet"—I took him to the station.

Cross-examined. Q. Did you say a single word of that before the Magistrate? A. Yes—it is not in my depositions, but I believe I said so.

The prisoner received a good character. NOT GUILTY .

THIRD COURT.—Thursday, June 14th, 1866.

Before Mr. Common-Serjeant

548. HENRY BAKER (17), THOMAS BARBER (18), and WALTER BURNAND (18) , Robbery with violence on Samuel Woodman, and stealing a watch and a hat, his property.

MR. DALY conducted the Prosecution.SAMUEL WOODMAN. I am a servant at the Junior United Service Club—about half-past 9, on the evening of 22d of April, I was in Newport market—some men came round me—I can't identify any of them—one of them snatched my watch, which was in my waistcoat pocket, and another came behind and dragged me back, and punched me in the face and on the head—this is my watch (produced)—it is worth about 2l. 10s.—they broke the chain—my hat fell off, and then they all ran away.

WILLIAM BALLARD . I am a servant at the Junior United Service Club—I was with the last witness on this night, and saw what he has described—I recognise the prisoner Baker as the one who took the watch—he stood about a yard in advance of us with his back against the shutters, and as we passed him he snatched the watch—at the same time the prosecutor was suddenly seized from behind and punched in the face—his bat fell off in the souffle that ensued, and they all ran away—I only speak to Baker—I am certain it was him.

WILLIAM PHILLIPS . I am a porter at 13, Gerard-street—I was in Newport market when this happened—I recognise Baker and Burnand as being there—I saw Baker standing with his back to the shutters, and he snatched the watch—Burnand pulled his own hat down over his face, and struck the prosecutor in the face and bead—they then all ran away—I was standing just by a public-house—I knew all of them before—there was a lady there—they tried to take her purse too that night—I saw Baker, and Burnand, and a lot more.

ARTHUR HARCOURT . I am an errand boy, and live at 13, Gerard-street—I was with the last witness in Newport market, and saw this occur—I saw Baker standing with his back towards the shutters, and as the prosecutor was passing he snatched the watch away from him, and Burnand pulled his hat over his eyes, and came behind him, and struck him over the face—I saw all three prisoners there—Barber is the third one—they were together, and some more with them—I was not near enough to see the watch taken—I saw Baker snatch at it, and saw them run away—I afterwards saw the prisoners at the Vine-street station; they were alone—they were brought in to see whether I knew them—I knew them—I am sure they were all there.

Barber. Q. Did you ever see me before? A. No; I had seen Burnand and Baker before—I did not see you do anything, but you were standing there with them, and there were two other boys with you.

COURT. Q. You are sure he is the person? A. Yes,

WILLIAM GORDON (Police-Sergeant, C, 33). I took Baker on the 28th of April—I told him it was for robbing a young man of his watch and hat in Newport market—he said, "I was one of them, but I did not strike the blow; Barber sold the watch for 14s."—I took Burnand on the 8th of May—I knew him by the name of Williams—I told him the charge—he said, "I hope you will get me sent to sea"—I did not take Barber—I saw him several times, but I could not catch him—he ran away from me several

times within the period of the apprehension of the other two—I recovered the watch and the hat—the hat was sent to me by the Parcels Delivery Company—the young man who bought the watch is here.

THOMAS ELAN (Policeman, C, 76). I took Barber into custody in Margaret-street, Newport market—I said to him, "I want you to go with me to the station, for being concerned with others in stealing a watch from a lad in Newport market—he said he knew nothing about it—he went quietly with me for a little way, and then made a struggle and got away—I took him again, and then he went quietly.

WILLIAM POLLARD . I live at 32, South-street, Marylebone, and am a French polisher—I bought this watch, not knowing it was stolen—I was standing in a public-house in Compton-street, Soho, having something to drink, when the three prisoners came up to me—it was on Sunday night, the 22d of April, about a quarter to 11—the middle one said he was going into a situation, and he wanted to sell the watcb—he asked me to buy it, and I told him I was going to buy one after Whitsuntide—he asked me 1l. for it—I bought it, and gave the middle one the money—I afterwards gave the watch up to the police—the prisoners were all there together.

Barber's Defence. I met these men the same night the watch was stolen, and they asked me if I knew the way to sell a watch. They followed me And said, "See if you can sell it for us." I went to the public-house, saw this young man, and asked him to buy it I asked him 1l. He said he could not give it me, and he gave me 14s.

GUILTY.—BARBER was further charged with having hem before convicted of felony.

HERBERT REED . I am a warder at Cold Bath-fields—I produce a certificate (read: "This is to certify that on the 28th of March, 1864, at the police-court, Marlborough-street, Thomas Barber was convicted for stealing two pairs of boots of James Stevens Carter. Sentence, One month")—I was not present at the trial—I knew him as being in the prison—I had charge of him.

GUILTY .*— Seven Years' Penal Servitude . BAKER and BURNAND GUILTY *.— Five Years' Penal Servitude each .

549. ROBERT HOYLES (43) , Feloniously wounding Sarah Hoyles, with intent to do her some grievous bodily harm.

MR. TAYLOR conducted the Prosecution, and MR. COLLINS the Defence.

JANE PURKISS . I live at 37, Ossulton-street, Somers Town, and am the wife of Henry Purkiss—the prisoner and his wife have lived there between two and three years—they occupy the first floor back room—on the evening of the 3d of April, about half-past 10, the woman came home—she was very tipsy—I gave her a light, and she went up-stairs—I went into the front kitchen, which is underground—I did not hear anything till I went into the yard to take in my clothes from the line, and then I found her lying on the stones—I think that was about 11, or a few minutes after—I called my son-in-law, Alfred Gray, and he went up and called Hoyles down—I went and fetched the police.

Cross-examined. Q. I believe the wife is a very drunken woman? A. she is—she is rather violent in her language at times;—she gets tipsy very often—this house has only one storey—I have the kitchen and the back parlour—my son-in-law lives on the ground floor—he had just come home—the woman came in about half-past 10—the bed in the prisoner's room is just under the window—it stands nearly close against the wall, not quite

close—there is room to get up between—the window-sill is about two feet from the floor—the window is about sixteen feet from the ground outside.

SARAH HOYLES . I am the prisoner's wife, and live at 37, Ossulton-street—I came home on the 3d of April very much intoxicated—I went up-stairs and some quarrelling took place—I believe I throwed myself out of the window—he has always been a good husband to me, and never laid his hand on me—there was always a piece of wood put under the window to keep it open—I went to look out, and I throwed myself out—(The witness's deposition being read, contained the words, "I expect he throwed me out.")

Cross-examined. Q. I believe you have attempted to throw yourself out before? A. When I am in liquor I don't know what I am doing—I have no recollection of having attempted to drown myself in a waterbutt.

REBECCA PURKISS . I am the daughter of the first witness—I sleep in the back parlour—on this night, some time after half-past 10, I heard a quarrelling in the prisoner's room—I was in bed—I heard a scuffling, and then the window was thrown open, and I heard the prisoner say, "Out you go"—I did not hear any fall—I am quite sure the prisoner said that—I know his voice.

SARAH HARBOUR . I live at 36, Ossulton-street, next door to Mrs. Purkiss's—I sleep on the first floor back—on this Tuesday, 3d April, I was in bed and asleep—about half-past 10, I was awoke by hearing a man and woman quarrelling—it was very bad language the man used towards her, and he said she should not sleep there that night—she said she should, and it caused a very great disturbance and quarrelling, and bad language was used—it continued for some time—at last I heard the window open, and I heard a substance fall—I opened my bedroom window to see if I could see anything on the ground, and I heard Hoyles say, with an oath "Lay there: you won't disturb me any more to-night," and I heard him shut the window down—when I heard his window open, I heard him say, with an oath, "Out you go"—I am sure of that—I heard Gray call Hoyles down not ten minutes afterwards.

Cross-examined. Q. Was your husband in the room with you? A. Yes, and my children—the noise did not awaken them, not that night—the houses are built of brick, but they are very thin—you can hear the clocks tick from one house to the other

ALFRED GRAY . I am the son-in-law of Jane Porkiss, and occupy the front parlour—about 11 on the night of 3d April, she called my attention to the back yard—I had only just come in—when I came in, I heard words upstairs in the prisoner's room—I went out and saw Mrs. Hoyles on the stones—I called the prisoner down—he said, "There you are; she has throwed herself out; ask her yourself"—the window in his room was closed when I went up—I sent for the police.

Cross-examined. Q. This window will not stay open, will it? it shuts of itself? A. It will stay open, all the way up—I have not tried it a little way up—there are lines to it—there were then—I saw them the night of the affair.

MR. TAYLOR. Q. What height is tho window? A. About three feet from the ground—the bed is eighteen inches from the window—the woman was insensible when I saw her.

CHARLES GIFFARD (Policeman, Y 228). I was called to this house in Ossulton-street about a quarter-past 11—I went into the back yard—the prisoner was there, quarrelling with Mr. Gray, and challenging him to fight—the woman was lying on the ground opposite the back kitchen window,

just near the water-butt—there was a line stretched over her across the yard—there was a shawl wrapped round her head—I uncovered it, and found it soaked with blood, likewise her face and head, and a large quantity of blood on the stones as well—she was quite insensible—I raised her head, and sent for a doctor—I asktd the prisoner how she came there—his reply was, "I threw her out of the window, they say, but the b—jumped out"—he then made use of the expression, "Why doesn't the b—get up? if she is dead send for a knacker's cart and take the b—away?"—I told him to hold his tongue, as I did not know whether the woman was dead or alive—while the doctor was attending to her I went up stairs to the room—I cannot say positively whether the window will stay open—it was shut when I went up—the window was about three feet from the floor, and the bedstead was about eighteen inches high, as near as possible—I went back to the yard, and asked the prisoner how the window came closed down, remarking that it was impossible for the woman to have shut it after she had jumped out—he said, "I shut the window down and went to bed"—I then told him I should take him into custody on suspicion of throwing his wife out of window—he said, "Very well"—on the way to the station, he said, "Serve the b—right, she was always pledging my things."

Cross-examined. Q. You have very ingeniously left out the only palliation to this man's language at that time; was he not drunk? A. He was—be said, "Send for a knacker's cart and take her away"—I might have made a mistake there.

WILLIAM FREDERICK BUTT . I am a surgeon at the St. Pancras Infirmary—I was there on 4th April—Mrs Hoyles had been brought there late the previous night—I found a contused and lacerated wound of the scalp, with fracture of the skull—she was insensible when I examined her, and continued so for about three days, more or less—I consider she was not out of danger for three weeks—there were bruises on the right side of the body and arm—the fracture was on the right side of the head—they were such wounds as would be produced by a person falling, or being thrown out of a window sixteen feet high—they would be produced by a fall from any height—she is quite well now.

The prisoner received a good character.— NOT GUILTY .

550. PATRICK O'DONNELL (22) , Feloniously wounding James Ash, with intent to do him some grievous bodily harm.

MR. GRAIN conducted the Prosecution, and MR. WARNER SLEIGH the Defence.

JAMES ASH . I live at Dank-street, Whitechapel—the prisoner is my brother-in-law—his mother kept a boy of mine for two or three months—I did not think they were doing right to my boy, and I took him away on Monday, 14th, about half-past 4 or 5—at 8 o'clock the same evening, I went up stairs for the boy's coat at their house—they said nothing then, but gave me the coat very civilly—no more happened until about ten minutes past 1 on the next morning, when the prisoner came to my house—he knocked at the door—I was sitting on the side of the bed, in the act of stripping myself—I said, "Who is there?"—he said, "It is me"—I knew him by the voice, and I opened the door and let him in—he asked me very civilly whether I would give him Jemmy, meaning my boy—I said, "No, it is too late; come in the morning, and you shall have him"—he said no more, but walked out—his mother was on the stairs, kicking up a row while he was in the room—I went down to let the mother out, and asked her what she was kicking up this row for—she went out first into the street; I was second, and the

prisoner was behind me—the moment I went into the street, I received a blow in the mouth from the prisoner—no words were used, to my recollection—I followed him, and received another blow on the side of the ear—we fell to the ground, and on the ground I received a blow on the left side, and that is all I recollect—when I recovered, two policemen were helping me up—I was standing at the time I recovered—one of the policemen turned on his lantern, and said I was stabbed—I was afterwards attended by a surgeon.

Cross-examined. Q. What did you take your boy away for? A. I thought they did not do right to him—he will be three years old on 15th July—I have asked them several times to take care of the boy, and taken him away several times—the prisoner was not at home when I took him away—I took him away at 4 o'clock, and went for the coat at 8—I had been asleep when the prisoner came to my room—I woke up and began to undress—I had somebody with me in the room—it was a female, not my wife—she is my wife now—I had been at work up to a quarter past 11, and this female had had the boy out for a walk—I do not say I was sober—I had been to a public-house next door—the female had had something to drink, but she was quite sober—I have never had a room in Whitechapel before—this man is a respectable man in my opinion—he does not keep his mother—his mother many a time keeps him—she is a tailoress, and he is a tailor—they keep each other partly—I did not use some very strong language to him when he came to the door—I did not say I would break his neck down the stairs, if he did not go away—I might have said so after I was struck—every time he struck me he ran away—I did not try to shove him out when he came to the door—I went down strairs to close the door after them—I dare say the door was open when they came in—I did not open it—it is sometimes left open all night through neglect—I did not see a knife in his hand—I heard the mother calling me—she was taken upon this charge, and discharged.

MR. GRAIN. Q. What expressions diet the mother use to you? A. She called me very filthy names.

ABRAHAM GOLDSMITH . I am a shoemaker of 3, Dank-street, Mile-end—I heard a great noise on this occasion about 1 o'clock—I went up to it—I stood outside my door—when I came just round the corner, I saw the prisoner and prosecutor having a round, and I saw the prisoner hare a knife in his hand—both of them fell down, and the prisoner gave the prosecutor a out down his cheek—he had the knife between his fingers—I hallooed out directly that he had got a knife in his hand—he was looking at me, and I was afraid, and went away to see if I could see a policeman—I saw a policeman, and told him that the prisoner had a knife—when he saw me speak to the policeman, he went away—he dropped the knife on the cellar-flap of the Three Crowns public-house—some one else picked it up—this is it (produced).

Cross-examined. Q. where were you when you saw this? A. I live next door—I had been at home all the evening—I was at my door—there were five or six people round—the prisoner and the prosecutor were just at the corner past my door when they were fighting—they were sometimes on the pavement and sometimes in the middle of the road, and the people moved round them—no one tried to separate them before the policeman came—they let them fight—there were only two fighting—I did not see the mother—It was a fine night—the lamps were burning—that neighbourhood is very brightly lighted.

THOMAS GULLY (Policeman, 68 H). About 1 o'clock on this morning I

heard cries for assistance—I saw the prisoner and the prosecutor on the ground—I picked them both up—I was afterwards informed by the last witness that the prisoner had got a knife in his hand—he ran away—I did not know the prosecutor was stabbed then—I turned on my light, and saw he was stabbed very much in the back part of the neck, on the side of the face, on the right ear, and on his nose—he had several small stabs besides about his shoulders—I went to the prisoner's house—he was not at home—I took the female into custody—the prosecutor went to the station with me, and the divisional surgeon dressed his wounds—I took the prisoner about half-past 5 the same morning in his own house, and charged him with feloniously cutting and wounding James Ash—he said nothing—the landlord of the Three Crowns gave me this knife.

Cross-examined. Q. Is he here to-day? A. No—the mother was not violent—I did not see her fighting—I took her on the words of the prosecutor—the prisoner did not say anything when I picked them up—the prosecutor said he would go away—they were both the worse for liquor—the prisoner was intoxicated very much when I took him into custody at his own place, about three and a half hours afterwards.

GEORGE BAXTER PHILIPS . I am a surgeon at 2, Spital-square—I examined the prosecutor at the police-station—he had received a deep incised wound, extending four or five inches down to the muscle in front of the right ear, and another deep incised wound below the jaw—there was an incised wound opening his nose, and various punctured wounds about his arms and on his legs—he was saturated in blood, and much exhausted—this knife is a very likely weapon to inflict them, except that I should have thought that the one on the back of the neck was inflicted by a larger blade than this—this might inflict it, but I should have thought it would have been a larger one.

Cross-examined. Q. Might a large blade which would have inflicted that at the back of the neck have inflicted the small ones? A. I think this is just the woapon that would have inflicted those at the side—the point of a large knife might have inflicted the other wounds. GUILTY.—Of unlawfully wounding — Confined four months .

551. JOHN DRISCOLL (the elder) (18), JOHN DRISCOLL (the younger) (17), THOMAS DESMOND (18), THOMAS KELLY (18), and JOHN M'CARTHY (21) , Robbery with violence on Carl Eslander, and stealing a watch and eye glass, and 8l. 4s. in money.

MR. PATER conducted the Prosecution, and MR. CUNNINGHAM defended M'Carthy.

CARL ESLANDER (through an Interpreter). I formerly lived at 4, Upper-street, Whitechapel, and am a doctor of medicine—on Monday night, 17th May last, just past midnight, I was with some friends in Leman-street—I stood for a moment and then walked on—I heard some noise, and was turning round to see, and that moment these three follows rushed on me—one of them struck me in the eye—the third one also struck me in the face—at that time three others came up, and took hold of me; but the first three hearing I was a foreigner, would not allow them to do so—my watch was taken from out of the right waistcoat pocket, cut off this chain—my purse was also stolen—my trousers were ripped open—they could not get it out at once—there was 8l. 4s. in the purse—I am certain it was safe at the time I was attacked—I had it in my pocket then—a pair of spectacles were also taken from my left hand waistcoat pocket—I afterwards picked the

prisoners out singly from twelve—the first three from that side, I recognise positively as being three of them—the other two look something similar to the men, but I can't speak positively to them.

Driscoll (the elder.) Q. In what part of Leman-street was the robbery done? A. Close to where the railway is, near the railway arch.

Desmond. Q. Did you loose a snuff-box? A. Yes, I did, a long German box—the first one and the third one were the worst of the lot, they were those that beat me (Driscoll, the elder, and Desmond).

JOHN MADEMAN . I am a stoker, and live at 24, Wellclose-square—on the night of 17th may, I saw some of the prisoners in Leman-street at the time the prosecutor was attacked—I saw Desmond first—he came in front of the prosecutor—I did not see him take anything, but I saw him with his hands in front of the man's waistcoat—the second prisoner (Driscoll, the younger) then put his hand in the prosecutor's right-hand pocket, and tore his trousers—I saw the first prisoner there (Driscoll, the elder), and the fourth (Kelly)—I remember the tall one (M'Carthy), he was there—I have no doubt, looking at them now, that these men were there engaged in this attack on the prosecutor.

Cross-examined. Q. It seems you are a little more certain about some than others? All but on—e M'Carthy is the one I am least certain about.

Driscoll (the elder). Q. Where were you when the robbery was done? A. About three yards from you—the robbery was done at the bottom of Leman-street, between the Obelisk and the railway arch—I saw you attack the prosecutor.

MR. PATER. Q. Had you seen any of the prisoners before this? A. had seen the whole four of them frequently, together and separate, all but M'Carthy—I had never seen him before that night.

WILLIAM CHANDLER (Policeman, 117 H). From information I received, I took Desmond into custody—he said he knew nothing about it—I took him at about a quarter-past 5 on the evening after the robbery—the robbery took place on the Derby night, about half-past 12 o'clock—Desmond was identified by the last witness and the prosecutor from amongst several other people—I also took Driscoll, the younger, and told him he was charged with robbing a man on Wednesday night—he said he knew nothing about it, he was ashamed to be taken for it—he had two or three days before been pointed out to me by Mademan, in Ratcliffe-highway, but he ran away, and I could not catch him—he saw Mademan point him out to me—he was sitting on a post—I took him on Sunday night about half-past 7, at the corner of Rosemary-lane—I was at the station at the time of the robbery, off duty—I saw the prosecutor come there bleeding.

BENJAMIN ARCHER (Policeman, 101 H). I was on duty in this neighbourhood on the night of the 16th and the morning of 17th May—about half-past 12, I saw Driscoll, the elder in Dock-street—I told him I should take him in custody for being concerned with others in stealing a watch and other articles from a gentleman in Leman-street on the night previous—he said he knew nothing about it.

GEORGE FOSTER (Policeman, 207 H). From information I received I went to the White Hart and Fountain public-house in Rosemary-lane, on 26th May—I saw the prisoner Kelly, and told him I wanted him for being concerned with five or six others in robbing a man of his watch and chain and 8l. 4s.—he was there at a raffle—he said, "Is this for nothings"—I said, "No; you will be identified, and if not properly identified, you will be let go"—he said, "Very well, that will do,"—I took him to the station—he

was placed with eleven others, and the witness, Mademan, came and identified him—about half an hour after, M'Carthy was brought in by Serjeant Dunnaway for being concerned with the other men—be was placed amongst several other men, and was identified by Mademan—he was told the charge, and he said it was a mistake, he was not the party—I saw the prisoners near Leman-street every evening before that—I have cautioned them several times, with the exception of M'Carthy.

Cross-examined. Q. Sergeant Dunnaway is not here, I believe? A. No—he said M'Carthy had nothing to say about it.

Driscoll (the elder's) Defence. At the police-court I asked Desmond if he knew anything about the case—he said, on 16th May, him and four others, Jemmy Corrin, Finlay, Desmond, and Michael Connor, met this man with a woman going home, and they all rushed at him, and be put his hand into his pocket and took a snuff box, and what the others got he did not know. I am innocent of this charge. I was pointed out through the window.

Driscoll (the younger's) Defence. The witness is put up to swear false against us because we have been convicted.

