Old Bailey Proceedings Online (www.oldbaileyonline.org, version 6.0, 19 April 2014), March 1885 (t18850323).

Old Bailey Proceedings, 23rd March 1885.



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


OLD COURT.—Monday, March 23rd, 1885.

Before Mr. Recorder.

396. JOHN CHALCRAFT (38) and WILLIAM THOMAS BARRETT (34) were indicted for unlawfully obtaining 75,000 bricks by false pretences from Henry Bray and others.

MR. R.T. WEIGHT Prosecuted; MESSES. WHITE and O'CONNOR defended

Chalcraft, and MR. BURNIE defended Barrett.

THOMAS LEHMAN . I carry on business in partnership with Henry Bray and George Thomas Hines, brickmakers, near Peterborough—we have offices at Nottingham—I manage the works at Nottingham—I have nothing to do with Peterborough—in August last Barrett applied by letter to be a commission agent for the sale of our bricks; we replied through our manager agreeing to pay him a commission of 1s. per thousand—on 4th September he wrote us a letter accepting those terms—on 16th October we received this letter from him. (Stating that he had received an order from Buckle, of 72, Mark Lane and Tottenham, for 100,000 bricks, giving a reference.) It is our practice to require references or a guarantee before supplying bricks—on 6th November we received this letter from Barrett. (Stating that the freeholder had declined to allow Buckle to sign the agreement on account of his delay, and that he had arranged with Linnett to proceed with the work and give the necessary guarantee.) In reply to that, on 7th November, we wrote saying if the guarantee was satisfactory we would pay the carriage—on the 11th we received this letter from Barrett enclosing this guarantee for Linnett from Chalcraft as the freeholder—on the 13th we wrote accepting the guarantee, and stating that instructions would be given to supply the bricks—we did supply bricks; 75,000 bricks, amounting to upwards of 100l.—I made some inquiries respecting Chalcraft, and after 9th December discontinued the supply of bricks—at the time I consigned these bricks I believed the statement contained in the letters of 6th and 11th November, and the guarantee—if I had been told that Linnett was a journeyman printer out

of work it would not have been a transaction in the ordinary course of business, nor if I had known that Chalcraft was not the freeholder—I never received any repudiation of the order from Linnett, or any protest against invoices being sent to him—I had no notice from Barrett or Chalcraft that the bricks were being used by Barrett—throughout the transaction I regarded Barrett as our commission agent; as such he would not be responsible for the price of the bricks—I depended upon the consignee, the reference, or the guarantee—we have never supplied an agent with bricks for himself—on 14th January I wrote to Barrett requesting him to call on our solicitor—if bricks were supplied to an agent who gave proper references, he would still be entitled to his commission, but such a thing has never occurred—I never received payment for any of these bricks.

Cross-examined by MR. WHITE. I have never been offered payment for them—there are three partners in my firm—at present we have only one agent, at the time in question we had two—I superintend the work of the office—I do not sell bricks—I do not get customers; we leave that to the agents, but we are not satisfied if they simply make inquiries about the customer—we were satisfied in the first instance in this case—I wrote to Barrett to say that as he was perfectly satisfied as to the bona fides of both parties I was satisfied—the bricks were forwarded on 14th November—I made inquiries on 1st December—we should supply anybody with bricks if they paid beforehand—if I had been paid for these I should not have been here, because I should not have known of the fraud—assuming I had known of the fraud, and been paid for the bricks, I should certainly have been here; there would still have been the misappropriation—Barrett's customers did not always turn out all right—Barrett forwarded the guarantee—it was in his writing—the last consignment of bricks sent to Linnett was 9th December, I think; then we stopped in consequence of inquiries made in reference to Chalcraft—I first instructed my solicitor to ask Chalcraft for payment about 14th January—I believe between that time and 9th December I was corresponding with Barrett—I wrote to Linnett for payment—I do not know whether any offers were made by Chalcraft to my solicitor to pay for the bricks—when I found out these fraudulent pretences I applied for a warrant, and had Chalcraft arrested—I have never had any communication whatever with Chalcraft—before I had this written guarantee Barrett had told me that he was satisfied with the bona fides of the parties, and that he had a verbal guarantee from them, and I requested that to be put in writing and in legal form.

Cross-examined by MR. BURNIE. I was to be the judge whether Barrett's customers' references were good or not—to commission was to be 1s. per 1,000—we supplied goods to Petley on Barrett's introduction—we had a stop order in that case, not a guarantee—we supplied bricks to Blackford also at Chingford—I can't remember how many—they were sent to Blackford to pay the carriage, he did not pay it, and the Midland Company sold them to defray the expenses—I had some correspondence with Barrett about it—I have been told that all these bricks have been used on this land—the freeholder is Miss Mayho, and I know now that she has been living with Chalcraft as his wife—I did not know it when I preferred this charge—when I determined to take criminal proceedings against Chalcraft I was advised by my solicitor to include Barrett.

Re-examined. In the first instance I applied to Linnett, the consignee,

for payment—I had a reply from him, and then I applied to Barrett, and after that I applied to Chalcraft through my solicitor—it is a fact that in the letter of 6th November Barrett says he will get the guarantee put into writing.

WILLIAM HENRY OLDING . I am manager of the manufacturing department of Bray and Co. at Peterborough—in November and December last I consigned bricks to Mr. Linnett—I sent invoices to Mr. Linnett, 27, Spencer Road, Holloway—I produce the counterfoils—I sent the consignment notes to the officials of the railway.

CHARLES LINNETT . I live at 27, Spencer Road, Holloway—up to June last I was a printer's warehouseman, in the same employment for twenty-six years—I left in consequence of the company being wound up—from June to December I was out of employment—I have never been a builder, and never had anything to do with building, and never signed a building agreement—I have known Chalcraft ten or eleven years—between June and December I was frequently in his company—he knew the nature of my employment; he knew of my having left it in June—I first met Barrett, I think, about November in the Holloway Road—I was with Chalcraft at the time; nothing passed between me and Barrett then—at a later date I went with the prisoner to Messrs. Goldring and Mitchell's, solicitors—I waited outside; they went in—they said they were going to sign a building agreement—Barrett said so—when they came out Barrett said "I must go and see about the bricks now; I am going to see Mr. So-and-So in Chancery Lane; I have ordered the bricks in your name"—I said "I object to that"—Chalcraft was present—we were all three together, and I should think he heard what passed—I saw the prisoners several times after that—I did not know Barrett's address, and I wrote a letter to Chalcraft—I received some invoices some time before Christmas—I sealed them in an envelope, and was going to send them back to Bray and Co.—I met Barrett on the way to the post—he said "Have you got any orders from Bray and Co.?"—I said "Yes"—he took them from my hand—we went into the Tollington public-house and met Chalcraft there—he took the papers from Barrett's hand, and said "They are nothing to do with Linnett; they have got my guarantee"—I received further letters—Barrett called for them as a rule, and I gave them to him—I told him repeatedly not to have the letters or orders addressed to me—he put me off with excuses from time to time—after I had received the first letter Barrett asked me to give him a note to the station-master at Tottenham to have these bricks consigned to a carman, which I refused to give him—this (produced) is not in my handwriting, or the signature to it; it purports to be my name—my name is C. Linnett, that is E. Linnett—this (produced) is not my writing—I did not give any authority to write it—I saw Chalcraft in January or February—I met him at Tottenham Station, and asked him if he was coming down—he said "I have got the bricks, and am using them and intend to pay for them"—they were on a plot of building ground—I don't know the address.

Cross-examined by MR. WHITE. It was at the County Court at Edmonton that Chalcraft said he had got the bricks and intended to pay for them—between June and December I was looking out for a living—Chalcraft never employed me; I wouldn't work for him—I went down to Croydon two or three times for him at my own expense—if he gave

me anything I was out of pocket—he treated me about once in a dozen times—I have nothing to complain about his treatment—I understood that Barrett was going to be the builder under the building agreement—I went with them because I had nothing else to do—I was requested to do so, but I don't know which of the two asked me—I never sent to Bray and Co. to ask them not to send bricks to me—when Chalcraft said it had nothing to do with Linnett, I understood I had nothing at all to do with it—I don't think Chalcraft ever asked me to receive the bricks—he was living at Finchley at this time.

Cross-examined by MR. BURNIE. I knew where these bricks were going to be used—I saw them them at the station on one occasion with Barrett—this delivery of papers from Bray and Co. went on, it might be for two, three, four, or five weeks.

HENRY BROOKS . I am station-master at the White Hart Lane Station—during November and December last several trucks of bricks arrived from Bray and Co. to C. Linnett—I sent these advice notes to Linnett—on 18th November, after the first consignment arrived, Barrett came to the office and asked if we had any bricks in for him or them—I believe he said "for me"—I asked him if he was Mr. Linnett—he said "No, I am not Mr. Linnett, I am Mr. Barrett, the agent for the senders, and I have an interest in the consignees"—he wanted me to allow him to commence unloading, to save the demurrage—I said I could not do it until I had the advice note back from Mr. Linnett—the following day the carman, Lester, came without any note, and I refused to let the bricks go—he came back again about an hour and a half or two hours afterwards with an advice note, and I then allowed him to unload the bricks—I afterwards employed another carter who lived nearer to save the demurrage—this (produced) is the note given me by Lester: "Kindly allow Mr. Barker to unload the bricks consigned to me, and in future advise him of any arrival, instead of Lester. E. Linnett."

Cross-examined by MR. WHITE. I had no communications whatever with Chalcraft.

JEREMIAH LESTER . I am a carman, living at Finchley—about the middle of November I received instructions from Barrett to remove some bricks from White Hart. Lane to Tottenham to a plot of ground by St. Paul's Church—I carted about 27,000 bricks—I have been partly paid by Barrett.

Cross-examined by MR. WHITE. Chalcraft spoke to me first of all about the bricks, and recommended me to Barrett.

Cross-examined by MR. BURNIE. On 17th November I met Chalcraft and Barrett together outside some hotel.

JOHN BARKER. I am a carter, living at 155, Birkbeck Road—during November and December last I carted some bricks from White Hart Station to Tottenham—Barrett engaged me to do that—he called at my house with Chalcraft, and asked me to draw them, and I agreed for price—I went with Barrett to the station; he showed me that green paper, and he left it with the station-master—I have seen Chalcraft on the land—I have not been paid for this carting—I have not said anything to Chalcraft about being paid—it was some time after that I told Chalcraft I had not been paid, and he said "Well, I suppose I must pay you"—I have taken proceedings against Barrett to get paid.

Cross-examined by MR. WHITE. Barrett employed me—it was in

January this year, I think, that Chalcraft said "I suppose I must pay it."

SYDNEY GATER WARNER . I am a solicitor, of 6, Quality Court. Chancery Lane—I am acting for the prosecution—I wrote this letter (produced) to Chalcraft on 14th or 15th January last, and received this one in reply from Goldring and Mitchell, his solicitors—Chalcraft called on me shortly afterwards and produced this building a greemont which he said was between Miss Mayho and Barrett—I did not read it—I pressed him for payment—he said he would pay, but offered no terms which any business man would accept—at that time I knew nothing at all about the frauds—I pressed him for payment in the usual way, treating it as a civil debt—he produced the agreement and said it was all a mistake—he took it away with him—afterwards I received this letter from Goldring and Mitchell, dated 23rd January, and stating if I would delay the writ Chalcraft would probably make a substantial payment on account—after that I called on them.

Cross-examined by MR. WHITE. The date of my first instructions from my client would probably be the 14th, and they sent the correspondence that had passed between them and Barrett—Chalcraft called and produced the building agreement about the 19th—I saw it in his hand; it never came into my possession, and I never read it—I saw the outside of it—I did not see who it was between—he told me it was between Miss Mayho and Barrett—I understood Barrett to be the builder—it was after that date that I wrote to Goldring and Mitchell—Chalcraft did not deny his liability at all—he offered nothing, but promised to pay at a future date—he made no other promise.

JAMES YOUNG PATTISON . I am clerk to the last witness—I went to the Middlesex Registry on 24th February and made a search there—I produce a certificate of a memorial of a conveyance from Hinds to Chalcraft of certain land on a plan there—that is the land that was pointed out to me by the carter as the place he had taken the bricks to—that is dated 29th December, 1882—I also produce a certificate of memorial of a conveyance from Chalcraft to Miss Mayho—I also found a memorial of a mortgage dated 5th December, 1884, by Miss Mayho to Davis, and also a mortgage bearing the same date as the first conveyance from Chalcraft to Hinds—those are all the memorials I found with reference to this property—I remember Chalcraft calling at Mr. Warner's office about January 19—I was there all the time he was there—he made no offer of terms—he admitted his liability to the debt.

Cross-examined by MR. WHITE. I went to the Registry to search for any records of any dealings with this property—I read them sufficiently to see as to the parties and the land in question—I saw that the mortgage with Miss Mayho and Davis was a mortgage of the same property from Miss Mayho the then freeholder to Mr. Davis; that was" all I wanted to know—I did not find out the object of the mortgage—I did not think it important—I have not brought the certificate for the mortgage—I do not know that Barrett's name appears in the mortgage about a dozen times.

Re-examined. The object of the mortgage would not appear on the memorial—I searched to see if there were any memorials of any lease, there were none.

WILLIAM TYLER (Policeman). I am stationed at Tottenham—at 9

o'clock on the 12th February I found Chalcraft at the station, where he had come to give himself up—I told him I had a warrant to arrest him—I read it to him—he said "I heard there was a warrant for my apprehension and come to give myself up"—on the 17th I went to 3, Baronsmere Eoad, Finchley, and saw Barrett there—I told him I had a warrant to arrest him for obtaining 75,000 bricks—I read it to him—he said "If I had known you had a warrant to arrest me I would have given myself up"—the warrant had been out some days.

Witnesses for Chalcraft.

MARY ANN WARWICK MAYHO . I am at present residing at 11, Brunswick Road, Tottenham—I formerly resided at Banbury—I carried on business there with my sister as dressmakers and milliners—I had half the profits of the business—I have been for some time, and up to the date of Mr. Chalcraft's surrendering himself, acting as his house-keeper at Tottenham—I purchased the land in question at Sutherland Road, Tottenham, from Mr. Chalcraft—it was at that time subject to a mortgage of 215l. to a Mr. Hinds—I gave Chalcraft 20l. for the land—the mortgage had not all been paid off—I acted under his advice with respect to the land—he had authority from me to act as he thought best in letting the land and getting houses built on it—I practically left everything in his hands—he proposed a building agreement at one time with Mr. Buckle, but that fell through because Chalcraft did not quite approve of Buckle, and he afterwards arranged terms of a building agreement with Barrett with my sanction, and he afterwards arranged terms of a mortgage with Mr. Davis—when Barrett failed to proceed with the building works, Chalcraft on my behalf took possession of the land again—he had general authority to do what he thought best in the matter.

Cross-examined. I signed the building agreement myself; Chalcraft had no power to sign building agreements for me—he would do anything I asked him to do—I asked him if he would build on this land or get somebody to do so, as I had 10l. 15s. interest to pay on the 215l. mortgage on the land which did not bring me in one halfpenny—I had to work to pay the interest—I gave the millinery business up in October last year—when the conveyance of this land was made to me, to the best of my recollection, I was living at Banbury—Chalcraft never lived at Banbury—I was in my business at Banbury since 1882—I have no interest in that business now—it was a new business when I went in, and I made enough profit in that time to buy the land and pay the interest on the mortgage—I don't remember whether Chalcraft paid 60l. for the land—I don't remember whether he paid 275l. for it and mortgaged it for 215l.—at the time I paid Mm the 20l. I don't think he said anything to me as to the value of the land, nor what he paid for it—I gave 20l. for the land not knowing whether it was worth it or not—Chalcraft did not tell me what the land was worth—he did not tell me why he wanted to sell the land.

WILLIAM AUGUSTUS DAVIS . I am a watchmaker and jeweller, of 168, Regent's Park Road—Miss Mayho executed to me in December, 1884, the second mortgage of the land at Tottenham—I produce the mortgage—I also produce a conveyance of the same land on 5th April, 1883, and also a building agreement to Barrett—there is about 400l. or 500l. due under the mortgage—the mortgage, I think, will be completed to-morrow,

—the money is ready—the first advance I made on this mortgage was 50l. I think, and 30l. besides with the interest—I went to look at the land myself before I made the mortgage.

Cross-examined. I did not have a professional valuer; I relied upon myself—I first advanced 80l., and have since between 300l. and 400l. altogether—I have not received any interest—there is a little due—I have not applied for it at all—I have paid the interest on the prior mortgage.

ARTHUR MARTIN . I am managing clerk to Goldring and Mitchell, solicitors, 13, Southampton Street, Bloomsbury—I am conversant with the circumstances of the building agreement in relation to this land—before the building agreement between Miss Mayho and Barrett there were negotiations passing for an agreement with Buckle in respect of the same land, I prepared a draft agreement for that purpose, but they were broken off afterwards—I do not think Chalcraft was satisfied—our firm had this letter from Ohalcraft about it: "I object to Buckle signing the agreement, and will see you as to other arrangements I have in view.—Yours, J. Chalcraft, on behalf of Miss Mayho." I have heard the evidence of the last witness—I prepared the deeds which he produced, except the mortgage to Davis, that I only perused—I received the instructions to draft the deed from Chalcraft, and those instructions were afterwards confirmed by Miss Mayho—Chalcraft always acted in every way as the authorised agent of Miss Mayho as far as I was concerned—I know Barrett's handwriting—this (produced) is in his handwriting; it is an approval of the draft building agreement to which he was a party, the other party is Miss Mayho, Barrett being substituted for Buckle.

Cross-examined. When Chalcraft wrote to me he signed as Miss Mayho's agent—I don't know whether that was his general rule—I don't remember receiving any other letter—I don't remember him signing any agreement on behalf of Miss Mayho—he came and gave instructions, and Miss Mayho afterwards called and signed the document—Chalcraft gave 275l. for the land when he bought it of Hinds, and he mortgaged it next day for 215l., so that the actual money that passed from Chalcraft to Hinds would be 60l.—this agreement was certainly signed on the date it is dated; that is the general rule—I know Miss Mayho did not see Barrett at our office—I believe Barrett signed it first; I cannot say positively—I was witness to both signatures—I should not like to say positively, but very probably, looking at this document now, that Miss Mayho signed it first—we always let the first party sign above—I don't think that both signed at the same time—Barrett signed at the office—it was taken away unstamped—he said he would stamp it, but he never appears to have done so.

GUILTY .— Nine Months' Hard Labour each.

397. GEORGE WILLIAMS (29) PLEADED GUILTY to a burglary in the dwelling-house of Sir Benjamin Samuel Phillips, and stealing a ring and other property.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.

398. GEORGE WILLIAMS (44) to stealing twelve shirts of Frederick Frampton Day, and to a previous conviction at this Court in November, 1870.— Nine Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

399. HENRY WRIGHT (49) to three indictments for forging and uttering orders for the payment of money, and also to an indictment for obtaining by false pretences 1l. 17s. 6d. from George Richard Mills, and other sums from other Persons with intent to defraud.— Five Years' Penal Servitude. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And

400. WILLIAM JORDAN (25) toburglary in the dwelling-house of James Peters, and stealing eleven coats and other articles, after** a previous conviction of felony in September, 1876.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

NEW COURT.—Monday, March 23rd, 1885.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

401. BARNETT KINNELL (24) PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully having counterfeit coin in his possesoion, with intent to utter it.— Fifteen Monts' Hard Labour. And

402. ALFRED WILLIAM MUNZER BERTRAND (18) to stealing while employed in the Post-office a post-letter containing a watch and other articles, the property of Her Majesty's Postmaster-General.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

403. ALFEED TAYLOE (18), RICHARD TAYLOR (30), and ROBERT JOHNSON (34) , Unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin, to which ALFRED TAYLOR PLEADED GUILTY.

MESSRS. CRAUFURD and LLOYD Prosecuted; MR. FRITH Defended.

MR. CRAUFURD, in his opening speech, was proceeding to call the attention of the Jury to the evidence called for the defence before the Magistrate to prove an alibi, but MR. FRITH objected, as this was not only an opening of the prisoners' case by counsel for the prosecution, but it was quite possible that the witnesses for the defence might not be called. The COMMON SERJEANT (after consulting the RECORDER ) ruled that MR. CRAUFURD might allude to the fact of witnesses having been called before the Magistrate, but he must not go into the evidence they gave.

EMILY CUTELL . My husband keeps a coffee-shop at 3, Queen's Terrace, Finchley—on 25th February, about 7 p.m., Alfred Taylor came in and had refreshments to the value of sixpence; he gave me a florin—I gave him a shilling and a sixpence change, and put the florin in my pocket, where there was no other florin—about 10 minutes afterwards I showed it to my husband, and found it was bad—he bit it—this (produced) is it—Albert Terrace, where Mrs. Frost lives, is about 250 yards from our shop; about 10 minutes' walk.

JOHN CUTELL . I keep this coffee-shop at Finchley—on 25th February, about 7 p.m., my wife showed me a bad florin, which I marked with my teeth—this is it—I gave it to the constable.

SARAH ELLEN FROST . I am single, and keep the post-office at 3, Albert Terrace, Finchley, about 250 yards from Mr. Cutell's shop—on 25th February, about 6 p.m., Alfred Taylor came in for sixpenny worth of stamps, and tendered me a florin—I gave him 1s. 6d. change, and he left—I put the florin in the till; I did not think it was good, but I put it in—there were other florins there I expect—he came in again about 7 o'clock for three shillings' worth of stamps—I knew him again directly—he handed me a florin and a shilling, which were both bad—I had put the stamps down, but I took them up again—I tried the coins with my teeth, and both were bad—after speaking to me he went away, and I followed him outside, but he had disappeared—I saw Eichard Taylor passing the lamp-post opposite the shop—I gave the florin and shilling to Policeman Brown—these are them (produced), but I cannot tell which was the first—I found another bad florin in the till immediately after I

found the second lot was bad; both the florins have been broken, but not the shilling—some boys told a policeman, and I went to the station that evening and saw Alfred Taylor in custody.

Cross-examined. I went to the door directly after the boy went out—I had never seen the man before; that was passing the lamp-post—that was the only opportunity I had of seeing him; I saw his face—I saw Richard Taylor at the station—he was not placed with a number of others for me to pick him out—I don't know whether a policeman was standing by him—Alfred Taylor was there—I was not asked to point him out—he was brought to my shop—I did not say at the police-station about Richard Taylor passing by the lamp-post—nothing was said at the police-station.

Re-examined. It was about 8 o'clock when I went to the station, and I then saw Alfred and Richard Taylor, and recognised Richard as the man who passed the lamp-post; no one was there but him—I am quite sure he is the man.

ALMA TOOLEY . I live at 5, Queen's Terrace, Church End, Finchley, and keep a tobacconist shop, next door but one to the coffee-shop—on 25th February, between 6.10 and 6.45, Richard Taylor came in for half an ounce of tobacco, which came to twopence, and tendered a florin—I gave him a shilling and a sixpence and four pence change—I noticed something particular about the coin, and put it on one side—next morning, about 8.30, Constable Donelly came, and I gave him the coin—when Richard Taylor left the shop I followed him three or four minutes afterwards—he was a short distance off speaking to another man on the pavement whom I identify as Johnson—I then returned to serve a customer—on 2nd March I was taken to Finchley Police-station—Johnson was placed with about 14 other men, and I immediately touched him on the shoulder—he was charged with being concerned with other persons in passing counterfeit coin—he said "That is not the young woman that took the coin."

Cross-examined. When I pointed him out I said "I believe that is the man"—I said that because I didn't know I must swear positively—the other men were like him in dress and appearance—I gave a description of Richard Taylor to the police, and I was taken as a witness to Highgate Police-court against him—I never saw him at the station to see if I could pick him out.

WILLIAM BROWN (Policeman S 140). In consequence of information I went to the post-office kept by Mrs. Frost at a little after 7 o'clock—she handed me these two broken florins and a shilling (produced)—I then went to Church End Railway-station, aud there saw Alfred Taylor on the down platform and took him to Miss Frost's, and then to the police-station—when leaving the railway-station with him I saw Bichard Taylor beside the station door—Donelly was standing near him—I passed them as I took Alfred Taylor to the station—Donelly followed me with Richard to the station; they were charged there—Richard Taylor said "I know nothing about it"—on Alfred Taylor I found four good florins and a ticket and a wooden pipe.

WILLIAM DONELLY (Policeman S 99). In consequence of information I received on 25th February I went to Church End Railway-station, and saw Bichard Taylor coming from the coal yard, entering the station door, I stopped him, and said "What are you doing there?"—he said "I am

out for a day's pleasure"—just at that time Constable Brown came up with Alfred Taylor—he said something to me, and I then said to Richard Taylor "Do you know that young man?" pointing to Alfred Taylor—he said "Yes, my brother"—I said "I shall take you in custody for being concerned with him in passing bad money"—I took him to the station, and in answer to the charge he said he had not got any bad money on him—I searched him, and found 13 shillings, 17 sixpences, 1s. 10d. in bronze, a pocket-book, and about half an ounce of tobacco—he was chewing tobacco at the time.

Cross-examined. I was in uniform—Richard Taylor did not come up to me and speak first—I was going to the station; there was a lamp there, but he could not see me.

ROBERT DINSMORE (Policeman Y 154). On 2nd March, about 7 p.m., I saw Johnson in Caledonian Eoad—I said "I shall take you in custody on suspicion of being with two other men. and passing counterfeit coin at Finchley"—he said "All right, I will go"—I took him to Finchley Police-station—Miss Tooley was sent for, and she came about 8 o'clock—he was placed with six others—several policemen in plain clothes were standing on the other side of the room, not put with Johnson, and she picked him out—I searched him, and found a good sixpence and five-pence.

Cross-examined. I saw Johnson about 12 or 1 o'clock on the very same day that I took him, outside the Weston Arms, but I took him in the evening; he was sober then—I saw Miss Tooley pick Johnson out—I was not near enough to hear what she said, but I heard her say "That is the man"—she did not say "I believe that is the man"—he was not placed with any police officers—I do not know who they were; they very much resembled him.

Re-examined. I had a reason for not taking Johnson on the first occasion.

GEORGE WILLIAMS (Policeman Y 100). I was with Dinsmore when he took Johnson—I went to the station with them—he was placed with eight or nine others; I told him to place himself in any position he liked, and he did so, and Miss Tooley picked him out—he then said to me, "That is not the woman who took the coin."

Cross-examined. I was standing nearer to Johnson than Dinsmore was, and I heard Miss Tooley say, "That is the man."

WILLIAM WEBSTER . These four florins and shilling are bad—this florin passed to Miss Tooley is from the same mould as one of those passed to Miss Frost—the florin passed to Mrs. Cutell is from a different mould.

Alfred Taylor in his statement before the Magistrate said that his brother had nothing to do with it, and that a man asked him to pass the coins. Richard Taylor and Johnson stated that they were innocent.

Richard Taylor received a good character.

ALFEED and RICHAED TAYLOR— GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour each. JOHNSON— NOT GUILTY .

OLD COURT.—Tuesday, March 24th, 1885.

Before Mr. Recorder.

404. CHAELES PEEIEEA (30) was indicted for unlawfully obtaining 16l. from Walter Dangerfield by false pretences.

MR. GRAIN, for the prosecution, offered no evidence.


405. JAMES PEARCE (60) and BARTHOLOMEW SLINEY (30) , Robbery with violence on Thomas Henry Prosser and stealing a watch and chain.


THOMAS HENRY PROSSER . I am a racket and ball manufacturer, and live at 31, North Street, Pentonville—at half-past 11 on the night of 21st February I was walking home along North Street when I was suddenly seized from behind by the throat and a hand was placed over my mouth—some other men came round me, about five altogether; I could feel them taking my watch and chain—it was worth 40l.—I was thrown down and left lying in the road; when I got up they were all gone—I had had about three fourpennyworths of gin-and-water that evening—I am not able to identify any of the persons, I could not see them.

MARY ANN BOYLE . I am the wife of Alexander Boyle, and live at 6, Chad's Place—about half-past 11 on the night of 21st February I was in North Street standing in a doorway—I saw the prosecutor coming along, and I saw five men coming behind him—two of them ran across the road, three stopped behind—Pearce was one of those behind him; Sliney was before him, and there was another, a dark man—one of them took hold of the prosecutor one way and one the other; one put his hand over his mouth, and the dark man snatched his watch quickly from his pocket and said, "We have the b—lot," and he delivered it to Pearce—they then threw Mr. Prosser into the road and ran away into a house—I ran after them as fast as I could; I followed the dark man and the two prisoners into the house, I do not know the number—the two prisoners went into the kitchen—the dark man stood on the stairs, and he said to me, "Mrs. Boyle, what do you want here?"—I said, "I am on business the same as you are"—I am able to swear that the prisoners are two of the persons who assisted in robbing the prosecutor.

Cross-examined by Sliney. The robbery took place just by a lamp-post—I followed you to Pearce's house, I knew he lived there—I saw you go downstairs, and you asked for a match or a rushlight—I did not speak to any female there.

JANE EDWARDS . I live at 191, King's Cross Eoad, and occupy the two parlours—on 21st February, about a quarter to 12, I was in my front parlour—I heard a kind of scuffle going on in the passage—I went out a few minutes afterwards and saw Mrs. Boyle standing up against the wall and a dark man with bushy black whiskers standing in the passage—I got a light for him, he was looking for a key in the passage—I saw Pearce outside the kitchen door; he lives downstairs.