Kelly's Defence. This man took me into custody once before for nothing, and I asked him if it was the same as last time—he said, "No, there is a prosecutor in it" The doctor was asked whether he knew us. He said, "No," and picked out a different man.

Driscoll (the elder) called: MARY ANN TOWELL. I live at 6, Well's-place, Whitechapel—I saw the the prosecutor robbed—I was in Leman-street, and saw six men following him, and out of those six one is here, that is Desmond—I could recognise the others—I know two of their names—they are not here, one was Jemmy Cronin—the men all went away after the robbery—I did not give information to the police—it was no interference of mine—I am in danger of my life now, coming up Leman-street, from the other robbers—it is a bad street for robberies—I know Desmond and Driscoll—I have known Driscoll about six months—M'Carthy's mother asked me to come up here—I did not see Driscoll at all at the time of this robbery, not that night—I have not seen him since the robbery until to-day, not as I recollect—M'Carthy's mother came to me and said, "Polly, you know all about the robbery that my son is taken for"—I said, "What robbery is it"—she said, "The robbery by the railway arch in Leman-street—I said, "Yes"—she said, 'Will you come up to Leman-street, you say you can recognise the others that did do the robbery"—I went up to Leman-street, and a gentleman said at the police-station it was no good coming till the trial came on—I was telling the gentleman, and he said, "It is no good till Mr. Dunnaway comes home from the country"—I could not see Mr. Dunnaway—I did not know at the time Mrs. M'Carthy spoke to me who were in custody, only her son, and she told me Desmond was taken—M'Carthy was taken on the Saturday night—I went to the gaol to see Driscoll—I saw him alone, and talked with him—I did not know until I came into court to-day who the others were, or whether they were the right men or not—I have looked at them sufficiently to say they are not the men—I know the two Driscolls and Desmond and the next one by sight, but I do not know his name—I know M'Carthy.

Cross-examined. Q. Have you been living with Driscoll? A. No—the names of the other men engaged in this robbery are Jemmy Cronin and Charles Finlay—those are the only three names I know rightly, but there is another tall young man they call Hayles—I did not see Mademan there

at the time of the robbery—if he had been there of course I must have seen him—I know him by sight—I have often seen him—if I had seen him on the 16th May, I should have recognised him—I communicated to the police, what I had seen.

COURT. Q. How came you to be in the street at this time? A. I was there alone between 11 and 12—it was not 12, because the public-houses were open.

THE COURT considered that there was no evidence against M'CARTHY.—

NOT GUILTY . The Jury found the other prisoners GUILTY .

JOHN DRISCOLL (the younger) and THOMAS DESMOND Pleaded Guilty to former convictions, Driscoll in May, 1864, in the name of Patrick Murphy, and Demand in May, 1864, in the name of Thomas Murphy.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude each . DRISCOLL (the elder) and KELLY— Five Years' Penal Servitude .

552. HENRY MORDECAI (55) , Feloniously sending a threatening letter to Frederick Benjamin, demanding money, with menaces.

MR. SLEIGH conducted the Prosecution, and MR. COOPBR the Defence.

FREDERICK BENJAMIN . I am a gentleman living on my private fortune, at 34, Gloucester-gardens, Hyde-part—I received a letter, about the 14th of May, by post—this is it (produced)—in coneequence of the receipt of that letter, which requested me to send a 5l. note to a certain place, I placed myself in communication with the police within half an hour of the receipt of it—in consequence of what they said, I put a 5l. note in an envelope, and directed it to "A. A., 5, Connaught-terrace"—I know nothing of the prisoner—I discharged a female servant rather more than twelve months ago—there is not one iota of truth in the vile imputation contained in this letter.

Cross-examined. Q. There was a young woman in your service? A. Yes—I have a wife—my wife gave her notice to leave, and she left at the end of the month—she was dismissed by me for some improper conduct on her part—that is the reason I had my suspicions—I have nothing to show that this man knew her, or she this man—I know nothing of the prisoner, except that he is an old cab-driver.

MR. SLEIGH. Q. You discharged the young woman because yon believed she was a thief? A. Yes.

WILLIAM JONES (Policeman, X 63). I took this letter to 5, Connaught-terrace on the evening of 14 th—it is a coffee-shop—I saw the 5l. note put into it first—in company with another officer, named Bone, I kept watch on the house, in plain clothes, that evening, so that I could see what was going on without being seen—about 11 o'clock I saw the prisoner drive up to the door of the coffee-shop—there was nobody in his cab—he got off the box, and went to the door, and knocked, and I heard him say, "Is there a letter for A. A.?"—Mrs. Greigson said, "Yes, there is one," and went into the shop—the prisoner went a few paces into the passage—Mrs. Greigeson then returned with the letter, and gave it to him as he was coming down the steps leading into the street—he broke the envelope—I then said to him, "Whose letter is that?"—he said, "It is mine"—I said, "I shall take you into custody"—the letter was quite open, and his hands were on the contents of it—his hand was on the note when I spoke to him—he then said, "It is not my letter; it is for a gentleman in my cab"—I walked with him to his cab, and there was no one there—it was quite impossible for any one to have jumped out of the cab after he drove up, without my seeing it—I

had a clear view of the road while he was driving up, and until I took him into custody—nobody could have opened the cab door on the other side and have jumped out without my having seen it—this is not a low coffee-house—it is rather a respectable house—it was a very bad place at one time, but since the new people have had charge of it it is better.

Cross-examined. Q. Had you known the prisoner before? A. Yes, for some six years—he is well known as a cab-driver—he had his badge on this night—it was quite conspicuous—I was standing next door to the coffee-shop, about six yards from the cab—a man might have got out of the cab previous to his drawing up, when the cab was going slowly—the letter is in about the same state now as when I took it from the prisoner—I took it out of his hand—I am positive I did not snatch it out—I have kept it up till now—he trembled very much when I offered to go to the cab—he went with me—I went simply to oblige him—I knew there was no one there—I went to satisfy him, not myself—I have never known the slightest stain on his character—I have inquired since, and have found nothing against him.

MR. SLEIGH. Q. For what distance previously to the cab driving up did you see it approaching? A. About fifteen yards—it turned along Seymour-street and came out of Connaught-square—there were no other cabs in the street at the time, that I recollect—I should say I could see that nobody got out of the cab in that fifteen yards—after going to the door of the coffee-house he did not go back again to the cab and then come again to the door of the coffee-house—I could distinctly hear him speak to the woman, and she to him.

MR. COOPER. Q. If a person had got out of the cab at the corner of Seymour-street, before he turned the corner, would you have seen him? A. Not before the cab turned the corner.

The prisoner's statement before the Magistrate:—"On last Thursday night, the 17th of this month, about 11, I was along Cambridge and Oxford-terrace; a gentleman hailed me, and I got down to open the cab-door; the gentleman got into the cab, and told me to drive to a coffee-house in Connaught-terrace; this was at the Duke of Kendall public-house; he said, "Don't open the door, but ask if there is a letter left for Captain Davidson." I asked the servant in the bar, and she said there was no letter there; the gentleman then told me to drive to 5, Connaught-terrace. I drove there; he was then inside the cab, and he said, 'I am not going to get out; I want you to knock at that door, and ask if there is a letter for A. A.' I got off my cab, and knocked. The door was opened by that female, and I said, 'I have got a gentleman in my cab, and he sent me to ask you if you have got a letter for A. A.' She said, 'Yes,' and went into the back room. I went back to the cab, and then went to the door, into the shop. I was in complete darkness where I stood; Mrs. Greigson was at the far end of the shop; she came to me and put the letter into my hand. I walked out of the shop; a man followed me out and said, 'What have you got there?' I said, 'I have got a letter.' He took it out of my hand. I said, 'I have got a gentleman in my cab, and I said, 'Look, the cab-door is open, the gentleman is gone.'

MR. SLEIGH to WILLIAM JONES. Q. Did the prisoner say to you, "Look, the cab-door is open?"A. He did not—they were both shut.

MR. COOPER. Q. How far is this coffee-shop from the corner of Seymour-street? A. About twenty yards I should say—you can see the public-house at the corner quite plain.

GEORGE BONE (Policeman, X 81). I was in company with the last witness William Jones, watching 5, Connaught-terrace, and took the prisoner into

custody—I saw the cab drive up—I did not see it turn the corner of Seymour-street—I saw it when it drove up to the shop—no person was inside when it drove up—as soon as the prisoner knocked at the door, I went and looked into the cab, while he was at the door—the doors were both shut—I heard the prisoner ask the woman who opened the door, if there was a letter for A. A.—she said, "Yes"—he followed her into the shop, and she showed it him—as he was coming towards the street, I saw him break a letter, and then saw Jones go up and speak to him—he asked him whose letter it was, and he said, "It is mine"—he then took him into custody—he did not get off his cab, go into the coffee-shop, speak to the woman, and then go back again to the cab, and then return to the coffee-shop door—I did not hear him say, "Look, the cab-door is open."

Cross-examined. Q. Where were you watching? A. Next door; not all the time—I got there between quarter and half-past 10—I had been there previously, during the day—I did not hear him say when he looked into the cab, " The gentleman must have got out"—I have known him four or five years as a cab-driver—I believe he has a very good character.

ELLEN GREIGSON . I am the wife of George Greigson, the proprietor of the coffee-shop in Connaught-terrace—on the night that this matter occurred, this letter had been left with me about five minutes to 11 that night—I heard a knock at the door—I went to the door, and saw the prisoner there—he asked if there was a letter for A. A.—I said, "Yes"—I went for it, and gave it to him, and he went down the steps, and was taken into custody by the officer.

Cross-examined. Q. Had you known him before? A. No—I went back into the private room to get the letter—I can't say whether he might have gone back to the cab while I was getting the letter in the back room—I do not think there would have been time for it. (Letter read:—" Sir, sometime ago you made a very false charge against a young woman who is a going to marry me, and which you said you world stop if she wold give way to your filthy desires; and you know how you ruined her in the drawing-room. I now ask you to make some return for what you have done to her, as soon as possible; if you do not, I dare say I shall make you. You have heard of people being burnt to death in their beds; if you send a 5l. note to A. A. at No. 5, Connaught-terrace, I shall not do any more to you; if not, I will ruin you all, so help me God. You must send it before 8 tomorrow morning, A. A.")

MR. COOPER called LOUISA STONE. I am now barmaid at the Castle Hotel, Victoria-park—I was previously barmaid at the Duke of Kendall, in Berkeley-street—I remember one night about 11 o'clock, the prisoner coming with his badge on to the bar—it was on the Thursday night, the 17th May—I had not known him before that to my knowledge—he asked for a glass of ale, and asked if there was a letter left for Captain Davidson—I said no, there was not—he said nothing about his cab—I did not see his cab at the door—he did not say anything about a gentleman being in his cab—he then left.

Cross-examined. Q. Did you go to the police-court to tell this story? A. No—I was asked to come here about a fortnight ago.

The prisoner received a good character. NOT GUILTY .

FOURTH COURT.—Thursday, June 14th, 1866.

Before Mr. Recorder.

553. DESIRE LOVE (25) stealing 40l. the property of Auguste Doemer, in his dwelling-house. MR. LANGFORD conducted the Prosecution.

AUGUSTE DOEMER . I am a photographer in the service of Mr. Williams, 443, Strand—I live in the house—in February the prisoner called and said he wanted to speak to Mr. Williams—he had some conversation with me about the business—he called upon me again on Saturday evening, 19th May, at six o'clock—it was not later than six—I was on the third floor—the second floor is where I live and sleep, my dwelling-house—when the prisoner called, I had safe in my room a coat and a box containing my portmonnaie, my shirts, and clothes—I had close upon 40l. in the portmonnaie—I last saw the money safe the same evening at six o'clock—I get my wages then, and I put the money in the box then—I went up to the third floor, and the prisoner came to me—he stopped ten minutes and then went away—I didn't see him again—at half-past ten I went to my room in the second floor—I found my door broken open, my desk broken open, and everything that was in it lying on the floor—I missed my portmonnaie with the 40l. and my coat—there were fifteen or eighteen sovereigns in the portmonnaie—I did not give the prisoner or any one else authority to take away my money and coat—I gave information to the police and described the prisoner—on Wednesday, 16th May, the prisoner called upon me at six o'clock in the evening, on the second floor—he could there see my box—there are two rooms—I was photographing in the large room—the prisoner came to me there, and afterwards went out into the other room, where the box was—he asked me to dine on the next Saturday—he said he knew an hotel—he said he was in partnership with Mr. Watson, in the Edgware-road.

Prisoner (through an interpreter). Q. Didn't I tell you I was not in partnership at that time, but had sold my business? A. You told me you boarded in a house in the Edgware-road.

COURT. Q. You said he told you he was in partnership? A. I mean by partnership that he was his companion, that he boarded with him in the house—he said they were working together—I appointed to go to dine with him the next Saturday, 26th—after he left I went down stairs—the door was not broken then—the last time I saw it safe was at seven o'clock, and the box too.

EDWARD HOCKLEY . I am a shop-boy at the batter's, 443, Strand—on Saturday night, 19th May, about half-past eight, I saw a tall, thin gentleman come—his cheeks were sunk, and he looked pitted with the small pox—I spoke to him and he answered in French—I didn't see whether he came down—I was too busy—about ten minutes after I saw the prosecutor come—I didn't look after him—he went through the glass door leading to the stairs—I saw him come downstairs about five minutes after he went up, at about a quarter to nine—I did not see anything more of the thin man who spoke French.

SARAH JOSEPHS . I live at 10 Brunswick-street, Euston-road, and am single—I know the prisoner—I first met him six weeks ago—I went out with him several times—I was with him all Sunday, 20th May, Whitsunday—he had then twelve sovereigns—he told me he was going to receive some money from a friend of his, and would make me a present—I have seen him

with money before, but not so much—he was not rich—I know that he kept company with a tall, thin man—I saw the tall, thin man on the Sunday evening—that man appeared to have a great deal of gold—I understood that he was an artist—he spoke French.

Prisoner. Q. Was it not a fortnight before the 20th May I told you I was going to receive some money from a friend? A. Yes—I passed by the Strand on the evening of the 20th May, to go to my mother's, who lives in Villiers-street, Strand—I don't know the prosecutor's house—on Monday, 2lst, you went to the City, returning by the steamboat—you disembarked at Charing-cross pier, and passed through the Strand.

COURT. Q. Did the prisoner say where be lived? A. He lived at 39, Wardour-street—I was with him three days there, Whit-Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday—on the Wednesday I left him.

HENRY ROGERS (Policeman, 17 F). At eleven o'clock in the evening of the 19th May, Mr. Doemer came to me at the police-station—I went with him to his place in the Strand—I saw that the second floor door was broken open—I found this jemmy (produced)—Mr. Doemer gave a description of the prisoner—I looked out for him and took him into custody on Wednesday, 23d May, in Earl's-court, Leicester-square—I called him out, and he came out—I found upon him 3 sovereigns, 2 half-crowns, and 6 1/2;d.—he said he lived at 28, John-street, Marylebone-road—I afterwards went to the place where he really did live, 39, Wardour-street—I found there a strong hisel (produced)—this is the sort of instrument that would have broken open the door and box.

COURT. Q. Would both the jemmy and chisel be wanted? A. No—the marks on the door and box were such as might have been made by the jemmy. NOT GUILTY .

554. DESIRE LOVE was again indicted for stealing a tool called a diamond, the property of Auguste Doemer.

FREDERICK AUGUSTS DOEMER . The prisoner first called upon me on Wednesday, 16th May, at six in the evening—he came to me on the second floor in the front room—he then went into the back room—after he had gone I missed this diamond (produced) in the evening—I never gave anybody authority to take it away.

COURT. Q. How long was it after the prisoner had left that you were aware it was gone? A. About an hour.

Prisoner. Q. Was I not in the front room? A. Yes—when you went into the back room it was not to go out—you stopped there five minutes—I was with you the whole of the time—it was agreed that you were to come back on the Saturday at 6 o'clock—I appointed to dine with you on the Saturday week—I did not tell you on the Saturday of the loss of the diamond, because I was not intimate with you.

HENRY ROGERS (Policeman, 17 F). On 23d May, about 11 o'clock in the morning, I went to a coffee-house in Earl's-court, Leicester-square, and took the prisoner—I searched him, and found this diamond in his right hand trousers pocket—he said something in French—I don't know what it was—he gave me an address in John-street, not Wardour-street—I found he lived in Wardour-street.

Prisoner. Q. When you arrested me did you tell me that a friend of mine wanted to see me in the street? A. You did not resist—I told you I wanted you to come with me.

The prisoner, through the interpreter, stated that the diamond had been

offered to him for sale by a foreigner, in a public house in Soho, who wanted 5s. for it, and accepted 2s. 6d.; that he had written to the public-house keeper and other witnesses who could confirm his statement. These witnesses were called, but did not answer.

JURY to F. A. DOEMER. Q. How do you know that the diamond belongs to you? A. By the marks upon it, and the number—the number is about 9, 600—(It was marked 9596). GUILTY .— Confined Twelve Months .

552. ELIZABETH LILLYCRAPP (35) , Unlawfully endeavouring to conceal the birth of her child.

MR. HARRIS conducted the Prosecution, and MR. COOPER the Defence.

NOT GUILTY .

555. WILLIAM BLACKETT (23) , Robbery, with others on Lizzie Magee, and stealing from her person I brooch, and 2s. 6d., the property of Edmund Magee.

MR. HARRIS conducted the Prosecution, and MR. LANGFORD the Defence. LIZZIE MAGEE. I am the wife of Edmund Magee, of 2, Skinner-street—on 17th April last, I was going to the Commercial Hotel, Commercial-street, about 9 o'clock—I was passing the second door—the prisoner was standing on the step of the door—he put his hand down my face, and the prisoner and another man struck me several times—I missed my brooch and 2s. 6d.—I do not know whether they took it—my dress was torn off my back—my cloak was fastened with my brooch—I had my money in my hand—I fell in the scuffle—Mrs. Cremer, my friend at the Commercial Hotel, sent for the inspector to come—I was not with the policeman when the prisoner was taken—I am quite sure he was the man—I gave a description to the police.

Cross-examined. Q. Were you attacked by two men? A. Yes—one of these men was named Murphy—he was taken the same night—after the 17th, the first time I saw the prisoner was on the 18th, as I came from the Worship-street police-court, where I had been against Murphy—I saw him again on 10th May, at the police-station—I knew him, but I didn't say he was the man till after he had gone, because I was threatened by his tribe—I saw him at the police-station with 4 or 5 men—the policeman sent for me to go to the police-station—I said he might go, but before I left the police-station I said he was the man—he was not let go because I could not identify him—I did not say that I could not identify him, but that he might go—I did not say he was the man until he had gone, but I said it before I left the police-station—I saw him again on 27th May—I went again to the police-station—I have no attorney—I do not know whether the houses in Commercial-street are more warehouses than shops—I do not know the street well—I am a stranger in the locality—business calls me to that part of the town sometimes.

MR. HARRIS. Q. Why did not you say he was the man when you saw him at the station? A. I had to sing a solo on Ascension Day, and when I saw the prisoner he was with some more men and about 50 women, and a woman, who called herself his mother, came up to me and said, "Are you going to swear away my child's life?"—that was the reason I did not say he was the man—I had not any doubt that he was—I have no attorney.

HENRY FORDHAM (Policeman, 197 H). I apprehended the prisoner on 22d May.

Cross-examined. Q. Was he charged with some disturbance about a hat? A. Yes; he was taken in custody, and I sent down to Mrs. Magee, and she came to Worship-street.

GUILTY **—He was further charged with having been convicted in June, 1862, in the name of Thomas Wilson; to which he PLEADED GUILTY.— Seven Years' Penal Servitude, and twenty stripes with the cat

556. FREDERICK ROWE (20), JOHN HURLEY (18), and JAMES WHITEY (18) , Robbery from David Newell, and stealing 1 purse, I handkerchief, and 18s. his property.

MR. COOPER Conducted the Prosecution. DAVID NEWELL. I am a labourer, of Rumanworth, Northamptonshire—on the night of 1st June, I was going over Waterloo Bridge; I don't know the exact time—after I got over the bridge I saw Rowe, and asked him where King's Cross Station was—he said, "I will show you the way, if you will come along with me; come into a beer-shop, and have a drop of beer"—I went into a beer-shop with him—I had a pot of beer, and paid 6d. for it—whilst in the public-house the other two prisoners came in and joined Rowe—Rowe gave them some of the beer—Rowe left first, Hurley next, Whitey was behind me—just as I got in the street, Hurley caught me by the throat and dragged me back—I tried to call out—he said, "Don't let him halloa"—Rowe struck me on the mouth, and put his hand over my mouth—then both put their hands in my pockets—I couldn't see Whitey at the time—I saw the other two—I had a purse, with 18s. or 19s. in it—I lost all that—I had a knife and a handkerchief—I have not seen the knife again, but here is the purse and handkerchief (produced)—I am quite sure these are the three men.

Rowe. You told the Magistrate you met me by some steps. Witness. I came over some steps at Blackfriars Bridge, and walked along the street some little way—I saw some steps near there—I never asked you where there was a lodging—I asked for King's Cross Station—it is not true that I paid 4d. for a lodging, and went back with you to get the money, because I wanted to go away with some woman—I was not with any woman.

THOMAS LICENSE (City-policeman, 279). About a quarter-past 11, on the night of 1st June, I was on duty in Shoe-lane—I heard a whistle in Raven-Hood-court—I went up and met the prisoners with two other men and a female coming down the court towards Shoe-lane, laughing together—Rowe was behind the others, about nine or ten yards, and just as be came up to me, he dropped this handkerchief, which I picked up—five or six yards higher up, I found the prosecutor on the ground, bleeding from the mouth—about a quarter of an hour after this I went back to the court, and found the purse on the ground—I afterwards went to the Blue Anchor public-house, Farringdon-street, and picked the prisoners out from among others.