MARIA SAMPSON . I live at 3, Field Street, King's Cross Road—Sliney occupied the front room on the same floor—on Saturday, 21st February, at 7 o'clock, I saw Sliney—the partition is rather thick between his room and mine—his wife was there with him—I did not hear anything going on in the room, it seemed quiet—I next saw him on the Wednesday or Thursday following.

Sliney. She never saw me at all that day; I was in Wapping on Saturday from 6 till half-past 9 on the following Monday.

WILLIAM NASH (Police Sergeant G). On 24th February I arrested Pearce in Euston Road—I told him it was on suspicion of being concerned with several others in stealing from a gentleman a gold watch

and chain on Saturday night in North Street—he said, "I don't know anything about it"—he was taken to the station and placed with seven or eight others, and was identified by Mrs. Boyle—on the charge being read to him he said, "I was outside the Builders' Arms with my blacking-box till half-past 11, and when I went home Mrs. Boyle was in the passage"—the Builders' Arms is about 50 yards from where the robbery took place, just round the corner—on 7th February I saw Sliney in custody at the station—I told him the charge—he said, "All right."

Pearce's Defence. I have nothing to say more than I am innocent. I know nothing about the robbery.

Sliney's Defence. If Mrs. Boyle knew that this robbery was done she could have had us taken there and then. She knew this man lived in the kitchen, and I lived only a few yards down the street. On this Saturday I went to the Prince of Wales's public-house, where there was a friendly lead, with Charles Donovan, from 10 minutes past 8 till 12, closing time, and then I went to Mrs. Donovan's in High Street, Wapping, and slept there, and never came back till Monday night. I know nothing about this robbery.

JULIA DONOVAN . I am married, and live at 15, Smith's Court, High Street, Wapping—I have known Sliney since he was a little boy—on Saturday evening, 21st February, he came to my house about five or ten minutes to 6 o'clock, and stopped there till Sunday evening—at 9.30 on Saturday he went out with my son to a public-house; he came back at 12 o'clock with Mr. and Mrs. Nupkins and a young woman named Mary Ann Jackson—he went upstairs, and he and my son sat by the fire talking with my son-in-law, Timothy Duggan, who lives in the house—he and my son are at work and cannot come—the Nupkinses and Jackson left about 12.30, and I bolted the door after them.

Cross-examined. I went to the Prince of Wales public-house on Saturday night about 10 o'clock—there was a lead upstairs for a poor woman who was ill—Sliney was there, and he sang a sons—I heard of this charge on the Thursday after—I went to the Court, but could not find my way—I was shown it—I was not examined there—I heard the evidence given.

CATHERINE NUPKINS . I am daughter of the last witness—I have known Sliney twelve months, when we go into the country hopping—four weeks last Saturday, about 5.50, I saw him coming down the court—he came in—mother was getting tea ready, and my brother was in from work—Sliney sat down and took a book or a paper and was reading it—he stopped inside till about 8.15—there was a lead at a public-house where my brother was going, and he said "Pat, will you come round and have something to drink?"—he said "I don't mind," he took four of us there, and stopped till shutting up time—we went home and stopped till 12.30, and mother bolted the door after us—Sliney slept in the same room as my three brothers, and he stopped till Monday evening and then went home—one of my brothers gave him 3d. to pay his fare home.

Cross-examined. I am no relation to the prisoner—I and my husband, Mary Ann Jackson, the prisoner, and my brother Charlie went to the Prince of Wales public-house where the lead was, and did not come out till shutting-up time—the landlord, Mr. Danes, can prove that they sang two songs.

HENEY NUPKINS . On Saturday night, 21st February, Sliney was in

my company from 8 to 12 o'clock at the Prince of Wales in Hermitage Street, Wapping, kept by Mr. Danes—he came with us to Mr. Donovan's, and we stopped there till half-past 12, and I then went next door to my own place and went to bed—Mrs. Donovan came downstairs and locked her door.

Cross-examined. I was not called as a witness before the Magistrate, I believe my wife was, but I am not certain—I did not go to the friendly lead; I was in the house, but did not go upstars—Sliney sang a song in front of the bar; Mr. Danes was there at the time.

MARY ANN JOHNSON . I am single, and live at 5, Smith's Place—I went over to Mrs. Donovan's four weeks last Saturday about 8 o'clock—when I went in Sliney was sitting by the fire reading a book; Charles Donovan was having his tea—I waited in there some time—Mr. and Mrs. Nupkins came in, and Charles Donovan said "I am going to a lead at the Prince of Wales, are you coming; I will give you a drink?" with that, me and Mr. and Mrs. Nupkins went round to the Prince of Wales and stopped till nearly 12 o'clock; we came back to Mrs. Donovan's and stopped till half-past 12—Mrs. Donovan went upstairs to make the bed for Sliney to sleep there—we bade "Good night" and went out, and Mrs. Donovan came down and locked the door; we left the house about half-past 12 o'clock.

Cross-examined. I was called as a witness before the Magistrate, but I was not examined; I could not come—I knew Sliney before this night by going hop-picking; I didn't know where he lived—I was not at the friendly lead; we were downstairs—Sliney was there, I believe, and the landlord gave him twopennyworth of whisky for singing a song.

Witness in Reply.

THOMAS DANES . I am landlord of the Prince of Wales public-house, Hermitage Street, Wapping—on 21st February last there was a friendly lead at my house—I do not know Sliney; I cannot remember him singing in front of my bar that night—I cannot say he was there—there was some singing in front of my bar—some women have been to me about this matter; I should know them again—Miss Johnson and Mrs. Napkins are the women—they asked me if I remembered a young man singing there—I said I did not.

By the COURT. I could not say he was not there—they did not give the name of the man—the inquiry was made about eight days after this lead.

Sliney. I was at this house this night dancing and singing. This man (Pearce) could tell you I was not in his company that night; the women in the parlour could tell you I was not in the house. I know no more about it than any of you gentlemen.

GUILTY .—SLINEY, ** PEARCE†— Nine Months' Hard Labour each.

406. CHARLES COGHLAN (33) , Feloniously forging and uttering an order for 10l., with intent to defraud.

MR. GILL Prosecuted.

JAMES HAWKLIP . I am in the employment of William Maidell, a furniture dealer, of 104, Norfolk Terrace, Bayswater—this letter was received at our shop on 23rd January, and the goods mentioned in that letter I forwarded to that address after speaking to Mr. Maidell—on 21st January, at dinner time, I saw the prisoner at the shop—he produced

this cheque to me—he led me to believe he had been a customer of ours, living either in Lancaster Road or Elgin Crescent, I can't say for certain which, and it was believing he was a customer that Mr. Maidell afterwards forwarded the goods—he came on 26th February and said he had come to pay the bill; he had not got the bill with him, and we made out another and receipted it, and he then produced the cheque—he did not endorse it first, he endorsed it afterwards, and we gave him the difference, 5l. 11s. 4 1/2 d., in cash between 4l. 8s. 7 1/2 d. and 10l.—afterwards the cheque was paid into Mr. Maidell's account and came back marked "No account."

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You led me on to expect that you had been a customer of ours four or five years previous.

WILLIAM MAIDELL . I am a furniture dealer in Norfolk Terrace—a statement was made to me by the last witness with regard to the prisoner and an order he had given, and afterwards, when he came with the cheque, I gave orders for it to be cashed—I did not cash it myself—I do not know any Mr. Coghlan of Lancaster Road, but I know a Mr. Coghlan of Elgin Crescent.

Cross-examined. I will not swear I did not serve you with things in Lancaster Road three or four years ago; I may have done, I have no knowledge of it.

HENRY JOHN KING . I am clerk to Robarts and Co., bankers, 15, Lombard Street—this cheque was presented to me for pavment, and returned marked "No account"—we have no customer of the name of William Gregory, and never had.

WALTER PASHLEY . I am a collector in the employment of Messrs. Finney and Co., coal merchants, Kilburn—I only saw him write this cheque, that is the one on Messrs. Kent and Son, and signed "Charles Coghlan"—I have compared the cheque with the cheque in this case; to the best of my belief they are in the same handwriting.

Cross-examined. When you gave me the second cheque you told me I was to keep it over till the following Tuesday, and you would have 300l. there—I will swear you said that.

By the COURT. The cheque was for 3l. 10s.—you gave me the second cheque on Saturday morning, 24th January; it is dated the 27th.

The prisoner in his defence alleged that when he presented the cheques he was under the impression he should have the money to meet them when due, and that he had no intent to defraud.

GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour.

There were two other indictments against the prisoner for forging and uttering two other cheques.

NEW COURT.—Tuesday, March 24th, 1885.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

407. WALTER BURLS (45) and MARY CLIFTON (44) , Unlawfully having in their possession a mould impressed with the resemblance of a shilling.


ELIZABETH FLORENCE PICKERING . I serve in a grocer's shop, 320, High Street, Poplar—on Christmas Eve, about 12.30, I served Burls with a pound of candied peel and two pounds of loaf sugar—he put down this

shilling; I showed it to my mother, and then told him it was bad, and I should give him in charge, as it was the second time he had given us a bad shilling—he had given me one three or four weeks before—ne said "For God's sake don't lock me up, for the sake of my wife and children"—my mother said "Yes, I will"—he said "What for?"—I said "Lay that thing down, I am not going to lose this"—he ran down the street, a constable ran after him, and he was taken to the station—I identified him there among 15 others, but when I went to Arbour Square I was too late, the charge had been dismissed—I gave the shillings to the constable—the first shilling had been in a drawer all the time—he gave me that for two pounds of sugar, and I gave him 7d. change—I knew it was bad when he gave it me, but I was frightened, because he looks such a dreadful man, and I was by myself.

RICHARD MOSS . I keep the Alma beerhouse, Bromley—on 6th November, about 10 p.m., Burls came in for half a pint of ale and some tobacco, and handed me this bad shilling; I bent it, and said "Have you a better one?"—he said "I did not know it was a bad one," and gave me a good florin; I gave him 1s. 10d. change, and asked him for the bad shilling back—he gave it to me—I said "If I see a constable I shall lock you up"—he said "You will lock me up innocent"—I sent two customers after him, but they lost him—I gave the shilling to Inspector Book next day—he had been in the shop nine days before for a pennyworth of tobacco, and gave me a shilling; I gave him 11d. change—after he was gone I found it was bad, put it in the fire, and it melted at once—on 2nd March I picked out Burls at the station among six others—I recognised him when he came in the second time.

WILLIAM ROOK (Police Inspector). "On 7th February Mr. Moss gave me these two shillings (produced).

ROBERT BUTLER (Policeman K 13). On 2nd March I saw the two prisoners outside this Court, and in consequence of a description I had received of Burls I told him I should take him in custody for uttering a counterfeit shilling at Poplar on the 6th of last month—going to Snow Hill Police-station I had hold of his right hand and Simmons his left, and he put his left hand into his trousers pocket; I told Simmons to take it out, and immediately I saw a purse fall from the left leg of his trousers—a boy picked it up and gave it to me, and Burls said "That is not my purse of money"—I said "I saw it come from the leg of your trousers"—he said "Oh!"—there were five bad shillings in it, wrapped up separately in paper—I took him to Snow Hill Station, searched him, and found on him three pairs of scissors, which look as if they have been re-ground, a large pocket-knife, and a new file—I left him at the station, came back, and saw Clifton outside this Court—I said "I shall take you in custody, you will be charged with a man with uttering counterfeit coin at Poplar"—she said "What man?"—I said "The man you have been in company with all the morning"—neither of them told me what they were doing here.

By the COURT. A man named MoDonald was being tried, who called for Burls to give him a character. (See page 675.) Clifton said "I do not know any man, I am a single woman—I took her to Snow Hill Station and left her there—I had followed Clifton to 11, Upper Charlton Street, but I did not find her there—I followed Burls on 24th February from the Thames Police-court to St. George's Court, St. George's-in-the-East,

and I went there two nights after, and saw Clifton come out of the same house and go to 11, Chapman Street, and then to 2, Rose Cottages, where McDonald lived—they had both refused their addresses—Burles said, "I have got no address," but afterwards he said, "If you go to Avery's you will find my house"—he afterwards said, "I lodge any where"—Clifton said, "I mostly live at common lodging-houses"—I said, "Where did you sleep last night?"—she said, "Somewhere by Spitalfields, I don't know the place"—the landlady opened the door at 11, Chapman Street, but I had the key which the female searcher gave me; it opened the door of the work-room, which was locked, and I found this ladle under the bed, this plaster-of-Paris mould for shillings under the pillow, and this small piece which has been broken out of it in the fender, a small bag of plaster-of-Paris, a broken mould for making shillings and sixpences near the middle of the bed outside the mattress, and this rent-book of William McDonald, Rose Cottages, St. George's Court—next day I made further search and found some pieces of lead in the ashes, this small piece of lead on the floor, which looks like trimming cut off with a knife, this copper wire was under the coal-box, and these two files on the shelf—the female searcher also gave me three pieces of copper wire, some brushes, and a large pocket-knife with plaster-of-Paris on it; it is exactly the same pattern as that found on Burls—here are two small files, a tobacco-box, a pair of pincers, a piece of whitening, several pieces of lamp-black, some brick-dust done up in small packages, and several quart bottles from a publican's in Poplar—I examined Burls's pockets and made this copy (produced)—it is made so that the purse could either remain in the pocket or be put outside—I also found this skirt with marks of plaster-of-Paris on it—Clifton gave me a good shilling—here is an apron with marks where coins have been cleaned on it, a bottle of acid, and a piece of board with marks where coins have been cleaned on it—the constable gave me two pawn-tickets, one of which was in the name of McDonald, who was sentenced to seven years here last Session—he was being tried when these two prisoners were outside here, and he called out the name of Walter Burls as one of the witnesses to his character—he was tried twice, on March 3rd and 4th, and he called Burls on the 4th, but Burls was then in custody—I have seen the prisoners together four or five times since December, in Poplar, and they brought some refreshment to the police-court for McDonald—on February 24th I was in plain clothes, and watched them to Rose Cottages—they went in together, and in a quarter of an hour Burls came out—two or three evenings afterwards I saw Clifton come out of that house at 8.30 and go to 11, Chapman Street.

JAMES SIMMONDS (Policeman K 640). On 24th December Miss Pickering gave Burls into my custody with this counterfeit shilling—I found on him a good shilling and 1 1/2 d.—I was with Butler on 2nd March, and had hold of Burls's left hand—he put it into his left pocket, and I saw a purse come out from his trousers—a lad picked it up and handed it to Butler—I never lost sight of it—I went with Butler to 11, Chapman Street, and saw him find these articles—I examined Burls's pocket; this is a copy from it.

THOMAS CURTIS (City Policeman 280). On 2nd March I saw Clifton at Snow Hill Police-station—she was moving her hand under her shawl—I said, "What are you doing?"—she said, "Nothing"—I pulled her

shawl on one side, and saw she had got some pieces of paper in her hand, which turned out to be pawn-tickets—the inspector pasted them together—McDonald's name was on one of them.

EMMA COLBURNE . I am female searcher at Snow Hill Station—on 2nd March I searched Clifton and found this door-key, a snuff-box, a purse containing a good shilling, a pair of spectacles, a thimble, and a few pieces of pawn-tickets, all of which I gave to Inspector Inwood.

ELIZABETH BENWOOD . I am landlady of 11, Upper Chapman Street, St. George's-in-the-East—I let a back room to Clifton's sister, I do not know her name—Clifton came there on, I think, 11th January, and occupied the room till March 2nd, when the police came, and I pointed out the room to them—she said that she was a tailoress—she went out every morning at 8 o'clock, and came back at 6 or 7, and then she used to go in and out with her sister—she was never visited by any man, but the last week she stopped out from Saturday to Monday—I had my door shut at 11 o'clock.

Cross-examined by Burls. I never saw you there.

WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . These eight shillings are bad; the five found in the purse are all made from this double mould, and here is another part of a double mould exhibiting the reverse—these pieces of metal are the gets which have been cut off—all these articles are used in the manufacture of counterfeit coin, and also the file found on Burls—a good coin will not melt in an ordinary fire.

The Prisoners' Statements before the Magistrate. Burls says: "The female prisoner is quite a stranger to me. I was not with her on 24th February. I did not know the shillings were bad." Clifton says: "I admit I am guilty of having the articles in my possession."

Burls's Defence. I bought the file to sharpen a chaff-cutter. The scissors belong to my brother. I sold a waistcoat for 5s. 6d., and it appears one of the coins was bad, but I did not know it.

Clifton's Defence. I did not know that the things were in my room. I never took them there; I never used them, I do not know how. They do not belong to me.

GUILTY . BURLS ** †— Seven Years' Penal Servitude. CLIFTON— Five Years' Penal Servitude.

408. JOHN WEST (16) , Unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.


ANN JONES . My husband keeps a dairy shop, at 11, Abingdon Road—on 6th March I served the prisoner with three penny eggs, and he gave me a half-crown—I gave him 2s. 3d. change and he left—soon afterwards I showed the coin to my husband, who found it was bad, and I put it on the mantelshelf—he came again on the 9th for three eggs, and gave me another half-crown—I saw at once that it was bad, and called my husband, who fastened the door and kept him till a policeman came—I then said "You gave me a bad one on Friday evening"—he said "You have made a mistake, I have not been here before"—I am sure he is the same man—I gave the coin to the constable.

WILLIAM HOPE (Policeman J 469). I was called, and found the prisoner detained by Mrs. Jones—I said "How did you get the money?"—he said "I had it in change for a half-sovereign"—I said "Where?"—he said "I don't know"—Mrs. Jones said that he had passed one on the 6th

—I took him to the station—he told the Magistrate that he worked at Ford and Tilt's, Hart Street, Long Acre, two and a half years ago, and that he bought the hat he was wearing at Roberts's, Great St. Andrew Street, Seven Dials—he said "I live at lodging-houses, I have no permanent place"—I went to Roberts's and made inquiries.

WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . These half-crowns are bad, and from different moulds.

Prisoner's Defence. I had a half-sovereign on Saturday night and I bought this hat for half-a-crown at Mr. Roberts's. I went and bought three eggs. This is the first time I have been here.

GUILTY. Recommended to mercy by the Jury.—Judgment respited.

409. JOHN HARTLEY (17) , Unlawfully having counterfeit coin in his possession, with intent to utter it.


ALBERT BURNS . I attend to Mr. Edwin Jones's shop, a cheesemonger, of 29, James Street, Oxford Street—on 25th February, about 7 p.m., I served the prisoner with two ounces of butter, price 1 1/2 d., and he gave me this half-crown (produced)—I gave him 2s. 4 1/2 d. change and he left—I put the coin in the till—there was no other half-crown there—Mr. Jones found it, marked it, and gave it to the police.

EDWIN JONES . I went into my shop shortly after the prisoner had left, and found only one half-crown in the till; it was bad, and I showed it to Burns and gave it to the police next day—all the other coins in the till were sixpences.

GEORGE SPEEK . I live at 2, George Court, Oxford Street—it is a fish-monger's shop—on 26th February, about 4 p.m., I served the prisoner with three half-pennyworth of kippered herrings—he gave me a bad half-crown—I told him to take it away—he took it back and I took the fish back—I told my mistress.

HENRY SILCOCK . I am a tobacconist, of 37, James Street, Marylebone—on 26th February, about 4.30, I served the prisoner with half an ounce of tobacco, price 2d., and he tendered a bad half-crown—I saw it was bad at once and told him so—he said "I will take it back"—I had known him a long while, or I should have bent it up; I said "Take my advice, young man, don't present that to anybody else, because it is a very badly made one"—he said "I will take it back, and if I pass it I shall get into trouble"—he gave me the 2d. and I gave him the coin—I knew it was bad from the colour; it was dark.

JOHN ROBINSON (Policeman D R 5). On 26th February, in consequence of a description I received, I went to 37, James Street; I saw the prisoner coming out—I took him to Mr. Jones's shop, who identified him and gave me this bad half-crown—he said "I did pass the half-crown, I did not know it was bad"—I searched him at the station and found these five bad half-crowns with paper between them, and three pence—he said that he found them in Davies Street, Oxford Street.

WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . These six coins are bad, and the one uttered is from the same mould as two of the five.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "On Wednesday morning I went out to look for work. I picked up a purse in Davies Street there were six half-erowns in it. I had a look at them to see that they were all right. I said to myself 'They are all right, I will try to pas

them;' I said to myself 'If I went to the station I might get into a row,' and so I faked them. I went to a butter shop and passed them."

GUILTY .— Nine Monty Hard Labour.

410. HENRY JOHN FREDERICK MAGDALINSKI (20) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing, while employed in the Post-office, a letter containing 21s., the property of Her Majesty's Postinaster-General. He received a good character.—Five Years' Penal Servitude.

411. GEORGE SMITH (40) and GEORGE BROOKS (32) , Unlawfully having counterfeit coin in their possession, with intent to utter it.


JOSEPH ARTHUR SMITH . I am in the service of Mr. Catt, a grocer, of 368, Kingsland Road—on 24th February, about 10 or 11 o'clock a.m., Smith, who I knew before, bought something with good money and went away—he came again between 1 and 2 o'clock for a pennyworth of blacking, and I think he paid with a shilling—I put it into the till and gave him the change—he came again about 3 o'clock for a pennyworth of biscuits and gave me a shilling—I saw that it was bad, but gave him the change, and he left; I put it in a desk—in about ten minutes Brooks came in for a pennyworth of biscuits and gave me this shilling; I saw it was bad, but gave him the change and kept it separate—I went to the door and saw the two prisoners meet in the Crescent and speak to each other—I sent the apprentice for Smith, who came, and I said "You have given me a bad shilling"—he said "I will give you another for it if I have one"—I said "Where has the other man gone?"—he said "I do not know anything of him, I have seen him in the meat market sometimes"—he went away, and I followed him and pointed him out to Smooker—I afterwards found three bad shillings in my till and gave them to the constable—there were other shillings there—at 12 o'clock that night I pointed out Brooks to a constable—Brooks could hear what I said—I said "That is the man," and he ran away.

Cross-examined by Brooks. You ran about 20 yards; you live 200 or 300 yards from my shop—I never knew you to pass bad money before.

WILLIAM SMOOKER (Policeman M 138). Mr. Smith pointed out Smith to me in Downham Road—he ran away—I caught him and said "I shall take you back for passing counterfeit coin"—he said "The shopman should have told me it was a bad shilling when I gave it to him"—I took him back to Mr. Catts's shop and then to the station, where I saw nine bad shillings found in his waistcoat pocket wrapped up, but not with paper between the coins, and in his trousers pocket a good shilling, six good sixpences, and 1s. 9 1/2 d. in bronze—he also had on him a pennyworth of blacking, a packet of tea with Mr. Catts's name on it, half a pound of sugar, two eggs, a pocket knife, and a pawn ticket.

FREDERICK TICKELL (Policeman N 171). On 24th February, in consequence of information, I watched No. 5, Derby Road, Kingsland, with Mr. Smith, and about midnight Brooks came along the road, but instead of going indoors he made a halt at his gate and passed on—Mr. Smith said "That is the man"—Brooks could hear that—I was in plain clothes—I stepped towards him, and he darted off and ran 20 or 25 yards—I caught hold of him and said "I am a police officer, I shall take you in custody and charge you with being concerned with a man named George

Smith in uttering a counterfeit shilling at Mr. Catts's in Kingaland Road"—he said "I do not know George Smith"—he said at the station "I have been in his company for only two minutes"—I had said that they were together—I found on him tenpence.

WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . These two shillings uttered are bad, and from the same mould—these three shillings found in the till are bad—some of the coins found on Smith are from the same mould as the two uttered, and some from the same mould as those found in the till.

Smith, in his statement before the Magistrate and in his defence, said that he was three-parts drunk and did not know that he had any bad money. Brooks stated that he saw Smith come out of a public-house half drunk, and a man gave him some shillings, upon which, as Smith owed him some money, he asked him to pay him, and Smith gave him a shilling, which he changed at Catts's shop to see if it was good, and a second shilling also, and that he was not running away when taken, but was running to get some tobacco before the shops closed.


412. GEORGE SMITH and GEORGE BROOKS were again indicted for unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.

The evidence of the witnesses in the former case was read to them by the shorthand writer, to which they assented.

SMITH— GUILTY .— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour. BROOKS— NOT GUILTY .

413. JOHN BROOKS (45) , Unlawfully uttering counterfeit coin.


WILLIAM CAMERON . I am barman at the Hoop and Grapes, Widegate Street, Bishopsgate—on 11th March, between 6 and 7 p.m., I served the prisoner with half a pint of ale; he paid with a good penny—he came back in ten minutes for three-halfpennyworth of rum, and put down a shilling—I put it in the till on top of the other money, and gave him the change—my master went to the till five minutes afterwards, took it out, and showed it to me—no other money was put into the till after that shilling—the prisoner came in the next morning about 9.30 for half a pint of ale, and put down a bad shilling—I took it to Mr. Barnaul, who sent for a constable—I knew the prisoner well by sight, I had seen him three times that week.

GEORGE ALFRED BARHAM . I keep the Hoop and Grapes—on 11th March I cleared my till at 7 o'clock and found a bad shilling on top of the other money—I showed it to Cameron, who told me something, and I found the other bad shilling (produced) in the same till—next morning Cameron brought me this shilling (produced)—I went into the bar, found the prisoner there, sent for a constable, and when he came I said to the prisoner "I shall charge you with uttering this coin, and also one last night;" he said "It is a mistake, I have never been in the house before"—I said "My lad identifies you as the man that passed the coin last night"—he said "It is a mistake"—I gave him in charge with the coin.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. There were eight or nine shillings in the till the night before, and this was the first I put my hand on.

CHARLES CUSHING (City Policeman 949). On 12th March I was called to the Hoop and Grapes, and the prisoner was given into my charge—he

said "It is all a mistake, if I was guilty I could have run away; I was never in this house before this morning; a gentleman from Bishopsgate Street, about half an hour ago, gave me that shilling for minding his horse and trap"—I said "Can you point out the place?"—he said "No"—I searched him at the station and found on him two farthings, a tobacco pouch, and a pocket knife—I said "Where do you live?"—he said "I have no home; I have been walking about the streets all night"—Mr. Barham handed me these three coins (produced).

WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . These three shillings are bad, and all from one mould.

Prisoner's Defence. A gentleman gave me the shilling for minding a horse and trap.

GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY ** to a conviction at Clerkenwell in February, 1882.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.

FOURTH COURT.—Tuesday, March 24th, 1885.

Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.

414. HENRY LESLIE (64) , Feloniously wounding Sylvester Kiely, with intent to do him grievous bodily harm.

MR. PELLEW Prosecuted.

SYLVESTER KIELY . I live at 29, Vere Street, and am a porter—on 3rd March I was in Endell Street at 1 o'clock a.m. with the prisoner and two females—the prisoner asked me to go home—I refused and went with the two women six or seven yards, when the prisoner came behind and stabbed me with a knife—the two women followed, caught him, and held him till a policeman came up—I charged him, he was taken to the station—I there said he stabbed me—he said it was all false, he did not do it—I saw that he stabbed me, I did not see the knife, I know he had a knife with him—I was not drunk nor sober, I had had a little drink—the prisoner was sober.

ELLEN LYNCH . I live at 9, Macklin Street, Drury Lane—I was in Endell Street about 1 or 2 o'clock on the morning of 3rd March—I saw Margaret Herne and the prosecutor—I was going with Herne to the coffee-stall, and I heard the prosecutor cry out "I am stabbed," and I saw the prisoner running; I had not seen him before, he was standing in a doorway seemingly—I ran after him and held him till the constable came up—I did not see the knife, he had plenty of time to do away with it the distance he ran—there was no one there but myself, Herne, the prisoner, and prosecutor.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. When I caught hold of you you called me a name, and said if you had the knife you would stick it into me.

RICHARD COWARD . I am a surgeon, of 3, Southampton Street—at 2.30 on 3rd March I saw the prosecutor at Bow Street Station—he had received a small punctured wound about half an inch long below the right shoulder blade, going down about an inch deep into the muscles of the back—I should think it was done by the large blade of a pocket knife; some force must have been used—there was no danger—there was a hole in the clothes corresponding to the wound.

HENRY WRIGHT (Policeman E 131). About 2 o'clock on the morning of 3rd March I heard a woman's cry of "Murder"—I went and saw the

prisoner, prosecutor, and two women—both women said in the prisoner's presence that they saw him stab the prosecutor—I saw the prosecutor had a wound in the back, and blood was pouring from it—the prisoner said he did not do it, he had no knife—no knife was found—he had been drinking very heavily; the prosecutor was sober.

The prisoner in his defence stated that he had adopted the prosecutor at his son and had provided him with clothes and had a great deal of trouble with him, and he denied that he had done him this injury.


415. MORRIS ROTH (36) , Feloniously forging and uttering an order for the payment of 18l. 10s., with intent to defraud.

MR. FULTON Prosecuted; MR. GILL Defended.

JAMES MURRELL . I am head waiter at the Great Eastern Hotel, Liverpool Street Station—on 4th January the prisoner and his wife came and stopped there, and on the 16th the amount of his account was 18l. 4s. 6d.—he gave me this cheque in payment—it was given into the pay office and returned marked "No account."