COURT. Q. Did you know them by sight? A. Yes.

Rowe. Q. What time was it when you saw me and the other prisoners walking along? A. A quarter-past 11.

ROBERT SMITH (City-policeman, 136) From information I received from License, I went with the prosecutor to look after the prisoners—about a quarter to 1, on the Saturday morning, we went into the Blue Anchor public-house, in Farringdon-street, and he pointed directly to Hurley and Rowe—he was not quite so positive about Whitey—they were drinking with Rowe's brother—from what I could see of it, he was paying for the beer—this was some time after the robbery—Whitey was there drinking with them—I detained them while I sent for a constable, who identified the three at once—I then told them they would be charged with assaulting and robbing the prosecutor—Rowe said, "I am innocent; I know nothing about it"—

the other two made no answer—I took them to the station, and searched them—I found on Rowe an old knife, but no money.

Rowe's Defence. I met the man, and had a share of a pot of beer with him—that is all.

Hurley's Defence. I am innocent

Whitey's Defence. He went with me to get the money back from his lodgings—I never saw him again until he came into the public-house with the policeman.

ROWE— GUILTY .**— Seven Years' Penal Servitude . HURLEY— GUILTY .**— Five Years' Penal Servitude . WHITEY— GUILTY .— Confined Six Months .

557. JAMES HENRY BERKELEY (31) , PLEADED GUILTY to a libel upon John Roberts.— Confined One Month, and to enter into recognizances .

358. PEREGRIN VARNALL (20) , libel upon Charlotte Micklefield.

MR. DALY conducted the Prosecution, and MR. BESLEY the Defence.

ALFRED MICKLEFIELD . I am in the china and glass trade, and I am the husband of the prosecutrix—these letters (produced) are in the prisoner's writing—I know his writing—he was a shopman employed at Jacob's in the Haymarket, where I was employed—we were about ten months in the same shop—my wife is in her confinement, and not able to come out—I knew he was paying his addresses to my wife before I married her—I was paying her my addresses at the same time—she preferred me, and married me—my wife's master is not here—these letters (produced) are written by my wife's sister—I cannot swear to her writing—she is here.

Cross-examined. Q. When did you go to Mr. Jacob's? A. I think it was the second Monday in July, 1865—I am not quite positive—when I went there my present wife was in the service—I think she had been there about ten months—I cannot say for certain—I cannot say whether the defendant had been there about twelve months—it was the talk of the shop that the defendant and my present wife were keeping company together—it was a "chaffing" shop—I knew he was paying his addresses, but I did not know he wanted to marry her—if I had thought he wanted to marry her I should not have thought it right to interfere—I cannot say whether she was constantly walking out with him on Sundays—I continually went out with her on Sundays—I remember once going to Charing-cross; she told me the prisoner had dodged about the cabs—I cannot say that she concealed from him that I paid attention to her—I don't know that she has received money from him—I know that he alleges it—her sister is here—I took a summons out against him for ringing the bell on the 14th of March, and he was fined 40s. at the Marylebone police-court—these letters were written afterwards—they were written to my wife's mother—she is not here, as the Magistrate said she is not a proper witness—her evidence was not taken at the police-court, she not being able to read or write—I said nothing to Mr. Jacobs after the fine of 40s. until I received the letters—after I received the letters I complained—I did not refer all the matters in dispute to my master—I did not tell him the whole subject of complaint I had to make against the defendant—he was not dismissed in consequence of my complaint—he was in their employment till the day he was committed for trial—I don't know whether he was dismissed and then taken back again—my master dismissed me after I went before the Magistrate—when I came back I was told I might go—from what I have heard since the prisoner was there until

the committal—my master dismissed me from my not being able to attend to business, owing to the worry and excitement of this—I was married on the 4th of February, 1866—last July was the time I went into the service.

MR. DALY. Q. Explain about the summons and the bell-ringing? A. I think about the 7th of March the prisoner, as I was leaving our employment at half-past 9 at night, placed in my hands a letter, in which he stated that he had been familiar with my wife before her marriage to me, and that he was the father of the child she was then pregnant with—he said he had given her money for that purpose, and intended to have that money returned—that was in the letter—this money he intended to have, and would not desist till he had it—he never said anything to me about it—several times he called at my house in my absence, and wished to see my wife, and demanded the money.

MR. BESLEY. Q. Did you see him? A. I did on 14th of March—he called then early in the afternoon—he had commenced annoying by ringing the bell about twenty minutes in the evening, during my absence—I remained at home—he then came and kept ringing the bell, and I gave him in custody.

MR. DALY. Q. Are these envelopes in the same writing as these letters? A. Yes.

EMMA ROMAN . I live at Southchurch, Essex, and am Mrs. Micklefield's sister—these (produced) are the envelopes which contained the letters addressed to my mother—she cannot write, and I write all the letters when I am at home—I wrote these other two letters by my mother's dictation—the one marked A was the first sent.

Cross-examined. Q. Did you know of the intimacy between the prisoner and your sister? A. I knew he had correspondence with her—I believe he went out with her on Sundays—I never saw them actually together—I learnt from my sister that they had been out—he has been twice to my mother's house last summer, I believe—my mother lives at Southchurch, near Southend—I knew of the breaking off of the engagement, or intimacy, or whatever it was—I don't know whether it was contrary to the defendant's wish—I don't know of money having been borrowed by my sister—I have had no conversation with her on the subject—I saw her after she had broken off with the prisoner, and she told me she had taken up with her present husband—I believe she also told me that she had represented to the prisoner that she had cast him off for a perfect stranger, and not for a person in the same employment as himself—the letters were addressed to my mother—I sent them to my sister—I don't know whether it was suggested that the summons for the bell-ringing should be withdrawn.

GUILTY .— Confined Two Months , and to enter into recognizances .

559. EDWARD SWEENEY (17) , Unlawfully wounding Mary Ann M'Gavin, with intent to do her some grievous bodily harm.

MR. GREY conducted the Prosecution.

MARY ANN M'GAVIN . I live at 14, Parker-street, Drury-lane—the prisoner lodged in the same house—on 6th June, from half-past 1 to 2, I was going to bed with the prisoner's sister—the young woman he was living with was screaming out "Murder!"—we were laughing of our own accord—the prisoner came out when he heard it, and deliberately struck me in the eye with his fist—he then struck me with the handle of a knife in the eye—a girl said, "Polly, you're going to be stabbed—I turned my hand like that, and the knife caught me in the finger—the prisoner did it—

I saw the knife in his hand—this is it (produced)—I went down-stairs, and gave him in custody.

Prisoner. Q. When you came up-stairs were you not laughing and making all manner of games outside the door, and had you not got a knife in your hand? A. No—I had neither poker, nor scissors, nor anything else in my hand.

BRIDGET SULLIVAN . I live at 4, Parker-street, Drury-lane, the same house as the prisoner—I heard screaming on the night of 6th June, and went to the landing—I there saw Mary Ann, M'Gavin, and the prisoner's sister—I don't know whether they were going up stairs—the prisoner opened the door and called her very bad names—he hit her in the eye with his fist and struck her with the handle of the knife—she said, "I will lock you up"—the young woman who was with him called out, "Polly, you're stabbed"—he said before he stabbed her, "You b—I'll stab you"—I ran down for a policeman—I saw the prosecutrix's forehead bleeding; a little, not much—she had not a poker in her hand.

Prisoner. You were not in the room at all. Witness. I was on the landing—I did not attempt to go into her room—she was going into her own room.

EDWIN CHAPPEL (Policeman, 4 F). On the morning of 7th June, from information I received, I went to 4, Parker-street—on arriving at the door, I saw the prosecutrix come out—her face was covered with blood—I could not distinguish a feature of it—her hand was also covered with blood—she said, "I have been stabbed"—168 F took her to a doctor—on going up stairs to see who had done it, I met the prisoner on the first-floor landing—a female said, "That's him, sir, that done it"—before I had got up to him, he struck that female a violent blow in the face—I brought him down in the street and searched him—he said, "You won't find any knife about me, I did it with my fist"—I told him I should take him in custody.

JAMES JOHNSON (Policeman, 168 F). I went to the first-floor room and found the knife (produced) on the table—it looked as if it had been wiped—there were marks of blood on it then, and there are now.

Prisoner's Defence. It is not true that I cut her with a knife; my finger is swelled out where I struck her; she stood outside the door and threatened me.

GUILTY of unlawfully wounding.— Confined Twelve Months .

OLD COURT.—Friday, June 15th, 1866.

Before Mr. Baron Bramwell.

560. JULIA BENNETT (18), was indicted for the wilful murder of her infant child.

MR. LILLEY conducted the Prosecution, and MR. RIBTON the Defence.

GUILTY of endeavouring to conceal the birth .— Two Years' Penal Servitude .

561. ELLEN HOUGHTON (30) , Unlawfully taking away one Elizabeth Tolley, an unmarried girl under 16 years of age, out of the possession and without the knowledge and consent of her father.

MESSRS. RIBTON and LEWIS conducted the Prosecution, and MR. MONTAGU WILLIAMS the Defence.

IEABELLA SOPHIA TOLLEY . I am the wife of Henry James Tolley, a tax

collector, of Addington House, Addington-road, Bow, and am mother of the prosecutrix—she was born on 12th July, 1850—she will be 16 years old on 12th of next month—I keep a fancy repository—my daughter left my house on Good Friday, afternoon (30th March) without my knowledge or consent—I have seen the prisoner as a customer in the shop occasionally, more frequently latterly, towards Good Friday—I saw her last on the Thursday evening before Good Friday.

ELIZABETH TOLLEY . I am now living with my father and mother, who reside at Addington House, Bow—I have known Mrs. Houghton about three years, under the name of Mrs. Paisley—I knew Mr. Olifier about four months—after I became acquainted with him, Mrs. Houghton was in the habit of coming to the shop—she generally came about 6 o'clock—she came twice a day—she brought me some letters from Mr. Olifier—they were addressed "Miss Annie Wilson"—an arrangement had been made about their being addressed in that way—they were sealed—she did not say anything to me when she delivered them—they came by post—Mrs. Houghton told me if I liked to have any addressed at her house I could—that was all she said—she never mentioned the name of Olifier to me—there was no arrangement with me and her about the name in which they were to be addressed—I had not mentioned to her that letters were to be delivered in the name of Annie Wilson—I told her that some letters were coming, but I did not say in what name—I received about nine or a dozen letters in this way from Mr. Olifier—those were letters that had been posted—she asked me to ask Mr. Olifier for some money about three weeks before Good Friday—she had never spoken to me about Mr. Olifier before that—I had spoken to her about him—I only told her who the letters came from—that was after she asked me to ask him for money—I wrote to him—I received 5l. from him—I gave her it all, about a week before Good Friday—I told her that Mr. Olifier gave it to me to give to her to buy me some clothes with, to go away with—she took the money away—she came to the shop the day before Good Friday—I did not speak to her—she came in and bought a ball—my mother and sister were in the shop with me—she merely bought the ball and went out—I had a conversation with her on the Saturday before I went, about leaving—we were to go away on the Easter Sunday—I told her I had agreed to go on the Sunday with Mr. Olifier—I told her we were going to Paris—she said she could not go then—I do not remember whether I had any other conversation with her at any other time about leaving home—she told me I could get away any time, and leave the door open—I do not remember what day it was when she told me that—it was after that I told her I intended to go on the Sunday—she never said anything to me about my being married—I left on the Friday about 5 o'clock—I knew where Mrs. Houghton lived—I went to her place—she was not there when I arrived—I saw Mrs. Mills—Mrs. Houghton returned about half-past 10 or 11—she said she had been to the Crystal Palace—she did not say anything to me about money then—she did not wish me to return to my father's house on that night—she said we were to go to the hotel, she wanted me to sleep at Mrs. Mills', Mrs. Mills would not let me—we eventually went to the Queens Hotel, St. Martin's-le-Grand—we went there in a cab—I do not remember what time we arrived there—I had not told my father or mother anything about my leaving—Mrs. Houghton and I slept at the Queen's Hotel on the Friday night—I left about 8 o'clock next morning—I saw Mr. Olifier about 2 o'clock—I wrote a letter to him—Mrs. Houghton knew of my writing the letter—she told me what to put in it, what to say—I posted the letter about

10 o'clock, I think—I returned to the hotel about 11 o'clock—I had been to the booking-office, nowhere else—Mrs. Houghton went home—I remained at the hotel till she returned, which was about I, and Mr. olifier came about 2.

COURT. Q. What did she tell you to put in the letter? A. To say that I had left my home, and would he come, would he meet her at 2 o'clock by the Post-office.

MR. RIBTON. Q. When she returned at 1 o'clock did she bring any money with her? A. No—when Mr. Olifier came we had tea together—that was about 4 o'clock—Mrs. Houghton went out to meet him at 2 o'clock, and he gave her 5l.—she told me so—at tea Mr. Olifier said Mrs. Houghton and I were to go by the 6 o'clock train to Redhiil, and he would meet us on the Sunday morning—that was said in Mrs. Houghton's presence—Mr. Olifier accompanied us to the station, and purchased the tickets for us—we went to Redhill, that night he left us after we got into the train—I and Mrs. Houghton slept at Redhill—next morning (Sunday) I saw Mr. Olifier—I don't remember what he said—he stopped till Monday morning—he went with us to Folkestone on the Sunday—he paid for the tickets—we stopped at the Pavilion hotel—he stayed there that night—next morning Mrs. Houghton and I went to Boulogne—Mr. Olifier told us we were to go to the Folkestone hotel there—he said that to us both—he did not give me any money then—he had given me 20lat the Queen's hotel—I did not give that or any part of it to Mrs. Houghton—I had it in my possession when I started for Boulogne—we started at 12 on Monday—Mr. Olifier came back to London—I don't remember whether I gave any of that money to Mrs Houghton—Mr. Olifier was to meet us at Boulogne on the following Saturday, and we were to go to Paris and then to Holland—we were to go to Paris to be married; he said so—we arrived in Boulogne on Monday at 5 o'clock—we remained there a week—Mr. Olifier did not meet us—I wrote letters to him while I was there—Mrs. Houghton knew of my writing them—she did not know what the contents of the letters were—she wrote one or two to him herself—I received one letter from Mr Olifier at Boulogne—this is it (produced)—Mrs. Houghton knew of my having received it—I showed it to her and she read it—(This was dated London, 3d April, 1866; it teas couched in most endearing language, spoke to his being watched by her friends and by the police, and stated he should do his best to evade them and join her)—Mrs. Houghton addressed two letters for me to Mr. Olifier—we arrived in Paris on Saturday, 7th April—we stayed at an hotel till the following Friday—she took me to places about Paris—we went to the theatre once—she introduced me to two gentlemen—I don't know who they were—that was at different times—I did not hear her say anything when she introduced me—I don't know that she said who I was—she merely introduced me—she spoke to them in French—what she said I don't know—she did not say anything to them in English—I don't remember what she said to me about them—my father and brother arrived in Paris, and found out where I was—I returned home with them—Mrs. Houghton returned with us—we arrived in London on Saturday, the 14th—my father took me home—Mrs. Houghton knew Mr. Olifier about a fortnight before we went away—when he asked if he could write to me I gave him my address as Miss Annie Wilson at Mrs. Houghton's—those were the letters she gave me.

Cross-examined. Q. Do you remember seeing Mrs. Houghton on Good Friday? A. Yes—I said to her that day that nothing in the world should induce me to return home—she did not at that time do anything to induce

me to leave my home—she came to me at the Queen's hotel—she did not on that occasion implore me to return home—she asked me in the morning if I had not better go home—I have not stated that at 12.30 she returned to me and again implored me to return home—she wanted me to go home and wait for six weeks, till she could get away—I knew that Mr. Olifier was married, and that he had a wife living—the defendant took care of me, and slept with me every night—she did not know anything of my first acquaintance with him—she became aware of it about a fortnight after.

MR. RIBTON. Q. Did Mr. Olifier ever say anything to yon about a divorce from his wife? A. Yes—the defendant said if we went away she should ask Mr. Olifier to be his housekeeper—that was about a month before I left—Mr. Olifier told me he was going to get a divorce—I believed that.

COURT. Q. Why did not you wait till he got a divorce, before you left? A. Because I thought I should not get away at all if I did—Mrs. Houghtonknew that he was married

HENRY JAMES TOLLEY . I am the father of last witness—I did not know of her leaving my house—she left without my consent or knowledge.

WALTER KERRESSEY (Police-inspector). I took the prisoner into custody—I said, "I have a warrant for your apprehension, for taking away Elizabeth Tolley, a girl under the age of sixteen years, out of the possession and against the will of her parents"—she said, "I did not take her away; she went away of her own accord"—at the police-station she handed me five handkerchiefs, and said she saw Mr. Olifier make a present of them to Miss Tolley—she also gave me three letters.

Cross-examined. Q. Did she say that she made her come back from France to clear her character.

GUILTY.—Strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury.— Confined One Week .

562. CHRISTIAN OLIFIER (54), was indicted for a like offence.

MESSRS. RIBTON and LEWIS conducted the Prosecution, and MESSRS. SLEIGH and BESLEY the defence.

ISABELLA SOPHIA TOLLEY . Iam the mother of Elizabeth Tolley—she will be sixteen on 12th July—she left home on Friday-afternoon without my knowledge—I never saw Mr. Olifier till the night he was taken—I had seen Mrs. Houghton on the Thursday evening before Good Friday.

Cross-examined. Q. Your daughter had left school some years, had she not? A. Yes, three years, I should think—from that time till she left she issisted in the shop—I think I received a letter from her from abroad, two or three days after she left, through the medium of Inspector Kenessey.

HENRY JAMES TOLLEY . I am the father of Elizabeth Tolley—I heard of her having left my house on Good Friday—she left without my knowledge or consent—I know Mr. Olifier by sight, as a parishioner, but never had any correspondence with him.

ELIZABETH TOLLEY . I have known the prisoner four months—I first met him in the street near my own home—he addressed me, and asked me if I would go for a walk with him—I told him that I could not go—he asked me where I lived—I told him, and he told me where he lived—he told me I could write to his house if I liked—that was all he said—I then went home—I don't recollect when I saw him next—it was about three days afterwards—he came to the shop about 6 o'clock—he asked me if I could go out with him—I told him I could not go then—I said nothing about his calling upon me at another time—he then left—he did call again—I don't

remember what passed on the next occasion—I want out with him twice—it was about three weeks after his first visit that I went out for a walk with him—I met him by appointment at Bow-church, at 3 o'clock, one Sunday, and went for a walk with him—I stayed with him about two hours that day—he took me to his brother's house—some of the family were at home, but I did not see them—I remained there about an hour—he told me if I could go away from home he would marry me—he said that more than once—I don't recollect what else he said—I got home about 5 o'clock—he did not go home with me—he called again on the Tuesday afternoon, at 6 o'clock—I had told him to call at that time, because I should be there alone—he was in the habit of calling at that hour up to the time I left, nearly every day—our conversation during that time was only about going away, and being married—he asked me where he should address letters to me, and I told him to Mrs. Houghton's—he did not say whether he knew anything about Mrs. Houghton or not—he did not know the house—I gave him the address—the letters were to be addressed to Miss Annie Wilson—those letters were brought to me by Mrs. Houghton—there were about a dozen—they are not in existence—they were about going away, and getting some clothes—he gave me 5l. about three weeks before I left, to buy clothes to go away with—I gave that to Mrs. Houghton—he spoke of Easter-Sunday as the time we were to go—I was to meet him at the Bow railway-station—he had been every day during the week I left—he had not been on the Thursday—he had been on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday—I had seen Mrs. Houghton on the Thursday—I left on the Friday evening, and went to Mrs. Houghton's—she was not at home, and I waited until she returned—I then went with her to the Queen's hotel, arriving there about 12 o'clock at night—next day I wrote to Mr. Olifier at Mrs. Houghton's suggestion—she told me to write the letter—it was sent to him—I saw him at 2 o'clock walking about the Post-office—he did not come to the hotel then—he came to the hotel at 4 o'clock—we had tea there—he said we were to go to Redhill, stop there all night, and he would meet us there on Sunday morning—he gave me 20l.—before that he had given 5l. to Mrs. Houghton—he went with us to the railway-station—we got there about half-past six—Mr. Olifier purchased the tickets for us, and gave them to us, and I and Mrs. Houghton went to Redhill—next morning he met us there—it was arranged that we were to go on to Folkestone, and then to Boulogne, and wait there till he came on the Saturday—he went with us to Folkestone, and stayed at the hotel there—next morning (Monday) it was arranged that he was to meet us on Saturday at Boulogne—he then returned to London—I and Mrs. Houghton went on to Boulogne, we staid there some days, and then went to Paris, where we remained till my father and brother arrived, and took me back to London—I received this letter from Mr. Olifier while I was at Boulogne (this was read, as in the former case)—the child referred to in that letter is my niece—the house in Denbeigh-terrace is his brother's house—I believe his brother was at home, but I did not see him—he and I went into a room with the child—I had wine with him—the child was sent up stairs to play—Mrs. Houghton addressed my letters for me—I asked her to do so—I wrote two letters to him from Boulogne—I did not write to anybody else—Mrs. Houghton did not see the letters I wrote to him, but she addressed them for me.

Cross-examined. Q. The first time you met the defendant was in the evening I think? A. Yes; it was not a wet night—I don't remember whether I had an umbrella—I did not rub against him accidentally, nor

did he ask my pardon and say, "Oh, it is Miss Tolley"—nothing of the kind—I did not say, "Do you know my name?"—he spoke to me first—I crossed the road, and he came after me—I sent him a card after that—I don't remember writing—it was a little Christmas card—he told me I could write to his house—I wrote my name on the card—I don't think I wrote anything else—I can't say whether there was written on the card, "With kindest love"—there might have been—I remember signing my name—I don't remember putting anything else—I can't say whether I did or not—after sending the card I saw him go past the house—I did not speak to him—about three weeks or a month after, I met him in the street and spoke to him—I did not say, "Mr. Olifier, I have been wondering what has become of you"—he told me he had just come from abroad—I wrote a letter to him while he was abroad, before I met him—I don't know whether I addressed him as "Dear Charley"—I don't remember—I would not undertake to say I did not—at that time I had not seen him again to speak to him since sending him the card—there was no communication between us, written or otherwise, between sending the card and the letter—I cannot recollect what I put in the letter—I did not express suprise that he had taken no notice of the Christmas card—I said before the Magistrate, that I felt some surprise that no notice was taken of that first communication—I don't know whether I stated that in the letter—when I saw him I said so, and he said he was abroad and had only just returned—I met him three or four times accidentally in the street—the meeting when I went with him to his brother's was by appointment, at Bow church—I did not see his brother's wife at that time—I went there twice—I saw her the second time—she came into the room where I was, and asked if I would come to her house on the Saturday, and she came on the Saturday to ask me if I would come on the Sunday—I did see her the first Sunday I went to the house—I went there twice on a Sunday—the second time was about two Sundays afterwards—I think I hate mentioned before about going there a second time—I saw his brother's wife the first time I went, but not the second time—one little child came into the parlour down stairs for about two minutes—she came and fetched out the little girl I had with me—I have stated, that with the exception of seeing him in the street once, and meeting him on the two other occasions I have mentioned, on every other occasion I saw him at my father's shop—I did see him twice at his brother's, once on a Sunday afternoon, and once on a Sunday morning—it was about a week before that that I told him to address me in the name of Annie Wilson—when I went with him to his brother's my niece was with me—on a former occasion I swore that he saw me there alone—I was there alone with him, my niece went up stairs—she is four years old—before I sent him the card, I had told him I was seventeen years of age—he told me that proceedings were in progress to obtain a divorce from his wife, and so soon as that was effected he would marry me—he did not say as soon as the divorce was completed he would speak to my father and ask his consent to our marriage—he said he would come and see my father—he did not say he would speak to him; he said he would come to the house—he said he would speak to my father about obtaining his consent to my being married—I don't recollect that he said if my father did not give his consent he would obtain a special license—I did not see him on the Thursday before Good Friday—I did on the Wednesday—I said nothing to him then about my intention to leave my home—he said nothing to me about my going away—I wrote a letter

to Mrs. Houghton on the Wednesday evening, telling her it was my intention to leave my father's house—I received a letter from Mr. Olifier on the evening I left, when I was at Mrs. Houghton's house—I had mentioned to Mr. Olifier my intention to leave about three weeks before—that letter is not in existence—I did not read it—Mrs. Houghton read it to me—I do not remember that he said in that letter that if I left my parents' home he would have nothing to do with me, and give up all idea of marrying me—I will not swear that that was not in the letter—on Good Friday my dinner-time was about one o'clock—I had not then made up my mind to leave my father's house—I left about five—I made up my mind to go about an hour before that—I did not communicate that intention to any human being before I went away—Mrs. Houghton lodged at Mrs. Mills's house—when I went there on that Good Friday, Mrs. Houghton was not at home—I knew from Mrs. Houghton herself that she would not be at home that day, that she was going to the Crystal Palace—I saw Mrs. Mills, and told her I would wait till Mrs. Houghton came in—I waited till half-past ten—Mrs. Mills did not tell me that it was very late and very improper for a girl like me to be out, and advise me to go to my father's house—she sent the little girl up to say that she did not expect Mrs. Houghton home till late, and still I did not go home—I waited till Mrs. Houghton came—when she came, she and Mrs. Mills together requested and begged, and implored me to go home to my father's house that night—Mrs. Mills said that she would not go to bed till I went home—I did not go home; I went to the Queen's Hotel—they begged me to go home, and I said once that nothing should induce me to go back—they did not repeat their entreaties for half an hour—Mrs. Mills did not seem distressed at my refusal, nor did she cry—she sent Mrs. Houghton to go with me—I have sworn "They both endeavoured to persuade me to return home"—that is true, but they did not repeat that more than once—I only remember them saying it once—this is true, "They repeatedly entreated me to do so; the conversation lasted about half an hour"—it is true that they seemed distressed at my refusal—she was crying, and Mrs. Mills said, she would not allow me to remain in the house—it is true that I said I could go elsewhere, and that I persisted in refusing to go home—I went to the Queen's Hotel, and asked Mrs. Houghton to go with me—she went at my express request and desire—I did not and would not return home on Saturday morning—Mrs. Houghton went away from the hotel and got her little boy to stay with me—it was on that Saturday morning, at the Queen's Hotel, that I wrote to the prisoner to tell him that I had left my father's house, and to ask him to come to me—that was the first communication I made to him that I had left, or was intending to leave—I wrote that letter about ten o'clock—I did not give it to Mrs. Houghton to take to the prisoner—she went from the hotel at my desire, and came back to tell me she had seen the prisoner—she said he would not come there—she did not tell me that he told her to say that he disapproved entirely of what I had done in leaving my father's house—she did not implore me to go home then, not on Saturday, after coming from Mr. Olifiers—I sent the letter about ten—Mrs. Houghton returned about twelve—it is not true that she again implored me to return home at half-past twelve—I said so before the Magistrate, but that was a mistake—I sent a second letter to Mr. Olifier begging him to come—although I despatched the first early in the morning, and another in the course of the day, he did not come till four o'clock—I saw him go past at two o'clock, but did not speak to him—Mrs. Houghton did not tell me before five o'clock that she had met Mr. Olifiers in

the street, and he had instructed her to beg of me to go home—he laid that he would not go to the hotel because people knew him there—I have not said anything of that kind before to-day—when he came at four o'clock he said that I had done wrong in leaving—he did not entreat me to go home—he said that I had done wrong in leaving so soon—I do not think I have said that before—I said, "I will rather drown myself, or out my throat, than go home again," and it was after that that he gave me the money—I did not tell him where I should like to go—I had not told him on any former occasion that I was anxious to go abroad—when the 20l. was given, he gave it to me, and I gave it to Mrs. Houghton to pay the expenses—Mr. Olifier paid for the tickets—I bought some clothes with the 20l. note—Mrs. Houghton took her child with her and me to Folkestone—she slept with me every night I was away—Mr. Olifier returned to London and we went to Boulogne—he never was over the water with me—I did not tell him we were going to Paris, but it was agreed when he was at Folkestone that he should take me to Paris—going on from Paris to Boulogne was my wish—Mrs. Houghton wanted me to stop at Boulogne, but I insisted on going on to Paris—I wrote a letter to my mother when I was at Boulogne, and told her that if it had not been for constant quarrels with my sister Eliza, I should not have run away from home, and that what I did was never right—I said, "I am as innocent as when I left you, and intend to remain so when I am married I shall come back to you"—I also said, "I left on my own accord, and would not take the advice of any one"—also, "I had sooner die than return back until legally married"—also, "No matter who tries to get me back, not even the entreaties of the one I love so, I shall love him for his true and honourable intentions to me"—also, " it was against his wish I left home, as I ran away; all his persuading would not get me back"—also, "you know I am obstinate in temper, and would sooner die myself than come back and face all year anger against me"—also, "I have done wrong, but it is all my own fault"—that is true—from the first time I met Mr. Olifier up to the time I saw him last, he never took any indecent liberty with me or used any indecent expression—he never made a hint of the slightest impropriety or immodesty to me—in all the conversations between us he never said a word but in respect of marrying me so soon as he got a divorce.

MR. RIBTON. Q. Did Mrs. Houghton know that you wrote that letter to your mother? A. Yes, she dictated it to me, and I wrote it exactly as she dictated it—she wrote it down first, and I copied it exactly as she wrote it—there had never been any quarrels between me and my sister—it was because Mrs. Houghton wrote it down for me that I wrote it to my mother—she did not address the letter for me—I never had any quarrel with my sister—Mr. Olifier had seen me and spoken to me once before the Christmas card—he on that occasion gave me his address—he had said nothing about marrying me before I gave it to him—on the second occasion I went to his brother's house and took my niece with me—Mr. Olifier and I went into the parlour—he sent my niece upstairs—we remained in the parlour about half-an-hour—I had a glass of wine—he ordered it—it was in the room—there had been an arrangement that we were to have left on Easter Sunday—they complained about my leaving so soon.

COURT. Q. What was it he objected to, that you had left at all, or left too soon? A. Too soon—he said that he could not get away for six weeks—we were to go on Easter Sunday, in the first instance, and he said that he could not get away—we were to wait for six weeks—the arrangement was altered—he wrote a letter, which I got three days before the Sunday I left.

MR. RIBTON. Q. Have you destroyed the letter? A. Yes—it was saying that he could not leave on the Sunday, I must wait for six weeks—when Mrs. Houghton came back, and said that Mr. Olifier disapproved of what I had done, she brought back from him 5l., which she went out and spent in clothes for herself—Mr. Olifier had said on the Saturday that I could get my clothes in Paris—he mentioned Paris before I said anything about it, and told us we were to go to the Hotel Sebastopol—that was before I had expressed any wish about Paris.

MR. SLEIGH. Q. Have you ever previously said one word about a letter written to you three days before Easter Sunday? A. I had a letter on the Tuesday or Wednesday, I don't know which.

COURT. Q. Have you ever mentioned that before? A. I don't know—his brother's wife introduced herself to me—I first saw her at her house—the prisoner did not tell her who I was, or why he brought me there—I don't know why the child was sent away; he sent her away—I left my father's house because the prisoner persuaded me to go away—I was comfortable at home—he asked me to wait until he could get away—he did not persuade me to leave at the time I did, but my mother had found out something about Mrs. Houghton, and I was afraid I should not get away at another time—I had seen the prisoner's wife, as a customer, about six months before I left—she did not continue to live with him up to the time of my leaving—she had left him—he told me so—I did not find out whether that was true or not—his house is in Denbeigh-terrace—I was never there—I know she lived there, but I did not see her—she had left there before I left, so I heard from him—I wanted to go away after he had persuaded me, because he said he would marry me—I liked him—I wanted to marry him, that was why I left—I was partial to him—he has kissed me, in the shop, and at his brother's house, and at the hotel in St. Martin's-le-Grande, and at Redhill—Mrs. Houghton did not interfere at all—he told me that the legal proceedings for a divorce were then going on, and he hoped they would soon be completed, so that he could marry me.

GEORGE M'CRAE . I recollect seeing the prisoner on the Saturday evening following Good Friday, about half-past 9, in my shop in Bow-road—he said, "I have come to thank you for a remark your wife has made respecting me to Miss Tolley"—he said, I should not see Miss Tolley at the shop again—I understood him to mean at their shop, which is next door to mine—he said he intended marrying her as soon as he got a divorce, which would be next Tuesday, or Tuesday week, I am not sure which—he said he dearly loved the girl, and if she would have him he would have her—there was a good deal of conversation, but it is so long ago I cannot recollect it—he said when he got married she wanted him to take a house at Brompton, that Brompton was rather a gay place, but he should let the dear girl have her own way—on the following Tuesday morning he came into one of the green-houses of my nursery, and said, "What did I say to you on Saturday night" I told him—he said, "I don't remember anything at all about it"—I said, "I don't suppose you do, for you were so drunk"—he was very drunk indeed, for I took him home and took his clothes off—he said, "If they get a warrant out against me, I wish you would call and let me know this evening"—I said, "Very well, I will."

Cross-examined. Q. Is he a man upon whom a very small quantity of liquor has an effeet? A. Yes—proceedings were pending in the Divorce Court—he said, "I have not the least hesitation in saying I am sure to get divorced, and after I am divorced, I will marry the girl with her father's consent. "

WALTER KERRESSEY (Police-inspector). I took the prisoner on a warrant—I told him I had a warrant for his apprehension—he said, "So I have just heard"—I said, "It is for taking Elizabeth Tolley, a girl under the age of sixteen, from her home"—he said, "I did not take her; she went of her own accord; she told me she was seventeen."

MRS. TOLLEY (reexamined). I have a daughter named Eliza—she and Elizabeth never quarrelled—they were quite friends—latterly Elizabeth was disobedient and very dissatisfied, particularly since Christmas—her mind seemed turned against all of us, particularly against me—she did not like to go out with me, and I never allowed her to go out without me, if I knew it.

MR. SLEIGH wished to take the opinion of the COURT upon the effect of the statement of the proseculrix to the prisoner that she was seventeen yean of age, and whether that did not relieve the prisoner from the present charge; in the case of Reg. v. Robins, in Car. and Kirwan, it was no doubt held that ignor-ance of the age was of no importance, but that was only the dictum of a single judge, and had never been decided by the Court of Criminal Appeal; he begged to call the attention of the Court to Reg. v. Tinckler, in Foster and Finlaison.

MR. BARON BRAMWELL was of opinion that any man who dealt with an unmarried person did so at his peril, and if she turned out to be under sixteen, he was liable under this act.

The prisoner received a good character.

In leaving the law of the case to the jury, MR. BARON BRAMWELL said,"I am of opinion that if a young woman leaves her father's house without any persuasion, inducement, or blandishment held out to her by a man, so that she has got fairly away from home, and then goes to him, although it may be his moral duty to return her to her parents' custody, yet his not doing so is no infringement of this Act of Parliament, for the Act does not say he shall restore her; it only says he shall not take her away; but it is equally clear, if the girl, acting under his persuasion, leaves her father's house, although he is not present at the moment, yet, if he avails himself of that leaving which took place at his persuasion, that would be a taking her out of the father's possession, because that persuasion would be the motive cause of her leaving; and again, although she, may not leave at the appointed time, and although he may not wish that she should have left at that particular time, yet if, finding that she has left, he avails himself of that to continue her away from her father's custody, in my judgment he is also guilty, if his persuasion operated on her mind so as to induce her to leave.

GUILTY.—Strongly recommended to mercy by the jury on account of his age, his good character, and his good intentions.— Confined Two Months .

NEW COURT.—Friday, June 15th, 1866.

Before Mr. Justice Byles.

563. JAMES O'HARA (27), was indicted for a rape upon Johannah Casey, and ISAAC MOORE (25), JOHN BUCKLEY (21), and JOHN WOODS (20) , feloniously aiding and abetting him in the said offence.

MR. GOUGH conducted the Prosecution. MR. HARRIS appeared for O'Hara, MR. M. WILLIAMS for Moore and Buckley, and MR. STRAIGHT for Wood.

O'HARA— GUILTY .— Twelve Years' Penal Servitude . BUCKLEY— GUILTY .

—Recommended to mercy by the Jury.— Five Years' Penal Servitude . WOODS

— GUILTY .— Five Years' Penal Servitude . MOORE—. NOT GUILTY

THIRD COURT, Friday 15th June, 1866.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

564. THOMAS TILEY (16) , Feloniously killing and slaying John Sherwood Withey; he was also charged on the Coroner's inquest with the like offence.

MR. WARNER SLEIGH conducted the Prosecution, and MR. RIBTON the Defence. EDWARD PICTON. I am a carter, and live at White Hart-yard, Tottenham—on Monday, 7th of May, I was driving a van with two horses along Wire Hall-lane, Edmonton, and there were two other carts following mine—Mr. Withey's was not one of these—his was a van—I saw him when he passed me—he overtook me—he was driving a horse and van—when he had got as far as my first horse he pulled up, because there was not room for him to pass—the obstruction was caused by a vehicle coming in an opposite direction—it was Mr. Millard's cart—the prisoner was driving it; at least, he was not driving it, because he was asleep—it was a heavy cart, with two horses—he had no reins—he was not on the driving-box—he was sitting in the bottom of the cart—I could see him in the cart—he was sitting on the off-side of the cart, lolling his head at the other side of the cart—I should say he was asleep—he did not look up or take any notice of the deceased's cart meeting him—the deceased hit at him with a whip—I cannot say whether he struck him or not, as I had got my own horses to attend to—it did not rouse him up, as I could see—it did not hit the horses—I heard it hit the cart—the prisoner's cart did not pass on without touching the other cart—it hit the off fore wheel of the deceased's van—the deceased pulled up his van, and was waiting for the other to make way—he was thrown off—the stroke I suppose knocked him off—I saw the off wheel of the cart strike the off wheel of the van, and I then saw the deceased fall—he fell off the seat in front into the road—from where my wheel stood to the other side of the road is twenty-one feet—I was close on one side—there was plenty of room on the other side of the prisoner's van, and there was such room, that if he had pulled on one side there would have been no accident at all—I did not see the prisoner wake up—after he had passed the carts, he came back again—he should have gone on the hedge side—it is a country lane—the prisoner came back to where the deceased had fallen—the horses pulled the cart right through, till it got past all three and then stopped, and the prisoner came up to where the deceased was—Mr. Withey could not get up—he said something while the prisoner was standing over him—I do not remember what he said to him—he made a complaint of his being hurt—me and my mate put him in the front part of his own van—we met his son on the way home, and gave him up to him—I do not know his son by name, but that is the man (pointing to Richard Withey).

Cross-examined. Q. Were you in front? A. Yes—there were two carts before me—one had got one horse, and the other two—the width of my cart was six feet from wheel to wheel, I believe, or six feet two—I was as close to the side of the road as I could get—I am sure of that—I was walking, perhaps it might be at the rate of three miles an hour—the deceased had entirely passed my cart—he was against my front horses—if he had swerved to his proper side a little more, he would have swerved the horses—he was as close to the side as he could get—there is not a footpath—there is a ditch; I could not pull my horses into the ditch—the deceased could not have avoided the cart if he had pulled a little to the left, because

he had not got room—he was close to the side of my horses—there would be plenty of room for three carts on that road—some carts are not so wide as others—vans are not so wide as carts—I did not know the deceased—I saw the prisoner coming on before he came up to me—I cannot say whether the deceased could have seen him coming—I swear that I was at the near side of the road, and he was at the off side—he was as close to my horses as he could be when the job happened—I saw him pass my horses, not the cart—I saw nim strike at the prisoner—he did not lean over—he was quite close to him.

RICHARD WITHEY . The deceased was my father—on 7th May, I met him and took him home—I did not hear a statement made by him to Mr. Busk—my brother did—my father was taken home and taken care of—I sent for a doctor—he died on the 6th of June—he remained at home all that time, under the care of the doctor—he never got off his bed—he was seventy-four—his health was very good, indeed, before this—he was always hearty—he was not deaf or dimsighted—I met my father between one and two in the day.

ROBERT NEWBURY COBBETT . I am a surgeon residing at Southgate, near Edmonton—on 7th May, I was sent for to attend a person of the name of Withey—he was lying on a sofa, in the sitting-room—he was quite helpless—I found his left leg quite helpless, and with his sons I assisted in getting him up to bed—on examining him, I found he had fractured the left thigh—he was suffering very great pain—I did not discover any other injuries at that time—from the symptoms that set in, I had reason to believe that there were other injuries—inflammation of the bowels—in the evening sickness supervened, which continued more or less till his death—I think the inflammation of the bowels was consequent upon the injuries to the thigh, consequent upon the shock to the nervous system and the accident—he died on the 6th of June—he rallied a little from time to time, but not materially—the cause of death was inflammation of the bowels, caused by the injuries—he was seventy-four years of age—he appeared, with the exception of these injuries to be in as good a state of health as a man of that age would be—I had known him more or less for more than twenty years—I had attended members of his family.

Cross-examined. Q. I suppose you are certain the inflammation did not proceed from any other cause? A. There was no evidence of it at all—I made an examination of it afterwards—it is very unusual for inflammation of the bowels to follow from an injury to the thigh—it might be difficult for a medical man to say what was the immediate cause of inflammation of the bowels, but the symptoms in this case proceeding in a reguler train, and there being no subsequent signs of it, I come to the conclusion that it was from the injury received—there was a gradual inflammation coming on in the bowels from the time I first saw him.

GUILTY.—Recommended to mercy by the Jury.— Confined One Month .

565. WALTER MARSH (47) , Feloniously killing and slaying one Walter Marsh the younger; he was also charged on the Coroner's inquisition with the like offence.

MR. TAYLOR conducted the Prosecution, and MR. DALY the Defence.

SAMUEL ANDREWS . I am relieving-officer of the parish of St. Leonard, Shoreditch—on 18th April, just before 12 at night, I was sent for by the police to 99, Nichol-square—the prisoner lives there—I believe he has a family of six children—my attetion had been called to them on the 14th,

and I saw him the next day, at the shop where he was employed as a poulterer's salesman, in Leadenhall market—I told him who I was, and asked him if he was aware of the position in which his family was?—he said, "What do you mean?"—I said, "Mrs. Thorne has called my attention to your family, and I called last night for the purpose of seeing them; I believe there was a daughter of yours in the room, who refused to admit me, so I afterwards took a policeman with me"—I also told him that I saw his child, Alfred, going in at the door, but he was kept out by his daughter, on account of us being there—I told him the child appeared very thin and haggard—he then said, "What business have you to go into my house at all?"—I said, "unless you provide for your family, I shall take other proceedings, after the case has been represented before the Board of Guardians"—he made no reply to that—that was all that passed on the 15th—when I went to the house on the 18th, I found the room I went into completely stripped of furniture—there were a few rags lying in one corner, and on those rags I found Clara, a child five years of age, and Walter, aged seven and a half—a boy, named Frederick, aged thirteen, was standing under the window—he was clad very badly—Walter was breathing very heavily—he did not appear to understand when I spoke to him—he was comparatively insensible—he had nothing on with the exception of a portion of a blanket to cover him—he appeared to be very dirty, about the head more particularly—a deal of vermin about the head—I sent for Dr. Wallace, who came at once, and I removed all the children to the workhouse, through his certificate—I did not see a particle of food or water in the room—there was one cupboard in the room—I did not look in that.