WILLIAM BRANNON (City Policeman 503). I arrested the prisoner at 1 o'clock on 3rd March—a boy told me in the prisoner's presence that there was a warrant out for his apprehension for forging and swindling—I told the prisoner I should detain him on the boy's assertion to see if it was correct—he said he knew nothing of it whatever—on the way to the station he said he thought he knew something what it was—he was detained at the station for 20 minutes, till we had telegraphed and got a reply, and then I walked with him to Bishopsgate Street—on the way I met Underwood with the warrant and handed the prisoner over to him—I went with them to the station—on being charged the prisoner said he wrote on the back of the cheque, but did not sign it; he said he got the cheque from a friend on an account owed him

. Cross-examined by MR. GILL. When I spoke to the prisoner in the street I told him I had no warrant—he said the charge was wrong, but that he was perfectly willing to go to the station.

CHARLES UNDERWOOD (City Detective 948). I received a warrant for the prisoner's apprehension on 3rd March; I took him into custody from the last witness and read the warrant to him—he said "Is this at the instigation of the Great Eastern Railway?"—I said it was—he said he would make them pay for it—I searched him, but found nothing on him.

HENRY MYERS . I am a tobacconist and cigar merchant of 109, Euston Road—I have known the prisoner about nine months as clerk to Mr. Chaplin—on 15th January, between 6 and 7 o'clock, he called on me and said he had a client who owed him an account, and who kept an account at my bank, would I let him have a blank cheque on the City Bank, Tottenham Court Road; after demurring some time, on the understanding that he should bring it to me signed by his client, or otherwise I should give notice to the bank—I gave him one—I took this receipt from him for the cheque—the same evening he came and showed me the cheque filled up as it is now, purporting to be signed "J.B. Bertram"—I do not think it was then endorsed—I thought it was all right and did not stop it.

Cross-examined. I knew Both well, unless I had I should not have given him the cheque—I knew he did legal work for other people and he

had done work for me in that way—he brought the cheque himself and showed it to me.

JOHN GARTEN CROW . I am a clerk in the City Bank, Tottenham Court Road, and was there on 17th January when this cheque was presented through the Union Bank for payment—we have no customer of the name of J. B. Bertram—in consequence it was marked as it now is "No account," and returned to the Union Bank—the prisoner has no account at our bank.

GEORGE DACK . I am a cigar manufacturer at 4, Fielding Gate, E., Whitechapel—the prisoner three months ago worked for me drawing up agreements—I have seen him write—the body of this cheque is to the best of my belief his writing—I am positive that the endorsement is.

Cross-examined. I cannot say if Mr. Myers has seen the prisoner write much of tener than I have—I and Mr. Myers are not a great deal together—I do not know that the prisoner has done a great deal of work for him, he has done some—I have seen the prisoner write two or three times—I went with Mr. Myers one morning to Guildhall—I first saw the cheque then; before I went into the witness box one of the detectives showed it to me—I was not there by accident—I do not swear the body of the cheque is in the prisoner's writing, but to the best of my belief it is.

BERTRAM KAISER . I am clerk to Mr. Chaplin, a solicitor, of 13, Clifford's Inn, with whom I have been for some time—the prisoner was also in Mr. Chaplin's service from October to December last year—he was not married then from what he told me—I saw him write in the course of his duties—in my judgment the body of the cheque is in the prisoner's writing—the "Bertram" is clearly an imitation of my Christian name "Bertram, which I am in the habit of signing alone when writing to friends—in the beginning and middle of November I found pieces of paper with the name of Bertram practised on them, they compare pretty well with mine—I write Bertram in three styles, according to whether I use my usual pen, or a steel pen or a quill pen—I should think this was written with a quill.

Cross-examined. The endorsement is in an assumed different writing to the body—I have no account in this bank—he did not practise my signature with a view of committing a large commercial forgery—he may have called at the office in January and February—I will swear he did not work there in January or February—he did no work after he left in December, I am clear about that—all signatures of mine to documents are signed "B. Kaiser."

FREDERICK GEORGE NETHERCLIFT . These signatures "MorrisRoth" at the back of the cheque, and the one to the receipt, are in the same handwriting, and this other letter to Mr. Chaplin is in the same. (This letter was shown to Bertram Kaiser, who stated that it was in the prisoner's handwriting.) The body of this cheque is in the prisoner's handwriting undoubtedly—the "J.B. Bertram" is in the same writing as the body of the cheque, but there is an attempt to imitate another signature—it is the same writing as the body of the cheque, but disguised; the body is disguised also—the body of cheque, the signature, and the receipt, are undoubtedly in the same writing.

Cross-examined. The endorsement is not in an assumed handwriting, the body of the cheque is; the receipt is not, it is simply written in a

hurry—I do not know why Mr. Myers had not given evidence as to the writing—I did not give evidence before the Magistrate.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I am not guilty."

The prisoner; being allowed to make his own defence, stated that he had drawn agreements for a Mr. Bertram to the amount of 25l., that meeting him he asked him for the money, that Mr. Bertram asked him to call next day for it, that he did so, but that Mr. Bertram then said he had not his cheque-book with him and no cash, that knowing he banked at the Tottenham Court Road branch of the City Bank, where Mr. Myers also banked, he (the prisoner) asked Mr. Myers for a cheque, which Mr. Bertram filled up for 18l. 10s.; and he added that the imitation of the signature on scraps of paper had been made by Bertram, Kaiser's son, and that Kaiser owed him money and was prejudiced against him.

The prisoner received a good character.

GUILTY .— Twelve Months' Hard Labour.

416. WILLIAM MORDELL (33) , Feloniously forging and uttering an order for the payment of 5l., with intent to defraud.

MR. PELLEW Prosecuted.

CHARLES GREENWOOD . I live at 61, Nelson Square, Blackfriars, and am Registrar of births and deaths—on 29th November the prisoner called on me and asked me to change this crossed cheque. (This was on the London and County Bank, dated 28th November, 1884, for 5l., to the order of Mr. Williams or bearer, and signed "John Jones.") I gave him in exchange an open cheque for 5l., and paid this in the same day—it was returned endorsed, "Refer to drawer"—the cheque I gave him was cashed—I had cashed cheques for the prisoner some time before—I wrote to the address he gave me when this was returned—I received no answer, and did not see him again till he was in custody.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You told me it was one of your customers' cheques—you gave me your address when I asked you, as 121, New Kent Road—I wrote there twice; your wife came and saw me, and said you had left her and she had received the letters—I have known you for 15 or 20 years, and have always found you honest and straightforward or I should not have changed cheques for you—there was some bother about one before, but I got the money on paying it in a second time—you were manager for Mr. Beaumont some years ago, I do not know for how long—you have told me that you then went into business for yourself—I should not have changed the cheque unless I had believed it was for a customer of yours.

THOMAS MOTE . I am chief clerk of the London and County Bank, Aldersgate Street branch—this cheque was presented for payment, and was returned with the endorsement, "Refer to drawer"—it came from a cheque-book given to John Jones, a licensed victualler, of Southwark, in October, 1877—his account was closed in November, 1878, by a charge of 5s. 6d. for commission—this signature is not similar to that of John Jones—I have not been able to trace him.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I do not know you.

ARTHUR COX (Detective Officer). I took the prisoner into custody on 25th February, and told him it was for uttering forged cheques—he said "I know nothing about it" at first; afterwards he said, "I know the people I got them from, I am a dealer in jewellery."

Cross-examined. I said I should take you into custody for stealing and

uttering forged cheques—I knew you 15 years ago when you were at Beaumont's, I believe as manager—I have lost sight of you for 10 years.

The prisoner in his defence stated that he took the cheque of a publican for goods he had sold him, and that he believed it was a good one; and he contended that had he forged or uttered, it was probable he would have done so for a larger amount.


417. WILLIAM MORDELL was again indicted for forging and uttering a cheque for the payment of 2l. 12s. 6d., with intent to defraud.

MR. PELLEW Prosecuted.

SARAH CANT . I keep the Roebuck Tavern, Great Dover Street, Borough—the prisoner came to me on 8th November and asked me to cash this cheque for him as it was too late for banking hours. (The cheque was on the London and Westminster Bank for 2l. 12s. 6d., to the order of Mr. Mordell, dated 8th November, 1884, signed "G. Pearson and Co.," and endorsed "William Mordell") I cashed it for him, believing it to be good—I paid it into my bank; it was returned.

Cross-examined. I have known you four or five years—I never cashed a cheque for you before—I considered you a respectable man or I should not have cashed this—you endorsed it before Mr. Lindsay and myself—Mr. Lindsay said he had lent you money and trusted you, and you had repaid him—I should not have cashed the cheque but for his recommending you—I did not know you had been in business on your own account only from what was said.

FREDERICK MILLAN . I am cashier at the Lothbury branch of the London and Westminster Bank—this cheque was presented for payment on 10th November, and returned marked "No account"—I am able to trace no such account there as Messrs. Pearson and Co.—the cheque form was issued to R. R. Ashton and Co. in February, 1869—their account has since been closed.

Cross-examined. They were brandy merchants—I should not know if you had taken up bills for some thousands at that bank, drawn by Bourne and Hill, tailors, of Finsbury.

ARTHUR COX (Detective) repeated his former evidence.

Cross-examined. You were about a quarter of a mile from the prosecutor's house—I was looking after you for two months—your mother lives near there—she said you had not been there since Christmas—I found on you 71 pawn-tickets relating to jewellery—I have been to some of the pawnbrokers; they said you were a dealer.

The prisoner in his defence stated that these cheques must have been planted on him by one man; that he had taken it in the way of business and paid it away as good.


418. WILLIAM MORDELL was again indicted for feloniously forging and uttering an order for the payment of 4l. 4s. 6d., with intent to defraud.

MR. PELLEW Prosecuted.

WILLIAM THOMAS DYER . I am a baker, of 148, Turner's Road, Bow—in October or November last the prisoner borrowed 10s. of me, and on the following Friday he brought me this cheque on the London and County Bank, Hanover Square, for 4l. 4s. 6d., signed Spenser and Co., and endorsed

W. Mordell—I cashed it, he gave me back my 10s., and I presented it at my bank—it was returned.

Cross-examined. I have known you eight or nine years—I knew you as a pawnbroker at Peckham—I believe then or after, you had a sale shop in Deptford—I know nothing of Ball, who lived there before you—I think I heard you say he deceived you over the bills—I have cashed about 800l. or 900l. worth of cheques for you during the time I have known you, about 20 or 30 a week perhaps—I had one returned before; you made it right—you talked about buying my baker's business, but said you had no money to pay for the flour when it came in—I always looked on you as an honest man, and had faith in you.

RICHARD DALTON BOXALL . I was cashier at the Hanover Square branch of the London and County Bank in November last—I am now in the Lambeth branch—this cheque was presented for payment on 8th November—I returned it marked "No account"—it purports to be drawn by Spenser and Co.—they never had an account at that branch—the cheque is about 20 years old—our registers of that date have been destroyed.

Cross-examined. I never saw you till at the police-court.


There was another indictment against the prisoner for forging and uttering an order for the payment of 5l. 5s., on which Mr. Pellew, for the prosecution, offered no evidence.


419. HERBERT PLAMPIN (18) , Burglary in the dwelling-house of Henry Stevens and stealing a clock and other articles.

MR. PELLEW Prosecuted.

HENRY STEVENS . I am a tobacconist, and live at 197, Drummond Street—on Tuesday evening, 3rd March, I left home about 8 o'clock, leaving a lad, Wazeldine, in charge of my shop—I got back about half-past 1 o'clock, when I found the police in charge of the place—the back-parlour window, which opens over the area into a small courtyard, had been cut away and was open—the yard is reached by a door from the passage, not the shop door—I missed two pounds of tobacco, two coats, a vest, trousers, and a clock, which I had seen safe before I left—I found Wazeldine there—I met Jakes on Thursday, and had some conversation with him—these are my clothes, they were brought by the police—I saw the prisoner outside my shop that same evening, before I went away; I think he was alone.

Cross-examined. I am sure I saw you there; you sent a boy in to buy some tobacco.

JOHN WAZELDINE . I live at 197, Drummond Street, and am employed by the last witness—on this Tuesday evening I shut up the shop door and put up the shutters about half-past 11 o'clock, and shut and locked the door that opens into the passage—I went out for a short time, and when I came back at five minutes to 12 I found the place all upset and the back-parlour window open—I gave information to the police—I did not see the prisoner about there that evening.

ALICE PAGE . I live at 201, Drummond Street—on Tuesday evening, 3rd March, I saw Wazeldine leave Mr. Stevens's shop, and when he did so I saw the prisoner walk in by the side private door which leads into the passage—there was a young man with him who is not in custody—in

a few minutes the gas was lit in the shop—I knocked, no one came, and I walked away.

THOMAS JAKES . I live at 193, Drummond Street—on this night I found these clothes outside my door—I kept them in my house—on Thursday I met Mr. Stevens, and had a conversation with him, in consequence of which I afterwards took them to the police-court.

RICHARD MASEY (Police Sergeant S). On Wednesday, 4th March, I went to the prosecutor's about 10 o'clock, and examined the back window, which opens on a courtyard or passage reached by a passage from the shop door—one of the meeting rails of the window had been forced away and the catch pushed back by some sharp instrument—Jakes handed me the clothes two mornings afterwards—I took the prisoner into custody from a description, and told him I should take him into custody for committing a burglary at Mr. Stevens's—he said "Burglary, eh!"—he said that he did not do it—he was asked to account for his time between 10 and 12 o'clock—he said he was at home in the lodging-house in Gray's Inn Road.


420. GEORGE ADAMS (25) , Unlawfully obtaining by false pretences from Thomas Brown and John Rylands and Sons, two gross yards of braid, with intent to defraud, also other goods from the same and from other persons, with a like intent.

MR. PELLEW Prosecuted.

THOMAS BROWN . I am warehouseman to Messrs. Bylands and Sons, Wood Street—on 5th March the prisoner came to me in the warehouse, and ordered three gross of braid, choosing it off a pattern-card—we said we would send it down to the waiting-desk for him—I was only able to set two gross—I sent that down—he said he wanted it for W. and R. Cox of Pitfield Street, and I let him have the braid, believing he came from them—the value was 1l. 1s. 10d.—I had some conversation with our manager on 10th March—the prisoner came again, and showed me a pattern, and said he wanted a gross of braid to match it at about 11s.—I said I had not it in stock, but that I would try to get it for him—I left the department for that purpose, and gave information to the manager, as I recognised him as the man who had been in before—I went upstairs again, and told the prisoner I could not get it, but I would look on the pattern-card and see if I could procure it—he said "Never mind, you can send me a pattern of the nearest you can get"—when looking at the patterns I pointed to the braid he had before, and said "That is the braid that you had before, isn't it?"—he said "Yes"

EDWIN LITTLE . I am assistant to Messrs. W. and B. Cox, drapers, of Pitfield Street, Hoxton—the prisoner was never in their employment—I never saw him before I saw him at the police-court—he had no authority to use my master's name to get any goods.

CHARLES ROY . I am warehouseman to Messrs. Bylands and Sons, Limited—on Saturday, 7th March, I saw the prisoner in their dress department at 12 o'clock—he said he wanted a piece of black Italian cloth 20d. or 2ld. per yard—I showed him one at 20d.—he said he wanted a heavy make—I said it was heavy—he said he would take that with him, and gave the name of W. and R. Cox, Pitfield Street—I sent it down to the waiting-room; they gave him the goods-downstairs—I let him have the goods because I believed he came from W. and R. Cox—he had 57 1/2

yards—I saw him on the Tuesday he was taken into custody, and recognised him as the man.

EDWIN WARD . I was a clerk in Messrs. Ryland's waiting-room on 6th March; I have left since—goods are sent down there from the departments and called for—on 6th March some braid was sent down, and I went to the prisoner and took his signature; he signed "John Collins"—the goods were entered to W. and R. Cox, of Pitfield Street—on the 7th I saw him there again, and I then delivered to him a piece of Italian cloth, for which he signed "John Collins, for Messrs. Cox."

ROBERT MCCALANM . I am manager of the forwarding department at Messrs. Ryland's—on Tuesday, 10th March, about 5 o'clock, I saw the prisoner in the trimming department; I asked him if he was being attended to—he said he was—I asked him what goods he wanted—he said it was all right—I asked him from whom he came—he said from Price, of Kingsland—he said "I am Mr. Price's son"—I asked him if he had an order—he said he had not—I said "You have got an order-book in your hand"—he said "That is a private one"—I told him I did not believe him, and that I should require him to come downstairs with me—we went downstairs from the fourth to the third floor—I then told him I believed him to be the man I had been looking for for some days, and that I should take him prisoner; I sent for the police, and gave him in charge.

THOMAS HICKMORE (City Policeman 170). I was called by Mr. McCalanm to Messrs. Ryland's on Tuesday, the 10th, about 5 o'clock, and took the prisoner to the station—I there found on him seven pawn tickets, two pocket-books, a key, and a ring—in answer to the charge he said he was not guilty; he was not sent by Mr. Price, of Kingsland Road, and he was not Mr. Price's son.

The prisoner, in his defence, stated that he had been sent to get the things by a man named Brown, who had influence over him, and who said that he bought things for Cox's.

EDWARD LITTLE (Re-examined). I don't know a man of the name of Brown.

GUILTY . Recommended to mercy by the Jury.— Eight Months' Hard Labour.

421. GEORGE COLLINS (33) PLEADED GUILTY to burglary in the dwelling-house of Maria Dow, and stealing a chemise and two pillow cases.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. There was another indictment against the prisoner.

422. WILLIAM LYNCH (32) to burglary in the dwelling-house of Henry William Birch, with intent to steal.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

423. FREDERICK MARNEY ** (26) and CHARLES TURNER** (33) to unlawfully breaking in the night four panes of glass the goods of Joseph Dicks.— To pay a fine of 5l. each, and to enter into recognisances in 50l. to keep the peace. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.] And

424. WILLIAM HENRY DOBLE (29) to feloniously forging and uttering two declarations on the funds of the Hearts of Oak Benefit Society, with intent to defraud, and also to obtaining by false pretences from the said Society various sums of money, with intent to defraud.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

OLD COURT.—Wednesday, March 26th, 1885.

Before Mr. Justice Lopes

425. In the case of JOHN ROSE (30) , indicted for the wilful murder of Charles Wheaton, upon the evidence of Dr. Orange the JURY found the prisoner to be of unsound mind and not in a fit state to take his trial.— Ordered to be detained till Her Majesty's pleasure be known.

426. ALFRED FROOM (25) , Feloniously wounding Emily Froom, with intent to murder. Second Count, with intent to do grievous bodily harm.



EMILY FROOM . I am the prisoner's wife, we have been married about seven or eight years; I have one child aged four and a half years—in February last we were living at 9, Brunswick Terrace, Camberwell, and my sister, Agnes Reed, was living with us—on Tuesday, 10th February, I went out with my sister, and while with her we met a person named Dixon—I did not know him before, but I believe my sister did; she introduced me to him, and we walked about with him and had a glass of wine with him, and arrangements were made about writing to my sister in the name of Reed, but he wrote "Mrs. Taylor"—I took the apartments at Camberwell in the name of Mrs. Taylor—my husband knew that—we parted with this man on this Tuesday and returned home about one o'clock in the morning—on Thursday night my husband told me he had received a letter and asked me the meaning of it—I saw he had got a letter from Mr. Dixon addressed to Mrs. Taylor—I said "I know nothing about it"—he was very angry with me and asked me if the letter was for me, and I said "No, it must be for Agnes"—on the following day, Friday, we were quarrelling all the morning, and my husband struck me twice; he was going about the room like mad, and he said he would kill me—he said he would get drunk and then he would kill me or murder me—this was about 2 o'clock in the afternoon, he was sober then—afterwards I and my sister went out without my husband's knowledge, because I was frightened to be in the house, I took my child with us—we went to Vigo Street; we were there about half-past 5 o'clock—as I was coming down Vigo Street I had my baby on my right arm and my sister leaning on my left arm, and I felt something go in my back; I turned round and saw my husband there—he said "I have caught you now"—I put my hand to my back and found it was bleeding—the people called out and a constable came, and he was given in custody—I did not see whether he had got anything in his hand until he had done this, I then saw he had got a table knife—I found afterwards I was wounded in the shoulder blade; the stab went through the whole of my clothes, four articles of dress—I was taken to the police-station and seen there by Mr. Ross, a surgeon, and afterwards attended by Mr. Wright—the table knife was one of my landlady's.

Cross-examined. I had left my husband twice before this and went and stayed with my sister—I stayed out with my sister till 1 o'clock on Wednesday morning, and in the morning I told my husband I had been to the Comedy Theatre for the purpose of getting an engagement—that was untrue—we met Mr. Dixon in Westminster Bridge Road—my sister

went there to borrow some money, as we had had nothing to eat all day; that was the reason I was out with her so late, and we lost our last omnibus and had to walk home; I told my husband I had been to the Comedy Theatre, because I told him I would go out and see if I could get on the stage, because I was anxious to get a living and try to keep my child—he did not say much that night, but the next morning he was very angry—he was very angry when he showed me the letter on the Friday morning, and he frightened me so much that I was afraid to be in the place—he told me I was not to to go out, and for the purpose of getting out I asked him to go out and get something to drink, and it was while he was away getting something to drink that we two and the child left.

AGNES REED . I live at 9, Brunswick Road, Camberwell, with my sister and the prisoner—she lived there as Mrs. Taylor; I don't know whether the prisoner passed as Mr Taylor—she took the rooms in the name of Mrs. Taylor because he owed some money or something, but I don't know that he passed as Mr. Taylor—he knew she passed as Mrs. Taylor—they were badly off—I went out with my sister on Tuesday, the 10th, and I met a man named Dixon—I knew him before, and introduced him to my sister, and then it was arranged that he was to write, but I don't know whether he was to write to Mrs. Taylor—my sister gave her name and I gave mine—the letter was sent for me, then afterwards we were out till about 1 o'clock in the morning—on the following day I did not hear any quarrelling between my sister and the prisoner—on the Friday he was very angry about this letter, and threatened to kill her—he showed me the letter when he said he was going to write to Mr. Dixon for an explanation—I told him it was intended for me, and not her, but he would not believe me—this is the letter: "Temple, 11th February. Dear Mrs. Taylor, I find I shall not be able to keep my appointment with you to-morrow night. I fear also I shall not have an evening disengaged till next Wednesday. I will write again as to seeing your sister and you.** I hope that handsome big sister of yours is no longer cross with me, and that you both got safely home last night. With love to you both, Henry Dixon."—I know the prisoner's writing—this letter is part his writing and part mine—"9, Grosvenor Road, Camberwell," is mine, and the following is the prisoner's: "Sir, I received your letter in my wife's absence, I suppose to keep the appointment with you, to her shame. I have not the slightest knowledge of you, but let me tell you if I find you speaking to my wife, or corresponding with her, I will watch her for the future and will pistol you on the spot. My wife probably told you I was abroad, or some such lie."—That is not signed—on Friday afternoon, about half-past 4, I and my sister and her little girl went out together while the prisoner was out of the house, and about half-past 5 we were in Vigo Street—we had not met or seen Dixon then—as I was walking along with my sister and child, going to get some money from a gentleman I knew, some one came at the back—I did not see him do it, but he turned round and said to her "I have caught you now"—my sister said "Oh, heavens, there is blood on my neck"—I said "That is nothing"—I did not know she was stabbed—somebody called out at the back "She is bleeding, he has a knife up his sleeve"—I did not see it, but I saw it pulled out from his sleeve—a constable then came up and took him in custody, and I saw the constable

take the knife from him; it was one of our landlady's—this is it (produced).

Cross-examined. The letter was intended for me—I don't know whether Mr. Dixon made a mistake in addressing it or not—my sister told me to say before the Magistrate that it was not true that she had been passing as Mrs. Taylor, and I also said "I have been passing as Mrs. Taylor and paying the rent"—I meant to pay the rent.

JAMES VON BERG (Policeman CR 21). About a quarter past 6 on Friday day evening, 13th February, I was in Vigo Street—I was called there—I saw the prosecutrix bleeding from the left shoulder blade, through her clothes—the prisoner was standing there—one of the crowd said he had got something up his sleeve—I went and took this knife from his right sleeve—in reply to the charge he said "That was what I did it with"—I took him to the station—he said "If you let me go I will kill her"—he was very excited indeed, he looked like a madman—he said that it was all through a letter that a gentleman had sent to his wife—the wife did not say anything to me in his presence—when I took him to the station I found this draft letter on him, and the other too—he said he intended to send his letter to Mr. Dixon—at the station the charge was made in the ordinary way, and he then said "I did not intend it for my wife, I intended it for the gentleman that sent the letter"—that was referring to the knife—I then sent for a surgeon, who came and attended to the prosecutrix.

JOHN HUNTER ROSS . I am a surgeon—on the evening of Friday, the 13th, a constable fetched me to the police-station at Vine Street—I there saw the prosecutrix—she was very faint and pale—I saw a wound at the angle of the left shoulder; it had bled a good deal; it was not a dangerous wound in itself; it was a quarter of an inch deep and about an inch long—it had gone right through the clothes—it was such a wound as might have been inflicted with a stab of this knife, but it must have been used with considerable force—if used with extreme force the wound would have been deeper—I should call it a moderately severe wound.

MARDON WRIGHT . I am a surgeon living in the Walworth Road—I first saw the prosecutrix on the 20th—I attended her for the wound in her shoulder—it was not a dangerous wound, she was never in danger—she is quite well now—I attended her for about a fortnight—she is none the worse for it.

GUILTY of unlawfully wounding, under great provocation, and strongly recommended to mercy.— One Month's Imprisonment without Hard Labour.

427. CHARLES RHODES (46) , Feloniously wounding Elizabeth Rhodes, with intent to murder. Second Count, with intent to do grievous bodily harm.


ELIZABETH RHODES . I am the prisoner's wife, and live at Alexander Terrace, Wheelston, Harrow—we have been married 20 years, and have one child—on Sunday, 15th March, the prisoner came in to dinner about half-past 2 in the afternoon—he was not tipsy and he was not sober, I could see he had been drinking heavily previous to that—he ate part of his dinner, and I said, "Charlie, take your boots off and lay down and get over the booze," or "drink," I won't be sure which—he never

answered—I went and lay down on the bed—I was sober—he was sitting against the fireplace in a chair—I was half awake and half asleep—nobody else was in the room—all at once I put my hand up to my throat and felt something at the left side of it, it was a razor, the prisoner had it—I took it from his hand, chucked it on the floor, and ran from the room—I only felt it once, I was cut in two places, once in the throat; I did not feel the one in front at the same time as the side, I felt both—one was done before I awoke, and the other was being done when I was awake—I got the razor from him, and screamed "Murder," and rushed out of the room, and Mrs. Rimmell ran upstairs and assisted me—I went to the police-station afterwards, where a doctor attended to me—I am all right now, I was not very much hurt.

By the COURT. We had had words the day before, but not on this day—I recommended him to lie down, I thought it would do him good—I cannot account for this at all—he kept his razors in a little box under the bed in the same room.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. It is not true that I came home tipsy, and that you was at home; I had only had half a pint of beer that day.

Re-examined. I had got two plates of dinner from downstairs; I put the things ready for dinner—I had not been drinking—I had had a pint of beer overnight—I had had a few words with some woman in the next room and a policeman was called in, but on this Sunday I never spoke to a person either upstairs or down.

CHARLOTTE RIMMELL . I live at 1, Alexander Terrace—I knew the prisoner and his wife lately—he is a marine store dealer by trade—on this Sunday afternoon I was at home—I had heard no disturbance in the prisoner's room that day before half-past 3 in the afternoon—I then heard a scream of "Murder"—I ran upstairs to the door of the prisoner's room—I saw her standing at the door with her throat pouring with blood—the prisoner was in the room—I dragged her out of her room into my back room—as soon as I got up to her she said, "Oh God, he has cut my throat"—the prisoner was standing by the bedstead close by—I ran for further assistance—the prisoner waited in his room till I came back—he then said to me, "Has she hurt herself?"—I said, "That is best known to yourself"—he has frequently said he would swing for her, I have heard him, he said it on the Saturday before this Sunday, I do not know how he came to say it—he had been on the drink the last three weeks—I did not see any razor.

By the Court. I do not know how he came to say this on this Saturday—he was talking to a man then in the back yard who was mending his truck.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. Your wife did not have a drain of beer in my house on this Sunday morning; she was not tipsy, I never saw her tipsy in my life.

GEORGE HAM (Police Sergeant S 2). About a quarter to 4 on Sunday, 15th March, I was called to this house—I saw the prosecutrix in the back room, first floor, being attended to by last witness—she was bleeding from the throat on the left side—from what she said I went into the front room and saw the prisoner—I said, "I shall take you in custody for cutting your wife's throat"—he replied, "I will go quietly"—I then searched the room for a razor—I saw some blood on the pillow of the bed, also on the floor by the side of the bed, but I could not find any

razor—it was fresh blood—I took him to Harrow Station, searched him, and found this clasp-knife on him, but no blood on it, neither was there any blood on his clothing—I then returned to the house and searched the room a second time, and found these four razors in a small metal box under the bed, all clean and no blood on any of them—the blood might easily have been rubbed off.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. There was your shaving-pot and other things in the box—this razor has been in use, the others were all rusty.

Re-examined. From what I saw of the prisoner at the time he was sober, but he had been drinking previously very heavily, I believe.

FREDERICK MITCHELL (Police Inspector S). I was at the police-station when the prisoner was brought there—I heard his wife state in his presence what had happened to her—he did not make any statement to that, out when I read the charge over to him he said "I don't know anything about it; she was carrying on all night, but I did not take any notice"—I saw that she was wounded in the throat, and a surgeon was sent for to attend to her—the prisoner was sober, but appeared rather bewildered and strange in his manner; he seemed to know what he was saying—besides the woman's throat being but, her thumb was cut slightly, and she had a bruise under her left jaw—the prisoner said "It was done when you were fighting last night"—she said "No, you did that on Friday"—the prisoner had a very slight cut on the inner side of his right hand, hardly perceptible, and a slight abrasion on the back of the right hand—I examined his clothes, but found nothing on him.

EDWARD STIVEN . I am a surgeon—I was called to the Harrow Police-station about half-past 4 o'clock on Sunday afternoon, and saw the prosecutrix—she had a horizontal wound-on the right side, about an inch long, irregular in outline, bleeding freshly; it had penetrated through the skin; it was situated over the main artery of the neck, but had not touched it—on the left side there was a ragged wound about two inches long, beginning immediately under the left side of the chin, downwards and backwards, terminating in a mere scratch—they were two separate wounds, not at all connected with each other—there was also a small wound on the right thumb—a knife or razor might make the wounds—they were not dangerous in themselves, only in position—I gave her advice that one day, and never saw her after—she is quite well now—the wounds were perfectly fresh; I should say they had been inflicted about an hour before—I saw her at a quarter to 5 o'clock—the right hand wound had nothing to indicate whether it was self-inflicted or by another, but the left wound I should certainly say was by another; both were equally recent.

—(Policeman S 250) (Examined by the Prisoner). On Saturday night, just before 11 o'clock, the prosecutrix came to me; she had blood on her face and apron—she complained of Jane Wadlow having assaulted her, and wanted to know what she could do—I saw both were under the influence of drink, and referred them to the Magistrate, but they each declined taking proceedings.

Prisoner's Defence. I know nothing at all about it. I never interfered with her, I was asleep. She went out at half-past 12, and came home at half-past 2 o'clock. She had been drinking. I was sitting by the fire; I had no razor or knife in my hand.

GUILTY of unlawfully wounding.— Six Months' Hard Labour.

428. ESTHER PINKNEY (22) , for the manslaughter of a male child child called John Hockley.


MARY CHARLESWORTH . I am matron of the casual ward of the Holborn Union in Vine Street, Clerkenwell Koad—the prisoner was admitted there on 4th December last; on the 7th she was delivered of a male child, and on the following day she was sent to the workhouse in Gray's Inn Road with the baby.

ISABELLA SAPCOAT . I am labour mistress at the Holborn Workhouse—on 8th December last the prisoner came there with a male child—she was attended to there until 22nd December, when she was discharged—she had recovered from her confinement sufficiently to leave, and she took the child with her—she had clothes supplied to her for it—these (produced) form part of what she had given her, a shawl and nightgown; the shawl is not stamped, but there is a tear in it which I can swear to—the night-dress is stamped "Grays Inn Road, 37 Ward"—I also recognise this bandage—besides these there wore other clothes, a new flannel blanket and hood, which are missing—the child was registered at the workhouse, in my presence, as "John Hockley"—the prisoner got over her confinement remarkably well—the child was in good health when it left—as far as I am able to say it was a well-nourished child, and the clothes supplied were sufficient for it—the prisoner had plenty of milk for it at the house; she nursed it.

SARAH ANN HIGGINBOTHAM . I live with my husband at 111, Philip Street, Hoxton—he works for Dr. Stunt, and the prisoner, was cook in that service—I knew her as a servant there—on the evening of 22nd December she came to my house with her child—I knew that she had been confined—she lived with me—she attended to the child; she had not much milk—I fed it every morning with Ridge's food—after that I can't answer for; she took care of it—she continued to live with me till the 10th—on the 9th she said she was going to take the child to a friend's in London Fields to be minded, and she was to pay 5s. 6d. a week, and she had paid one week in advance—I lent her the 5s. 6d. on the Saturday night, the 10th, when she took it away at half-past 8 o'clock—it was then dressed in the clothes produced—I identify them—it was a bitter cold night, and wet—the baby was very thin and poor; it could not take the breast three days before it left my house—she had not sufficient for it—she returned at half-past 9 o'clock without the child, and remained with me three days—she did not tell me her friend's name or any further address than London Fields—I asked her the name, and she always turned the conversation—on the 13th she went into a situation—she never ill-used the child in my presence, she only said she wished she had not had it.

FRANK MORRIS . I am a writing-desk maker, and live at 22, Antwerp Street, Hackney—on Saturday night, 10th January, about ten minutes to 10, I came from my house and heard the cry of a child in a dark part of the street—I went to the place and saw a bundle lying on the foot-path by a dead wall—I fetched a constable and then saw that the bundle contained child wrapped in a shawl—the constable took charge of it—it was a windy night, boisterous and wet.

WILLIAM BROWNING (Policeman G 465). On Saturday night, 10th January, just before 10, Morris called my attention to a bundle on the

ground near the wall—it was a baby wrapped in a shawl, dressed in a nightdress and bandage—I took it to the Hackney Infirmary, and one of the nurses took charge of it and Dr. Gordon examined it—I left it there.

LOUISA ESTHER POOLE . I am night superintendent of nurses at the Hackney Union—on Saturday night, 10th January, Browing brought a male child wrapped in a shawl, a calico gown with "Holborn Union" stamped upon it, a shirt, a roller, and other things—it was cold and very dirty; the face was slightly marked and dirty on one side, as if it had been laid down—it was attended to by Dr. Gordon; I acted under his directions, and paid every attention to it; it died about ten miniutes to 8 Constable Alexander—these are the clothes.

WALTER ALEXANDER (Policeman). I have produced the clothes—I got them from the infirmary on Sunday night, 11th January, after the child's death—I made inquiry, and on 7th March took the prisoner into custody at 13, Freeman Street, Caledonian Road—there had been an inquest, and in the meantime I had been trying to find her—I asked her name—she said "Esther Pinkney"—I told her I was a police constable, and should arrest her for causing the death of her child by starvation, and accelerating its death by exposure on 10thk January in Antwerp Street, London Fields—she said she had left the child in charge of Mrs. Higginbotham at 111, Philip Street, Hoxton, and that Dr. Stunt, where she had been recently in service, had got it into a Foundling at the West-end, and she hadnot seen it since—Philip Street is about a mile from where the child was found.

JOHN JOSEPH GORDON . I am a M.R.C.S. and Licentiate of the College of Physicians, Edinburgh, and am Medical Officer of Hackney Infirmary—I saw this child when it was brought there on the Saturday night—I don't think I ever sasw a child more emaciated, and it was very cold indeed—the side of the head and face was covered with a thick mud—it seemed to be almost dying, very feeble—I ordered it to be sent to a ward and it was attended to under my care until it died the next night—I afterwards made a post-mortem examination—it weighed 4lb. 3 1/2 oz.; the average weight of child a month old would be from 8 to 10lb.—I examined the internal organs—in my judgement death was due to starvation, of course hastened by the exposure that night—it was a wet, cold night—in my opinion even if it had not been exposed it would not have been likely to recover—there was no disease sufficient to account for death—the valves of the heart were a little affected from debility, but there was nothing to prevent their performing their functions—if properly fed with great care it might have lived, but it would require very great care indeed—there was nothing organic to cause death, if not starved or exposed.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I was confined on 7th December in the casual ward, and was removed from there to the Holborn Union. I came out of there about three days. During that time Dr. Stunt came there to see me, and asked me if I was agreeable to my child being put in a Founding, so as I should go to service again. I agreed to it, and my child went from me on Thursday morning. I went to service on the following Tuesday, and remained there a week only, when I left and went to Barnsbury, and I have not seen my child since."

DR. GEORGE STUNT . I live at Petherton Road, Highbury New Park—the prisoner was in my service about two years and a half as cook, and was a very good, steady girl until she got into this trouble—my wife gave her notice, being pregnant—she went to Mrs. Higginbotham's, and was staying there—I called there one day when I was in that street—it is not true that I offered to get the child into a Foundling; I know the difficulty of getting a child into a Foundling—I did not talk to her about it; it was never mentioned.

GUILTY . Strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury on the ground of her want of money to nourish the child, and the peculiar circumstances of the case.— Nine Months' Hard Labour.

429. SAMUEL THOMPSON was indicted for the manslaughter of Ernest Chandler.



In this case Mr. Justice Lopes was of opinion that the cause of death was accidental, and directed the Jury to find the prisoner


NEW COURT.—Wednesday, March 25th, 1885.

Before Mr. Recorder.

430. JOHN PARISH (16) and THOMAS WELLS (18) , Burglary in the dwelling-house of Abraham Oppenheim, and stealing a cash-box and other goods, also receiving. PARISH PLEADED GUILTY.— Judgment respited.

MR. FOOKS Prosecuted; MR. MOYSES Defended.

ABRAHAM OPPENHEIM . I live at my shop, 56, Westbourne Grove, Paddington—on 26th February I went to bed at 11.15, and between 2 and 3 o'clock in the morning I heard a shuffling noise on the washing-stand in my bedroom—I said "Is it you, Rose?" and not getting an answer I put my hand over the bed, and saw the door of the washing-stand, which is a kind of table as well, was open, and the cash-box which had been in it was gone—I got out of bed, and went to my bedroom door, which was open; it is always kept shut—I heard footsteps running downstairs stairs very fast to the back door which leads out into the Monmouth Road—my daughter had bolted that door; I had heard it shut—when I got down it was shut, not bolted—I went upstairs, and called my daughter and the housekeeper, and the latter I told to go for the, police—in the cash-box was a cheque for 184l. 7s. 3d., a gold watch and chain, a ring, a corkscrew, and 10 shares in the Neuve Monde, and other things—I have since seen this corkscrew and stud; I am quite sure they are mine—the stud was in the box before I lost it—Parish has been in my employ for about three years; I don't know Wells.

Cross-examined. The stud is an ordinary one—I had seen it a day or two before.

ROSE OPPENHEIM . I am the last witness's daughter—on 26th February I locked the back door, and put the bolt and chain on, saw the premises were safe, and went to bed about 12 o'clock—between 2 and 3 o'clock in the morning my father called me—I went downstairs, and found the back door was off the bolt, closed, but not fastened—I heard no noise in the house till my father called me.

JAMES ROWE . I am a tobacconist, of 20, Porchestor Row—on Monday, 2nd March, I saw Parish; he made a communication to me, in consequence of which I communicated with Mr. Oppenheim—on Wednesday evening, 4th March, between 11 and 12 o'clock, I saw Parish and Wells standing together at the corner of the Royal Oak—when Parish saw me he said to Wells "Shove up the road"—Wells hesitated for a minute, as if he did not understand, and then Parish moved his arm, and Wells ran away—I did not see him again that day—I didn't then know Wells by name.

Cross-examined. I swear to Wells being with Parish at that time of night—I am in the prosecutor's employ; I had only seen Wells once before—the corner of the Royal Oak is illuminated, and it was a very light night.

DANIEL MORGAN (Police Inspector X). About 7 o'clock on the evening of 5th March I went to 52, Berrington Road, Notting Hill, and asked for Granier—his mother brought the prisoner to the door—I called him outside—I said "I think they call you Binto, don't they?"—he said "Yes"—I asked his name—he said "Thomas Wells"—I said "A lad of the name of John Parish (the other prisoner) has been arrested for a burglary at Mr. Oppenheim's in Westbourne Grove; he has made a statement accusing you of being concerned with him in having the property"—Wells said "I don't know Parish"—I said "You were in the Grove with him last night, near his master's shop"—he said "I was not in the Grove last night or the night before"—Rowe, who was standing near, said "That is the lad I saw with Parish last night in the Grove"—I took him back to his father's house, and told him to turn his pockets out; he did so, and among other things took this stud from his left-hand vest pocket—I asked him where he got the stud—he said "A chap gave it to me three months'ago"—I asked who the chap was, and where he lived—he said "I don't know his name, and I don't know where he lives"—he turned to his brother who stood near, and said "You have seen this with me a long time ago," or "months ago," or something to that effect—his brother said "I saw it with you about a week ago"—the burglary had been effected a week before that night—I took him to Mr. Oppenheim's for identification, and then to the station—when charged Parish saw him, and said "That is my mate, Binto, that was with me that night"—Wells said "I was not with you"—he was then charged, and the charge read over to him—Wells said "I had that stud a month ago"—on going to the cells he passed Parish, and Parish said to him "You had all the stuff, Wells, I am not going to take all the blame"—Wells said "I did, not have it."

Cross-examined. Wells said "I did not go with you," I think I said that at the police-court—his mother brought Wells to the door when I went there, she did not know me—I told him I was going to take him to the station, and he turned his pockets out willingly—it.is an ordinary stud, nine carat, I think—Parish made a statement, implicating a third man, Rogers or Buck, also, and then afterwards he said Rogers had none of the property; he said he was not in it, but he qualified it by saying he was not in the house.

WALTER ROBERT YORK . I live at 32, Marlborough Street, Harrow Road—on 27th February, at 20 minutes past 7 o'clock a.m., I found this cash box in 30, Kildare Terrace, upside down—all the contents, the

papers and the seal were on the ground with the box over them, so that they did not get wet; it was a wet morning—I went to my work—I afterwards asked at 30, Kildare Terrace if it belonged to them, and then I searched and found Mr. Oppenheim's address, and went to him and gave it to him—Kildare Terrace is in a direct road between Mr. Oppenheim's and Westbourne Grove.

MR. OPPENHEIM (Re-examined). There was an old-fashioned seal in the box.

Wells's Statement before the Magistrate. "A chap gave me the stud, he said it was gold. I said it was brass; I kept it."

JOHN PARISH (The Prisoner). I worked for the prosecutor—I have pleaded guilty to this indictment—I have known Wells for about three years—on 26th February I met Wells about 10 o'clock and went for a walk with him as far as Notting Hill Gate till half-past 10 or a quarter to 11 o'clock, then I went back towards the Coburn Road and met Rogers—nothing was said about Mr. Oppenheim's house—Wells then went home, and I went with Rogers and went indoors—I did not do the burglary, I only received the property and only pleaded guilty to receiving it—I only received one thing, the chain which Wells gave me ten days afterwards; it had a bit of a corkscrew on it—I gave it to Rowe, and he said "If you can get me the proper chain I won't say you done it, and I will give you 10l."—I was with Wells outside the Royal Oak on 4th March and said "Shove up the road," but Rowe could not hear us, as we were 10 yards from him; he would say anything.

Witnesses for the Defence.

WELLS. On 25th February I was at home—my brother sleeps with me and was at home that night—I went to bed at 10 o'clock, my brother came after me, it might be 12—he has to lay the fire every night for the next morning, and his raking out the grate woke me up—I had a night-light burning; it was 12 o'clock, and next morning he got up at 6 o'clock, his usual time.

Cross-examined. He has a latch-key; he was out at 10 o'clock, I don't know who with—I know Parish by sight, as a companion of his—I never recollect saying that my brother was in bed at 10 o'clock on this night.

By the COURT. I knew my brother was taken before the Magistrate—I did not then go to give evidence, because nobody called me and I said nothing about it.

—WELLS. I am the prisoner's mother—we always go to bed at 10 o'clock, and he rakes out the fire in the kitchen, which makes a great noise—I distinctly heard him on this night, 25th February, I am positive of it, and I found the fire laid next morning as usual—I went to bed about 10 o'clock and heard the raking about an hour afterwards at 11 o'clock, it might have been 12—I did not see him doing it, his brother was in bed.

Cross-examined. I did not go to the police-court—I heard my son was charged with burglary at 2 or 3 o'clock in the morning; I was never asked as to it.

Re-examined. I have had no solicitor to tell me what to do.

WELLS received a good character.— GUILTY of receiving. — Judgment respited.

431. WILLIAM LAKE (21), JOHN SULLIVAN (22), and SAMUEL WOODRUFFE , Robbery with violence on Charles Eli Shaw and stealing his watch and chain.

MR. PELLEW Prosecuted.

CHARLES ELI SHAW . I am a seaman—I was living on 14th March at 242, Euston Road—on that day, about half-past 11 p.m., I was in the Albany public-house, Great Portland Street—after being there about five minutes I felt some movement in my right-hand overcoat pocket; I turned and saw Lake step back two paces—I immediately seized him and accused him of having put his hand in my pocket—he denied it—the other two prisoners were in the bar and two other men connected with them, they were a gang of live—I said it would serve him right if I were to call an officer and give him in charge—he and his companion began to use abusive language—the barman ordered them out and then he ordered me out also—as soon as I got out I was assaulted by Lake and Sullivan; I got two severe blows in the mouth, I cannot tell who from; there was a struggle, and two constables came up and took the prisoners—Lake tried to get a way, and the crowd prevented Constable 399 from seizing him, but eventually he did so—Sullivan then tried to rescue him and was seized by Constable 287—I don't know what became of Woodruffe, I don't remember seeing him outside—one of the constables made a remark to me; I put my hand in my waistcoat pocket and found my watch and chain were gone, I had seen them safe shortly before I entered the Albion—I also lost fourpence from the ticket pocket of my overcoat—that was not the pocket I felt the hand in—the blows in my mouth cut my lip; it is very tender now, although it is nearly a fortnight ago.

Cross-examined by Lake. I seized you in the bar and accused you of putting your hand in my pocket—there was no fight in the bar.

Cross-examined by Sullivan. I was not intoxicated.

JOHN HENDRION (Policeman E 399). On Saturday, 14th March, about a quarter to 12 o'clock, I was on duty at Great Portland Street near the Albany Tavern—I saw Lake and Sullivan struggling with the prosecutor; Woodruffe was standing close by; the moment they saw me the prisoners ran away—I went up to the prosecutor; he was bleeding very much from the mouth, his clothes were very much disarranged and seemed all unbuttoned—I spoke to him, and he found he had lost his watch and chain—I followed the prisoners and stopped Lake—Sullivan came up to try and rescue him, and another constable came and took Sullivan—the prosecutor identified them as the men who had assaulted him—on the way to the station Lake tripped me and threw me down, my hand was injured and has been ever since—I took him eventually to the station.

Cross-examined by Lake. I allowed you to walk, but you refused—you tore off your silk handkerchief yourself to get away.

Cross-examined by Sullivan. I don't remember your saying that the other man was as much in fault as Lake was.

ANDREW KAVANAGH (Policeman E 287). I was on duty in Great Portland Street at a quarter to 12 on this night—I saw the struggle between the three prisoners and the prosecutor outside the Albany, and Lake strike the prosecutor twice in the mouth—I saw Sullivan put his left arm under the prosecutor's chin and his right arm into his left waistcoat pocket and take his watch and chain away—he passed them to another man not in custody—I saw Woodruffe strike the prosecutor at the time

on the head, he then ran away—on my trying to apprehend Sullivan for stealing the watch I was prevented by a large mob—I lost sight of the three prisoners and prosecutor for a minute, and when I got out of the crowd I saw Lake in the custody of Constable 399, and Sullivan was trying to take him away—I identified him as the man who stole the watch, and told him I should take him into custody for stealing it—he said "All right, I shan't go, put your truncheon away and I will corpse you"—I told him if he did not go quietly to the station I should use my truncheon—he tried to trip me up on the way, and I hit him on the arm with it; I got him to the station—I did not see Woodruffe again that night, I am positive Woodruffe is the man I saw there.

Cross-examined by Woodruffe. I could not say if you were the outside one or not—when you struck the prosecutor you were close to him; I saw you strike him over Sullivan's arm, you were outside Sullivan—you ran away, and I had Sullivan in custody—it did not take more than a minute.

THOMAS DUFFEL . I am barman at the Albany—I was serving on the night of 14th March, and saw the prisoners at the bar with two others and the prosecutor—I told them to leave off their noise and get outside—I did not go round to them—I am certain I saw Woodruffe there; I know him by sight, and have no doubt about him whatever.

Cross-examined by Sullivan. I did not see the cause of the quarrel—the prosecutor first came in about half-past 11.

Cross-examined by Lake. There was an onset which would have led to a fight, and the manager and potman put you outside—I do not know if there was a fight outside.

THOMAS MCGUIRE (Policeman E 75). I took Woodruffe into custody on 17th March, about half-past 10 at the Albany, Great Portland Street—I told him it was for being concerned with two other men in custody for stealing a watch and chain of a gentleman—I did not mention the date—he said, "I was not here on Saturday night"—I took him to the station.

The Prisoners' Statements before the Magistrate. Lake says: "I am innocent of stealing the watch, but guilty of fighting with the man."

Sullivan says: "I was there only to see Lake right in fighting him."

Woodruffe says: "I was not in the Albany at all that night; my father and two or three more can prove it."

Lake and Woodruffs in their defences repeated in substance these statements. Sullivan said that only he and Lake were in the public house together; that the prosecutor accused Lake, and that they turned out to fight, and that when the police arrested Lake he asked what they took him for, and they arrested him also.

Witnesses for Woodruffe.

THOMAS SCAMMELL . I am a brass finisher—I have not seen Woodruffe above eight times—on Saturday, 14th March, I was potman at the Crown, 64, Cleveland Street, Fitzroy Square, and was there the whole evening—I saw Woodruffe, his father, and little sister there the whole evening from a little after 10 o'clock to closing time—he never left the house.

Cross-examined. We close at 12 o'clock on Saturdays—there were a good many people in—this public-house is about three or four minutes' walk from Great Portland Street—I was in and out of the taproom all the evening, I kept him in my sight—he might have gone outside,

nothing further, not for as long as a minute—I do not watch everybody like that—he was playing at dominoes most of the time.

By the COURT. The prisoner's father spoke to me about coming here, and said he was going to subpoena me—I did not go before the Magistrate because I was not asked to do so—I first heard about it on Thursday last week, four or five days afterwards, and I remembered then who were in the public-house on the Saturday—James Berry, father and son, George Rogers, and other people were there too—I take the beer into the taproom where the prisoner and his father and sister were playing dominoes—his little sister remained there till the house closed.

JAMES BARRY . I am a labourer—I use the Crown—I know Woodruffe, I work with his father—on Saturday evening, the 14th, at half-past 10, I saw the prisoner and his father in the Crown playing dominoes—I and my missus sat down and had a glass—at half-past 11 he had a game with his little sister in the bar, and then, as we were leaving, he took half a quartern of gin for his mother—the potman, Scammell, let us out, and we stood talking outside till 5 minutes past 12.

Cross-examined. I was first asked about this last Saturday, when Mrs. Woodruffe came and asked me to go as a witness—she said, "Don't you remember my son was at the Crown on Saturday, the 14th, from half-past 10 to 12?" because he was taken up for highway robbery, and I said "Yes."

GUILTY . Lake** and Sullivan* then PLEADED GUILTY to a conviction of felony in August, 1884.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour each.

432. ANNIE HENLEY (34) , Burglary in the dwelling-house of Thomas Beaumont Jones, and stealing two bottles of whisky and 3s. 1 3/4 d.

MR. WILKINSON Prosecuted.

THOMAS BEAUMONT JONES . I am landlord of the White Hart Inn, Willesden—at 4.30 on the morning of 15th March I was called up by a constable, and on going downstairs I found the window opening into the garden had been thrown up, and the pane of glass in the top part of the sash by the catch had been broken, so that a person from the outside could reach the catch by putting a hand through the broken pane—I had gone to bed about half-past 11 or a quarter to 12, leaving the windows fastened—I went round the house with the constable—in the taproom, when the constable turned his light on, I saw the prisoner standing—I said, "Halloa, is it you?" because I knew the woman as a customer—she said she was locked in all night—these three bottles of wine had been removed, and were outside the bar window; they had been in their proper place when I went to bed—after we returned I found coppers to the amount of 2s. 3 1/4 d. wrapped in this apron in the taproom fireplace; they had been removed from the till—I put the total value of the articles down at 7s. or 8s.

HENRY GRAY (Policeman X 461). On the morning of 15th March I passed by the White Hart on my round about 3.45, and found the private bar window in the garden was open, and these bottles were standing on the sill—I directed the other constable with me to go to the front of the house; I rang the bell; Mr. Jones came down—we further examined the window, and found it had been broken close by the catch—I went through the house with him; his account is correct—when we found the prisoner in the top room I said "Halloa"—she said "I have been locked in all

night, sir"—I afterwards found this stone close to the window; it had no doubt been used for breaking it—I found in the firegrate this apron with 3s. 1 1/4 d. in coppers wrapped in it—the window had been fastened when I passed the house before. GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour.

There was another indictment against the prisoner for a similar offence.

433. JOHN ROSS (28) PLEADED GUILTY to unlawfully incurring a debt and liability of 152l. 6s. 6d. to Septimus Richard Scott, and so obtaining credit by false pretences, also to incurring a debt of 660l. 10s. to William Camin Scott, and also to obtaining by false pretences from Messrs. Howell and James a sealskin jacket, with intent to defraud, and other goods from other persons with a like intent.— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour. And

434. EDWARD FERGUSON (30) and MUNGO FERGUSON (57) to conspiring together, and with other persons, to defraud certain persons of their goods. EDWARD FERGUSON.— Fifteen Months' Hard Labour. MUNGO FERGUSON.— Four Months' without Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

435. EDWARD FERGUSON and MUNGO FERGUSON were also indicted for obtaining goods by false pretences from various persons, with intent to defraud.

MR. FULTON, for the prosecution, offered no evidence.


OLD COURT.—Thursday, March 26th, 1885.

Before Mr. Recorder.

436. EDWARD HAMPDEN ALLBROOK (32) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing the sums of 210l. 11s. 3d., 212l. 13s. 9d., and 262l. 19s. 10d.; also 279l. 1s. 9d. and 209l. 13s., and 230l. 13s. 4d.; also to forging and uttering receipts for the said sums, with intent to defraud. He received a good character.—Seven Years' Penal Servitude.

437. GEORGE PERRY , Feloniously forging and uttering an order for 9l. 9s. 8d., with intent to defraud.

MR. POLAND Prosecuted; MR. SIMS Defended.

WILLIAM PAYNE . I am a dairyman, and live at Peckham—from March 1882 to 1884 I carried on my business at 123 and 124, Dalston Lane—Newson Hodson was my assistant; he was about 16 years old, and up to September, 1883, I believe he lived at the prisoner's house, 2, Laurel Street, Hackney—he came to live with me about September, 1883, and on 19th March, 1884, he was ill, and I took him to the prisoner's house, and left him there—he was removed to the hospital ship, and I heard of his death on April 2nd—he left one or two old clothes at my house, but no box—I believe his box was at the prisoner's house—he used to go and stop there very often, but he only slept there once or twice.

Cross-examined. He used to serve the prisoner with milk—I had a lad named Archer in my employment—he and Archer lodged together at Perry's at one time—at the time Hodson went to Perry's with the smallpox the two Archers, brothers, and a man named Low lodged there—I do not know that either of the lads were saving up money to get a milk walk between them—Archer has left my employment since—I did not know much of Hodson's betting tricks, but I did of Archer's—I discharged

him at a moment's notice for being drunk, and found a lot of betting papers on him—he left my employ last June; just before the Derby—he is not so tall as the prisoner.

Re-examined. Archer is 19 years old.

FREDERICK ERNEST MALLETT . I am clerk and assistant steward on board the hospital ship at Long Reach, Purfleet—on 12th March N. Hodson was admitted as a patient; he became dangerously ill, and on 29th March I sent a letter to his friend's address, 2, Laurel Street, Hackney; that was the only address we had—he died on 1st April just after midnight, and notice of his death would be sent off about 11 a.m., addressed to "The friends of N. Hodson, 2, Laurel Street, Hackney"—he had no property left on the ship that I know of.

Cross-examined. He was taken from Ferry's on 19th March, and admitted into Homerton Hospital, and transferred to the hospital ship on the 21st.

ALICE ELLEN RUSSEN . I am a clerk in the Savings Bank Department, General Post-office—on the morning of April 2nd I received this document (A) at the office in Queen Victoria Street, filled up as it is now—there being a notice to withdraw the money and interest standing in the name of N. Hodson, I forwarded this order for the amount, 9l. 9s. 8d., addressed Newson Hodson, 2, High Street, Dalston—the person receiving the order would have to sign it and take the savings-bank book to the office to get the money.

Cross-examined. The account was opened at 84, Dalston Lane, not at Queen Victoria Street—it could be paid at any office, and it was paid at Stoke Newington Road.

RICHARD BARLEY . I live at Camden Town—in April, 1884, I was assistant postmaster at the post-office, 12, Stoke Newington Road—on 3rd April some man brought an order for 9l. 9s. 8d. and this savings-bank book (produced)—my impression is that the order was brought ready signed "Newson Hodson"—I compared the signature with the signature in the savings-bank book, thought it was genuine, and paid the amount, and the book was left with me—my attention was not called to it again till November—I do not recognise the prisoner—I should not have paid it to a female seeing the name Newson.

Cross-examined. It is not my practice to require the book to be signed in my presence.