Cross-examined. Q. You did not look in any of the cupboards, did you? A. I did not—I did not see one of the children eating bread and butter—it might have been without my seeing it—my attention was called to Walter more particularly—there was nothing for the children to lie upon—I heard there had been an execution in the house, and that everything had been taken—the eldest girl had run away previous to my getting there, when the police made their entrance there—she is sixteen or seventeen, I should say—I saw her afterwards at the court—I cannot tell whether she was decently dressed or not—I can't say whether she only ran into another room.

HENRY BYRNE . I am a poulterer in Leadenhall market—the prisoner has been in my service about seven months—he had 1l. a week wages up to 27th January—he had double wages Christmas week, 2l.—he had also a commission, which averaged 5s. a week—since 27th January he has had 30s. a week, end his commission—the time of his leaving work varied—sometimes he was done at 2 o'clock, sometimes not till 6 or 7, or 8, and, on Saturday, 9 or 10 o'clock—I knew nothing of his family—sometimes he came to my place in the morning hardly fit for business—he appeared as if he had been the worse for liquor—he has always attended to his business.

Cross-examined. Q. I believe you never saw him incapable of attending to his business? A. No—I heard that he had lost his wife—I did not hear the circumstances—I believe he did not drink before his wife died—I always considered him a very respectable man—he always used to draw my cheques, and keep my books, up to the time of his leaving—his commission would sometimes be only 2s. or 3s. a week, and sometimes 8s. or 10s.—he used to take it about once a month—he had 1l. a week for four weeks, until he took the commission—he dined in the market—he came between 6 and half-past in the morning—I would take him back into my service, if he was acquitted.

MR. TAYLOR. Q. Do you know when his wife died? A. I do not.

ESTHER THORNE . I am the wife of James Thorne, trunk-maker, of 112, Hackney-road—I have known the prisoner's family for some little time—on the night of the day that the children were taken to the workhouse, the eldest girl, Matilda, was with me—in consequence of what she said, I went round to Marsh's house about 9 in the evening—I saw three children lying at the side of the fire-place, on the floor—I did not see any food, or fire, or water—there was another child lying on the floor, under the window Walter was lying in a corner, very ill, and breathing very hard—he looked as if he was dying fast—I knelt down to him, and said, "My dear, what is the matter with you?" and he could not speak—I gave the others some food—I had been there previously, at the request of the daughter—I had not given them food previously, not anything to speak of—there had been two distresses put in at different times—one on the Friday previous to this—the prisoner has been waited upon several times concerning his family, by me and my husband—he said, what could he do, he did not earn sufficient money—in consequence of what I saw on the night of the 18th, I sent for a policeman—the second daughter, Susannah, was there then—she ran away while I was there.

Cross-examined. Q. I suppose she was not in a complete state of toilet to meet a lot of men? A. She was dressed comfortably—she was not nearly naked—I live about half a quarter of a mile off—my daughter is a dressmaker, and she employed one of the prisoner's daughters, Matilda—she has said that she wished her father would look after the children—she complained of him not leaving sufficient money at home to find the children in their common necessaries—he has given them as much as four or five shillings on Saturday—I know that he always provided the Sunday's dinner, from what the daughters have told me—one of the boys was in a situation for a fortnight; and earned three shillings a week—there were seven children altogether—Matilda did not earn sufficient to keep herself—she only had one shilling a day—we did not feed her—she would only be with us parts of days—she went home to her food—she did not tell me she was starving—the children never asked me for anything—I had spoken to the prisoner twice or three times before the charge was made against him, and when the brokers came in I begged of him to come home and take care of his family and save them—I have found out since that two chairs had been removed from his house to mine by the side way—that is all, except what the daughter brought in her box when I offered her shelter—I don't know what there was—that was the daughter who had charge of the family—there was nothing worth pawning, I believe—she would not pawn or sell anything—the seizures were for rent—the water was cut off, and had been for some time—they had no water in the house at all—I don't know that Matilda had 4l. or 5l. in her possession at the time she went—it was not to that amount, but she had a little money saved up—she was housekeeper—she has been married recently, since this charge was made against her father—I believe what property she has she took to her own house to save for her father when he has need of them—it was only a few bundles which she took away since she has been married—the little boy who died was past food at the time he was found—he was dying—he could not take any.

MR. TAYLOR. Q. What was the average amount Matilda earned? A. Sometimes she would not take 3s. or 2s. 6d.—she had to look after the house—the two chairs are all the property I know of which were brought to my house, except the bundles—when the second seizure took place she came over to my house—she was going to run away and do something wrong, and my daughters entreated me to let her stop there that night, and I did so.

MATILDA BUTLER . My name was Matilda Marsh—I am the prisoner's eldest daughter, and am twenty-one years of age—I was at home when the distress was put in, a week previous to my brother's death—shortly after I went to Mrs. Thorne's, and stopped for the night—I had been in the habit of providing for the children with the money my father supplied—he was in the habit of bringing home the Sunday's dinner—he always gave me 5s. on the Saturday night—he always brought the meat home, and gave me 5s. besides—besides that during the week sometimes I had a shilling, sometimes 6d. and sometimes less, but not often, and sometimes more—there were six of us—I earned a few shillings myself; it was generally about 3s.—Frederick earned 3s. a week for two weeks only—sometimes I asked my father to allow me more—I don't know what he said—I don't believe he had it to give me, or else I believe he would have given it to me—the children always could have eaten more than they had—my father always went away early in the morning to his work, before we were up—I did not often see him of a night—he always slept at home—I sometimes went to bed at 10, and sometimes before—I did not see him on the Sunday after the distress—I was at Mrs. Thorne's; I knew that he was at home, so I did not go home I was at the house two or three times a day—I always went in the evening—on the Friday, Walter complained of not being well, and having a sore throat—I thought it was a little cold—there did not seem much the matter with him—he walked about, and was able to eat his food—when I went to fetch Mrs. Thorne on the Wednesday evening he was very ill—he seemed to be taken very quick—I believe he had had some milk that morning—I believe he had food the previous day—my sifter could tell you better, because she was at home—we had no water; we had to get it from the neighbours—that was for some weeks before—the children were not dirty, because I always washed them myself every Saturday—I kept them clean—I went to Mrs. Thorne's because there was no place for me to lie down—I had no bed to lie on.

Cross-examined. Q. You are in mourning for your brother now, are you not? A. Yes—before going to bed that night the children did not ask me for food, or complain of hunger—they were lying upon some clothes, with something under their heads—they had a blanket over them—I had bought a pair of boots for my brother a few days before—I did not know he was in danger till the same day—my father was at business then.

SUSANNAH MARSH . I am about sixteen—after the second distress had been put into the house, I had the care of the children—my sister was away more—I used to sleep at home always—I don't know what time my father came back in the evening—I never saw him from the Friday when this distress was put in till the Wednesday when our brother was taken to the workhouse—we had bread, and butter, and meat—we had meat on the Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday—we all had some—it was boiled mutton—I am sure about having meat on those three days—my father used to leave about 3s. a week, sometimes more, 5s., of a Saturday night—I saw my brother Walter getting ill first on the Saturday—father had not seen him—he took some food on the Sunday, on the Monday, and on the Tuesday—I am sure about that—he had his meat for dinner on the Tuesday—he ate his food on the Wednesday—I told my father that Walter looked ill on the Sunday—I only saw him on the Sunday—he said, "Matilda should have got him some medicine"—he did not see the child himself—he was at home on the Sunday, and Walter was at home—my father did not see him—I would not let the police in when they came—I ran away on the Wednesday night.

Cross-examined. There were 2 and a half quartern loaves in the cupboard, were there not? A. Yes—on the Wednesday morning my Gather gave me 9d. to get some rice—be did not see Walter—I took his dinner op to him on the Sunday, and he ate it—the children had had their tea on the night the poliee came—they were not in the habit of having food after their tea when, they went to bed.

JAMES BURBOWS (Policeman N, 28). On 16th April, about half-past 10, Mrs. Thorne called my attention to this house, 99, Nichol-square—I went into a room there, and opened the window to give ventilation to the room, it smelt so bad—the house was open—Mrs. Thorne had been in previous to me—I found Walter and Clara lying together on some rags, and under the window laid Alfred—there was scarcely Anything on them—I spoke to the deceased boy, Walter—he could scarcely answer me—he spoke with difficulty and asked me to send for a doctor—he was very weak—I went for the relieving officer, and afterwards the medical man came—I caused observation to be made of the house—I was there at half-past 10—I saw nothing of the prisoner till I apprehended him the following morning—there was a cupboard in the room where the children were—there was no food there, not in that room—I did not examine the whole of the cupboards, but in the two on the floor the children were then was no food at all—I did not see any food at all, or water.

Cross-examined. Q. Have you heard it sworn that there were 2 quartern loaves? A. I can't say whether there was or not—the father said Walter had a slight cold on him, and that his sister had given him meat and pudding on the Sunday, and he had eaten as hearty at the rest.

MR. TAYLOR. Q. Did you ever hear anything about bread when you were at the police-court? A. No—I believe I first heard about it on the second examination—nothing was said about it on the first.

WILLIAM. ROBINSON (Police-inspector N). I was at 99, Nichol square at the same time the doctor was—when I went, Clara was eating some bread and butter, and Alfred also—I did not find any food in the place at all, except that.

Cross-examined. Q. Did you go into all the rooms? A. I did—I did not search all the cupboards.

RICHARD UNTHANK WALLACE . I am a surgeon, at 243, Hackney-road, and a bachelor of medicine of the London University—I was called on the night of 18th, to 99, Nichol-square, and found four children in an empty room—Walter was in a very weak state—I saw two children lying by the fire-place on the right-hand side, Walter and Clara—Walter had on what you could scarcely term a covering, an apology for a sheet, and Clara was perfectly naked, nothing at all on—there was a thin piece of blanket covering both—under the window on the left, there was another child, Alfred—he had very little covering indeed: a little piece of flannel over him—Walter was breathing laboriously, and he was semi comatose—you could scarcely understand what he said—he seemed to be dying—I directed them to be taken to the workhouse—I was afterwards present at the post-mortem examination—I think on the following Saturday—there was no disease of any organ of the body—the cause of death was from effusion of serum into the three great cavities of the body, the head, chest, and abdomen—debility, and great weakness especially, would produce such an effusion of serum—absence of food would produce that—there was a little fluid in the stomach—that would be accounted for by a small quantity of beef-tea and wine—I examined the bowels carefully—there was scarcely anything in them—the

cause of death was from debility, and from the absence of all disease in the body, I could only form the opinion that that arose from want of food—that is my opinion.

Cross-examined. Q. I would rather read from what you swore at the police-court; is this true; "I ground my opinion that the child died from privation, from the state of the room, and the state I found the children in, and from what I have heard in conversation?"A. I did say that, but it is a very foolish statement—I was a little nervous at the time—I did not form my opinion from what I saw—I have not spoken to the attorney about this—I was not told by anybody that my evidence was not strong enough to convict him—that answer was given at the police-court without sufficient thought—I could not have formed my opinion from what I have heard—I have been examined before in a Court of justice—I was once in this Court, in a case of stabbing—I think I was the only doctor examined—I have been in dirtier houses than this one, but this one was quite empty, no furniture—the children did not complain to me of wanting food—I did not ask them—effusion occurs occasionally in children who are constitutionally weak, but not to the extent I found in this case—if I had found this very child in a gentleman's house, in bed, and clean, and had afterwards made a post-mortem examination, I certainly should have said that the death was caused by starvation, if I found the same symptoms which I found in this child after death—I might perhaps be more careful in giving my opinion—effusion is the flowing of the serum into the cavities—it may occur and yet not cause death, but not to this extent—it may occur from constitutional debility, but not to the extent I found it here—the state in which I found the child could not have been caused by constitutional weakness—it could not have been caused by anything but privation—either of them will cause effusion of serum—I do not think I was pressed before the Magistrate about the food in the stomach—I did not go fully into the post-mortem examination then—Dr. Clark gave his evidence first, and I was asked whether I agreed with him.

MR. TAYLOR. Q. Did you ever hear, or know at all, of a case of a child dying in this way, except from want of food? A. No, I have not.

COURT. Q. Would you say, in common parlance, that the child died of starvation? A. Yes; that would be the form of disease which an insufficient quantity of food would cause—if a child was fed with meat and pudding on the Sunday, I should not expect its death on the following Wednesday in this way at all—suppose it had milk on the very day that I saw it, that would not alter the case materially—no doubt the effusion was in existence then—it might have been so on the Sunday—it could not have gone on for three or four mouths; three or four weeks we will say.

JAMES CLARK . I am the medical officer of the St. Leonard's, Shoreditch workhouse—four children were brought in there very early on the morning of 19th April—I went there directly, and saw Walter—his body was generally puffy and dropsical—he was breathing with great difficulty—he was insensible, or almost so, except when roused, and he would give an incoherent answer—he died within thirty hours after his admission into the workhouse; early on the morning of the 20th—the last witness and myself made a post-mortem examination—there was no disease of any organ whatever—I attribute this puffyness which I observed to dropsical effusion—effusion of serum into the various cavities of the body—debility was produced by effusion, and there being no disease, I believe the debility arose from privation—there was a small quantity of fluid contents in the lower

bowels—after his admission, I directed that a little beef-tea and wine should be given—that would account for the quantity of fluid that was found—the muscles were generally in a pale condition, and somewhat emaciated—the other children were getting better when I was before the Magistrate.

Cross-examined. Q. You did not say a word before the Magistrate about the state of the stomach, did you? A. No; if I am not questioned, I do not give an answer—this is the first time I have been asked the question—I told counsel about it this morning—the question was put to me before the Magistrate, "Was it a likely case to arise from privation?"and my answer was, "Yes"—I still say I believe it was from no other cause—this effusion never arises from constitutional weakness under such circumstances, there being no disease to be traced in this child's body—if a child was of a weak or scrofulous habit, then it would be shown in the stomach—you might have mesenteric disease, disease of the heart, or disease of the lungs—where the effusion is from constitutional disease, or from scrofulous habit of body, you would also find signs of it in the body—there is always some disease to account for it—there must be a cause for every effect—as a law there is no such thing as constitutional weakness without some actual disease—there are some exceptions—if I found this effusion of serum in a child, knowing nothing of it, I should not immediately presume it was from starvation, but there being no assignable cause for death, I should then unquestionably attribute it to that cause which I have mentioned—the circumstances the child had been in, would not have any effect whatever—there are no causes that would produce debility that are not discoverable on the post-mortem examination—it is possible and barely possible, but not in my experience.

COURT. Q. Would mesenteric disease in all forms be traceable in the post-mortem examination? A. It would; we should see it in the glands and in the bowels—mesenteric disease is where the mesenteric glands do not take up the nutriment—there was no trace of mesenteric disease here—there is not always inflammation of the stomach with mesenteric disease.

The prisoner received a good character.— GUILTY.—Recommended to Mercy by the Jury.— Confined Nine Months .

566. ROBERT WILLIAMS (24) , Feloniously ravishing and carnally knowing Maria Parker. MR. GOUGH conducted the Prosecution.

GUILTY of an assault, with intent.— Confined Eighteen Months ,

FOURTH COURT.—Friday, June 15t, 1866.

Before Mr. Recorder.

567. RICHARD LOWE (20) was indicted for feloniously having in his possession 2 metal plates, upon which was engraved certain parts of a promissory-note for the payment of money, in the German language.

MESSRS. SLEIGH and POLAND conducted the Prosecution, and MR. DALY the Defence.

HANNAH LEE . I am the daughter of George Lawrence Lee, engraver and lithographer, of 8, Hatton garden—bout half-past 9, on the morning of 10th April, the prisoner came to my father's shop, and asked if we did engraving—I said, "Yes"—he showed me this medal, and asked me if we could do that—I said, "Yes"—I then introduced him to my father, and I saw him give the medal to him—he asked my father if he could engrave that—my father said, "Yes; he could do any kind of engraving—he showed

my father a piece of paper, and went away; he came again about half-past 8 next morning—father was not at home, but came in shortly afterward; they had some conversation together—the prisoner was a perfect stranger to me—we do not live at the shop, but at Hyde-street.

GEORGE LAWRENCE LEE . I carry on the business of an engraver, but I am a lithographer by profession—I have been in business forty years—on the 10th of April the prisoner was introduced to me by my daughter—he showed me a medal of the French Exhibition, and asked me if I could engrave that—I told him "Yes," and better than that—he then pulled out a bank note engine, turned at the back—it was partly folded, and he asked me if I could do that—I told him I could, and he then wanted some bank note engraving—I told him I was rather busy that morning, and would rather he called the next morning—he said he would, at 8 o'clock—I told him it would cost a great deal of money, which I did to frighten him away—he said, "I have got plenty of money, and do not care whether it is 50l. or 100l.—after he left I put myself in communication with the police authorities, and the Prussian Consulate—when I got to the shop about half past 9 the next morning, I found the prisoner waiting—I showed him some specimens, of bank note engraving, and he was satisfied with them—he did not ask what I was going to charge—he left this part of a note with me—he left me a sovereign as deposit, and I asked him in what name I should make the receipt out, and he said, "Mr. Love"—he showed me different thaler notes, and one of the value of 100 thalers—he said, "Do not you think this is very difficult to do"—I said, "I dare say we can manage it"—he said he should want a good many of the 100 thaler notes, and that I was to get the paper exactly like the note, with the water mark—he asked me if I had a private address—I said "Yes," and gave him my address at Hyde-street—he said he wanted the mark done in private, and he thought my shop was too public—I again placed myself in communication with the police—he called on me the next morning, and was with me till past 4 o'clock—he asked me if I could give him a book to read, as he would not go out all day—at this time I only had a quarter of the note in my possession, and I told him it was no use my doing part of the note, because I could not fix it together, and then he gave me the other part—this is the other portion (produced)—I was occupied in tracing the note that day—these are some of the tracings—he said that mine must be exactly like the original—the next day he came, and when I had done work he took up the note and folded it up—I said, "You cannot disturb that note; I have got my tracing on it"—he said he should take it with him—I said, "If you won't leave me the note I won't do any more to it," and then he left me the note—he said he was lodging at 42, Pratt-street, St. Pancras, and that he did not like being at my place, would I go to his?—I asked him whether I should ring or knock at the door—he said he should be at the door waiting for me—I met him next morning by appointment—I was there the whole of the day engaged in tracing—I think he gave me 2l. on that occasion—he wanted it to be done on steel plates, but I said copper for the back—I went the next day and took a lithographic stone with me—as for as I remember I did these words, "One hundred thalers," and some tracing on the back—he said I was to get the plates, and he gave me 2l.—next day, Sunday, he called at my private house, and I went with him to Hatton-garden to get some tools, and then to Pratt-street—I worked on the stone, I think, that day—he said I was late in the morning through coming such a distance, and that I was in consequence fatigued, and he had better have a place nearer

my place of business—on the 16th we went and found a lodging at 2 Woodbridge-street, Clerkenwell, and the tools and things were removed from Pratt-street to there—on the 17th I went to Woodbridge-street and worked at the copper-plate—he went away for about two hours, and looked me in the room—I was there again on the 18th, 19th, 20th, still working at the plates—while I was gone to dinner on the 20th the prisoner did a little of she tracing on the copper-plate, and he showed me what he had been doing—he told me he should require six dozen of the 500 thaler notes, and one hundred of the 100-thaler notes—on Saturday I made a further communication to the police—I met the prisoner at Woodbridge-street on Sunday morning, and I told him I did not think it right, in a strange place, and a Christian house, to work on a Sunday—he wanted to know if I could get the back of the plate-engine turned—I told him I did not do such work, but I knew a party who did—I told him I did not mind going to Hatton-garden and doing the work there—he took the copper plates and paper, and put them in his pocket—on the way I made some excuse and left him—there had been an arrangement between me and the police—this is the plate I have been speaking of, and these are the tracings (produced).

Cross-examined. Q. How long were you engaged upon this work? A. From the Tuesday to the Monday week—I had nearly completed the forgery—I did not tell him I could not work on Sundays for the purpose of entrapping him—I did not make that arrangement with the police—he was taken with the things in his possession—I did not give them to him, he took them—I knew the police were following us—when he came to me first he merely asked me to engrave something—I did not tell him it was against the law to engrave a note—I believe his age is 21—I knew he was a foreigner—I have been in Holborn 40 years—I was engaged with the police in the Austrian forgery in the same manner—I did not tell the Austrian it was contrary to English law, but if I did not do the engraving others would—I had my expenses paid by the Emperor, and he sent me a present unsolicited—I lent some presses and materials for the Russian forgery, but I did not know what it was for at the time—I only had my expenses from the solicitors for that—I think I had 9l. from the prisoner for work done—I took it for doing that which was afterwards to be handed over to the police, and which was to convict the prisoner—I have got the first part of the note that he handed to me—these scratches on this plate are what the prisoner did while I was away.

MR. SLEIGH. Q. Are those scratches in imitation of the note? A. Yes—it is sixteen years ago since the Austrian affair occurred—upon that occasion I immediately communicated with the police.

HENRY WEBB . I am a detective officer—on the 12th of April I received instructions from Inspector Hamilton, and in consequence I went with Mr. Lee to the Prussian Embassy, at Victoria-square—I went there again the next morning—I have been engaged with sergeant Scott in watching the prisoner—I have watched him at 42, Pratt-street, Camden Town, and Woodbridge-street—I was watching from the 12th of April to the 22d—on Sunday, the 22d, I was with Scott—we saw the prisoner leave Woodbridge-street—we followed him down St. John-street, Wilderness-row, and Aldersgate-street, until we came to Cheapside, where we stopped him—Scott said to him, "We are going to search you on suspicion of having some engraved plates in your possession for the purpose of forging Prussian notes"—the prisoner said, "Oh, pray, let me go, pray, let me go! break them, and let me go"—Scott put his hand into the prisoner's left-hand pocket and took

out this copper plate and this steel one—he was searched at the Bow-lane station, and this 50-thaler note, which is in two pieces, and several other notes, were found in his possession—also this medallion—these papers were found at his lodgings in a cupboard in a back room on the second floor—also this list of engravers in London, and a 5barrelled revolver, loaded and capped—a box containing bullets, bullet-mould, powder-box, and caps—I then went to No. 2, Woodbridge-street—I opened the door with a key found on the prisoner—I found there a black bag containing these tracings, and this passage-ticket, New York to Hamburg, off which the name has been torn.

Cross-examined. Q. Do you know he only recently came to England? A. He stated so himself—he speaks English rather imperfectly—they are all respectable engravers on this list—Mr. Lee is a respectable man—I know Mr. Lee has given evidence in cases of this kind before.

MR. SLEIGH. Q. From your inquiries and knowledge is Mr. Lee a man of great respectability in his profession? A. Yes, a very respectable man—he has given me every assistance in this matter.

GEORGE SCOTT (Citydetective Sergeant). I assisted Webb in taking the prisoner into custody—I told the prisoner we were officers, and that we should take him into custody on suspicion of having in his possession two engraved plates for forging 500-thaler notes—he made no reply—Webb took hold of his arms, and I began searching him—I took from his pocket these two plates, which were wrapped in paper—I asked him how he accounted for the possession of those plates, and he said, "Oh, pray, break the plates, and let me go"—I also found some thaler notes on him to the amount of about 1100 thalers.

MARTHA ALDRIDGE . I am a widow, and live at 42, Pratt-street, Camden Town—on the 3d of April the prisoner came to my house and took some apartments—one room—he went away, and afterwards brought some bedding—he told me he was a stranger in London—the room that was searched by the police was the prisoner's room—the second floor back—I remember Mr. Lee coming there from time to time—the prisoner used to take coffee, but he would not allow me inside—he was standing at the door to take it, and the door was opened sufficiently wide to admit the coffee—I believe Mr. Lee was there at the time—he always spoke to me in English.

JULIUS FRANCK . I am clerk to a notary, and am acquainted with the German language—I have made a translation of the 500-thaler note, and it is a correct translation.

HERMAN OBSE . I am Secretary of the Royal Bank of Prussia—that bank issues these thaler notes—this is a genuine note, and these are the signatures of the Directors of the Bank at Berlin—the head office is at Berlin.

GUILTY.—Recommended by Jury to mercy, in consequence of his youth.— Five Years' Penal Servitude .

568. RICHARD LONG (26) , Feloniously killing and slaying William John Ellis.

MR. GRAIN conducted the Prosecution, and MR. WARNER SLEIGH the Defence.

RORERT BROWN . I am fireman in the employ of the North London Railway—the deceased was engine-driver to my train—on the 19th of May our train left Fenchurch-street about 7, and arrived at Shoreditch about twenty-five minutes past—the starting signal was then against our going on—after passing the intermediate Bank signal-box, and before we get to Shoredith Station, there are the Auxiliary signals—they are about 300 or

400 yards from the station—when we passed them they were "all right"—the semaphore signals at the entrance of the station were "all right"—at Shoreditch the deceased said he should not have so much time at Broad-street, and he would put a drop of oil in the engine then, and he told me to keep an eye on the signals—he took the oil-feeder in his hand, and got off on to the platform—shortly afterwards the Chalk Farm train came in, and knocked our train out of the station—I went back and found the deceased on the platform quite dead—our usual time for staying at the station is about a minute, and we were there about five minutes.

Cross-examined. Q. How long have you been in the service of the Company? A. About two years and a half—I thoroughly understand the signals—I did not see the state of the semaphore signals after we were in the station—it is not our duty to keep an eye on the signals behind us—I was not putting coal in the engine—if the starting signal had been taken off, I should have called the driver's attention to it—it is our duty to be prepared to start immediately the signal is given—I did not see where the driver was—he was not underneath the engine—I have a book of the company's rules, and I have read them—we were sent out of the station about four carriage lengths.

EDWARD MONTAGUE . I was the guard of the deceased's train—we left Fenchurch-street about 7 o'clock, and arrived at Shoreditch at 7.30—the starting signal was then against us—I think we were in the station about eight minutes, and the starting signal was against us all that time—the auxiliary signal was "off," which means, to proceed, but the semaphore was "on."

COURT. Q. How came you to pass that? A. When the auxiliary is "off," we consider, as a general thing, that we are justified in putting into the station—we can see whether the platform is clear.

MR. GRAIN. Q. While you were in the station, did you see the Chalk Farm train approaching? A. Yes, it was pointed out to me by a man named Mulliner—I told him to tell the driver of my train to go on—I then sang out with all my might to the Chalk Farm train to stop—while we were in the station the station signal was up—I could not see the auxiliary.

Cross-examined. Q. How long have you been in the service t? A. Over eight years—I thoroughly understand my business as a general thing—it is not usual for the engine to whistle the starting signal off, but if a driver finds he is standing too long in a station, then he might whistle to call the attention of the signalman—I did not hear him whistle on this occasion—Shoreditch is the only station between Dalston and Broad-street—I have waited at Shoreditch as long as eight minutes before—that may be months ago—the prisoner was signalman there—the steam is usually shut off at the auxiliary signals—the semaphore signal being up, it is usual to draw into the station slowly—I am not aware that the Company have altered that since this accident—I have not been on that train since.

MR. GRAIN. Q. I think you said you were guard; is that your usual dress you have on? A. No, I am not guard now, I am ticket collector at Hackney station.

JOHN ALDEN . I live at 22, Edward-street, Blackfriars-road—I was a passenger from Kilburn on the 19th—I took a ticket at Shoreditch for Broad-street—I waited on the platform about a minute, then a train came up, and I got into it—I saw the deceased man with an oil-can in his hand—he was on the side of the engine—I could not see what he was doing—the next time I saw him he was lying between the rails with an oil-can in his hand—I did not notice the signals.

COURT to EDWARD MONTAGUE. Q. After you made the signal for the Chalk Farm train to stop, was there time for it to stop before it touched your train? A. I think there was if all the brakes had been applied at once—I do not think they could have done it without—I did not see Mulliner make signals before I did.

ROBERT HINES . I live at 44, Elen-street, Bow, and am a driver on the North London Railway—I was driver of a train from Broad-street to Chalk Farm—when I got within sight of Shoreditch station, I saw the signal for the "up" line was down—I saw the deceased, he was on the side of his engine, by the side of the tank—he had an oil feeder in his hand, but I could not see what he was doing—I saw the Chalk Farm train coming into the station, and I made all the signals I could for them to stop—the guard applied his break immediately, and the driver did his utmost to stop it—the line is very much on a curve before getting into the station on the "up" line—they first see the auxilliary signal, and then the station signal—if the auxilliary signal is clear and the station signal against us, there is time, with the application of break, to pull up before running into the station; but if the semaphore was down, and they saw my signal, there was not sufficient time to pull up before entering the station—they were coming at the usual speed when they saw me.

Cross-examined. Q. Are you not in the habit, when the station signal is against you, to run into the station? A. When we are shown a green flag out of the signal-man's box—the semaphore signal is the main signal, but we work by caution from the signal man in the box—I was only in the station about a quarter of a minute before the accident happened—I saw the Chalk Farm train coming the moment I arrived—they were not coming at the rate of from 23 to 30 miles an hour—I did not see a green flag—I think the station signal is a post with only one arm.

PETER LODWICK BURCHELL . I saw the deceased on the Saturday evening between 7 and 8, and he was quite dead—he had been removed from where he was killed, and was lying on the platform—the flange of the wheel had gone into his skull.

JAMES SKINNER . I am guard of the "down" train which was in the station—I saw the deceased as we entered the station—he was in the "four foot" in front of his engine—he asked me what was stopping them, and I told him I did not know—the starting signal was up—the semaphore signal was down—I never saw it up.

Cross-examined. Q. How long were you in the station before the accident happened? A. We had hardly stopped—I did not see the other train coming in.

MILLS BIGGS . I am fireman on the North London Railway, and was on the "down" train at the time of the accident—the semaphore signal on the "up" line was down.

Cross-examined. Q. Did you see the Chalk Farm train running in? A. Yes—it was coming in at the ordinary pace—that I am quite sure of—we run about 25 miles an hour before shutting off the steam—that is generally shut off at the auxilliary signal—I should say, when I saw them, they were coming about 12 or 14 miles an hour—that was before we signalled to them to stop.

JOHN MULLINER . I am a porter at the Shoreditch station—I was on the platform when the deceased's train came into the station—I saw the Chalk Farm train approaching, and I called the guard's attention to it—we put our arms up for them to stop, and they tried to pull up.

JOHN ROWLES . I am driver of the Chalk-farm up train—we left Chalk-farm about 7.16—we were a minute late—the auxiliary and semaphore signals between Dalston and Shoreditch were both off—I saw the signals made by Hines to stop—I turned to my mate and said, "George, here's a train standing here"—I immediately reversed my engine—after the collision, I saw that the station signal was "off," and the starting signal was "on"—the guard said something to me, and then the station signal was "off."

Cross-examined. Q. What speed were you going before you saw Hine's signals? A. When I saw Hine's signals, I might be going eight or nine, or ten miles an hour—it might be a mile or two more, or less—I was behind time, but I was not making up for lost time—as near as I can say, I was going from twenty-five to thirty miles an hour before I shut off the steam; but I had shut off the steam at the auxiliary signal—I could not see into the station then—I was going to stop at Shoreditch—the distance between Dalston and Shoreditch is rather more than a mile.

Cross-examined. Q. Are you not in the habit of running into the station when the semaphore signal is up? A. At times, when the flag is out

GEORGE SWYER . I was fireman on Rowles' train—as we approached Shoreditch-station, the signals were "all right"—those were the auxiliary and semaphore—after the collision, I said to my mate, "Why, the signal is not up yet; there, it is going up."

Cross-examined. Q. What speed were you going when you saw the signals made by Hine? A. I cannot say—I should think we were not going at twenty-five miles an hour.

GEORGE BLACKMORE . I am guard of Bowles' train—as we approached Shoreditch-station, the auxiliary and semaphore signals were right for us to go on—after the collision, the driver said tome, "There, you see how the signals stand now; they are going up now, " and so they were—before the collision, I saw Hines make signals to stop, and we did our utmost to stop the train—before we reached the auxiliary signals, I should thing we were going about twenty miles an hour. NOT GUILTY .

OLD COURT.—Saturday, June 16th, 1866.

Before Mr. Justice Byles.

569. HELEN FORESTER (60) , For the wilful murder of Ann Venables alias Sloman , by using an instrument to procure abortion

MESSRS. DALY and GRAIN conducted the Prosecution and MR. M. WILLIAMS the Defence.

In this case, the proof that the prisoner was the person who caused the injuries, depended upon the dying statement of the deceased, made to the surgeon, and as by his evidence it appeared that, although she knew she was in great danger, and had been told that she would not recover, yet that she was not aware of the immediate approach of death, MR. M. WILLIAMS contended that the statement was inadmissible (See Reg. v. Spilsbury, 7, Carrington and Payne, page 187). MR. JUSTICE BYLES said it was necessary to prove that the deceased knew she was actually passiny out of this world, and that all terrestrial considerations had lost their weight with her, so that her statement would be the same as if made under the sanction of an oath. He considered that this was not proved, and therefore the statement must be excluded. In the absence of that statement, there was no evidence against the prisoner, and the Jury must acquit her. NOT GUILTY .

570. HELEN FORESTER was again charged, with CAROLINE FORESTER , on the Coroner's Inquisition only, with feloniously killing and slaying Ellen Ann Venables, . upon which, MR. DALEY offered no evidence

NOT GUILTY .

ESSEX CASE.

Before Mr. Baron Bramwell.

571. WILLIAM GOSS (20), and HOWARD LAMBERT (18), were indicted for a rape upon Elizabeth Badcock.

MR. BESLEY conducted the Prosecution. NOT GUILTY .

KENT CASES.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

572. JAMES ROSE (26) Burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling-house of William Alfred Wood, and stealing therein, 11/2; lbs. of tobacco, his property.

MR. DALY conducted the Prosecution. WILLIAM ALFRED WOOD. I am a grocer, of Mill-street, Deptford—on 13th May, about twenty minutes to 5 in the morning, I was awoke—I got up and found my shop had been entered—the outer door was open, which I had fastened at half-past 12 the night before—I had the key in my bedroom—I found my tobacco-drawer empty—there had been about 11/2; lbs. of tobacco in it, value about 6s.—6 lbs. of bacon, and some cheese, had been moved from one part of the shop to the other, nearer the door—they had taken a square of glass out of the fanlight, and the space was large enough for anybody to get in, and then by pressing a finger on the lock, they could get in at the door—I found the prisoner at the station—some tobacco similar to mine was shown to me—I know the prisoner—he was lodging in one of my houses—he appeared at the station to have been drinking—that was between 5 and 6, or half an hour afterwards—he had very likely been drinking over night.

WILLIAM WATTS . I am a boiler-maker, of 6, Mill-street, Deptford—at about half-past 4 o'clock on this morning, I was standing at my door, which is about thirty yards from Mr. Wood's house, and saw a young man pick up a pair of boots outside the shop, and hold them up—the shop-door was two or three inches open—I rapped at the shutters, and the prisoner opened the door—he had no boots on—he asked me what I wanted—I said, "Some tobacco"—he said that he had plenty of tobacco, showed me a bundle of it in his handkerchief, and offered me some—he then claimed the boots, and put them on—he appeared to have been drinking—Mr. Wood was called up, and the prisoner was taken into custody.

WILLIAM BARNES (Policeman, R 283). On 13th May, about 5 o'clock, Watts came to me, and I took the prisoner—he had a bundle in his hand, containing this tobacco—he had been drinking over-night—I told him that I should take him for breaking into the shop—he said that he knew nothing about it.

Prisoner's Defence. I did not know what I was doing; I was very heavy in liquor.

GUILTY .—He was further charged with having been before convicted at Maidstone, in the name of James Marney; to which he PLEADED GUILTY.— Eight Years' Penal Servitude .

573. WILLIAM BOWEN (32) , PLEADED GUILTY to wilfully breaking a pane of glass, and doing damage to the extent of 5l.— Confined Two Months .

574. THOMAS MORRIS (17) , Feloniously wounding Thomas Brown, with intent to do him some grievous bodily harm.

MR. ARMSTRONG conducted the Prosecution.GEORGE SLOWLEY. I live at 7, Gurling-street, Blackheath-hill—on Friday night, 18th May, I was at the Yorkshire Grey public-house, about 12 o'clock—we were all turned Out—two men named Diamond and Sexton were fighting together, and two other men named Quibble and Jeffreys, and while they were fighting, the prosecutor and the prisoner got fighting—a constable then came up and started them all away, and Brown and Jeffreys went away with two young women home—I went into the stables to feed the horses, and soon afterwards the prisoner came in to me and asked me if I would take care of a knife and sixpence for him till the morning—I took the knife and sixpence, and went home—he slept in the stable—I gave the knife to a constable the next morning when they came to my house.

Prisoner. I did not give him the knife till I heard the man was cut.

COURT. Q. Had you heard a man had been cut before he gave you the knife? A. No.

THOMAS BROWN . I was at the Yorkshire Grey at turn-out time, whilst Diamond and Sexton were fighting—the prisoner came up to me and said, what was it to do with me, and knocked me down—I was very tipsy at the time, and I don't know who stabbed me—about ten minutes afterwards I found myself stabbed—one stab against my heart, one on the side, and one on the wrist—I was bleeding, and was taken to the station—I was at the hospital three weeks—I am not well—I am not able to do anything.

GEORGE FEAVER (Policeman, 207 R). On the evening of 18th May, I was on duty on Blackheath-hill, an heard a disturbance—I went down, and found several persons fighting—I dispersed them in the best way I could—the prosecutor afterwards came to me, and complained of being stabbed—I took him to the station, and sent for a surgeon—he dressed his wounds, and ordered me to take him to the hospital—he could not say by whom he he had been stabbed—the next day the prisoner gave himself up and said, "I stabbed a man named Brown with this knife last night"—I had then received the knife from George Slowley, and had got it in my hand—the prisoner came to the police-court to me—I had another man in custody for stabbing Brown, and he was discharged, there being no evidence against him—he had not been discharged at the time the prisoner gave himself up and said this.

GEORGE SLOWLEY (reexamined). I was there at the time—I heard him say this.

FREDERICK HENRY SMITH . I am a surgeon—about 1 o'clock, on Saturday, 19th May, I examined the prosecutor—I found he was suffering from four punctured wounds, two in the chest, and one on each arm, about half of an inch to an inch wide—they were such wounds as might have been inflicted by a weapon like this knife—he was suffering from no dangerous symtoms—I sent him to the hospital.

COURT. Q. Was one of them near the heart? A. One of them was about an inch below the heart—if the stab had been deeper, it might have been serious—there had been four distinct stabs—the same blow could not have inflicted any two of them—he lost a good deal of blood from the wounds—he would be weakened by that for a short time—they are nearly well now.

GEORGE SLOWLEY (reexamined). I was not tipsy that night—I saw the prisoner fighting with the prosecutor—he was very drunk—they were all fighting—I should think he knew what he was doing, because he came and asked me to take care of the knife and sixpence.

Prisoner. Q. Was there any blood on the knife when I gave it to you? A. No, at least I put it in my pocket directly you gave it to me.

Prisoner's Defence. I never stabbed him.

GUILTY .— Confined Twelve Month .

SURREY CASES.

Before Mr. Justice Byles.

575. DANIEL BELOE (23), was indicted for the wilful murder of Sarah Ann Giles. He was also charged on the Coroner's Inquisition with the like murder.

MESSRS. GRIFFITHS and WOOD conducted the Prosecution, and MESSRS. SLEIGH and CUNNINGHAM the Defence,

JAMES BENTON . I am a seaman, and lived at 17, Eltham-street—I now live with My sister at Camperdown-street—I knew the deceased for the past four years—I lived with her as man and wife when I came home from sea—she had two daughters—I was living with her at that time at 17, Eaton-street, the house in question—on the night of 11th April, the prisoner was lodging in the house—the deceased lived with him at that time, and they slept together—they occupied the front parlour on the ground-floor, and the deceased and the prisoner occupied the back room up stairs—her sister, Henrietta Hill, and one of her daughters, a small child named Polly, slept in the room besides themselves—they all lived in the single room, and all slept there—Henrietta is thirteen or fourteen—I had been living at that lodging the last time I was at home, a fortnight or three weeks—the prisoner and the deceased were there all that time—on the night of 11th April we were all drinking together—the deceased and the prisoner went to bed about 10 or a quarter-past—they were both quite sober—he and I had been friendly that night—shortly after they went up stairs, the prisoner came down again—he said, "We have had a few words, and I am going to leave the house"—it is a small house, but you cannot hear what is going on up stairs—he did not leave the house, I heard him go up stairs again—I heard nothing more that night—about a quarter-past 7 next morning I got up, and after I took the milk in I knocked at the parlour door to wake the woman to get up and light the fire—she could hear the knocking downstairs—I got into bed again, and the next thing I heard was the deceased coming downstairs and the children screaming—that was about ten minutes after I knocked—she was dressed—she unlocked the door—(she locked me in at night—I took the milk in from the window)—she said something to me, and I saw blood on her clothes—when she spoke she showed me her throat, which was cut—I picked up some rags and put to the wound to try to staunch the blood, and sat her down on a chair—some neighbours came in

after the children went out of the house—the deceased lived a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes after she came down, as near as I can say—I do not know a man named Martin Moore—I did not see him come in and go up stairs—I have not known the prisoner above ten or twelve months—we have held conversations together several times about this woman—when we have walked along we have talked together—he seemed friendly with me about this woman—we were on friendly terms—I never saw anything wrong about the man—he appeared to me to be a man of sound sense.

Cross-examined bg MR. SLEIGH. Q. Have not you heard him threaten to commit suicide? A. Yes; to himself alone—about a fortnight before this occurrence, I heard him threaten to cut his own throat—it was only that once, and I said sooner than that should be through me, I would leave the house—it appears that he cut his throat on the very morning the deceased died—I did not see him after it was done, I never saw him after he went to bed at night.

MR. GRIFFITHS. Q. You said he said that he would cut his own throat, and that you said sooner than he should do that, yon would leave the house; what did you mean by saying that? A. Sooner than see the young man come to any harm through me, I would leave the house and go away—the woman's name was not mentioned at that time, only the deceased and Beloe had been out in the back yard talking of something—that was a fortnight or three weeks before, and on the same day that he said that he would cut his throat, and after the talk Beloe asked me if I had a piece of paper and pen and ink, that he could write a few words home to his friends and then we should not see any more of him—he said nothing more—he said that he would go and commit suicide.