WILLIAM BAILEY . I am a clerk in the Savings Bank Department, General Post Office—in November last the deceased's father came and inquired whether his son had a savings-bank account, and we traced it as having been opened at Dalston Lane—the only address we had was 2, Laurel Street, Dalston—in November and December I called and saw the prisoner several times; I told him I was from the Savings Bank Department, showed him the notice of withdrawal A, the order B, and the savings-bank book C, and told him that the lad died on April 1, and the money had been drawn out—he said that he knew nothing about it, the lad only left an empty box—he told me the circumstances of his illness, and said that he knew he kept a savings-bank account, but did not know where the book was kept—I asked him for some information respecting the warrant which had been sent to his house—he said he knew nothing about it—I asked him who could have had the opportunity of taking the letters—he said Harry Archer, who lived at his place at

the time the deceased lived there, and who knew that he had a savings-bank account, as Hodson had put away between 1l. and 30s. for Archer—he said that he received notice from the ship of Hodson's death, and he would give me every assistance, and he and his wife had attended the funeral—I went to Harry Archer's lodging, and he filled up at my request this notice of withdrawal—I dictated to him the words "Newson Hodson, 2, Laurel Street, Dalston," and he wrote them—I afterwards saw George Payne, a dairyman's assistant, who filled up this form E at my request—those forms do not agree at all with the writing on A and B—I saw the prisoner again in December, and asked him to fill up this form F—I dictated from the first docnment, and he wrote the words as they are now, "9l. 7s. and interest, to close account, Newson Hodson, 2, Laurel Street, Dalston"—I then compared it with the notice A and the receipt B—I have no doubt whatever that the two are in the same writing, and the word "interest" is spelt "intrest" in each—they strongly resemble the writing in the savings-bank book, but they were not written by the same person, because we know that he was dead.

Cross-examined. There is a strong similarity in the signatures—Perry gave me the information quite readily—I told him that Archer and Payne had filled up a form, and he filled one up without hesitation—besides the mistake in spelling "interest," Newson is spelt Newisham—it may be said that that is a bungle; it is a dotted bungle, I saw him make it—I don't say that I saw him dot it—he did not mention Low, or say that Low and another Archer were living in his house at the time.

EDWARD ALEXANDER KIRBY . I am a clerk in the Confidential Inquiry Department, General Post-office—at the beginning of January I received documents A and F, to make inquiries, and saw Perry and his wife—I said "I have been instructed to inform you that the writing on these two documents has been examined by an expert, who has given it as his opinion that both are written by the same person; do you wish to offer any explanation?"—he said "No, I know nothing about it"—I then drew his attention to interest being spelt "intrest" in each, and also to the similarity of the writing—he said "I know nothing about it, though the writing bears some resemblance to mine"—I asked how he came to know that the boy had a savings-bank account—he said from seeing the documents come to his house, and that the boy had left an empty box at his house—one of them said that the boy's watch was left with Mrs. Perry to take care of for him, and Mrs. Perry said that he owed her 12s. for being at the house—I asked the prisoner when he first heard of the lad's death—he said on the evening of April 1—I asked how he heard it—he said "From a letter sent me by the hospital authorities"—it appears by the postmark that the notice to withdraw was posted between 8 p.m. on April 1 and 5 a.m. on April 2.

JAMES DUNCAN (Police Inspector N). On the morning of March 6 I was at the police-station, Westminster, and charged the prisoner with forging and uttering the document A, the request for the payment of the money, and the order for the money and interest—he said "I am very happy to say I know nothing about it, and they have got to prove it"—he is a constable in the Metropolitan Police Force, and has been so about 11 years—he is a man of fairly good character—I had at an earlier date called upon him to make a report about this matter in writing, and this is it marked G—it is all in his writing. (In this report the name was also

spelt "Newisham")—to the best of my belief this document A is the prisoner's writing.

Cross-examined. I am not an expert in writing, but the documents resemble each other—the statements in the report are true.

Re-examined. I mean the general statements as to the lodgers and the death of the boy—I am not vouching for the truth of the box being empty.

HENRY ARCHER . I was formerly in the employ of Mr. Payne, a dairyman—I knew Newson Hodson; he had a savings-bank account—I know nothing about signing a notice to the Post-office or drawing out his money—this document, D, is in my ordinary writing, at the request of the post-office official—on 2nd April I heard that the boy had died; I was then lodging at Mr. Payne's.

Cross-examined. My brother and a lad named Low also lodged there—I am doing nothing now—I am living at a lodging-house in Dorset Street, Spitalfields—I had left Mr. Payne's eight weeks before I got employment—I left twice, as after I left I went back for three weeks—I gave Hodson a little money in small amounts to put in the bank—I was saving with him for five or six weeks—he told me that he was saving about a week before, and I asked him to put a little in for me, and gave him the money—I never knew how much he had there, but I had 22s.—we were speaking about having a milk walk together—my money was in about six weeks—I drew it out two or three months before he died, in 1883 I think—I was not in Perry's kitchen much, I was always tired at night; I used his kitchen for my meals—I never saw Perry copying newspaper paragraphs and trying to improve himself in writing—if a letter came for Hodson at meal times and he had left I did not take it to him—I have not taken a letter to Hodson from Perry which has come in the daytime—I never heard of the receipt of a letter for him—I heard of Hodson's death at night at Perry's, and told Payne next morning—I went round to Payne's house the same night, but he was out—I do not remember whether I took the letter announcing Hodson's death or not—Low is, I believe, locked up now for embezzlement—he was not a particular friend of mine—he was in the house up to Hodson's death, and was still there when I left.

Re-examined. I first heard of Hodson's death on April 1st between 9 and 10 p.m. from Mrs. Perry—she showed me a letter, but I do not remember having it in my possession.

GEORGE PAYNE . I am a dairyman's assistant—I was employed last March by Mr. Payne, of 124, Dalston Lane—I knew Hodson—Archer went home at night, and when he came next morning he told me of Hodson's death—I was then living at Mr. Payne's—this paper (E) is my ordinary writing.

GEORGE SMITH ENGLISH . I have been since 1882 accustomed to compare handwriting and give evidence in Courts of Justice—these signatures to the documents A and B are not, in my opinion, the genuine signature of the depositor in the book C—this paper (F) which the prisoner was seen to fill up is, I have no doubt whatever, in the same writing as the notice of withdrawal A—the words "And intrest to close account" appear to be identical, as also is "April 1"—there is a peculiarity in the stroke of the "t" in "Stoke Newington" in A and F—the figures also resemble, especially the "2"—I have no doubt whatever that the signature "Newson

Hodson" to B is the same writing as that in A and F—I have also compared some of the writing in G so as to confirm my evidence of the prisoner's writing—D and E are filled up in quite different writing to the prisoner's—in some cases I have had doubt, but in this case I have none.

Cross-examined. I do not claim the mantle of Mr. Chabot—ever since 1882 I have had some ups and downs as a witness—I have stated writing was by a person, and the Jury have decided that it was not, but I have not altered my opinion—I gave evidence in the case of Fowler and Wood, and Mr. Baron Huddleston and two experts made a mistake—I gave evidence at Liverpool in the case of Komanski that certain writings had been written by the same person, after which Mr. Russell, Q.C., who was supporting my theory, threw down his brief and retired from the case, not being able to support it—I was also the expert in Townsend's case, where letters were written to the Mayor of Kingston—I swore that they were written by the same person, and the Jury found that they were not—my evidence was not so confident in those cases—I spoke to the best of my belief—writing may be made designedly similar so as to deceive people, but not accidentally—there is a great similarity in the writing of boys trained at the same school by the same master, but that is before their writing has become formed and free—I should not make the same observation about persons in later life who did their writing rather laboriously—when they leave school each one has his own peculiarity—I do not admit that I have made a mistake except in one case.

Re-examined. Some cases are very easy, and this is one of them.

JOHN THOMAS GARDNER . I am chief clerk in the confidential inquiry office, Savings Bank—I have had large experience in comparing writing—I have compared documents A, B, F, and G, and believe them all to be in the same writing.

Cross-examined. My experience extends over about 30 years, but it has been used entirely for official purposes, not in criminal cases.

The prisoner received a good character.

GUILTY . Recommended to mercy by the Jury on account of his character.— Nine Months' Hard Labour.

For Cases tried in Old Court, Friday, see Kent and Surrey Cases.

THIRD COURT.—Wednesday, March 25th,

NEW COURT.—Thursday and Friday, March 26th and 27th, and

OLD COURT.—Saturday and Monday, March 28th and 30th, 1885.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

438. GEORGINA WELDON was indicted for unlawfully publishing a false and defamatory libel on Jules Prudence Riviere , to which she pleaded NOT GUILTY. She also put in a demurrer to the indictment and a plea of justification. The Prosecution responded by a general replication. The demurrer was first argued, and judgment was given for the Crown, but the defendant was permitted to plead over to the indictment.

The substance of the alleged libels will appear by the evidence.


EMILY ELLEN WINTON . I am the wife of James Winton, a musician—on the first Monday in July, 1883, I received by post this wrapper (produced) and its contents—this leaflet was inside—I put them on one side and afterwards gave them to my husband.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. Nothing was in the wrapper but this little leaflet, it did not contain the June number of Social Salvation—my husband does not play anywhere at present, he keeps a beerhouse at Brixton.

JAMES WINTON . I am a professional musician—in July, 1883, my wife handed me this wrapper and leaflet, but not on the day she received it—it is marked "Received by me July 8th, 1877"—I read it that day or the next and judged that the initial "R" referred to Mr. Riviere, to whom I handed it one or two days after.

Cross-examined. I received the wrapper also on 8th July, but did not mark that—I never received a copy of Social Salvation—I surmised that "R" meant Riviere, because I heard that he had got an appointment at the Alhambra and Mr. Jacobi had got the appointment there—I never heard of Mr. Riviere having rather a shady reputation, I looked upon him as a respectable man—I had heard of his trial against you in 1880, and that guided me—I had not heard before the trial that he had run away from France, I heard nothing connected with his private life—I was not in his office occasionally.

GEORGE WILLIAM TROUT . I am a musician, of 94, Penerall Street, Walworth—I believe the wraper produced by Mr. Winton to be in Mrs. Weldon's writing—I received this wraper and leaflet (produced) in the beginning of July, 1883—the leaflet is identical with that produced by Mr. Winton, except that the stamp is torn off—the contents are the same and so is the writing on the wrapper—to the best of my belief both the wrappers are in Mrs. Weldon's writing. (The Prisoner. You may take it that that is my writing.)

Cross-examined. I knew that it applied to Mr. Riviere, because it said "R is turning J. out from the A.," or bowling him out—I did not know that he had bowled him out or kicked him out, I knew he had the engagement after Jabobi resigned—I have known Mr. Riviere 20 years—I did not know that he had run away from France; I met him in Paris in 1878, I think, but the first time I made his acquaintance was at Southampton at the promenade concerts there, as near as possible 20 years ago—I play the bassoon—I have never heard that Mr. Riviere ran away from his creditors or that he had been condemned to ten years' hard labour, his private character had nothing to do with me—I have often played in his orchestra, but do not now—I read your trial in the newspapers in 1880, and that you said that he had run away from his creditors, but I do not know that you proved it.

THOMAS LYNCH . I live at 14, Bull Inn Court, and have acted as messenger to Mr. Rivieve—on 17th December, 1884, I went to the office of Social Salvation, Red Lion Court, and purchased this number of Social Salvation (produced); I saw Mrs. Weldon there at the time.

Cross-examined. It was about 6.30—the door was not open—I knocked and asked a little man to supply me with the paper—I waited at the door while he got it, and I signed it when I bought it—a big man gave it to me at the door—I had not the chance to come into the office—I had been there twice before and saw the little man—I think I paid 1 1/2 d. for the last paper—when I got it the big man, Mr. Harcourt, came out followed by you—he recognised me as having seen me at Mr. Riviere's, and challenged me to fight—I said "Yes, I will fight you if you want to fight, only give me my change first"—I had

given him sixpence—I got my change; the little man went to get it before I went out to fight Harcourt—I then said "I will fight you now," and took off my coat; we fought, and I came out of it quite satisfactorily to myself—I did not knock off his spectacles—I accepted his challenge, and fought him fair—the police did not support me, but after we had finished a City policeman came up the court—you said "Oh, Harcourt, do come in?" and I think you said, referring to me, "Who is that man? I will lock him up."

ALPHONSE RIEUX . I am a clerk, and live at 10, Newport Street, Leicester Square—in February, 1885, I went to the office of Social Salvation, 9, Red Lion Court, Fleet Street, and showed this paper (produced), with this ink writing on it, to a man I saw there—he went into an inner office, and after a little while Mrs. Weldon came into the outer office and asked me what I wanted—I showed her the paper—she asked me who it was for—I said "I do not know"—she afterwards gave me certain of the papers which are named in ink on this half-sheet—I purchased newspapers to the amount of 2s. 2d., and among them this one (Containing the libel addressed from the Convent of Gisors in France)—Mrs. Weldon gave me this receipt for the 2s. 2d., "Back numbers we charge full price for; 2s. 2d.—G.W."

HENRY READ . I am clerk of indictments of this Court—I produce an indictment for libel against the defendant which has been in my father's custody, as clerk of this Court, since December, 1879—several letters, or parts of letters, alleged to be libels are set out in it; they are dated September 20, 1879, and September 20, 1879, one being a post-card and the others letters, November 11, 13, and 23, and December 7, 1879—they are alleged to be libels on Jules Prudence Riviere—here is also a plea of justification, filed on behalf of the defendant in answer to that indictment, alleging the truth of the libels, and that they were published for the public benefit—the memorandum on the indictment is: "Trial took place March 1, 1880"—that would be the first day of the Session—the Jury returned a verdict of guilty, judgment was respited, and on May 24, 1880, the defendant was ordered to be imprisoned, without hard labour, in the House of Correction, Westminster, for four months, to be computed from the date of her conviction.

Cross-examined. There is a replication to your plea of justification—this is it.

This being the case for the prosecution, the prisoner proceeded to address the Jury upon the evidence she proposed to call, but the COMMON SERJEANT (after consulting MR. JUSTICE LOPES ) informed her that she could not have the former case retried by going into the old libels, but must confine herself to the libel in the present case, and pointed out to her the material parts of the libel that she had to support. She then called—

JULES PRUDENCE RIVIERE . I did not make your acquaintance in 1872 or 1873 in this Court; it was in 1879, when the Lawrence Levy case was on, who was convicted—I saw you at a concert in 1870, at the Alhambra, for the French Hospital, but did not speak to you—I had a correspondence with you in 1872 about M. Gounod coming to my concert—they called it "The Gounod Night"—there was an offer from me to M. Gounod to conduct at my concerts—I have not kept copies of one of your letters—I wrote to M. Gounod I had forgotten all about it, but this letter (in French) brings it to my recollection—he never did conduct for

me; you would not let him—I went to you at Tavistock House one Sunday and wished to engage both M. Gounod and yourself: he said "Apply to the angel of the house"—I do not remember wanting to pay the angel of the house 100l. a week to sing—I do not remember sending Mr. Moran and offering M. Gounod and you 150l. a week to sing at my concerts—we never came to any agreement, he let me have the "Funeral March" to conduct and paid me 10 guineas—I received a letter from you of 8th October, 1878—I do not think I have kept any letters of 1878—you sent me some bills about a lecture on the Lunacy Laws something like this (produced)—the meeting was to be at St. James's Hall on November 5th, 1878—I have never cheated you. (The prisoner here put in a letter in French from the witness to herself stating: "If you consent to sing at my concerts I will place as many bills as you like in the theatre.") That is a right translation—I agreed that you should sing once a week—I do not know whether it was my proposition or yours—I never spoke of a choir of children—I advertised you in the Standard—this (produced) is it—there is no rule that a good singer, a star, should be advertised in "cave" like this—I gave you plenty of "boxes" in 1879—you had not one whenever you liked, but as a favour when I could give it—when I could not fill my boxes I was very glad to have them filled (The prisoner here read several letters which the COMMON SERJEANT was of opinion were not relevant to the case.) I remember saying that I would give you a present of 10l. for your orphanage, "not as a favour but as a gift," you were perfectly content with that—I proposed that you should sing at Brighton for me—I did not propose to pay you anything except your expenses and Madame Menier's, but I would give you a present on the last day—on 14th November I wrote: "Dear Madame, Herewith I enclose the cheque as promised"—that was for 10l.—I gave you two cheques of 10l. each, and that was one of them—I also wrote, "I have never been married but once, say once and a half, and say no more about it; we must not wake up the cat that sleeps"—I have been to Madame Riviere's box in Covent Garden while you were singing there, but I do not remember asking you to go there—I do not remember showing you the present Madame Riviere's photograph, but I have got one here, I always have one—you wrote to me, "I see you have been married twice, the Madame Riviere I saw you with last night is not the Madame Riviere I saw you with in 1871"—you wanted to know my circumstances and I told you I had been married once in France and once in England, and that was all—I was married to my French wife in 1847—I spoke of the former time—I said, "I have never been married but once"—that means once formerly; and when I said, "once and a half," I meant one was my first wife, and I had been living with a lady 12 years; that was the "half," and then I married a lady in England—I meant that before my present wife I had been married once and a half, once for good and the half for bad—if you had never heard of my French wife, I was 60, and did you think I had never been married before that age—the "sleeping cat" was the "half," Mdlle. Delbart, because that is a thing a man is not proud of, to live with a lady and not be married—I wrote on 6th November, "Dear Prima Donna, you must let the lunatics have a rest and occupy yourself about our week at Brighton"—I did not like the lunatics to be mixed up with my concerts—I had discovered that I had made a mistake in putting your bills in my theatre; I was told by

everybody that it was objectionable, but I kept to my promise, and kept the bills there—we were going to Brighton, and you were very busy about the lunatics, but I had had enough of them—you had no monthly allowance; the only thing I gave you was two 10l. 's for your ophanage—we were very good friends at that time—Miss Emily Fox was at Brighton, but I do not know that she was at the same hotel with my wife—I do not remember her telling me that she was in your choir, but I know that she was in the choir of M. Gounod—I remember your asking me what I looked so miserable for, and I spoke to you about my former misfortunes, and said I was afraid that in the Levy case they would cross-examine me about my faillit—I did not say that I had paid all my creditors; I said that I was in course of paying them—I could not pay everybody in one lump—you offered to help me, but I did not accept it—I was not put into the witness-box—I did not persuade the Recorder on the last trial that I had been cross-examined in the Levy case; if the Recorder said so this is the first time I have heard of it—I don't know whether I mentioned the word "bankrupt" to Madame Menier or yourself; I may have said "faillit"—there is a difference in French—I wrote this letter to you (Signed "Your devoted General Riviere") asking if you knew of any moneyed partner who would join me; I did not refer to yourself—all the letters I have from you are here, but I have not kept all; I never knew they would be wanted—if you have a copy I will agree to it—I was at Madrid then, and it is quite a mystery to me that I kept so many—I objected to more than 30 in the choir on account of the expense—I do not know that you had 300—I said that I did not wish to have a large choir, I always objected to the expense—I never was put to any expense for the choir except the 60l. a week, and I paid you for three weeks I think—the concerts were for five weeks—I think the money you got from me was three weeks at 60l. a week—I will not swear it was three weeks, but I feel almost sure it was three—they sang for three weeks and I dismissed them; the last two weeks I declined to pay because they were not there—I dismissed them for incompetency—the concerts lasted five weeks. (The prisoner continued to read further letters which had passed between M. Riviere and herself with regard to the Covent Garden concerts.) In April I had known you about seven months—I looked on you to assist me with all your power—we corresponded often—I never said during the concerts at Brighton that you would be the star during the season, Merrimee was to be the star—I said I should like to have a moneyed partner—I did not say that with the meaning that if you did not find the money I would get another star—the name of my firm on 30th April was Riviere and Hawkes, I am not in that now—the proposition to perform Rienzi was six months before the concerts—I have had a military band occasionally—you said in one letter that nothing was easier than to get a permanent choir if they were taught every day—you tried to get up a choir; you sometimes had 25, sometimes 200, it was most irregular, it was not so easy as you thought to find choristers—the music stall was held by Mr. Winton, one of my clerks—I thought Madame Menier would be useful to hold it—I was always complaining of the number of the choir—I wanted quality not quantity—there would have been no room for them all—your proposition was that you must have a choir of 250 to be able to count on 60 every evening, but there was no limit to the number you said—you proposed in your letters

to have 500—if there had been 200 to 250 there would have been no room for the orchestra—I have conducted concerts in this country for 25 years—I do not give lessons nor train choirs—Miss Fisher, my sister-in-law, was a dressmaker—I think three weeks would be sufficient to train a choir—you offered to sing for nothing in 1878—I call offering to sing for advertising your bills, singing for nothing—you sang for no payment, what I gave I gave willingly—the case mentioned in your letter of 22nd April was to contain your photograph and 100 tickets—I had time to reflect that if I gave 100 tickets to each chorister Covent Garden would not be large enough to hold them—I had been thinking of 60 choristers, not 250; I never dreamt of 200 choristers—Gatti's letter, which I mentioned in mine of 29th April, 1879, has been destroyed, I do not keep letters—Merrimee asked more than 100l. a week, I do not know if it was 150l.—I wished to stop encores, I do not remember whether you put it into my head, I did not mean to ask your advice—I objected to Miles's prices for the cases—I thought you were not likely to fill the boxes—all your propositions were so gigantic that I could not follow you; it would be your concert, not mine—a contract might be a verbal agreement—I do not remember if you came with Madame Menier on 26th May to Villa St. David, Gipsy Hill, to spend the day with me—I did not dictate this agreement to you then; we were together, and you may have taken notes; it was the topic of our conversation. (The prisoner then read what purported to be a draft prospectus of the Covent Garden concerts, with an announcement that M. Riviere had engaged a large and efficient choir, that M. Riviere intended to give fortnightly concerts, and that tuition would be regular, with Mrs. Weldon as conductor.) The end of that was in this Riviere and Hawkes circular. (This also stated that 200 tickets for the concerts would be presented to each chorister.) That was written by you, we did it together—it does not state the numbers of the choir—I never agreed that you should have the book of words—I changed my mind about Madame Menier having the stall—I promised you a share of the profits if there were any—the circular gave your address, to save you the trouble of all the people going to your house—I do not remember telling you that Madame Delbart committed suicide on hearing I was married; she committed suicide eight years after she heard that—she knew I had a wife in France in 1847, Madame Zinc—I did not tell you I had never been married except to my present wife—very likely I told you I had been married in France, there was no mystery about it, every one knew it—I did not tell you at my previous trial that I had been sentenced to travaux forces for embezzlement; it was not true—I do not know if I used the word "fraudulent," I said I had been bankrupt; I was not fraudulent—I do not remember telling you about my past life on that visit, but I did at the Old Bailey—I was condemned for my bankruptcy by contumace to ten years' travaux forces, in my absence in 1858. (The prisoner here put in an extract from the Minutes of the Registrar of the Tribunal of Commerce of 4th September, 1858; this stated that Jules Riviere had been sentenced to travaux forces for ten years by contumace.) I never embezzled anything from any one—I have never seen this paper before, I do not think it was put in at the first trial; I was not examined as to it—before I was married, the stove-making business was my father-in-law's, M. Zinc's; I came into the business three or four years after I was married—I brought no money into the business—afterwards the

firm became Riviere and Brocard. (The prisoner then read the judgment of the Tribunal Committee, Department Seine, Paris, in August, 1857, which stated that Riviere was a musical artist who had bought a stove manufactory of his father-in-law for 50,000 francs, which sum was nearly all due; that in March, 1855, he asked his creditors for a delay of four years to pay his debts; that that proposition was only accepted by a few creditors and not carried into execution; that on 14th April, 1855, he went into partnership with Mr. Brocard, who brought in 50,000 francs; that in 1856 the partnership was dissolved, when Brocard brought a civil action against Riviere, which resulted in Riviere being condemned to make restitution; that Riviere went from the Continent with 12,000 francs, and that his absence proved the embezzlement and gave rise to a fraudulent bankruptcy.) I know nothing about the Code Napoleon—I knew at once that I had been condemned to ten years' hard labour—I did not run away—I left Paris for Belgium—my wife did not come with me—from there I came to London, where I have made a position of which I am proud—I never spoke to you and Madame Menier of my difficulties—in this certificate I have given my name as Jules—I was christened Jules Prudence; I left out the Prudence—it is not the fashion in France to have two or three names—I forget if I was called Jules Prudence at the first marriage—I said I was a Griffier; I was to buy that office at Craonne—I was never actually Griffier, because I did not choose to be—my father was a stocking weaver—he had 200 looms—in my marriage certificate with Miss Fisher I described him as a gentleman—my father was alive in 1870; he was not in business then—I am a peasant; I was born in a village—Miss Fisher's father is also described as a gentleman; he retired in 1870—I am described in that certificate as a bachelor—I was a widower at that time I suppose—I have no certificate of the death of my first wife—I have not received a letter from her since 1858, when we parted; I never wrote to her, nor she to me—I wrote to my daughter; she was 11 years old—my first wife and I parted; she was unfaithful to me during the first year after our marriage—I forgave her, but she was unfaithful afterwards with my cousin, and I never resumed friendship after that with her—that was in the winter of 1856—that and the difficulty I had with my partner, who was trying to get rid of me (I had litigation with him for two years) decided me to leave Paris—I heard Madame Longbris give her evidence on the first trial; she did not say my first wife was a respectable woman, but that she fled with a young officer within a year of the time I left her—I do not remember now what she said—what is in the Sessions Paper is correct—these (produced) are all the creditors' receipts that I have—I have not paid Descure; I have paid Masquilier by instalments—these are the receipts—the last sum was paid after the action against me for libel in September, 1879—I paid off Mr. Roge from 1862 until March, 1883—I could not find Strauss—Elena is dead. (The witness also gave particulars as to his payments to his other creditors.) This "act of decease" shows that my father-in-law died in the Rue de Cremelin; there is nothing to show that it was at the bicette—Madame Bosquet was my mother-in-law—this paper shows that she died in May, 1866, at the "Little Sisters of the Poor"—I do not dispute where she died—Mr. Fisher, my second father-in-law, was a watchmaker; he was stated in the marriage certificate to be a gentleman—I do not remember telling you and Madame Menier anything of all this—I told you about my bankruptcy in this building at