HENRIETTA HILL . I am the sister of the deceased Sarah Ann Giles—I used to sleep in the same room with her and the prisoner—on Thursday morning, 11th April, I was awoke by hearing my sister say, "Oh!" and I pulled the clothes off her and found her neck bleeding—she went out of the room and went into the downstairs room—the prisoner was at that time sitting on the bed, with a black handled razor in his hand—I saw him draw it across his throat and hit it with his left hand—I saw that his throat was then cut and bleeding—I heard no words of quarrelling in the night

Cross-examined. Q. Had you been awake any time before you heard your sister rush out of the room and call out? A. No; I was asleep and that awoke me—I saw nothing of the prisoner the day before—I was at work.

JURY. Q. Did he sleep with her that night? A. Yes.

MARTIN MOORE . I live at 23, Eaton-street, and am a costermonger—on the morning of 12th April I heard a cry of murder, ran to 17, Eaton-street, and saw a woman in the passage, who said to me, "For God's sake go up stairs, there is Dan cut his throat"—I could point the woman out—I ran up stairs into the back room and saw Dan Beloe lying on a bed with his throat cut—I said, "Oh! Dan, is that you, you have done a foolish thing?"—he said, "I done it myself"—I lifted him up and put the pillows under his head—he turned on his side and dropped the razor out of his right hand, opened his eyes, put his hands up like this, and I said, "Dan, do you know where you are going to?"—he mumbled something, but I could not understand what he said—I put my ear as close to him as I could, and after all the people went down, I was left ten minutes in the room by myself—I asked him to speak, but I could not understand him—he said that he did it through jealousy, and he put his hand to his heart.

Cross-examined. Q. When the policeman came in was he in the same state,

with a gurgling noise in his throat? A. He was struggling—I do not know that he knew what he was about—he made eight or nine struggles in the bed—he was not in that state when the policeman arrived—he was quiet, but he made two or three struggles while the policeman was there—he remained twenty minutes before he was removed to the hospital—he made a mumbling to the policeman, but I could not understand what he was saying, his mouth was too full of blood to speak—I did not accompany him to the hospital, I only helped to carry him down stairs—he did not speak after he was taken out of the room.

WALTER BORWICK . I live at 17, Eaton-street—my mother and I sleep in the front room upstairs—my mother was not there on this day—on the morning of 20th April I heard screams—I opened my door and saw the prisoner's door open, and the prisoner lying on his right side with a razor in his right hand—his throat was cut—I ran down and gave the alarm of murder.

ROBERT CHANTRY (Policeman, 133 L). On Thursday morning, 12th April, I went to 17, Eaton-street, into the front room down stairs, and saw a woman lying on the floor with her head to the fire-place, and her feet to the door—she was not dead—she died in a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes—the doctor had not arrived then—I went upstairs and saw the prisoner lying on the bed with his throat out—I saw a razor lying on the floor, with marks of wet blood on it—the prisoner appeared to be insensible—I put my head to him and asked him who cut the woman's throat—he said, 'I did"—I distinctly heard him—I asked him if he out his own, and he said "Yes"—I did not ask him why he did it—he was removed to the hcspital.

MARY JANE POOLEY . I am the wife of Richard Pooley, of 7, Camper-down-place, Snow's-fields—he works with a lighterman—the deceased, Sarah Ann Giles, was my sister—she was the wife of William Davis Giles, a sailor—she had been separated from her husband about eighteen months—they had been married eleven years on 14th October—they were married in 1855, and had two little girls, twins, who were living there with her—they are ten years old—she heard fourteen or fifteen months ago that her husband was dead—she has not been married since—I know that she was living at 17, Elthatm-place—I know the prisoner—he was not living with her that I know of—I saw her about a fortnight before her death.

Cross-examined. Q. Is 17, Eltham-place an improper house? A. I do not know who lived in the house—I went there once or twice, not more—my youngest sister lived there.

COURT. Q. Did you see her after she was dead? A. Yes—after the inquest. I attended her funeral.

CHARLES WISE (Police-inspector, M). I searched the prisoner's room, and found some books with the name of Benton in them—the prisoner is a lighterman.

Cross-examined. Q. Is 17, Eltham-street a house of improper character? A. I believe it is—I am the inspector of the district.

GEORGE HENRY SAVAGE . I live at Bethlehem Hospital—I was surgeon to Guy's Hospital in April—on 11th April, about eight A. M. I received the prisoner—he had his throat cut—I had him under my charge during the whole of April, and then, my house-surgeoncy ceasing, I only saw him occasionally—he was under my care nearly three weeks—during that time I had an opportunity of judging of his state of mind—I have no reason to believe he was of unsound mind—he appeared quite rational—he was sensible when

he came to the hospital, but he could not speak from, loss of blood And injury to his throat.

Cross-examined. Q. Was he suffering from haemarriage when he came to the hospital? A. Yes—assuming for a moment that he was just previously in a state of temporary aberration of intellect, it is possible that the haemarriage would have the effect of restoring him—he was brought straight to Guy's Hospital—no extra precautions as to nurses were taken than with any other cut throat—I do not think it necessary that a person who attempts to out his throat is at the time not in a sound state of mind—a man who attempts to destroy his own life is not, generally speaking, in a sound state of mind.

Q. If it had been proved that on one or two previous occasions he had attempted to destroy himself, would it strengthen your opinion that the third time he was in an unsound state of mind? A. It would be more likely—if he received a few years ago a violent injury to his brain by reason of severe violence, which rendered him unconscious for some time, that might operate on his mental powers—intemperate habits would have a great predisposing influence, particularly on a brain weakened by physical injuries—he came under my care directly he came in—I saw him at eight o'clock, and every day for three or four weeks.

COURT. Q. You say that he was sensible when he came, but could not speak from loss of blood and injury to his throat; was it a very serious injury to his throat? A. Yes, there was an incised wound extending about three inches across his throat, dividing the larynx completely in two; that is, the upper part of the air passage, and opening the gullet, so that he was for some time fed through the wound—it was a very dangerous wound—we expected he would die, and he would have if he had not had surgical attendance.

MR. SLEIGH to HENRIETTA HILL. Q. Did not the prisoner behave with kindness and affection to the deceased and to her children. A. Yes—he was not subject to fits—I have not seen that his manner was strange at times.

JURY. Q. Did the prisoner sleep with the woman that night? A. Yes—I heard no quarrelling then nor in the morning.

Witnesses for the Defence.

EDWARD JAMES TYRRELL . I am a labourer in the employ of Joyce and Sons, lightermen—I have known the prisoner since he was first bound apprentice, seven years ago—I do not know how old he was then—I remember his meeting with an accident—he was in the act of shoving a barge along under a ship's sail, and the ship's martingale came down and struck him a blow on the head (the martingale is attached to a ship's bowsprit, and weighs 56 lbs.)—he fell senseless—I lent assistance to pick him up—he was very amiable and sociable before that—he remained senseless about ten minutes—he was not taken away to a doctor—as soon as he recovered we assisted him ashore, aped persuaded him to go home—he was at home some days—he looked a different sort of a young man altogether after the accident, and was very irritable—he complained, when I asked him the question, of pains in the head

MR. GRIFFITHS. Q. Have you had an opportunity of seeing him since that time? A. Yes—I asked him about five months afterwards if he felt anything the matter with his head—he said, "Yes," he felt shooting pains right through his head—I never associated with him much—he left that work about two years ago.

MR. SLEIGH. Q. How long afterwards did you know him? A. All the time he was in our employment—I have had opportunities of examining his manner and conduct since he left the employment, and he is very much altered.

RICHARD BABBINGTON . I am a lighterman of Bermondsey—in 1859 I was foreman to Mr. Joyce—in 1849 or 1860 the prisoner, who was then a boy, came into Mr. Joyce's employment as an apprentice, and from that time till 1863 he was a young man of an amiable, kind disposition—in February, 1863, he suffered a severe injury by a blow on the head from the fall of a martingale, after which I observed a marked change in his appearance, and he became very dissatisfied with his master—before the accident he was a kind, hardworking, industrious young man, and kind to my children—after this accident he became dissatisfied with his master and with his work—he lived in my house, and I observed an alteration as to the children—his temper was calm before the accident, and very irritable afterwards—he was perfectly temperate in his habits before the accident—after the accident he complained of a bad pain in the back of his head—about the time he made these complaints he became addicted to drinking and neglecting his work—we were at last obliged to part with him.

Cross-examined. Q. At what age did he become dissatisfied with you? A. About nineteen—he became so three or four months after the accident, and I complained of his conduct.

WILLIAM ALFRED JOYCE . I am one of the firm who formerly employed the prisoner—I do not remember the accident—my father was alive then, and I used to go away—I first knew the prisoner about five years ago—he was then a hardworking, industrious man—I used to take him out rowing with me, and he used to have his meals with me—I used to pick him out from all the others—he was a goodtempered—during the last few years I have observed a change in him—he became so strange I could not make anything of him—I sent him to put a barge to a ship—he went away and left the barge and went home—I saw at once that he was not fit to be employed—I noticed that he was altogether changed.

COURT. Q. Was this before or after the accident? A. I do not recollect the accident, so I cannot say whether it was after 1863—I used to go away for a week together.

Cross-examined. Q. Do you know that Mr. Babbington complained of his conduct before this? A. Yes—I never heard of the accident—after not attending to the barges he never came near me—when he did come I discharged him—that was last November.

LOUISA BERWICK . I am a widow, and live at 6, Eaton-street, Southwark—at the time this occurred I lived at the house where the deceased met with her death—I know the prisoner perfectly well—I saw him there some days before the murder, and a few days before, on 29th June last, I observed something strange in his conduct—he said to me in the morning that he was going out, and he came in in a little while in a very excited state, and said, "I have not been far, but I have seen my mother, and it has very much upset me"—(his mother is living)—he sat on my chair and clenched his head, and clasped his hands, and seemed very much lost for want of strength, and he got up and rushed downstairs as fast as he could go—he occupied the room on the ground floor—it was to that room he ran—he occupied two rooms, but it was downstairs he ran—a girl named Grace, and another girl named Clark, were in the house at the time—Mrs. Grace, seeing the excited state he was in, went down, and I followed—the prisoner sat on

a bed—he jumped on a chair and reached to a shelf, and from a few excited words he used we thought he meant to make away with himself—I think he said, "I will do for myself"—he put a razor into his pocket—I saw the razor—he took it off a shelf, and put it into his pocket—we made signs that it was in his pocket, and one of us took it out of his pocket—that was about the middle of the day—he had a dreadful colour in his face and neck, and his eyes were very much swollen—we all tried to reconcile him, and got vinegar and water, and applied it to his head—he remained three hours and a half in that state, and during that time I do not think he knew what he was about.

Cross-examined. Q. I did not quite catch when this was? A. On 29th June—it was not last year—it was the Thursday before Good Friday—I mean the 26th of March—we did not know where Sarah Ann Giles was that day—she had left the house, and he was very angry about it—he said nothing about Benton—I have not heard him mention the name of Benton in any way—I have not heard him complain of any intimacy between the deceased and Benton—Benton was not in the house—the deceased and the prisoner have had no words in my hearing but a slight tiff—he had been drinking slightly on this day—he appeared to be very fond of this woman—he was most always good-tempered, but at times he was very irritable and spiteful.

MR. SLEIGH. Q. Kind also to her children as well as to himself? A. Yes.

ELIZABETH GRACE . I live in the house where the deceased met with her death—at the latter end of March, in consequence of the prisoner running down-stairs, I and one or two women in the house followed him into a room—he appeared in a very excited state, and held his head in this way—he was on the bed—a little girl took a razor out of his right-hand pocket and gave it to me—we bathed his head with vinegar—he did not appear to know what he was about as far as I could judge—he remained in that state off and on all day—he did not appear to know who we were, though we were acquainted with him—he has complained of his head very much before—he did not attempt to commit suicide to my knowledge—he was always kind to the deceased and her children.

Cross-examined. Q. Was Benton living in the house at that time? A. Yes, but he was not there then—he came home about half-past 5, and left between 8 and 9 in the morning—this took place between 11 and 12—I think he had some beer, and some rum he had.

ELIZABETH CLARK . I live in Bermondsey-street—I did live in the house where this happened—on the 29th of March I was called down-stairs, and found the prisoner what I call quite insane—some other females rushed into the room—I saw a razor taken from the prisoner's pocket—he appeared in a state of excitement, and not as if he knew what he was about; quite different.

MARY BELOE . The prisoner is my brother—I observed a change in his manner after the accident—I was living at Chelsea about this time last year—he came to see me, and had tea with me—he seemed very much distressed and excited—he threatened to destroy himself, and seemed very unhappy in his mind—after tea he said that he must see about going home—I did not accompany him home, nor did any of my family—I was in a situation—I was living at home on Christmas-day, and saw the prisoner in a very excited state—he raved, and tore and threw his hands about, and frightened us all very much—he remained till about 8 o'clock at night—he tore his

hair, and cried very much, and said that he should go away—he ate nothing all day—he left suddenly in the evening, and I followed him, and walked with him as far as Shoreditch from Horsleydown—he frightened me very much, and said that he should destroy himself—when he got to London-bridge he waited a long time, and said he would jump over—he stood leaning with his elbows on the parapet—I at last got him over the bridge, and then he wished me to leave him, and I did—from the time of the accident his manner was marked and different.

Cross-examined. Q. At what time of day did this occur? A. About 3 in the afternoon—he gave me no reason for his cause of distress, nor did I ask him—I never knew that he was living with Sarah Giles; he did not mention her name; he appeared to me as if he had been drinking.

JURY. Q. Was he at your house all day? A. Yes, from 3 to 8, and I was present—he got the drink when he was out in the morning—he had nothing to drink at my house, but he was very much intoxicated when he came.

MARTHA BOWER . I am the wife of William Bower, and am the prisoner's sister—after this accident in 1863 I observed a very great change in his habits—he came to my house on Christmas-day, looking very wild, and he said that he was in great trouble—he was under my observation from 3 o'clock till 8 in the evening—he had threatened to destroy himself before, and we were always in fear of it—from a twelvemonth till a year and a half after he first left home he said he was very unhappy—I heard him threaten to destroy himself once before Christmas.

Cross-examined. Q. How long before Christmas was it you heard him say he would destroy himself the first time? A. I cannot say whether it was nine months or less; it was after he left his home and came back and stayed with us—I had an opportunity of seeing him very often.

SARAH ANN COOPER . I am the prisoner's eldest sister—I have observed since the accident of 1863 a marked change in his habits—he was at one period a most kind and affectionate brother, but of late his manners have become anything but affectionate—on Christmas-day he came to me at Hoxton between 9 and 10 at night—that was after he had been to Mrs. Beloe's—I did not see him in the day—he stayed the whole of the night—I prevailed on him to stay owing to his excited manner, and he stayed with me the whole of Boxing-day—he appeared more calm, and slept at 7 o'clock, and promised me faithfully he would go direct home—he made no threat that night, but on Christmas night I was surprised at seeing him, knowing he was to dine with the rest of my family, and I asked him about it—he said, "I merely came to bid you good-bye, as I shall not see any of you any more."

Cross-examined. Q. When did his manner become changed? A. Eighteen or nineteen months ago—living at Hoxton, I did not see him so often as to know whether he was given to habits of intemperance—I imagine he had been drinking on Christmas-day, but he was not tipsy when he came to my house—I was doubtful of him on Christmas night, but he was much more calm all next day.

SARAH ANN BABBINGTON . I am the wife of the witness—the prisoner lived in our house at the time of his apprenticeship—before the accident which occurred to him he was an amiable, kind lad, none better—he was kind to my children,—I observed a very great change after the accident; he was very irritable, dissatisfied, and grumbling with the children, and he would answer me, which he had never done before—previous to that his conduct was quite different.

Cross-examined. Q. You say he answered you; were you complaining about him? A. Yes, because he seemed so disagreeable and irritable, and I told him of it—he took to habits of intemperance afterwards—after the accident he was absent from home at nights.

MR. SLEIGH. Q. How long after the accident did you observe that first? A. Four or five months.

ANN M'DONALD . My husband's name is William—I am a nurse at Guy's-hospital—the prisoner was brought there after having cut his throat—he was only there the day—he looked very wild, and rolled his eyes very much, but he spoke about 2 o'clock—I could not get near him for half an hour—the medical men were round him—I asked him if he knew where he was, and he shook his head.

Cross-examined. Q. Have you had patients under your charge who have been suffering from violent hemorrhage? A. Yes; I have not noticed that they roll their eyes.

DAVID ROBERTS . I am a physician of Great Dover-street—I attended the prisoner for the injury to his head—he had no severe external injury, but severe to his brain, I think—I cannot refer to the exact date, but he suffered from it two or three weeks—in my judgment his brain suffered from the accident—I have not attended him since—when he had sufficiently recovered to resume his avocations, he suffered from headache and complained of pains in his head—I had only known him about a week previous to the accident by attending his master and mistress, and he used to come for medicines for the family—I think such an injury might have an effect on his mental powers—change of manner, irritability, and attempt to commit suicide would indicate disease of the membranes of the brain, which would be quite consistent with the accident he received—such an injury to the brain as I have described would produce occasionally appearances which might be mistaken by the witnesses for intoxication—a small proportion of liquor would have a great effect upon a person whose brain had suffered an injury—the irritability described by the witnesses to-day would have just that effect—the symptoms would be those of mental cerebral affection, and not of intoxication.

Cross-examined. Q. I apprehend you believed him to be perfectly well before you allowed him to go to work? A. Yes; when a man has sustained so severe an injury to his head I should quite expect to find traces of it afterwards, unless there is immediate recovery—I should expect to discover it three years afterwards—a patient might become sane immediately afterwards, and, on the other hand, there might be phrenzy after the act—drink is very likely to cause irritability, and stupor also.

MR. SLEIGH. Q. I understand that the hemorrhage from the wound would relieve him? A. Yes; if there had been no hemorrhage, it might have increased in intensity; he might have become premised.

LEWIS NEWENHAM . I am a physician, and have been in practice twenty-one years—I have sat here to-day, and heard the evidence having reference to the injuries the prisoner sustained, as described by Dr. Roberts, and the repeated threats to commit suicide; they constitute in my opinion indiciation of an unsound state of mind.

Cross-examined. Q. But they are quite consistent with a healthy brain, in one who has been drinking, are they not? A. Not with a healthy brain; there are so many mistakes made, persons are locked up for being tipsy simply from exhaustion of the brain—persons who have been drinking to excess would not commit suicide.

COURT. Q. Drunken men are not prone to commit suicide? A. No; they take too much care of themselves.

NOT GUILTY, being insane.— To be detained till Her Majesty's pleasure be known .

Before Mr. Common-Serjeant.

576. ROBERT ENGLAND (29), and EMILY LANDER (26) , Unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.

MESSRS. POLAND and M. J. O'CONNELL conducted the Prosecution.

HENRY PRITCHARD . I am barman at the Mansion-house public-house, Kennington-park-road—on Wednesday night, 9th May, between 7 and 8 o'clock, the prisoners came in together—England called for a glass of cooper and 2d. worth of gin—they came to 3 1/2;d.—he gave me this bad half-crown—I rang it, tried it in the detector, and asked if he had got a better one—he seemed rather surprised, and asked if that was bad—I said that he knew it was—I showed it to the house-keeper, and broke it—he gave me a good one, and I gave him the change—he said he took it from a friend, and if he brought his friend with him, would I give it him back?—I said, yes, if he brought a constable with him—I marked it—next morning I gave it to the constable—Landen said she could not afford to loose it—I gave a shilling, two sixpences, and 21/2;d. change.

England. Q. Did you drop it on the floor? A. No; I did not loose sight of it when the house-keeper had it—my master also saw it—I am not quite sure whether I gave you a florin in change—I believe it was a shilling and two sixpences.

MR. POLAND. Q. Before you showed the half-crown to the housekeeper, had you bent it? A. Yes.

ELIZABETH PIGOTT . My husband keeps the King's Arms, Kennington-road, about five minutes' walk from the Mansion House public-house—on 9th May, about 8 o'clock, the prisoners came in—England asked for half a quartern of gin and cold water, which came to 2 1/2;d.—he gave me a bad half-crown—I told him it was bad—he said he did not think he gave me a half-crown, he thought he gave me a florin—I told him that it was—he said that he had taken it from a friend in change for a half-sovereign, and asked me if I would return it—I declined—the female said they could not afford to loose it, and they became very abusive—England asked me if I would return it if be brought his friend—I said "No," and they left—Cook came in and spoke to me, and I gave it to him—I had not mixed it with other moneys.

FLORENCE M'GILLICUDDY (Policeman, 21 L). On the evening' of 9th May, at a quarter or twenty minutes to 8, I saw the prisoners standing talking at the Mansion House, in Kennington Park-road—they seemed to be watching, and I watched them—they walked into Kennington-lane, across over into Chester-street, opposite the King's Arms, and went in, and I called Cox's attention to them—he went in, and the barman came out with him—I followed the prisoners, brought them back to the King's Arms, and Mrs. Pigott accused them of uttering a counterfeit half-crown, which she gave me—England said that he took it in change from a friend for a half-sovereign—that he met Landen, whom he had not seen for five or six years, and asked her in to treat her—the female searcher gave me 6s. 3d., saying in Landen's presence, that she found it on her—Landen said that she earned it—she said that she lived in Charlotte-street, but there are several Charlotte-streets—I found afterwards that she lived with Englands

England. Q. You say that you know her; have you ever known her to be in custody on any criminal charge? A. Not to my knowledge; I am not prepared to prove it.

JOSEPH COOK (Policeman 60 L). McGill cuddy pointed out the prisoners to me opposite the King's Arms—I saw them in conversation, and saw England pass something to Landen—they crossed over, went to the King's Arms, and came out again, and went off—they turned down Chester-street towards Kennington-road—I was with McGillcuddys when they were stopped—they said that they did not know anything about bad money, they had not been in the house—I spoke first—I said, "I wish you to return back with me, I believe you have been passing counterfeit coin at the King's Arms public-house"—England said, "We know nothing about it, we have not been passing any bad money"—they denied having seen each other for six years or six months, I forget which—England gave a correct address at the station, 69, Russell-street—I searched him and found 4s. 5d. good money—I found that they had lived at his lodgings as man and wife for the last six months.

England. Q. When you took me, what did I say? A. That you had no knowledge of the female, and had passed no bad money at the King's Arms—I believe that I gave that evidence at the police-court.

WILLIAM WEBSTER . These are two bad half-crowns.

England's Defence. It was not my intention to deny knowing the woman, and I do not think she would deny me. I believe the sergeant knows her father, which led her to give a different address. On the Wednesday night I changed a half sovereign at Brixton, on my way home I met Landen outside the Mansion House, and asked her in to have something to drink; I believed I had given the landlord a florin, which I had received in change at the Mansion House, but when I looked in my pocket I discovered my mistake.

ENGLAND— GUILTY .— Confined Eighteen Months . LANDEN— GUILTY .— Confined Six Months .

577. MARGARET MALLETT (26), was indicted for a like offence.

MESSRS. POLAND and M. J. O'CONNELL conducted the Prosecution, and MR. STRAGHT the Defence.

FREDERICK ARTHUR THISTLETON . I am twelve years old, and live at 4, Kennington Oval—on 10th May, about half-past 9 or 10 at night, I was standing at my mother's door, and the prisoner called me over and asked me whether I would fetch her half a quartern of gin—I said I would go and call my mother—she said, "Very well, then, and I will give you a halfpenny, when you come back"—she gave me a bottle and a half-crown, and told me to go to the Clayton Arms, Mr. Silbourne's—I went there and asked for the gin—Mr. Silbourne said the half-crown was bad—I came out with him, and we went up the street to look for the prisoner, but could not see her—I was taken to the police-station about 1 o'clock in the night and saw her there; she is the same person.

Cross-examined. Q. How long after you paid the half-crown did you come out of the public-house? A. About five minutes.

WILLIAM SILBOURNE . I am landlord of the Clayton Arms—on 10th May the little boy came about half-past 9 or 10 o'clock for half a quartern of gin—he gave me a bad half-crown—I went out with him in consequence of what he said to look for the woman—I did not find her till ten minutes after the boy had gone away—she was crouched down by a garden fence

about eight doors from my house—I said, "Do you live here"—she said, "Yes"—I said, "I know all the people who live in these houses, I should like to see your rooms"—she said, "You can"—I said, "Knock at the door, and let me see your rooms"—she refused—a constable came and knocked at the door, and four of the neighbours said in her presence that she did not live there—she then said that she lived in Duke-street, Lambeth—I said, "You are the woman that gave a bad half-crown to the boy"—she denied it—we took her to the station—she said to the policeman, "If you will light your lamp and look in that corner, you will see what I am down here for"—he turned his lamp on, but there was nothing there—I gave the half-crown to the constable, and fetched the boy who identified her.

Cross-examined. Q. What is the size of the garden? A. About the size of the jury box.

JOSEPH COOK (Policeman, 60 L). On the night of 10th of May, I was called and found the prisoner in a crouching position—I looked, but saw no signs that she had been there for any purpose—I took her to the station—a shilling and 3d. were found on her.

Cross-examined. Q. Did she give you a correct address? A. Yes—I know nothing against her.

WILLIAM WEBSTER . This half-crown is bad. NOT GUILTY .

578. GEORGE LOWE (34), ELIZA LOWE (37), and THOMAS WHITE (25), were indicted for a like offence; to which GEORGE † and ELIZA>*† LOWE PLEADED GUILTY .— Five Years' Penal Servitude . MESSRS. POLAND and M. J. O'CONNELL conducted the Prosecution; and MR. COOPER the Defence.

PHOEBE HANSON . I live at Mr. Hanson's, a tobacconist, at Walworth, and assist in the shop—on 7th April, between half-past 9 and 10, White came in for half an ounce of tobacco, and gave me 6d.—I bent it with my teeth, and said, "This is a bad 6d"—he said, "Is it?"—I said, "Try it yourself—he took it back and gave me a good shilling—he said that he took the 6d. at the Mother lied Cap in Camber well, and I think he said he changed half a crown, and that he could not afford to lose it as he was a soldier—he was dressed in dark blue—not in military uniform.

Cross-examined. Q. Have you sometimes bent a good 6d. with your teeth? A. I bent this pretty easily—it grated in my teeth—there was somebody waiting outside; I do not know who.

WILLIAM ANDERSON (Policeman, 32 P). In April George and Eliza Lowe were living at Cambridge-terrace, Camberwell—Whit? e lived at 37, Camden-road—I saw them go to each other's houses in April and May, and am able to say that they were acquainted—on 27th April, I saw the Lowes in the Old Kent-road—I watched them—they joined White there—there was a little conversation, and Eliza Lowe went into a shop on this side of the Kent-road—they were previously on the other side—the others followed her across to the same side—I saw her come out—I saw Ritchie open the till very carefully—I cautioned her, and she took out the 6d. from the top of the money in the till and handed it to me—we each marked it—this is it (produced)—there were other sixpences there—Eliza Lowe joined the man and something passed between them—she then went along the road into Mr. Pillifier's, No. 320—when she came out, I went in, and had the till examined—she went to the corner of the adjoining street and had some conversation with the man, and ultimately went into Mr. Monser's, 392, Old Kent-road, while the man waited outside the Nelsond ublic-house—I saw her come out

—I went in and had the till examined—there was this bad 6d. on the top which was given to me(produced)—there were other sixpences there—she joined the man—they went together into the public-house, and saw no more of her—she waited outside a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes—Sergeant Ham was with me.

Cross-examined. Q. Do the prisoners live at 37, Camden-grove? A. I believe so—I know that soldiers wander about talking to other people the same as any one else—I have seen other people go to their lodgings—they have a large house—I cannot say whether it belongs to them—a man and his wife were in it

ALICE JISSIE RITCHIE . I live with my uncle, Alexander Ritchie, a baker, of 295, Old Kent-road—on 27th April, Anderson came in and spoke to me—a woman had come in just before for two half-quartern loaves—she gave me two sixpences, which I put in the till with the rest of the money—I opened the till very carefully and gave Andrews some money, and the first and second sixpence was bad—I took them in the order they lay—I marked it, and gave it to the policeman.

HENRY PETTIFER . I live at Mile-end-road, Walworth-road—on Friday, 27th April, I was at Mr. Page's, a cheesemongers shop, 320, Old Kent-road, and served the female prisoner with two ounces of ham—she gave me a six-pence—I put it in the till—Andrews came in directly afterwads, and asked me what she gave—I found only one sixpence there, and that was bad—I marked it, and Andrews marked it also, and afterwards he took it from Mr. Page—this is it.

SAMUEL MANSER . I am a cheesemonger, of 382, Old Kent-road—on Friday, 27th April, a woman came in and bought something—I am not certain whether it was butter or not—she gave me a sixpence, which I put in the till—the officer came and spoke to me—I opened the till, and found a bad sixpence lying on the top—I marked it, and gave it to him the next day—this is it—there were other sixpences in the till.

JAMES HAM (Police-sergeant P 5). On 23d April, I commenced to watch the two houses where White and the two Somes lived, and am able to say that they were acquainted—they went to each other's houses, and walked out together—on 27th April, I was with Anderson—I saw the Somes go into the Old Kent-road—they went together to a public-house—I waited there a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes—on the morning of 3d May, about 5 o'clock, I went with Brahman to White's house, 87, Camden-road, North—I had previously taken the two Somes in custody—we found White in bed, told him to get up, and asked him his name, he said, "Henry Watson"—I told him I should take him in custody for being a deserter, also for being concerned, with persons living in Cambridge-terrace, Peckham-grove, in uttering sixpences last Thursday—he said, "What?"—I said, "Uttering, being concerned with the Lowes"—he said, "I do not know what you mean"—I said, "I have seen you backwards and forwards at Cambridge-terrace; you know where that is?"—he said, "Yes, I know very well; do your best"—at the station he gave his name, Thomas White—I searched the house, and found a suit of regimentals.

JAMBS BRAMAN . On 3d May, early in the morning, I went with some officers to 1, Cambridge-terrace, Camberwell, where the two Lowes lived—I broke open the place, and found them in bed—I searched, and found in their room 23 florins, 24 shillings, and 138 sixpences, separately wrapped in paper.WILLIAM WEBSTER. These three sixpences are bad, and all from the

same mould—these shillings and florins are bad—three of these packets agree with these sixpences as to the mould.

WHITE— NOT GUILTY .

579. WILLIAM STEVENS (28) , PLEADED GUILTY to a burglary in the dwelling-house of William Davidson, and stealing therein 4l. 10s.; also to a former conviction in January, 1862.**— Seven Years' Penal Servitude .

Before Mr. Recorder.

580. SARAH WILLIS (19) , Feloniously wounding Edward Jones, with intent to do some grievous bodily harm.

MR. GRIFFITHS conducted the Prosecution.

EDWARD JONES . I am a labourer, and live at 10, Princes-street, Lambeth—I know the prisoner—I did not keep company with her—I used to speak to her very much about a twelvemonth ago, but since that I have only said "good-night" or "good-day"—sometimes I have not said it at all—on the night of 30th May, about thirty minutes past 11, I might have seen the prisoner, but I did not take any notice—I was at the Cross Keys—I left off work about 7—I was going home, and prisoner stabbed me in the arm—I thought she was going to pass me—I held down my arm, and she stabbed me again—I made my way to my house, and she followed me—on removing my coat, I found that I was wounded in my left arm—it was a bad one—these are the things I had on—Dr. Rhodes attended me—I have been at the hospital since—the wound bled very much—the police were sent for and the prisoner taken into custody.

CHARLES HILLWOOD . I reside in York-wharf, Princes-street—I was standing at the top of Salamanca-street on the 30th of May—I met the prisoner, and told her she was out late, and she told me to get away from her, or she would give me something I would not rub off—I stood there a little while longer, and she asked me if I had seen Ted come home, and I said, "No"—she did not say anything further about him—I turned round and saw the prosecutor running away from her, bleeding from his arm—she ran after him, and stood with her back against the door—the constable Kenealy came up and asked her whether she had anything—she took a knife from under a shawl, and gave it to him.

PATRICK ALLEN . I am a bricklayer—on the night of 30th May I saw Jones after he was stabbed—I also saw the prisoner—I walked down the road after her—I spoke to her as I walked along—she said she would serve me the same as she had Joe.

DANIEL KENEALY (Policeman, L 106). I took the prisoner into custody—she did not say anything—we passed to the residence of the prosecutor—I found him there sitting down on a chair—I raised the sleeve and saw the wound—it seemed to be a serious wound—I did not have any conversation with the prisoner.

GUILTY of unlawfully wounding.— Confined Twelve Months .

581. JOHN RAYNER (20) , Burglary in the dwelling-house of Hannah Knowles, with intent to steal.

MR. WOOD conducted the Prosecution.

HANNAH KNOWLES . I am a widow, and live at 3, Church-crescent, Kenlington—on Wednesday, 24th April, about four o'clock, I was disturbed by the noise of a dog—soon after, I heard what I thought was a bolt drawn—I moved the blinds and looked out, and saw a policeman passing on the

opposite side—the church clock was then striking 4—I went down stairs and called up my son and nephew, they got up directly—I went into the kitchen—nothing was removed, but the place was all open—the window was open—it is a small casement, and opens like a folding-door—the shutters had no fastening, and could easily be removed—the window was safe when I went to bed—it was only fastened by a small button—the door was also safe—I found it open—my nephew went to the gates of a timber-yard close by, and called out, "Here he is"—I went out, and saw the prisoner getting over the goats—I laid hold of him; he made no resistance—I brought him into the house—he said he was innocent—the constable came and took him—he would have to get over three low fences to get from my garden to the gates of the timber-yard—I knew him before—he had been in the habit of fetching the washing—I knew nothing against his character.

WILLIAM CHANCE . I am the prosecutrix's nephew—on the morning of 24th April, about 4 o'clock, my aunt awoke me—I got up and went down-stairs—my cousin sent for a policeman, and I went down to the timber yard—I saw the prisoner getting over the gates—I called out—my aunt came and caught hold of him, and he was given into custody.

FREDERICK WILDMAN (Police-sergeant, 24 W). The prisoner was given into my custody—I afterwards traced some footmarks from the back of the prosecutrix's premises to the timber yard, which exactly corresponded with the prisoner's boots—I found a shirt and several things in the timber yard.

Prisoner's Defence. I had no home, and was sleeping in the timber yard.

NOT GUILTY .

582. JOHN RAYNER (20), was again indicted for a burglary in the dwelling house of Samuel Howarth Cowdery, and stealing 5 handkerchiefs and other goods. MR. WOOD conducted the Prosecution.

CHARLOTTE JANE COWDERY . I am the wife of Samuel Howarth Cowdery, of 21, Hanover-square, Lambeth—on the evening of 23d April I fastened up my house safely when I went to bed—I was awoke about 6 in the morning by the police, found he back window had been broken, the sash let down, and a part of the window taken right out, so as easily to admit the body of a person into the kitchen—I lost a number of things—these (produced) are them, they were found in the garden—I had put them in the copper the previous night, and the best had been picked out and taken away.

FREDERICK WYMAN (Police-sergeant, 24 W). After taking the prisoner on the last charge, I took off his boots and compared them with footmarks which I traced to the back of the prosecutrix's premises—they corresponded—I found the greater part of these things lying in the garden, and a portion in the timber yard, strewed all over the place.

WILLIAM CHANCE gave the same evidence as in the last case.

GUILTY .— Confined Eight Months .

583. CHARLES DAVID YOUNG (22) PLEADED GUILTY to feloniously marrying Elizabeth Summers, his wife being alive.— Confined Twelve Months; and

584. WILLIAM COOMBS (19) , to a burglary in the dwelling-house of John Carnell, and stealing 3l. 2s. 6d.— Confined Twelve Months. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

585. JOHN BOYLE (23) , Robbery with violence, with 2 others unknown, on William Woolfrey and stealing a snuff-box and 1s. 1d. his property. MR. STRAIGHT conducted the Prosecution.

WILLIAM WOOLFREY . I am a tailor at 22, Dorey-street, Princes-street, Lambeth—about 20 minutes to 10 on Saturday night, 12th May, I was going along Princes-street—before I came to the Red Cow I noticed five or six men outside, I stepped into the road and passed them—I had no sooner passed than one of them came and said, "Ain't you going to stand a pot tonight, old fellow"—I said, "I have no money for pots"—he said, "Give me a penny then"—I said, "I have no penny"—he went away, and two others came up and stopped me, and said, "You have got the price of some pots"—I said I had not—all this time they were trying to put their hands in my pockets—the prisoner was there—I could swear to him only by his dress and his voice—I can't say I noticed his face—he was the man who came in front of me.

COURT. Q. How soon did you see him again after this happened? A. I think it was on the following Wednesday or Thursday—the 12th was on a Saturday—he had a flannel jacket on then—I was robbed of 13d., a snuff-box, and a newspaper.

ROSINA HEADINGTON . I live at 3, St. James's-place, Upper Fore-street, Lambeth—about a quarter past 10 on Saturday, 10th May, I was coming from the Nag's Head public-house with my husband, and saw the prisoner, with two others, holding Mr. Woolfrey by the hands, and he was like resisting, as if he wished to get away—I, thinking he was tipsy, was going away, when I heard a heavy blow—I said, "Good God, what a blow, they have knocked the poor old man down"—they had knocked him down—he was on the ground—they caught him up again by the throat—he was making rather a gurgling noise, as if being strangled—I then heard money fall out of his pocket—I will be on my oath the prisoner is one of the men—he had got hold of the prosecutor—I heard him say he had dropped something—I went up to them, and one who is not here put his hand over to aim a blow at me—not the prisoner—the prosecutor hallooed for assistance—he said he was robbed—he did not say of what.

Prisoner. Q. Did you see me doing anything to the man? A. I did not see you have hold of him.

COURT. Q. I thought you said they all had hold of him? A. Two of them had hold of him going along, but when he was struck and fell I didn't see which of them had hold of him, but John Boyle was there, and he said the old gentleman had dropped something—I knew the prisoner before, a greatwhile.

THOMAS BARBERY . I am 13 years and 4 months old, and live with my father at Stone-yard, Princes-street—on this Saturday night I saw Mr. Woolfrey coming along Princes-street, and saw the prisoner take hold of his arm, and lead him along to New-street—I saw the gentleman fall after they let go of him.

Prisoner. Q. Was he drunk? A. He seemed to be drunk. NOT GUILTY .

586. DANIEL CUNNINGHAM (20) and JOHN HOLMES (19) , robbery with violence on Frederick Horswell, and stealing from him the sum of 13.s. MR. DALY conducted the Prosecution, and MR. WARNER SLEIGH the Defence

FREDERICK HORSWELL . I am a labourer—I was working, when this happened, at the Thames embankment, on Saturday evening, 12th May, and after being paid, I went into the Windmill public-house, in the New Cut. and had three pots of beer between four men and two women—me and my brother

came out of the public-house and bade each other good-night—I crossed over the road after that towards the Crown, and met five or six men coming up singing and hallooing—Holmes was one of them—I can swear to him—one knocked me on the shoulder, and the other one fetched me a clout on the side of the head, and put me on my back—Holmes then put his hand in my pocket, and some one, when I called out, put his hand on my throat and shoved my head back, and then he pulled his hand out of my pocket, and there was a 2s. piece between his fingers, and half an ounce of "bacca" which I had in the same pocket—I took hold of his wrist—the others tried to get him away, and they kicked my hand, and took a bit of skin off, as it is now, and I was obliged to let go—my brother then came up, and I told him I had been robbed—I lost 13s. and Holmes was the man that took it, I will swear before God—as soon as I called my brother, they liberated me, and ran away—I followed Holmes—I never lost sight of him till a policeman ran after him and took him in charge.

Cross-examined. Q. How much of the beer did you drink? A. I drank twice out of two pots—I had not had a drop of beer for a month before that—I can't swear whether five or six men come up to me.

JOSEPH HORSWELL . I was a labourer on the Thames-embankment—I went with my brother to the Windmill public-house—I was with him a few minutes, and bade him "Good-night"—he said, "Good-night," he should meet his old woman at the other side of the street—I went up the street—I happened to look round, and saw him down, with two man on top of him—I went back and collared the man that was on him—he laid on his head—as soon as I collared him my brother said, "I am robbed, Joe"—I kept to him a long while—he kicked me and knocked me about, and some more came behind me, and put me on my face—my mouth was full of blood—I did not see my brother get up—I saw some men running round the corner of the other street—some gentlemen came up and spoke to me, and the constable came up—the men went round the corner—I do not know who put me down, or who hit me—when I was down they started bitting and kicking of me—I went to the police-station with the gentleman who came up—when I got there Holmes was there, and my brother and his wife—the policeman said to me, "Go outside and see if you can see any one you can swear to"—I went outside, but I could not see any one I could swear to—I went in again, and then went out again with the policeman and my brother and his wife, and my wife—we went along, and just as we passed the Surrey Theatre—I saw Cunningham speaking to a woman—I stopped as soon as I saw him—he looked at me, and walked round the woman with his head down—I made another step to go towards him, and he bolted away from the woman up the steps of the Surrey Theatre—I was not at the door so soon as he was—I did not know that the man who was then at the door was a policeman—I said, "I wish I could see a policeman," and the man ran upstairs, and immediately came down again, and said, "Come up and pick him out"—I went—he was standing up with others, and I picked him out, and gave him in charge for robbing my brother, and striking me.

Cross-examined. Q. You are sure this is the man? A. Yes—they tumbled me up and put my head on the ground—I do not know who put me down—I do not say that man put me down.

ALEXANDER TRIMBLE (Policeman, 166 L). About a quarter to 7 o'clock on Saturday, 12th May, I was on duty in the Waterloo-road—Holmes was pointed out to me by somebody—he was charged by the two last witnesses for assaulting Joseph Horswell, and for assaulting and robbing Frederick Horswell—I then took him to the station—he said, "Well, it is*9

all right; all you can give me is four or six months"—he did not go quietly to the station—he was very violent—he was rescued three different times from us—finally we got him there with the assistance of two more constables.

SAMUEL HATHERBY (Policeman, L 98). On Saturday evening Cunningham was given into my custody—I saw Joseph Horswell there, and he charged this man with robbing and assaulting his brother, and assaulting him—he said he did not know anything at all about it—I said, "You must go quietly with me to the station"—he went quietly—he was surrounded by constables—when he got to the station he would not let us search him, and three or four constables had to hold him down while I searched him.

EDWARD JOHN NORTH . I am an officer belonging to the Surrey Theatre—about 12 o'clock on Saturday, the 12th of May, I saw a great mob of people coming down the Blackfriars-road, and two or three constables—all at once there was a stop, and then what they call a rouse—the people were trying to get the prisoner Holmes away—I took him by the collar and shook him, and assisted to take him to to the station—about 8 o'clock Joseph Horswell was on the steps of the theatre, and he said, "I wish I could see a constable, I would give that man in charge for robbing my brother, and assaulting me "—Cunningham was then going up the stairs—he went up into the gallery—I afterwards allowed Horswell to go up, and he pointed him out, and gave him in custody.

Cross-examined. Q. Was he going up into the gallery with a female? A. Yes—no one else was going into the gallery at the time.

HOLMES— GUILTY — Confined Fifteen Months . CUNNINGHAM— GUILTY —He also PLEADED GUILTY to a former conviction at Southwark, in June, 1865.— Confined Eighteen Months .

ADJOURNED TO MONDAY, JULY 9TH.