Lawrence Levy's trial. (Gordon Lewis, a clerk in the Home Office, was here interposed to produce the memorial for and act of naturalisation of Jules Riviere; in the memorial was a statement that he was married and had one child.) Hawkes knew Madame Delbart was not my wife—I don't know if Webster knew it—I don't think Godfrey and Hodgson did. (The Act of Naturalisation, dated 1st April, 1864, was here produced and read.) When I said I had a wife and child I did not know if they existed or not—I was married—I cannot say I imagined my wife was alive then—I was not married at the French Consulate. (A number of letters passing between the witness and Mrs. Weldon with reference to the concerts were read.) I have been in Paris 50 times, and in France for four months at a time without reporting myself to the police in any way since I left France—I have not given concerts there since I left—I did not pay you for your advertising expenses, as you paid them—you were to have been paid 60l. a week to cover all expenses, and I was to have paid 300l. in advance to the bank as a guarantee—I always objected to the number of your choir—the correspondence shows that I spoke of having a choir less than 300 or 250—you said in one letter you would like to have 500; there was no limit to you—when I wrote about a choir of 3,000 in my letter of 21st June, 1879, it was a joke—I never dreamed of putting 300 choristers on the orchestra; if I had no musicians at all I could not do so—it was my proposition that the maximum of your advertisements should be fixed at 20l.—I have a faint recollection that your choir was engaged at the Aquarium; it might have been in June—you offered to supply me with envelopes, and Mappin said that he would give them gratis too—you may have said or sent word to me by Selby that you had 2,000 for me; it looks like a proposition in your letter—I cannot remember that we ever had any conversation on the subject—I never promised to have 20,000 envelopes from you, when I saw them I objected to them—there was a proposal, but no agreement about the book of words—I have not got the agreement with Gatti not to advertise the Covent Garden concerts before a certain time, I destroyed it two years ago—the receipts were 138 francs on the day of your first appearance—I find by this letter that it was the same day as the double piano, I don't think I have a file of our programmes here—I never gave any account but what was true; if I have given a different account to other people it would not be correct. (The prisoner here read a letter from the witness to a Mr. Ellis Freeman of 24th September, 1879, in which he stated that Mrs. Weldon's first appearance was on Tuesday the 15th, when the receipts were 149l.) That may include the sale of programmes—I see by the programme that the double piano came out on Monday, 21st October, not on the same day as you—I cannot remember saying to you that on the day of your first appearance the receipts were 185l. because the double piano was there also, my letter about that was a year afterwards—I did not tell you and Madame Menier that I had two sets of accounts, one for the income tax and the other for my business; I never tried to cheat the Government, we had had no conversation about that—in case we should not have sufficient I wanted Stead-man's Choir, you did not always refuse to have it, you agreed to it—there was never any quarrel or ill-feeling between us about Selby—there was no occasion for you to grumble about my beginning on Monday, the 6th, and only giving you five days for rehearsing your choir—I don't remember whether you grumbled at all about your having 10l. a week, I don't

remember if there was any quarrel—Emma Thursby was to have 100l., she was the "star"—the letter of 5th August shows I must have come to Tavistock House and heard the choir, you let me have all your music gratis without paying anything for it. (The prisoner here put in a printed post-card concerning the Crystal Palace concerts, which contained the announcement "Efficient chorus, under the direction of Mrs. Georgina Weldon.") I was agreeably surprised with the choir—I wrote that post-card after I heard them, that was public; I was not going to tell the public that the choir was no good—the post-card was printed before I heard them and sent out afterwards—you said you would supply the music for the Crystal Palace; that you had so many hundreds of this, that, and the other, I don't remember if it was for the Crystal Palace or Covent Garden, I should only have chosen things that I had music for—I did not say you were to buy the music, but supply it—you were to have a share of the profits in case of success at Covent Garden—this was the preliminary notice of the Crystal Palace concerts on 11th August in the Daily Telegraph—I have done nothing to offend you purposely in any way, it was trying to keep you in your place—when I wrote on 6th August I did not know you had leaders, those you had were not efficient; you never let me hear them separately, I asked you to—I was going to pay 50l. a week for the choir and advertisements and 10l. for you; and you were to find the music you had, I did not want you to buy any—I proposed that you should engage leaders when I proposed the 60l. a week—I proposed giving Steadman 15l. for a single concert, I don't know whether you were pleased or not at that—I was not satisfied with your choir, there were 200 of yours and 100 of Steadmans—I don't know that you showed me answers from about 900 choristers—I did not want to pay for the ladies' dresses, when I was paying 50l. a week—I don't think you refused one voice for your choir, you thought everything was good enough—I think nine out of ten could not sing, I heard them at the Crystal Palace and Covent Garden; I formed that opinion shortly after they sang at Covent Garden—I could only make a programme by repeating the same pieces—I have attended plenty of rehearsals—a good many pieces of music were copied for you, I spent about 5l. or 6l. in copying and printing—you could conduct at rehearsals, but at concerts we could not have two bu✗tons—I decided on 100 of Steadman's choir; I am confident I received your advice in writing to do so, I have not got the letter here—I never authorised you to spend more than 20l. in advertisements, I don't know if you told me it was less than 5l.—I should have given you the 20l. if you had told me you had spent it, but if we had come to the agreement for 50l. that would have covered everything—it was not impossible for you to get that large choir without spending more money; amateurs came flocking—I knew some of your amateurs must be bad—I don't believe you had a great many of the Alexandra choir—I didn't inquire about it; I judged myself that they were bad—you have not tried to pick out the best—you did not always think it necessary for me to come to rehearsals—Steadman's choir is a good well-known one—you took Steadman's choir by my advice; the chorus would have been defective otherwise—we did without Steadman's choir at the second concert—I wrote that you were "badly surrounded"—I meant Madame Menier—I thought I was your best friend—I said "I detest flatterers," and I wrote "All that can do good to our commo

cause is the concerts at Covent Garden, and I am the first to suffer by it"—that prevented people coming to my concerts—I always objected to your going from police-court to police-court making yourself so prominent when you were in connection with my concerts—I can mention thousands of public persons more esteemed and honoured than you are—I have nothing to do with mad doctors—I did not want you to get summonses against them while you were connected with my concerts—M. Gounod's opinion was better than mine, and I decided that your choir was too serious for the Crystal Palace concerts—the people found the programme heavy and never heard your piece, but I decided that it was not a proper piece for the concerts, and I should do the same to-day—I think you said that if you did not sing a certain song you would not sing any—you wrote and asked me for 50l.—I did not give it to you; I was hardup through the loss at those concerts—I said "You take the money and pay as you please"—that was up to 20l.—it was agreed that you should spend 20l. for advertisements. (The prisoner read other letters from herself addressed "My General" and replies from the witness signed "The Captain.") I discovered that it was not feasible to utilise more than 50 or 60 of your choir, and I told you so—we carried it on for three weeks at Covent Garden, but it did not work at all satisfactorily—you said that the choir would cost me something—you have never proposed to spend anything except in advertisements—amateurs and people who were not paid could not be regular; they came as they liked, one evening all sopranos, and another all basses—when they were at the Crystal Palace they only knew five or six pieces—they sang them well enough, but at Covent Garden there were 60 singers to-day and another 60 to-morrow; they were inefficient altogether—you wrote me several letters saying that you were ashamed of them—I stood it for more than three weeks, because I had patience, but we had constant correspondence about it—I swear I paid them for three weeks in October—you never showed me any bills for advertisements—I don't think you had any paid leaders—in my opinion they were not the same people in your choir every night—I required leaders—the 50l. was to cover all your expenses; you had no other claim against me—I said at the beginning that I would not take Mr. Hayes as a partner—you had your choir and your practice for months before I took a partner—you believed you would get half my profits at Covent Garden in case of success—if I took a partner that would not be cheating you, you should have had your half if there had been a profit, but there was a very serious loss—if I had made a profit my partner would have been very pleased at my giving you what I promised—I did not give you anything, because I lost thousands—my books are here—Mr. Hayes was to share my half with me if there was any profit; that was not cheating you—before the end of the concerts at Covent Garden I was reluctantly compelled to dismiss your choir—that was not done to prevent my having to give you anything—all your suggestions were in antagonism with me as to the pieces I should perform—I used the expression "piggish" because a squeak is very bad from a musical point of view—I had three or four rehearsals a week at my house before the opening, but your gentlemen could never come in the daytime—I certainly asked them—I said that if there was nothing important you could leave the concert at half-past ten—there would be something like 150l. to take out before you had anything for your

benefit—the ladies were to supply their own dresses—I do not remember your saying that you bought the stuff for their dresses—when the circular was sent out the object was to give your choir 100 tickets, but when it came to 250 it was impossible, because I should have overflowed the theatre with tickets and no money—you sent three gentlemen of the choir to me, and the choir agreed to my proposition—I gave all I could—I do not think that was cheating—when I saw your choir they were quite satisfied—I did not send out and push tickets into the doors in the neighbourhood; not when I had your choir—I did not send tickets to people who did nothing for me—there were free tickets—the paper states that the number was to be limited—those of your adherents who could sing told me that half of them could not sing—I never told you that anybody came to complain of them—I wrote that it was impossible to give the "Stabat Mater" or the "Hymn of Praise" because the choir could not sing them—they were a month trying to sing one piece—you said that they could sing both pieces almost backwards, but I did not believe it—you complained of everything that did not please you—I have had the Steadman choir by themselves many times, and they sang beautifully—I wanted you to pay another choir out of the 50l. a week, but that was only for one single night to put in front of the others and lead them—I always objected to having your books of words sold in the hall, but you were going to do so without my permission when I wrote about it—I wrote, "In neither of the books of words is any allusion to be made to the Lunacy Laws"—I do not know that you spent 25l. for envelopes—I never wished to quarrel with you if I could prevent it—I did not think you were the same person who told me you had had a meeting at Store Street and would come down to Covent Garden to make a row. (The prisoner produced some envelopes with advertisements printed inside them, and stated that she paid for 50,000 of them, sent 25,000 to the witness, and still had some thousands left.) I did not give permission for the advertisements in these envelopes—I paid all the expenses as agreed, and do not owe you anything—I think I put your name on the posters as leader of the choir—I know it was on the programme—I did not propose to give you the 50l. a week because I intended to cheat you out of everything else; I did not mean to cheat you—some of the ladies bought their own dresses—I offered to give the choir tickets when they sang for nothing, but not when I paid 50l. a week—I offered you the 50l. to cover all your expenses, but the idea of there being a paid choir was abandoned—I was to give either money or tickets—the 50l. was to replace the tickets, but I say that I gave the tickets and the money too—the 50l. was for yourself, to cover everything—paying leaders was part of your expenses—there has been a civil action in these matters, and I got the verdict—I deny that I proposed that the choir should have the option of selling their tickets—you were to pay the choir altogether from the 50l. a week—I paid Steadman 8l. for one night in the season—I was to have the choir for nothing and pay the expenses—you had nothing to pay for the choir except a few leaders—the choir did work for me for four months for the payment of 10l. worth of tickets, but the work was simply practice for four months to enable them to sing at the concerts—I don't know what the hire of the room was to cost, but I know you had it for nothing—I promised the choir 10l. worth of tickets, but not tickets for 200 or 300 choristers—they never knew our agreement

—you would have that tremendous number of choristers, and that is where the blunder was—you did not reduce their number, nor did I give in an inch except on 3rd October, when to have peace I made a compromise—I afterwards agreed to give them 100 or 120 tickets—I never knew that you bought music because I did not supply it in time—you wanted to be everything and everybody—you wanted to be the star and blamed them for wanting to engage Emma Thoresby—I did not promise you that you should be the star—I did not believe you when you said that your choristers had sung the "Hymn of Praise" and the Stabat dozens of times—you did not refuse any boxes; you had them as agreed, and could do as you liked with them, and give some boxes and some dress circles—I don't see that they would excite jealousy—Miss Fisher is my sister-in-law—I know Mr. Morris by sight—on 11th September I wrote to you as we could not agree, and I thought two gentlemen would settle the matter, one on each side—the ticket question was certainly a very great difficulty to me; I could not overfill the theatre—I agreed with a gentleman representing the choir, and gave as many tickets as I could—you asked for 10l. a week to be paid weekly, one benefit night for yourself, which I agreed to; the leaders were to be paid by you—I never promised that the book of words should be sold in the place—I have got my letter to Mr. Cooper—I can see that this letter (produced) is a settlement of the ticket difficulty—Mr. Morris did not tell me that all my wishes were very reasonable; he was on my side in two minutes—he approved of everything I said—this is a circular of September 19th, 1879, which I desired my clerk to distribute at the door of your house to the choir as they left—I did not know their addresses, and could not send it by post—I asked them in that circular to come and speak to me the next evening at 28, Leicester Square—I wanted to explain matters—I did not know that that evening you were advertised to go down and sing at Brighton—I could not go to your house to explain it to your choir, in the state of mind we both were when solicitors were beginning to write—I wanted to make your choir understand how willing I was to make everything satisfactory; they had not accepted my terms when I wrote the circular—I cannot remember what was in the circular, but I had good reasons for sending it—a letter which has not been read settled the difficulty between Mr. Cooper and myself, but I did not know that the choir accepted my terms—this is the circular, full of unscrupulous lies—I have not kept the letters I received from members of the choir; I received a good many—there was an arrangement that I should give 200 tickets to 120 of the choir; I objected to give 200 tickets each to 300 of the choir, and I wrote that they were writing to me that they wanted their 200 tickets, I wanted to meet them and explain to them my position—it was agreed that I should have 50 or 60 choristers every evening—I cannot produce your letter advising me to engage 100 choristers through an agent—you sanctioned my engaging 100 from Steadman; I engaged him—I don't know if I was asked to produce that letter at the former trial or at the action of Riviere and Cooper; I have not produced it—I have not discovered that you only advertised once in the Daily Telegraph; it never came out that you had spent as much as 20l. in advertising. (The prisoner read a circular addressed by Riviere to the members of the chair.) Those circulars were distributed to the members of the choir as they left your house—I

did not know that you were to be at Brighton on the evening I asked the choir to meet me—two or three gentlemen called on me and asked me to meet them next evening at Leicester Square; they came to me—I don't know Fisher's address; he called on me and showed me a memorandum—Fisher wrote to me asking me to carry out the promises contained in my circular—on 20th September I received a deputation from the choir. (The prisoner here produced and read the draft agreement for the Covent Garden Concerts dated 3rd October, between Riviere and Cooper. Also a letter from Messrs. Dodd and Longstaff, Mr. Riviere's solicitors, of 24th September, to her, declining her services at Covent Garden after the scene of the previous night.) Mr. Cooper wrote and said that your expenses were to be paid but that you declined any money from me—this was only a proposed contract at that time, you did not decline to have anything to do with the contract on 3rd October—we had not arranged by 26th September that I was to pay expenses and you were not to sing nor receive any money. (The prisoner read a correspondence between Mr. Riviere and Mr. Cooper.) I heard your choir many times; I don't say I heard the paid leaders at Tavistock House—I did not know at the time I wanted the agreement signed that you had paid leaders—I said I had engaged an extra one because I thought you wanted one; these were to be paid leaders—I did not send Morris to get you to make an agreement; I wanted to settle the matter—I had told Mr. Longstaff my past career and I considered he knew all about it—I had not procured the document containing my sentence—I did not beg of Cooper to get me to sign the agreement with you—I don't remember if I commissioned Fisher to bring a letter to your choit—Mr. Fisher wrote to me on the 11th October—your letter to me justified my letter to the choir of 1st October—Mr. Fisher did not tell me that the choir refused to leave you, and would have nothing to do with me—I don't remember sending Mr. Fisher up on 3rd October with a fresh agreement and his imploring you to sign it. (The prisoner here read the suggestions for the drawing up of the agreement of 3rd October.) I don't remember your objecting to the expression of regret—it was agreed nothing could be done with your apologising, and you did so—the apology is in Mr. Longstaff's writing—I know there was an apology at Tavistock House, but I don't recollect what passed—I do not remember. Mr. Fisher coming to me with this paper and asking me to agree to it and sign it—you consented to sign something which was arranged—you came down with Mr. Cooper to Messrs. Dodd and Longstaff's and signed it—Mr. Fisher was present—you had no legal adviser that I know of—I did not say that it was very bad for you, being a good artiste, to sing so much as you did with the choir, or tell you to rest your voice more—you were not got to sign the agreement by saying that it was mere matter of form—I do not remember giving you a writ. (The COMMON SERJEANT having called the prisoner's attention to the words of her justification, informed her that she must confine herself to them, she contended that as there were no signs of bad faith in the agreement itself she could only prove cheating by sifting the subsequent acts of the witness after getting her to sign it and then picking a quarrel with her. The COMMON SERJEANT stated that if, upon further consideration, he thought the evidence admissible, he would either allow the witness to be recalled or reserve the point.) Things did not go on comfortably after that agreement—we were not on speaking terms—there were complaints every day—the choir were

not attentive—I could never know who was coming next day—it was always a muddle, and I never spoke to you after that—Mr. Cooper was representing you, and when they sang badly I told him—other people were not trying to make mischief between you and me, neither Mr. Fisher or Mr. Balchin—I never heard that Mr. Balchin was the secretary of an opposition choir—Mr. Fisher was one of the three gentlemen of the choir who you sent to make arrangements with me—he was used as a medium between you and the choir—I never saw him till you sent him—the way I explained matters led those gentlemen to be at once on my side—Mr. Longstaff sent the draft agreement, not me—I complained that the choir could never attend rehearsals with the band—I could not have the band on Saturdays—I gave the choir as many rehearsals as I could—it was not my fault if they failed—I could not have a band rehearsal every day; only twice or three times a week—if I did not advertise you and advertised Emma Thoresby, it was my business to advertise who I liked——I think I had a bill for you outside the theatre as I had for the other singerss—I have done the best I could and spent more than I ought in advertisements—I don't recollect these memoranda being sent to me—they were proposals of yours—I was not aware of any confusion—I never counted the choristers—I never knew beforehand what pieces I was going to put in the programme—all that confusion about the tickets was not my fault; I never said that the tickets were printed for five weeks—I rehearsed two days a week, never more, and at the end of the season we had no rehearsals; it is only the first week of the concerts, when everything is new, that there are rehearsals every day—I do not remember whether I rehearsed your choir the first week—you confused me when you kept on asking for rehearsals when I could not give you one—you may have managed a single concert, but every day it is a very hard task—you certainly had a rehearsal with the band—Mappin's advertisements did not apply to music or concerts, nor did Nye's, but I objected to advertisements about the lunacy laws—I never sanctioned your ordering the envelopes with what was inside them—Mappin's advertisements were about the sale of knives—I did not object to advertising, but what I objected to most strongly was those about the lunacy laws, and you did not show them to me—this (produced) is Mr. Longstaff's clerk's writing—I did not get up stories about you as an excuse to quarrel with you, I did not want to quarrel—Madame Merrime was my paid leader—I do not remember asking you if she had attended rehearsals regularly—this is your letter of 18th October—I thought your choir could not sing the Stabat Mater—it was not my place to give them the chord, it was the band—I did not promise you that a chord should be given—it is not a fact that when other artistes were ill I advertised the fact, unless it was a very bright star—you were only ill a day or two—I had no proof of your illness, I had no doctor's certificate—I did not see you every day; we were not on speaking terms, when you went one way I was flying the other—I never said that you sang from a private box, I said you gesticulated and made a lot of demonstration—I did not say you were there without my permission—it was by my order that 30 ladies of the choir were in the box on 30th October, 1879—it was the Balaclava night, the theatre was very full—there was not a great row going on by medical students—if everybody received a paper at the door with your portrait on it as a medium

it was not likely to keep them quiet—thousands of people came and stared at you; it was enough to cause confusion—there were demonstrations in front of your box—I do not remember any row before you appeared in the box bowing and acknowledging the cheering—I have heard of noisy nights at Covent Garden, but I never had them in my time—I sent Mr. Hayes to you to try and induce you not to be there making that demonstration; I did not tell him that the choir should be dismissed on Monday, if he said so it was not by my order; what he said I am not responsible for—I paid on Saturdays—I paid that Saturday—I have not got an account book—I have a little book (produced)—I see that on Satnrday, 25th, I drew from my bank 430l.; I suppose I paid out of that—I have the counterfoils of the cheques—the cheques for the choir would not go to this bank—this is my general account, not the bank in question—I paid three weeks 60l. a week; that can be proved by the banking account; I have not got that, very likely I can get it if I send for it—I have not got Mr. Cooper's receipt for it—the 300l. was invested in a separate bank, to prevent confusion—I really do not remember the bank, it was near Cavendish Square—it was stated in the agreement what bank it should be—I do not know whether it was the London and Westminster—I do not think I had any cheques on that bank; I think they gave me a few forms for the three weeks—I paid you the third week—I paid the 60l. for three weeks, and the judgment of the Court ought to be conclusive—I have reckoned the balance due to me—I decline to answer how much that was, because my memory fails me, but I am certain I paid the three weeks—when you broke the agreement by your conduct the choir was dismissed—I should not like to be so positive but I really believe I paid three times, if I have made a mistake the judgment will rectify it—this is the judgment. (This stated that judgment was for the plaintiff on the claim for 50l., and declared him to be entitled to 180l., part of 300l. deposited in the bank, together with costs, taxed at 287l. 14s. 5d.) I still believe that I paid the third 60l.—I had no reason before the Balaclava night to refuse payment—I must have paid, or the choir would have said they would not sing—I did not pay it out of the 450l.—I never paid in cash, I paid it by cheque on the bank—I believe I must have paid the three weeks; that is my impression—I do not know how to account for my having 180l. out of the 300l. unless I paid Cooper in cash; I should not be surprised if I did, I really cannot tell—I have not got any receipts—I do not see any reason why I should not have paid Cooper, I do not remember—your choir sang the following week, therefore why should I not have paid that Saturday?—I do not insinuate that Mr. Cooper would receive the money and not give me a receipt—it was done by my bookkeeper—I never went into details, I had no time, I only sign the cheques, but I firmly believe it has been paid, if I am mistaken I cannot help it—I never recollect giving Mr. Cooper a single pound in cash, I never gave him anything but cheques—I do not insinuate that Mr. Cooper helped me to cheat you—I could not swear one way or the other whether I only paid two weeks, it wants investigation, and I am quite ready to see to it—I may have paid him in money—I cannot understand it at all, or see why I should not have paid him on that Saturday—I never failed in my payments, therefore I must have paid him—if he had asked me for it I should have paid him—I did not agree with Mr. Cooper not to give it you—Mr.

Cooper brought an action against me, but I have never seen him since in any private matter; it was your action—I dismissed the choir on the 28th—I have no letter showing any claim. (MR. MATHEWS put in a letter, dated 31st October, 1879, from Micklethwaite and Co. applying on behalf of Mr. Cooper for payment of 60l. due on 25th inst. under the agreement.) I thought it was paid; this shows that it was not—I have said all along that I could not be positive, because it was my book-keeper who was paying everybody—I cannot remember the date I issued the writ against Mr. Cooper; it was not against my wish my solicitor issued it—he did not tell me the only way I could get out of it was to issue a fictitious writ—not that I had got into a very disagreeable situation, and should be in an awkward position if you brought an action against me—the agreement was signed on the 3rd October; the concerts began on the 6th—it stated that the choir were to sing in a proper and efficient manner—I don't remember you saying that would cause a great deal of complication—you did not say the paid leaders had been studying with you five weeks and you could not discharge them, nor that you would send them to me next week—Messrs. Dodd and Longstaff did not say it was only a matter of form. (The prisoner commenced to read the statement of claim in the action; the COURT considered that she could not examine Mr. Riviere upon it, as it would be retrying the civil action which had already been decided.) You did not train the choir efficiently—I had found that out by 25th October—I should not have paid 300l. in advance if I only wanted the use of your name, and intended then to get rid of you—it was not easy to get the 300l. back again—I got it back after long proceedings, which cost me 400l. or 500l.—I don't remember you singing solos with the choir; the programmes would not prove it, for you might have been ill—I don't remember if it was put in the programme when you were ill—you did not sing a solo with the choir every evening, because you broke my rules—one was about not having encores—you knew the rule—I have never told you when encored to play some national air for yourself—I did not want your advice about abolishing encores—it was my notion—I don't think I abolished them in 1878—no one was allowed to take an encore without my permission; I can do as I like if I give a concert—the choir frequently broke down—I lost 1,000l. through the season, and I attributed it to the failure of you and your choir—I lost three times more in 1879 than in 1878—my books are at home—you had no paid leaders.

Cross-examined by MR. WILLIAMS. I authorised an advertisement, of which this is a copy, to be put in the French papers about the payment of my debts, and I paid in the gross a sum of 10,735 francs 42 cents.—they were paid at different dates; everybody else received 13 1/2 per cent. of their claim, while the others were paid in full—the total amount of my debt was 77,164 francs—my principal creditor was M. Zinc, 69,000 francs—I was never in partnership with him; I was his book-keeper—I married his daughter in 1847, and he was to pay me 400l. on her wedding day, with which I was to buy the office of Griffier off Justice De Paix, at Caronne—that is the office of the justice of Peace—M. Zinc was a manufacturer of stoves, at 26, Rue de la Roquelle—he had a partner named Esbecher—two or three years after the marriage Esbeeher died; he had been the book-keeper and managing partner—M. Zinc had been falling into habits of intemperance, and on his partner's death he offered me to replace Esbecher—I accepted it—I had, always, been in the musical

business previously—I worked very hard and learnt the business—in consequence of the continued habits of intemperance of M. Zinc an arrangement was come to between us that I should take the business from him and pay him an annuity—I did so, becoming the proprietor of the business—I had no capital—this was about 1849 or 1850, and Mr. Brocard became my partner, putting 50,000 francs into the business. I bringing the goodwill and the goods, which had been valued at 50,000 francs—we soon commenced to quarrel—about this time I found that, for the second time, my wife had been unfaithful to me; those two circumstances and my losing; money at concerts induced me to leave Paris for Brussels—as against the goodwill of the business I drew out before I left 300l., and that is the alleged fraudulent bankruptcy—I left Brocard in possesion of the whole of the business, out of which he has since made a large fortune—he is there still—I began to pay my creditors in 1861 or 1862—as soon as I could—I have continued to pay those creditors up to the present time as far as I have been able—I have letters in my possession from my creditors thanking me for the honourable manner in which I acted—M. Zinc received, with the other creditors, 13 1/2 per cent, dividend—I continued to pay him the annuity I promised him down to the dissolution of my partnership with Brocard—M. Zinc was never put in prison for my debts—I have no proof that he died in a madhouse from my frauds—I was in Belgium about three or four months—I then determined to come to London, where I arrived in December, 1857, with 4l. in my pocket—I remember the trial of Edward Lawrence Levy at this Court on 2nd and 3rd May, 1879—I saw Mrs. Weldon at that trial in May, 1879—I was prosecuting Levy—he was practically Micklethwaite—he was sentenced to eighteen months—I saw Mrs. Weldon here, and told her I had a case on—she asked if she could assist me—I told her that Levy was going to drag up all my past in Paris, alluding to my misfortunes that I have mentioned—I then told her of my bankruptcy in Paris and my condemnation for not having surrendered to it—I lived with a woman named Madame Delbart from 1857 to 1869—we then parted—on her leaving I gave her 2,000l. in Rentes and everything in the house; also a policy for 300l. in the Hand-in-Hand Insurance Company in case I should die first—I continued to pay the annual premiums on that policy up to the time of her death—I also sent her 100 francs regularly every quarter up to the time of her death—in 1869 it was mutually agreed between us that on account of our tempers being unable to agree, we should part—the money I used to send her I sent to her direct, but she acknowledged it through "M. O'Neil"—it was eight years after her leaving me that I heard of her committing suicide—it is not true that when she heard I had taken up with one of the French Can-can dancers at the Philharmonic she committed suicide—my present wife was never a Can-can dancer at the Philharmonic; she was never on the stage in any capacity—it is not true that Delbart committed suicide on finding that I had taken up with a figurante at the Alhambra—I was married to Miss Fisher in 1870—at that time I had a friend named Adamthwaite, who had also married a Miss Fisher, a sister of my present wife—I being a foreigner, Adamthwaite arranged and gave the necessary information for filling up the documents for my marriage certificate; he gave evidence on my behalf on Mrs. Weldon's trial in 1880—he has since died—since I left Paris I have been there many times, two or three

weeks and a month at a time, always passing in my own name—I never went by any other name there or here—no steps were ever taken against me while in Paris as an absconding bankrupt or otherwise—I think my first visit there was about 1868—I visited all my creditors when I was in Paris, my present wife was there with me several times—my creditors saw her there with me—I never heard from my first wife since 1857—I heard of her down to 1862, but not from her—Adamthwaite knew that I had been married—I had a daughter by my first wife—she was educated in Paris up to the time I left, she then went to Russia with a Russian family, as an adopted child—after I came to London I used my best endeavours to induce her to come to me—Mrs. Weldon being a married lady and therefore unable herself to enter into a contract, it was made with Mr. Cooper as her nominee, and Messrs Dodd and Longstaff acted as my solicitors—this draft apology in Mr. Longstaff's writing was submitted to me by him for my approval; that was the document upon which I renewed negotiations with Mrs. Weldon. (Read: "I am happy to inform you that the differences between myself and Mons. Riviere are now quite settled, and I have arranged not only to sing the solos in the choruses, but other solos also at the Covent Garden concerts, and that Mons. Riviere has entered into a formal contract embodying all the terms I originally stipulated for; under these circumstances I have much pleasure unreservedly in withdrawing whatever imputations I cast on Mons. Riviere on Tuesday night last week at Store Street Hall, and regret that I used any language calculated to wound and annoy him.") I do not know in whose handwring this blue paper is; I think it is the same writing as the other—oh, no, it is not—I could not swear to that writing—I have not seen it till it was produced to-day. (The apology did not appear upon this.) This document containing the heads of the agreement is in Mr. Longstaff's writing—these are the heads upon which the agreement was subsequently based, and signed by Mrs. Weldon. (This was dated 3rd October, 1879, and stipulated that in consideration of the choir singing efficiently and properly throughout, the sum of 300l. should be deposited by M. Riviere in the London and Westminster Bank, 60l. to be paid on each of the four following Saturdays, and in breach of this agreement on the part of Mrs. Weldon, deductions from the said 300l. should be made so far as the same should suffice, any balance to be paid to Mrs. Weldon.) On the sixth night of the third week Mrs. Weldon in my opinion broke her agreement, and I paid her 120l. for the two first weeks, 60l. a week—I did not pay her the third week—Mr. Cooper, as Mrs. Weldon's nominee, brought an action against me to recover what was left of the 300l.—Mrs. Weldon was examined as a witness at that trial—there was a verdict in my favour to draw out the balance of the 300l. with 50l. damages for the breach of contract, and costs and judgment for Mr. Cooper on the issues that he had raised—this is the judgment—the case was tried before Baron Pollock and a special jury—Mr. Cooper conducted his own case—by virtue of that judgment I drew out the balanco of the 300l. from the bank—I never received a penny of the 50l. damages or my costs—the singing of Mrs. Weldon's choir at Covent Garden was very unsatisfactory, and the whole thing a failure—these three letters (produced) are in Mrs. Weldon's writing—I received them. (These were dated 15th, 18th, and 21st October, 1879 and expressed disgust and mortification at the want of attention and mistakes on the part of the choir.) I think those letters were produced at

the trial before Baron Pollock—there were mistakes in my marriage certificate, but not mine—I did not take any means to bowl Mr. Jacobi off his post as musical director at the Alhambra; I succeeded him, and he subsequently succeeded me.

Re-examined by the Prisoner. The total of my debts was 77,401 francs, nearly 60,000 was to my father-in-law—I brought nothing into the business—I undertook to pay M. Zinc 3,000 francs a year, which I paid him up to the time I left Paris in 1857, up to the time of the dissolution of my partnership with M. Brocard—since that I have paid nothing to M. Zinc except the 13 1/2 per cent., everybody has received that—I have certificates from them—I paid annually from 1862, gradually, as fast as I could—this is a certificate from M. Roget dated 10th January, 1879, for 4,600 francs; here is also a certificate from M. Gotier in January, 1879, and I have others—I received 400l. as a dot on my marriage; there was an act of marriage drawn up—I have not got it; it is at the notary's; it can be had—I was to start as a clerk the day after the marriage if I chose, but I did not—I was always in the musical business except when I became partner with Brocard; I then gave up my concerts—I was a chorister when a little boy and was educated at a seminary—I was taught the piano and organ by the organist of the church when I was seven or eight years of age—when 17 or 18 I studied at an academy under a professor at Paris—when I was about 21 I was drawn for the Conscription and served all my time, seven years' complete; I was bandmaster of the brass band in the 12th regiment of the Line—I was a very good musician before I went into the regiment—M. Brocard and I did not agree long—I did not quarrel with everybody—I did not leave Paris because of my fraudulent bankruptcy—I was not a bankrupt when I left Paris—I took money that belonged to me when I left, and I left an immense business to my partner, and he has made a large fortune in it—I advertised for those of my creditors in 1880 who I thought were left unpaid—I paid all that came, I can't say how much—I had enough to pay everybody—I was not horrified at being condemned as a fraudulent bankrupt—I knew it was the rule in France that any one absent would be condemned—I did not choose to go back, I preferred to get a good position and pay my creditors—my father-in-law was not sent to a madhouse, and never was in prison—I was only in Belgium three or four months—I gave concerts there—I paid everything, I don't owe a shilling in Belgium—I came to London at the end of 1857—I admit that I lost money by gambling in Belgium—I met you here in the Levy case—I don't remember when it was—I never said anything to my present wife about my bankruptcy—I prosecuted Levy, but my case was not tried and I was not a witness—I did not tell you that Madame Delbard had committed suicide on account of my having taken up with my present wife; how could I? it was eight years after—my wife was never a dancer—she lived with her mother, a dressmaker, a costumier for the theatres—her sister Clara was not a barmaid at the Alhambra—I left Adamthwaite to carry out all the arrangements for my marriage, because 15 years ago I was not able to speak or understand English business as well as I do now—he offered to help me and I accepted his offer—I never told him I was a bachelor, I told the family that I was a widower, I don't know that I told him—it was the family that asked him to act for me, to oblige me—everything that is

incorrect in the certificate was his fault, not mine—I never reported myself to the police when I was in Paris—I had not heard from my first wife since 1857—she has not written to me since then—I had not heard of her since 1862—I tried very hard to find if she was still alive—I had no reason to believe that she was alive in 1864—I put in my certificate of naturalisation that I was married and had a child—that was on 1st April, 1864—I married on 4th April, 1870—my daughter was about 10 years of age when I left her—I have tried to find her—I did not receive a letter from her in the summer of 1873, or in February, 1874—she did not write and say, "I am your little Gabrielle that you left in Paris some years ago"—I communicated with her in Russia—she was with a Russian family—I don't remember the name—I have no objection to see my daughter—I thought it was her place to come to me—I wrote to her in 1858, and said I would send my father to fetch her, at my expense—she was willing to come, but when her mother heard of my trying to get her she opposed all my arrangements, and I never could succeed—it was her mother who gave her to the Russian family, not me, I never knew it till she was in Russia—I have not said that you gave me a copy of the draft apology—the paper compiled by Mr. Longstaff was read by you before your choir—I do not remember your writing a blue piece of paper which you copied—you did not read me the paper beginning, "I am happy to inform you that all previous (inferences between myself and Mr. Riviere are now happily settled"—you did not hand it to me after reading it, I was not there—I do not remember coming to Tavistock House on the evening of 3rd October, 1879—the draft is here—I do not know where the original is—I have not torn it up or lost it—I don't remember reading it—you broke your agreement by creating a disturbance in the house, having your medium paper distributed to all the visitors, and yourself behaving badly in the box on the Balaclava night—the cheque was not given on that Saturday—I cannot say why, that was my book-keeper's business, not mine—if Mr. Cooper has not received the cheque I cannot tell you why—I don't know that Mr. Cooper was an infant and had no right to sign the agreement, and that on that ground you could have got out of the agreement if you liked—I received from you these letters of 21st and 22nd October, 1879—I don't know that it was my paid leader who put out the choir by a high note; one person cannot disturb a hundred—I was compelled to put a stop to the performance—it was the fault of your choir altogether—it was the simplest thing, "Come back to Erin," and they could not sing it.

WILLIAM SPENCER FRANCE . I am at present in England on my affairs—my property is in Chancery—I have lived in Russia about 27 years—I am an Fnglishman—I knew Gabriel Riviere since 1869 till 1874—in 1873 I remember seeing an advertisement of Riviere's concerts, in the English newspapers—at that time I was living at Theodosia in the Crimea—I saw her write to M. Riviere—I posted the letter to him and got no answer—I wrote to him again—I never received any answer from him—I have never seen Madame Riviere, but I have seen letters from her up to 1872. (The prisoner proceeded to put questions to the witness as to what he had heard from other parties, which were objected to and held to be not admissible.)

WILLIAM HOLMES . I am an accountant and law stationer—I have

the trial before Baron Pollock—there were mistakes in my marriage certificate, but not mine—I did not take any means to bowl Mr. Jacobi off his post as musical director at the Alhambra; I succeeded him, and he subsequently succeeded me.

Re-examined by the Prisoner. The total of my debts was 77,401 francs, nearly 60,000 was to my father-in-law—I brought nothing into the business—I undertook to pay M. Zinc 3,000 francs a year, which I paid him up to the time I left Paris in 1857, up to the time of the dissolution of my partnership with M. Brocard—since that I have paid nothing to M. Zinc except the 13 1/2 per cent., everybody has received that—I have certificates from them—I paid annually from 1862, gradually, as fast as I could—this is a certificate from M. Roget dated 10th January, 1879, for 4,600 francs; here is also a certificate from M. Gotier in January, 1879, and I have others—I received 400l. as a dot on my marriage; there was an act of marriage drawn up—I have not got it; it is at the notary's; it can be had—I was to start as a clerk the day after the marriage if I chose, but I did not—I was always in the musical business except when I became partner with Brocard; I then gave up my concerts—I was a chorister when a little boy and was educated at a seminary—I was taught the piano and organ by the organist of the church when I was seven or eight years of age—when 17 or 18 I studied at an academy under a professor at Paris—when I was about 21 I was drawn for the Conscription and served all my time, seven years' complete; I was bandmaster of the brass band in the 12th regiment of the Line—I was a very good musician before I went into the regiment—M. Brocard and I did not agree long—I did not quarrel with everybody—I did not leave Paris because of my fraudulent bankruptcy—I was not a bankrupt when I left Paris—I took money that belonged to me when I left, and I left an immense business to my partner, and he has made a large fortune in it—I advertised for those of my creditors in 1880 who I thought were left unpaid—I paid all that came, I can't say how much—I had enough to pay everybody—I was not horrified at being condemned as a fraudulent bankrupt—I knew it was the rule in France that any one absent would be condemned—I did not choose to go back, I preferred to get a good position and pay my creditors—my father-in-law was not sent to a madhouse, and never was in prison—I was only in Belgium three or four months—I gave concerts there—I paid everything, I don't owe a shilling in Belgium—I came to London at the end of 1857—I admit that I lost money by gambling in Belgium—I met you here in the Levy case—I don't remember when it was—I never said anything to my present wife about my bankruptcy—I prosecuted Levy, but my case was not tried and I was not a witness—I did not tell you that Madame Delbard had committed suicide on account of my having taken up with my present wife; how could I? it was eight years after—my wife was never a dancer—she lived with her mother, a dressmaker, a costumier for the theatres—her sister Clara was not a barmaid at the Alhambra—I left Adamthwaite to carry out all the arrangements for my marriage, because 15 years ago I was not able to speak or understand English business as well as I do now—he offered to help me and I accepted his offer—I never told him I was a bachelor, I told the family that I was a widower, I don't know that I told him—it was the family that asked him to act for me, to oblige me—everything that is

incorrect in the certificate was his fault, not mine—I never reported myself to the police when I was in Paris—I had not heard from my first wife since 1857—she has not written to me since then—I had not heard of her since 1862—I tried very hard to find if she was still alive—I had no reason to believe that she was alive in 1864—I put in my certificate of naturalisation that I was married and had a child—that was on 1st April, 1864—I married on 4th April, 1870—my daughter was about 10 years of age when I left her—I have tried to find her—I did not receive a letter from her in the summer of 1873, or in February, 1874—she did not write and say, "I am your little Gabrielle that you left in Paris some years ago"—I communicated with her in Russia—she was with a Russian family—I don't remember the name—I have no objection to see my daughter—I thought it was her place to come to me—I wrote to her in 1858, and said I would send my father to fetch her, at my expense—she was willing to come, but when her mother heard of my trying to get her she opposed all my arrangements, and I never could succeed—it was her mother who gave her to the Russian family, not me, I never knew it till she was in Russia—I have not said that you gave met a copy of the draft apology—the paper compiled by Mr. Longstaff was read by you before your choir—I do not remember your writing a blue piece of paper which you copied—you did not read me the paper beginning, "I am happy to inform you that all previous differences between myself and Mr. Riviere are now happily settled"—you did not hand it to me after reading it, I was not there—I do not remember coming to Tavistock House on the evening of 3rd October, 1879—the draft is here—I do not know where the original is—I have not torn it up or lost it—I don't remember reading it—you broke your agreement by creating a disturbance in the house, having your medium paper distributed to all the visitors, and yourself behaving badly in the box on the Balaclava night—the cheque was not given on that Saturday—I cannot say why, that was my book-keeper's business, not mine—if Mr. Cooper has not received the cheque I cannot tell you why—I don't know that Mr. Cooper was an infant and had no right to sign the agreement, and that on that ground you could have got out of the agreement if you liked—I received from you these letters of 21st and 22nd October, 1879—I don't know that it was my paid leader who put out the choir by a high note; one person cannot disturb a hundred—I was compelled to put a stop to the performance—it was the fault of your choir altogether—it was the simplest thing, "Come back to Erin," and they could not sing it.

WILLIAM SPENCER FRANCE . I am at present in England on my affairs—my property is in Chancery—I have lived in Russia about 27 years—I am an Fnglishman—I knew Gabriel Riviere since 1869 till 1874—in 1873 I remember seeing an advertisement of Riviere's concerts in the English newspapers—at that time I was living at Theodosia in the Crimea—I saw her write to M. Riviere—I posted the letter to him and got no answer—I wrote to him again—I never received any answer from him—I have never seen Madame Riviere, but I have seen letters from her up to 1872. (The prisoner proceeded to put questions to the witness as to what he had heard from other parties, which were objected to and held to be not admissible.)

WILLIAM HOLMES . I am an accountant and law stationer—I have

been in your employ since January twelvemonth—I have written an address in Social Salvation every month, and have addressed it regularly to M. Riviere up to the end of last year—I was in Court and heard Lynch's evidence—on the evening of 17th December last, about 7 o'clock, he came in and asked for a March number of Social Salvation—I told him it was after office hours and he could not have one—he said, "Where is the old cow?" and just then Harcourt was coming in at the door, and he said, "Who is he calling an old cow?"—Lynch struck Harcourt and dared him out to fight—Harcourt's glasses came off—he came into the office and laid his hat and stick down—I went and told Mrs. Weldon they were going to fight, in fact they were fighting—Mrs. Weldon told me to go for a policeman—I went but could not find one, and when I returned they were still fighting—Mrs. Weldon sent me back, and I found a policeman at the foot of the lane, and he came with me—that is all I know—I never sold the man any newspaper on any occasion.

Cross-examined. This (produced) is a copy of Social Salvation—it states that it is published by Georgina Weldon at 9, Red Lion Court—the first number was in May, 1883—the offices where these are sold are the offices of Mrs. Weldon—there are two rooms, mine is one of them, Mrs. Weldon's is in the same room—I was in her office on 17th December—the fourteenth number was in June, 1884—I was provided by Mrs. Weldon with M. Riviere's address, and ordered by her to send the numbers to him as they came out—from January, 1884, I was an amanuensis to Mrs. Weldon, and was paid accordingly—these publications were all sold at the office. any one who came in was supplied with a number—I have sold many of the No. 14—I do not know how many were printed; I did not see them when they came in—they came in perhaps in hundreds, I used to receive 200 at a time—I handed the money over to Mrs. Weldon—it was her publishing office.

ANGEL MENIER . On 17th December, 1884, I was at Mrs. Weldon's office lying down on the sofa, when a man knocked at the door and asked for Social Salvation—this was between half-past 6 and 7 o'clock—Holmes told the man that the office was over—the man said, "I want to see the old cow"—Harcourt came in the back office where I was, put down his hat and stick and spectacles, and said "I will go and fight with him"—I heard Lynch give his evidence, there is not a word of truth in it—he never came in the room where I was—Holmes never sold him a copy.

Cross-examined. I am not there every day, I am when Mrs. Weldon wants me—on this day she had a trial before the Master of the Rolls, Weldon v. Bathe—I never took any threepence for Social Salvation—I never saw any delivery out; there are plenty in the office—I have not seen one of them sold, it is a very bad business.

Re-examined. We have sold about 6s. worth since we began—you give it away out of principle.

HENRY HARCOURT . I am your clerk, messenger, and factotum, and have been with you about 18 months—I was in Court when Lynch gave his evidence—I saw him buy no copy of Social Salvation on 17th December I swear he had no copy in his hand when I saw him—when I came in the door that evening I heard him say, "Can't I see the old cow?"—I said, "Get out, you blackguard," and turned to the door to show him out, when he deliberately hit me and knocked my spectacles off—I am almost blind, I am in consumption—we fought—he said he came from Gatti's

—I did my best—he had no time to get change or secrete his paper—Mrs. Weldon sent for the police, I believe—I sold him no copy.

The COMMON SERJEANT was of opinion that the plea of justification had failed in establishing the charge of bigamy against M. Riviere, and having failed in that one particular, the other issues involved in the plea became immaterial; the only question therefore left for the consideration of the Jury was whether the publication in question was a libel.

GUILTY . Strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury.— Six Months' Imprisonment without hard labour, and to enter into her own recognisances in 100l., and to find two sureties in 50l. each, to be of good behaviour for two years, and to pay the costs of the prosecution.


Before Mr. Recorder.

434. JOHN SMITH ASHWORTH (25) , Stealing a mare, cart, and set of harness, the goods of Henry John Waites.

MR. CULPEPER Prosecuted.

HENRY JOHN WAITES . I am a florist, of The Shrubbery, Upton Park—on 15th November my pony and cart were outside the gate of my house about 1.45—I missed it—Roberts and Mathews brought it back at 4.45 p.m.

JOSEPH ROBERTS . I live a Raven Row, Whitechapel, and am a joiner—on 15th November, about 4 o'clock, I was in Tilbury Road, at the Prince of Wales, and saw a pony and cart standing outside, and on the pavement were the prisoner and another man, who said "Do you want to buy a pony and cart?"—I looked at it and said "How much do you want for it?" he said "2l. 5s."—I said "It is not worth 2l. 5s. to me, in fact I don't want it at all, where did you get it from?"—he said "I bought it at Stratford Market this morning; I gave 2l. 5s. for it and shall lose 10s. by it"—I said I would buy it—I paid 5s. deposit—the other man took it and said he would be back in a few minutes, and went away—the prisoner remained—then Mathews came up and said to the prisoner "Does this belong to you?"—he said "Yes, I will go and fetch my friend"—he went; Mathews followed him—I next saw the prisoner at West Ham Police-station last Friday and identified him without doubt.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. You stood in possession of the cart, you were not holding the pony—I never said that I wanted to get an easy 5s.

HENRY MATHEWS . I am a laundryman, of Plasken Road, Upton Park—on 15th November I heard of the loss of this pony and cart, which I I have known for years—I saw them that day outside the Prince of Wales in charge of the prisoner, no one else—I was in my cart—I got out and asked the prisoner whose pony and cart this was and who was in charge of it—he said "I am"—I waited about five minutes and sent for two constables on the point—they did not arrive before the prisoner escaped—he said "The other man has gone down the street, I will go after him, I know where he lives"—I said I should like to see him, as I knew the pony had been stolen—he said there was another man connected with it—he went about 20 yards, and I followed him and asked

him to come back and wait till the other man came—he refused—I took him by the collar—he said "You had better let me go"—he got away; I followed him to a house and jumped over the fence into the garden—he turned from a turning and went into a house—I went there, but the people denied his being there, and I could not go in and so lost him—I next saw him on 17th March and identified him among six others at the station.

Cross-examined. I stopped to speak to a doctor when I had hold of your collar; you would not have got away from me unless I had—I spoke to him for two or three minutes, and then followed you again—I met a little girl and asked her where you had gone—I had never seen you before.

WILLIAM CROWE (Policeman K 317). I was present when Mathews picked out the prisoner from among six others on 17th March—he said "That is the man, I can swear, that was with the pony and cart," and he caught hold of his coat—the prisoner made no reply when charged—going back to the cells he said "Why did not you tell me this last night?"—Roberts identified him on the morning of 20th March from among six others.

The prisoner in his defence stated that two men had driven up, and asked him to hold the pony; that he did so until Mathews sent for a policeman, when he thought something was wrong, and that he might get into trouble, and so went away; and that he lived 200 yards from the public-house, and had been there every night since the occurrence.


440. JOHN SMITH ASHWORTH was again indicted for stealing eleven pounds of mutton, the goods of John Nichol.

MR. CULPEPER Prosecuted.

WILLIAM CROWE (Policeman K 317). On 16th March, about 9.30, I was in the Barking Road, and saw the prisoner coming out of No. 150, a coffee-house, with something under the left side of his coat—I followed him about 30 yards; he turned round, saw me, took a leg of mutton from under his arm, and put it on the ground—I caught hold of him, and said "What is that?"—he said "Oh, it is nothing to do with me"—Westerman was with me—I picked up the mutton, and told the prisoner he would have to go the station—he said "Oh, I will go, I am not afraid."

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. I saw you come out of No. 150—the inspector did not tell me to go to Mr. Rooke's and see if he had lost a leg of mutton.

FREDERICK WESTERMAN (Policeman K 338). I was with Crowe on 16th March at 9.30; I heard him give his evidence; it is correct.

Cross-examined. I saw you come out of No. 150—the inspector did not tell Crowe to go to Rooke's and see if they had lost a leg of mutton.

JAMES NICHOLS . I am an eating-house keeper, of 150, Barking Road—on 16th March I missed a leg of mutton from my window, which I saw at the police-station afterwards—the weight and all corresponded with the bill I had.

ELIZABETH PERRY . I live at Agate Street, Canning Town, and am assistant to Mr. Nichols—on 16th March, between 9 and 9.30, I served the prisoner with a pint of tea, two slices, and fourpennyworth of beef.

The prisoner in his defence stated that he went into the coffee-shop and then

got his hair cut, and that afterwards, when 200 yards from the shop, the constable came and charged him.

GUILTY .— Six Months' Hard Labour.

441. ROBERT FORSTER (45) and SARAH KING (25) , Breaking and entering the dwelling-house of William Gill, and stealing a watch and chain and other articles, his property.

MR. WARBURTON Prosecuted.

WILLIAM GILL . I live at Vine Cottage, Wood Street, Walthamstow—on Wednesday, 18th February, I left home about 8.30 a.m., leaving everything fast and the street door locked—I took the keys with me—I returned at 8.30 and found the street door burst open and marks on it as if it had been opened by a crowbar—I saw the police try a jemmy with the marks, and it corresponded—on entering the house I found it had been thoroughly ransacked, drawers taken but, add everything strewn about—I missed three gold pins, a lady's watch and chain, a diamond pin, which has been got back, a small emerald brooch, a gold brooch, two pairs of trousers, a brass model cannon on wheels, two pistols, and 'coats, trousers, and underlinen, value roughly 18l. or 20l.—on the next Saturday I saw the cannon, trousers, and handkerchiefs at the station, and identified them.

ROBERT DAY (Detective Officer). I am stationed at Lea Bridge—about 8.30 on Friday night, the 20th, I went to Alfred Bashan's, 53, Devonshire Street, Bethnal Green, and in a room at the top of the house I saw the two prisoners—I said to Forster "I am a police-officer, and am going to take you into custody on suspicion of breaking into a house at Waltham-stow"—he pulled off his coat and vest and threw them down on the floor—the poker was in the fire red hot—he pulled it out and held it up in a threatening attitude, and said "God blind me, if you touch me I will smash your head in pieces"—I went towards him; he aimed a blow at me with the poker; I jumped on one side and it missed me—he then turned the poker round to hit me with the big end, but burnt his hand and dropped it—I closed with him—he had only his shirt on—we struggled—his shirt was torn to pieces—I got hold of him round the waist; he unbuttoned his trousers' so that I should not hold him by anything—he tried his utmost to get away—I cross-butted him, and threw him, his feet struck and knocked over a table on which were a lamp I had taken up and one which had been in the room before, and the paraffin from them set the room on fire—he still struggled, violently—I got him to the staircase; Bashan was outside, and together we pulled him down-stairs by his boots—when we got below asked him to be quiet—he resisted and tried to get away—I got him in a corner and knocked him about the head and body with my fist till he said he would go and he quiet—I asked Bashan to fetch a constable from the street, and stood by till the constable came and then went up with the constable to search the room—when the lamps were knocked over King and a little girl were in the room—they ran downslairs then, and he called out to her "Annie, bring the b—gun up and shoot the b—"—I believe she left the house—I did not see her again—on searching the room with the other constable, in a basin on the shelf I found this small gold brooch which Mr. Gill identified—this purse and pawnticket relating to a pair of trousers pledged—I found on the mantelpiece in a small box—they have been identified—under the bed I found this carpenter's

basket containing this jemmy and an ordinary knife—I searched the prisoner at the station, and found on him this skeleton key—I left him in custody, and went back and found in the prisoner's room 32 keys, with these skeleton keys among them, this cannon, which the prosecutor has identified, in a coal-cupboard by the fire covered with about half a hundredweight of coals—I tried the jemmy in the marks on the door the same night and next morning; it corresponded with the marks—after the struggle, and when I was searching, King knocked at the door—I answered it—she asked for her husband—I took her in custody, and the two were taken to Walthamstow—I don't know if she is his wife or not—she has been living with him for seven or eight years, and has had three children by him I am told.

Cross-examined by Forster. I pushed the door of your room and it opened—I did not see a button on it—I did not mutter the charge over, and then take hold of your arm before you had time to consider what I wanted; you had your coat off and the poker out of the fire before I had hold of you—I had no other officer on the stairs—a man stood there to prevent your slipping down—you struck at me with the hot end of the poker, and afterwards caught hold of the hot end; you had a scar at the police-court—you told me when we were pulling you downstairs by your boots that you had injured your spine some time back; I should have been glad for you to walk downstairs; you would not.

Cross-examined by King. You were in the room when I first entered it, and after the lamps were turned over you ran out squalling.

Re-examined. The woman gave the name of King when given in charge, and the man that of Forster.

JOHN LOWE . I am assistant to J. and J. Page, pawnbrokers, of 431, Cambridge Road—on 19th February these trousers were pawned by King to the best of my belief, I could not swear to her, in the name of Ann Bunyan, 20, West Street—this is the ticket I gave.

Cross-examined by King. I had never seen you before that I knew of till I saw you at Stratford Police-court—I cannot swear you are the woman.

JAMES PLEDGER . I am the wife of William Pledger, a grocer, of Wood Street, Walthamstow—on 18th February, between 2 and 3 p.m., I was standing in my garden, and saw a man about the prisoner's height with a sort of tradesman's basket like this on his shoulder (I was not near enough to identify him) enter Mr. Gill's and open the door—he seemed to be in conversation with some one; I saw no one else—he went in and shut the door—a woman, not King, was walking to and fro in the road, dressed in a black velvet or plush cloak, and a black bonnet.

Cross-examined by Forster. I cannot say that you are the man I saw enter the house, or that you are not.

ANN GALLOWAY . I am the wife of George Galloway, a labourer, of Sweet Apple Square, Shoreditch—about four weeks ago we occupied one of the bedrooms at Mile End, the prisoners occupied the other; they had been there about eight months—King lived with Forster as his wife in the same room—I never noticed her wardrobe, and never saw her with a black velvet jacket.

Cross-examined by Forster. You have lived with us altogether about two years; when I kept a shop you lived there, and worked for my husband who kept a marine store—you moved the furniture, and cleared

out the shop when we left—these keys were brought to the shop, and left there; I don't know who by—as far as I knew you were both honest and comfortable people—you used to go out to work, and your wife was a hard-working young woman, and always honest—the shop was at Greenwich—the keys were left some months before.

SAMUEL KING (Policeman). I am stationed at my door in Devonshire Street, on 19th February I was standing at my door in Devonshire Street, Mile End, and from information I went to 53, Devonshire Street, where I saw Forster being held by a detective—he was very violent—I assisted in taking him in custody—I afterwards went up and searched, and found these trousers and scarf and pin, and other things, which have been identified as the prosecutor's—I assisted in taking both prisoners to the station.

KING— NOT GUILTY . FORSTER.— GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.

The Grand Jury had commended Day's conduct, and the COURT concurred in this, and ordered him a reward of 3l.

442. SELINA READ AINSWORTH (51) , Unlawfully and maliciously wounding William Ainsworth.

MR. CULPEPER Prosecuted.

WILLIAM AINSWORTH . I am a carman, living at 5, Chatsworth Road, Stratford; I am the prisoner's husband—on 24th February, about the middle of the day, I came home to dinner; my wife was in the room and my son, dinner was not ready—I said something to my wife, I don't know what; I know I called her what I ought not—I accused her of having been with another man—I was sitting down getting my lunch; my wife got a knife either peeling or going to peel some potatoes for dinner; she got hold of me round the neck and pulled me out of the chair—I fell down and she fell on the top of me; there was a broken jug there—I had a knife in my hand and she had one in hers—I did not feel the blow—as I fell, I don't know whether it was the jug or my knife or what—I remained on the floor for a minute; there was a struggle—I found myself bleeding behind my ear—I told my son to get a doctor—he went, the doctor arrived about half an hour after; he dressed my wound and bound it up—I don't know whether he sent for the police or not—I went to the police-station—I would not charge my wife, I refused—the police put me in a cab and took me to the London Hospital—they persuaded the doctors to keep me there—I told the police I did not want to be kept there.

ROBERT AINSWORTH . I am the prisoner's son—on Tuesday, 24th Feb., I was at home with my mother; my father came home, he was sober, he asked for his dinner; it was not ready, mother was peeling the potatoes for dinner—he took his bread and meat out of his pocket and sat down eating that—he called her a whore—his account of it is correct—they fell to the ground.

PETER BUCHAN . I am a M.D.—on 24th February I was called to the prosecutor's house—I found him lying on the floor supported by a friend, bleeding profusely from behind the left ear—I examined the wound; it was a puncutured wound, detaching the ear from the head, just in the fold, between the ear and the head—the direction of the wound was downwards and forwards from behind; it was near important bloodvesels;

it was a severe wound; he was bleeding most profusely—I dressed it—while dressing it the prisoner kept coming backwards and forwards and talking, and I asked her to hold her tongue or go out—she said "I did it, I am am not sorry for it, and I will do it again"—she said "I will not be called a whore by a brute like him; he is a brute; I will not be called a whore by any man"—I have only seen him at the police-court since—I did not attend to him, he was ordered to the hospital—he has gone on well—I saw his ear on Saturday in Court, it is quite healed up.

GEORGE PERRY (Policeman K 321). On 24th February I went to the prisoner's house—I saw the prosecutor being supported on the ground by two men, bleeding very much from behind the left ear—I asked him how it was done, and he nodded to his wife; the prisoner then came and picked this knife up and said "I did it with this, and would do it again, for he is a brute"—I told her I should take her in custody and charge her with stabbing her husband; she then said "I won't be called a whore by any man"—there was blood on the knife, but not much.

JAMES BUCKINGHAM (Police Inspector K). On 24th February, about a quarter past three, I was in charge of the station at West Ham—the prisoner and her husband were brought in—the prisoner was placed in the dock—the husband was in a very weak state—I asked him if he would charge his wife—he said no, he would not—finding he was suffering from loss of blood I sent him to the hospital, and detained the prisoner—on the constable's return he said, in the prisoner's presence, that the doctor at the hospital said the wound was a very dangerous one, and wished him to remain an inmate as the wound was considered very dangerous, but he refused to do so—the prisoner was placed in the dock and charged by the police with unlawfully wounding—she said, "I did do it, and I did it with that," pointing to this knife, which was on my desk.

Prisoner's Defence. These three years my husband has been violent to me, and said he would make me do something to get me locked up—he was locked up once for assaulting me—his language was so disgusting and his behaviour so bad I could not rest—I have cried and shut myself up for hours together to get away from him—I have a daughter near her confinement, and I do not know what will happen to her if I am kept in prison.

GUILTY .—Strongly recommended to mercy by the Jury.— Discharged on the recognisance of her husband, to keep the peace for twelve months.


Before Mr. Recorder.

443. JAMES WILLIAM MORRISSEY (18) , Stealing an order for the payment of 9l. and three pieces of paper of Michael Lynch. Second Count for receiving the same.

MR. BROUN Prosecuted; MR. GEOGHEGAN Defended.

MICHAEL LYNCH . I am a driver in the Royal Artillery—in January of this year I was at Bareilly, in India—on a certain day in January I went to the post-office of that station along with another gunner and posted some Indian money equivalent to 9l. in English, to be payable to me at the General Post-office, Woolwich—a gunner was the sender of it, and I

was to receive it in Woolwich—it was duly put into an envelope by me, and I saw it given to the postmaster—the gunner who was along with me received a receipt for the money—he is in India—the advice which was to be sent to Woolwich for me was filled in by the gunner, and was left in the postmaster's hands—when I came to England I applied for the money at the Post-office at Woolwich, about the 24th or, 25th February—I didn't get it—the first time I saw this document it was in the hands of Sergeant Gillman—I did not authorise anybody to sign it—the name of Michael Lynch, which is on it, is not my writing.

Cross-examined. The document was never in my own possession.

JOHN BYRNES . I am a bombardier in the Royal Artillery—on 4th February I received a letter for Lynch—I used my best endeavours to find out if there was such a man in the Artillery, and not being able to do so I gave it to the prisoner, who was the head of the military letter department—if he could not find the man he should have returned it to me to give back to the post sergeant—I never saw the letter again till lately.

Cross-examined. I am postal orderly—if the driver to whom the letter was addressed could not be found, it was my duty to give it to the prisoner, and he would endorse it before giving it back to me—it would be his duty to return it to me if the gunner was coming home shortly—I am not under military arrest at present—I was, for matters connected with the post-office—I have been discharged from that arrest.

THOMAS MONAGHAN . I am a labourer in the Royal Arsenal; Woolwich—I found this purse (produced) at the bottom of Love Lane on my road to work—there was no money in it—as I was shutting the purse I noticed two papers—I put the purse in my pocket, and kept it till about 8 o'clock when I opened it—there was an envelope, which I opened, and I saw the money-order there and the name "Michael Lynch" written upon it—the envelope had on it "Driver Michael Lynch," and the words in pencil "Not known in camp"—I told my foreman I had found the purse, and I took it to the post-office and then to the police.

Cross-examined. It was on 11th March that I found it, about eight minutes to 6 in the morning.

THOMAS FRANCIS COOPER . I produce a book kept by the prisoner in the orderly room, Woolwich—I have seen him make entries in it—I couldn't swear to the name Michael Lynch on this document being the same as that in the book.

Cross-examined. I was present when Detective Lovejoy spoke to the prisoner, and he said he had lost the purse, and the letter was in it.

THOMAS CHARLES LOVEJOY . I am a detective constable attached to the Woolwich division employed in the garrison—I received a communication from Sergeant Gillman in respect of a postal letter, and on 12th I went to London and saw the prisoner in the orderly room—I said "Is this your purse?"—he said "Yes"—I said "There is also a letter in it addressed to Michael Lynch"—he said "Yes, I am aware of it; I put it in there for safety."

Cross-examined. He also said he had lost the purse—there is no postal order office inside the Arsenal, you have to go outside to change it—the order came to the regimental office on 4th February, and came into the hands of the police on 11th March.

EDWARD DICKSON . I am Lieutenant and Adjutant of Royal Artillery—I

know the prisoner's handwriting—I have seen it frequently in this book—he is one of the assistants in the orderly room—at the time of this occurrence he would have to meet a sub-postal orderly in the morning who receives the letters for the military post-office—the prisoner ought to have handed this letter back to Byrnes, the sub-postal orderly of the district.

Cross-examined. When money is paid in by a soldier in India the money itself is not sent to England, but a letter of advice is sent to the General Post-office, and a letter would be sent to the camp where the recipient would be—the postal order itself, I should imagine, was never in Lynch's possession—the prisoner entered the regiment as a boy four years ago—for the last two years he has been under my immediate supervision and his character has been most excellent as a soldier—he has not been brought before the commanding officer for any serious matter—I look upon him as a very promising young man—he is not subject to military punishment or reprimand for not having delivered the letter.

Re-examined. Occasionally a ship may be notified as arriving within a day or two—letters would then be detained in the orderly room—that would not apply to a letter addressed "Not known in camp."

MR. GEOGHEGAN submitted that in this case there was no larceny, there being no evidence that the document in question was ever in the prosecutor's possession THE RECORDER was of opinion that he must allow the objection, the letter having come into the prisoner's possession in the course of his duty, he not having made any dishonest use of it.


There was another indictment against the prisoner for forging the order, upon which no evidence was offered.


444. JOHN THOMAS MARCHANT (21) PLEADED GUILTY to stealing a watch and 20s. of Charles Hock, and to a previous conviction at Dorchester in January, 1883.— Twelve Months' Hard Labour. And

445. CHARLES JOSEPHS (61) to unlawfully obtaining goods by false pretences.— Six Months' Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

446. JOHN JACKSON (56), WILLIAM WIGGINS (48), and THOMAS DE GROAT (38) , Burgularisly breaking and entering the dwelling-house of Thomas Wilkes Plaisted, and stealing a coat and other articles.

WIGGINS PLEADED GUILTY .— Eighteen Months' Hard Labour.

The Jury, being unable to agree as to the case of the other prisoners, were discharged without returning any verdict.

447. THOMAS HOWARD (27) , Feloniously wounding Alexander Mutter, with intent to do him grievous bodily harm.

MR. TICKELL Prosecuted.

ALEXANDER MUTTER . I am a foreman in the employ of the London Tramways Company, and have charge of the Deptford Yard—the prisoner was a horse-keeper under me—February 26th was his night to see all the horses in; that duty is taken in turns by the men—he had to remain at the yard till 1 a.m.; he left, I believe, at 10 o'clock, and did not return next day—he came on Saturday morning, the 9th, and asked me for his line; that is a note showing the amount due to him—I made it out, giving

him a day and three-quarters instead of the two days which he would have been entitled to had he finished his day's work—I closed it and gave it to him to take to the paymaster, and he left me on good terms—about 11 o'clock I was in the yard attending to a sick horse, and the prisoner came up and said, "What do you mean by this?"—I said that I meant to pay him for what work he had done, and stooped down to examine the horse—the prisoner said, "Ten hours is a day"—I said, "It may be a day where you come from, but not where I come from"—I stooped down again and felt a severe blow on my side towards my back—I got up and saw him with a knife in his hand; I cannot say if it was open, but he was jumping about brandishing the knife in his hand—he threw his hat on the ground and said that he was an Irishman and would show he was one—I found blood running down my leg—I have never had a quarrel with the prisoner; he appeared to have been drinking—I had very thick clothes on—I was in the hospital a week—these long hours only occur once in 18 days, and next day the man has a half-day—there are a good many hours off, and they get regular meal hours every day.

GEORGE SCOTT . I am a horse-keeper at Deptford Yard—on February 28th I saw Mutter stooping down attending to a horse, and the prisoner came across with a note in his hand, and said, "What do you mean by this?"—Mutter said something, took the note from him, and put it in his pocket—something passed which I could not hear, and the prisoner said, "I am an Irishman, and I will show you I am one," and took out a clasp-knife and struck a blow, and put the knife back in his pocket—I could not see whether it was open or shut—he then threw his hat on the ground, and half pulled off his coat to light Mutter.

ALEXANDER HECTOR CAMERON . I saw what took place, and corroborate Scott's account.

JAMES B. SAUNDERS . I am surgeon to the Military Hospital, Green-wich—Mutter was brought there about 11.30 a.m. with an incised wound an inch deep on the left side of his back—he had on a thick coat and a waistcoat, shirt, flannel waistcoat, and another under flannel, and drawers, and the knife had gone through all the lot—this knife (produced) would do it—the wound was in the region of the left kidney, and might have been dangerous, but it was not—he was faint from loss of blood, and was an in-patient about a week—a great deal of force must have been used.

DAVID DUNBAR (Policeman R 432). I took the prisoner on a charge of wounding—he said, "I did not do it, they will have to prove it"—I saw him searched at the station, and this knife with blood on it found on him.

Prisoner's Defence. I plead guilty to the first part of the indictment. I am sorry to say I was drunk.

GUILTY .— Nine Months' Hard Labour.

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

448. WILLIAM BARTON (34) PLEADED GUILTY ** to feloniously having counterfeit coin in his possession with intent to utter it, after a conviction in the name of William Hart in July, 1883.— Two Years' Hard Labour.


Before Mr. Recorder.

449. CHARLES MAITLAND (23) , Unlawfully obtaining by false pretences from Mary Ann Warner a musical box, with intent to defraud. Other Counts for obtaining money and goods from other persons by false pretences.



MARTIN COX . I live at 130, Camden Grove, North Peckham, and am a brass-finisher—I received several letters addressed to Mr. W. Cox, and by an agreement I handed them to Mr. Warner—to the best of my knowledge I saw the prisoner come to my house one afternoon; I cannot say exactly the time, it was about the end of the month—I did not notice the date; I should think it was about six weeks ago—he brought me a letter and handed it to me, and asked me to let him see the musical box—I said I had not got it, and gave him Mr. Warner's address, and gave him the letter back—I can't swear positively to the prisoner, but he is as near as he could be like the man that called on me—I went to identify the man at the police-station about a fortnight after—I was taken into a room with a lot more men, about twelve I should think, and I picked the prisoner out as being as near as I thought was the man that called on me.

Cross-examined. I gave him the address upon a slip of paper which Mr. Warner had written himself, and told him it was Mr. Warner's address—I should not think I was in his company more than about two minutes—a policeman took me to the police-court at Kennington Lane—he told me he wanted me to identify a man—when I picked him out from about a dozen others I said "That is as much like the man as any of them"—I meant he as much resembled the man that called on me as any I had seen—I noticed the man had on a short-cut coat with round corners—I cannot tell you the colour.

ROBERT ROLAND WARNER . On the 21st January I resided at 41, Selborne Road, Denmark Hill—about that date I put an advertisement in the Bazaar, Exchange and Mart, stating that I had a musical box to dispose of—I arranged with Mr. Cox that the letters were to be addressed to his house—I received this cheque (produced) from my wife, which I sent to a Mr. Keogh, and he returned it to me with "No account" written on it.

Cross-examined. I received that cheque in the evening from my wife, and when the cheque came back I received from her a description of the man who had been—some time after I wrote a letter to the Exchange and Mart, which I signed "W. Cox," and which was published—in that letter I gave a description of the man—my wife described him as between 27 and 30 years of age, and about 5 feet 7 or 8 inches in height, and had the appearance of a porter in a West End draper's establishment—this (produced) is the letter I wrote to the paper.

FANNY ANN CORK . I am the wife of Walter Cork, 41, Westbourne Road—on Friday, 23rd January, between three and four o'clock, somebody called at my house—I took a note from him directed to Mr. W. Cox—I said, "He does not live here"—he said, "Yes, he does"—he

said he had come for a musical box—to the best of my belief the prisoner is the person—he waited while I took the note in to Mrs. Warner—I went upstairs—I did not see any more of him—I went to the police-station, I think it was February 7th, and identified the prisoner—when the person called I was close to him, on the doorstep—the conversation lasted for about a minute.

Cross-examined. I had never seen the man before—I did not know anything about the matter at all—I was not expecting anybody about the musical box—I did not know it was advertised—I was first called as a witness on the second hearing on 20th February—I had been to the police-court on the first hearing on the 7th—Mrs. Warner was there; she gave evidence, and also Mr. Cox, in my presence—I was not called till the 20th—on the 7th, after I had heard Mrs. Warner and Cox give evidence, I and Mrs. Warner went back to Westbourne Road—I talked the matter over with her—the man who called on this day was young-looking in the face—he looked like a respectable sort of porter—I did not notice his clothing at all—I looked at his face—I could not tell you whether he had a long or short coat on—he had a round hard felt hat on—I did not notice anything round his neck.

Re-examined. There were two or three persons at the police-station passing through, and as the prisoner went through I recognised him—I did not tell the police that I rocognised him, because I did not wish to be brought into the case—I was leaving London.

MARY ANN WARNER . I am the wife of Robert Roland Warner—I recollect his advertising a musical box for sale—I recollect a man calling with regard to it—before that my husband had received this letter from Mr. Cox, which he showed to me. (Read: "36, Belgrave Square. The Hon. Mrs. Cunningham has seen your advertisement, and has instructed Estell, of Bond Street, to see it, and if satisfactory to buy it") A man came to my house on 23rd January—Mrs. Cork fetched me down to see him—he handed me this note. (Purporting to come from Estell, of Bond Street, to see the musical box, and if worth the money to purchase it.) I showed him the musical box—he said it was not exactly what he wanted, he thought it was square, with bells, but he said he would take it if I gave him an agreement to return the money if it was not approved of—an agreement was written, and he took the musical box away, and he left the cheque with me, which I gave to my husband—he said he came from Estell, of Bond Street, to buy the box for a lady in Belgrave Square—he agreed to return the box next day if it did not suit—he did not call again—I saw him at the police-station on the 6th February, the day before I was examined—he was with several others, and I picked him out.

Cross-examined. The envelope to this letter was destroyed—I gave a description of this man to my husband when the cheque was returned—I said he was about 27; I don't think my husband described him as about 30—I did not read the letter he sent to the Exchange and Mart; I knew he had written—I said his height was about 5 foot 7 inches, and that he looked like a porter; he was dressed like one at the time—he had on a short black coat, and a muffler about his neck, lightish sort of trousers, and a black round felt hat—he was what I should call roughly dressed—Waldock was not at the station when I went there—another detective took me there—he said he wanted me to see somebody to see whether I

knew him; he did not tell me much about it—that was all he said when I asked him what I was to go for—I thought I was going there to pick out the man I had seen—when I saw the prisoner at the station I said he was the man; I am quite sure I did not say I thought he was the man, but I was not sure—I do not know what I did say; I was very confused—I was taken into a room first of all at the station; there were three or four others waiting there sitting down—I could not say whether the prisoner was one of those; I did not see him.

Re-examined. I have no doubt now that the prisoner is the man that had the musical box.

JACOB HAYNES . I am a lunatic attendant at Camberwell Workhouse—in Jan. I had a musical box for sale; I advertised it in the Bazaar, Exchange and Mart—the advertisement appeared four days before 23rd January; I think it was on the Monday—on 23rd January I received this letter by post (From 36, Belgrave Square, as before). and on the following day or the same day a man called—the prisoner is not the man—he said he came from the firm of Estell, and asked to see my musical box—I showed it to him, and he handed me this letter from Estell—he said Lady Cunningham wanted to purchase it—I agreed to sell it to him for 5l., and he gave me this cheque for that amount—it was already drawn when he brought it—I handed it to a friend, and received it back endorsed "No account."

Cross-examined. I said before that I was speaking to the man that called for quarter of an hour—I am quite satisfied it was not the prisoner—I gave this description of the man: "Age, 23; height, 5 foot 5 or 6 inches; complexion, fair; no whiskers; slight moustache; black diagonal cut-away coat; black billycock hat, and wore a white muffler"—that is as far as I can say a correct description of the man.

BEATRICE BARRINGTON . I live at 80A, Brook Street, Grosvenor Square—last January I advertised a sealskin jacket for sale in the Exchange and Mart, and in answer to that received a letter by post, after that I gave the jacket to a servant to dispose of, and then got this cheque. (This was on the Union Bank of London, Charing Cross Branch.) I got it back marked "No account."

Cross-examined. I have not got the envelope that the letter came in; it was destroyed—I think the letter came on a Friday.

LOUISA HORNBLOW . I am a servant of the last witness—she gave me a sealskin jacket to dispose of—I recollect a man calling and bringing a letter, which I showed to my mistress directly; she opened it, and told me to show the jacket to him, and he gave me a cheque for 9l. for it, and took it away with him—I could not say whether the prisoner is the man or not.

ESTHER ESTELL . I live at 142, New Bond Street, and am a dressmaker; I never had an account with the Union Bank of London; these three cheques were neither signed or drawn by me; these letters were not written or signed by my authority—the name and address printed on this letter is somewhat similar to that printed on my billheads—I have not the slightest idea how these things were obtained—I have no person named Wilson in my employ—I did not authorise anybody to fetch these musical boxes.

Cross-examined. After this case had been heard at the police-court I received a letter, which I sent to the police at Scotland Yard.

JOHN ELGAR . I am a footman in the service of the Dowager Marchioness

of Conyngham, 36, Belgrade Square; no Honourable Mrs. Conyngham or Madame Conyngham lives there—I have seen the handwriting of the letters purporting to be written by Mrs. Conyngham—I do not recognise them.

JAMES SUTTON . I am a cashier in the Union Bank, Charing Cross; we have no customer named Estell—this cheque marked "B" was presented at our bank on 27th January, and returned by me marked "No account"—it has been taken from a cheque book issued to Chapman and Shire, of Gerard Street, about four years ago—these three cheques are from the same book; they are not numbered consecutively—Messrs. Chapman and Shire were customers of our bank.

GEORGE DUCK . I live at 33, Newport Buildings, and am in the employment of Chapman and Shire; they banked at the Union Bank, Charing Cross, for some time—about four years ago a burglary took place at their premises and the cheque book was stolen—there were a few cheques out of it.

GEORGE WALDECK (Detective Sergeant L). About 12 o'clock on 6th Feb. I arrested the prisoner in the Spread Eagle public-house, Lambeth Road; I said I should take him in custody for obtaining goods by false cheques—he said "All right, I know nothing about it"—I took him to the station; he was placed with about eight or nine others, and Mrs. Warner came and picked him out—the prisoner said "You saw me when you came to the door, sitting in the station"—she said "No, I did come to the door, but I did not notioe you sitting there"—he was charged, and said "I know nothing about it"—on the next day, 7th February, he was put in the prisoners' room at the police-court, with about fifteen or sixteen others, and the witness Cox was called in and pointed out the prisoner, and said "That is as much like the man as any of them, but I would not swear positively to him"—the same night I searched the prisoner's lodgings, and found a memorandum book and a short brown Coventry jacket, with raised seams, a kind of stable jacket—I found three letters on him at the station.

Cross-examined. He has the same clothes on now as when he was arrested, with the exception that he had a stand-up collar on then—the Coventry jacket was not what I should call a dark short coat—I do not produce any collars—this is the memorandum book that I found—I have examined the writing in it—I do not suggest that it is like the writing in the letters—a great number of persons have been to the station to look at the prisoner since he has been in custody, who are complaining of similar frauds to these practised on them, and have failed to identify him—I said before the Magistrate that the prisoner said "I know nothing about it"—that is true—he did not say "I don't know what you mean"—when Mrs. Warner came to the station to identify the prisoner, he was at the station sitting on a form with two or three boys, and she came to the door where he was, and that was what he referred to when he said "You saw me sitting here when you came to the door"—I could not say whether Mrs. Warner observed him or not—I received this letter (produced) from Sergeant Hare after this case had been heard at the police-court; it had come from Mrs. Estell, and had come back through the Dead Letter Office.


There were three other indictments for forging the cheques, on which no evidence was offered, and a verdict of Not Guilty was taken.

Before Mr. Recorder.

450. JAMES LAYZELL (43), WILLIAM PAGE (48), and HENRY PAGE (31) , Unlawfully conspiring to defraud Charles Watson of his goods.

MR. GILL Prosecuted; MR. FULTON Defended.

CHARLES WATSON . I am a cab proprietor, of 17 1/2, Cross Street, Blackfriars Road—on Wednesday, 11th February, about 3 o'clock, I went out with my Forder cab and a dark brown horse which I shall have to give 20l. for, I have given a bill for it—I had had it about a week—about 4 o'clock I was at my farrier's, Mr. Cox's, in Lambeth Walk—I left my cab there and went about 50 yards to the George, where I saw Layzell; I had known him before, but not the Pages—he said "Here comes one of the best of them, what are you going to have?"—I said "A drop of rum"—I had some; the two Pages were with him, I had never seen them before to my knowledge—they asked me if I would buy a good cab—I said "I will buy a good cabber, I have got one outside, I have got to pay 20l., ain't much use in a Forder cab"—a better class of horses is driven in Forders—they said would I have a ride behind their cob—I said "Yes, I have a friend going to take me home to dinner with him, we will have a go as far as his house"—they drove me with my friend to his house—we had rabbit and pork for dinner, and then they drove me back to the George; we had some hot rum when we got there, about 5 o'clock—they kept on filling me up, I don't know whether they mixed anything with the rum—I don't remember anything after going back to the George—next morning my missus woke me and called me downstairs to look at the horse—I came down and saw the cricket in the stable; it was not my horse—I went to bed again—my missus showed the horse to a veterinary surgeon, Mr. Phillips, Water Lane, Brixton—it was worth about 25s. or 30s., that is what I should get for it—on the Saturday after the three prisoners came to my place; I was in bed—they spoke to my missus—she said I had got a very useless horse and was going to have it killed—he said "Don't-have it killed, I will give more than knacker's price for it; I cannot be buyer and seller, we will give 10l., but I will take 7l. 15s. out of it"—so he wanted two horses for 2l. 10s.

Cross-examined. I have known Layzell 16 or 17 years—he is a cab proprietor, I don't think he had any cabs at this time—he recognised me; he was no friend of mine, I had had no truck with him in my life—I don't suggest that he made me drunk, I suppose I must have got drunk—I have been drunk four times in 21 years, I think—I was fined on 27th December, 1884, and 26th January, 1885, for being drunk—I am sure it was not 1 o'clock when I arrived at the George, it was about 3—the horse was no use in a hansom cab; it was not a kicker, I had it about a week—I did not say when I came into the house that I had a horse which cost me 21l. and that it was not worth 20s. to me, nothing of the kind; I said it was no use to a Forder cab—it had cost me 20l.—I will swear the horse's tail was not fastened to the harness so that it should not kick—I don't know if that is a common practice—I did not say "Whose horse is that outside?"—William Page did not say "That is mine, it is for sale"—Henry Page drove me in their horse and cart to my friend's to dinner, I don't know why—they said "Get up and have a ride," it was not to see if I liked it—they said "Jump up and have a ride and see if it will suit"—I did not ride there to try the horse—I

did not drive their horse to see if it would suit me—I have had no rum this morning—I gave a bill for 16l. for my horse; it has got to be paid—I bought it of Mr. Case—he was going to take it back again, he always takes my horses back if I want him to—I never said the horse was not worth 20l.; it was not worth that in a Forder cab—I did not say to William Page "I will have a chop with you, I have a good cabber"—the last thing I recollect is coming back from dinner and getting to the George, and after that my memory failed me—I remember having a ride again in Page's vehicle; we came round after dinner to the George by Mr. Bill's, Russell Street—we had tea at Hudson's with the pork and rabbit—I was sober after that till I got back to the George—Page remained outside with his horse and cart while I had dinner, and when I got back Layzell said "Jump up and have a ride again."

Re-examined. I was convicted in December and January of being drunk, and the time before that was 14 years ago—my cab was brought round from Cox's to the George, and I was going away with it two or three times over, but Layzell caught hold of me and pulled me down, and asked me to have a drop more.

THOMAS COX . I live at Alfred Cottages, the Parade, Lambeth Walk—I work with my father, a farrier—on 11th February, at 3.15 p.m., I was in our shop by myself—Watson drove up with his cab, which he left in my charge and went to the George—about 5.5 I took the cab and horse round to the George—Watson came out; I said "You had better go home"—he said "I will"—he went to get on the cab, and had one foot on the step, Layzell said "Where are you going?" he said "Home"—Layzell said "Come and have a drop more before you go," and caught hold of his arm and took him inside the George again—he stayed there two or three minutes, and then Russell and Henry Page came out by themselves and started unharnessing the horse in the cab and taking him out; I said "What are you going to do?"—he said "Oh, they have been and done a chop"—Russell and Henry Page took the horse out of the cab and put it into the cart, and put the horse out of the cart into the cab—after that Layzell came to the door and said "Is it all right?" and they said "Yes"—he then went back into the house—Russell and William Page stopped out; I stayed till they went away—Watson was led out of the public-house by William Page and Layzell, one on each side of him, he could hardly stand; when he went to get into the cab he fell over on the footboard—they put him inside, and William Page got inside his cab with him, and Layzell got on the seat and drove away—the other Page and Russell got in the cart and followed on—the changing horses was all done while Watson was in the public-house.

Cross-examined. I saw nothing of them till about 5.30.

ELIZA HANNAM . I am the wife of William Hannam, of Sun Court, Princes Road, Lambeth Walk—on Wednesday, 11th February, between 5 and 6 p.m., I went into the George, I saw the two Pages and Layzell and Watson there; Watson was very tipsy—William Page kept saying to him "Charlie, old man, you cannot do better, you had better do it at once, you cannot do better; are you going to do that? you cannot do better"—Watson did not answer—he went outside and came in and fell in the doorway against my right leg; Layzell and Page picked him up, led him to a seat, and gave him more drink, and then asked him again if he was going to do it; he made no answer—William Page called to

Russell "You can go outside and take that one out and put the other one in"—Henry Page went out with Russell.

Cross-examined. I went in for refreshment in the same compartment—I next heard of the matter on the Thursday evening, when I was directed to attend at the police-court—the men were all strangers to me.

ELIZA WATSON . I am the wife of Charles Watson, of 17 1/2, Cross Street, Blackfriars Road—on Wednesday, 11th February, about 7 p.m., my husband's cab came home with a different horse in it—I said to Layzell "Where does this horse come from? does it come from Mr. Case?" as I knew Mr. Case was about to exchange horses—he changes all horses that do not suit us—he said "No, your husband has made a chop with a friend of mine, and they will be here to-morrow morning for 7l. 15s."—my husband was at the bottom of the cab hopelessly drunk, he had to be carried into the stable by two men—I showed the horse and cab to Mr. Philips, the veterinary surgeon, shortly afterwards.

ABRAHAM PHILIPS . I am a veterinary surgeon, of Water Lane, Brixton—I have practised for 25 years—Mrs. Watson asked me to examine a horse on the 14th—I found it very old, badly broken-winded, and unfit for work; it was only fit to be sold to the knacker for killing.

Cross-examined. I valued it as a dead animal, not as a live one—it would be cruelty to work it—it might have been sold for 10l. in February to the Pages—I have never seen the horse that belonged to Watson, I have not been asked to examine it.

Re-examined. A man might be summoned for working this horse.

WILLIAM JAMES (Detective Sergeant L). I arrested Henry Page on a warrant on the night of the 17th inst. at 24, Stamford Street, Fulham—I told him I was a police officer, and should take him for being concerned with others in stealing a horse on Wednesday last in Lambeth Walk—he said, "All right, I will go with you, but you have made a mistake, you have got the wrong man"—I took him to Chelsea Station, where he was detained—I returned to Stamford Street and kept observation there with Harvey, and at 1.30 a.m. I arrested William Page in the yard adjoining No. 24—I told him the charge—he said, "All right, I had a chop there, but I don't know anything about stealing it"—he turned to the prosecutor, who was there, and said, "All right, I know you, you will have to pay for this"—Harvey took Layzell in my presence—I was present when all three prisoners were charged at the station; they made no reply.

Cross-examined. Henry Page described himself as a cab proprietor, and cabs are registered in his name—William Page also described himself as a cab proprietor, but no cabs are registered in his name—I know nothing about his being in his brother's service.

AMBROSE HARVEY (Detective T). I arrested Layzell; I told him I should take him in custody for being concerned with three others in custody for stealing a horse in Lambeth Walk on the 11th"—he said, "I don't know anything about the stealing, I was present when a deal was made"—he went to his rooms to dress; I followed him—he said, "If Watson didn't know better than getting into such company to make a deal he must put up with it."

Witnesses for the Defence.

GEORGE TOBY . I am a horse dealer, of 4, North Crescent Mews, Bidborough Street, Burton Crescent—I know William Page; he is a cab proprietor, I believe—I sold him a very good bay gelding, a cab horse,

about 15 hands, in February, 1885—I had bought it at Doncaster Fair not many days before, and sold it to Page for 10l. and 1l. to bring it up—it was just touched in the wind, but no detriment to its work—I would give 10l. for it now if it is in the same condition as when I sold it—I bought five at the same fair.

Cross-examined. North Crescent Mews are not in my name, but in Mr. Kirk's, who is here—I have some horses now in those mews—I travel for Mr. Kirk about the country buying and selling for him on commission—I buy and sell as I like with his money—I have known the Pages a long while in London; I never knew them in the country—I have not seen this horse since—a cab master was present when I sold it—the fair was on 1st or 2nd February, and it was on a Saturday when I sold Mr. Page this horse; I cannot fix the date more closely—I did not come up from Doncaster with the five, Mr. Maynard's man came with them—I had bought them for Mr. Kirk to get profit as well as myself with his money—I took it out and sold it in Bell Street, Lisson Grove—I met Page at a public-house, and he said, "You have got a good pair of horses outside," and he got up and drove behind them and bought it—there was a man in Page's company, no one in mine—the money was paid in gold cash down in the public-house bar—I do not know Inspector Dumfries—I heard the prisoners were locked up—I did not go to the police-court to give evidence; this is the first time I have appeared on the scene.

—KIRK. I live at North Crescent Mews, Burton Crescent—Toby is employed by me to go to fairs and buy and sell horses on commission—I pay him according to what he gets—sometimes he loses, and then I have to pay.

Cross-examined. I have not given my evidence to the prosecution—I came here on my own account—I have got horses now at North Crescent Mews, Burton Crescent, where I have been for four or five years in my own name—nobody but Toby is in my employment—I know the Pages—I have sold them a lot of horses—I have not been about the country with them—I only know them in London—I have not been with them to Brighton or Sussex—I keep no books—I cannot read or write—I saw the horses Toby bought at Doncaster—he did not bring them back himself—I only went out of Court just this minute—I was not present at the sale of this horse to the Pages—it was not sold at Burton Crescent—he told me he sold it at Paddington—he brought me the money—it was sold out of a cart—I never saw it afterwards.

GEORGE HERRIOTT . I am a licensed cab driver, and live at 38, Redburn Street, Chelsea—on the evening of the 11th February I met the two Pages in Sloane Square—they had a horse and cart—I had tried to buy a horse of them previously—William Page said, "Here is a decent sort of a tit I think will suit you"—I said I should like to see it go—he said, "Have a ride"—I rode up the King's Road and back to the Square—I asked what they wanted—he said 10l.; I offered him 9l.—we had a glass to drink, but did not agree—I went to see him next night at twelve—after talking I said I would give him 10l., and they gave me a written agreement to find me something else in its place if it did not suit me—I drive a Hansom or four-wheeler, acoording to the horse I have—I took possession of the horse then, and paid the money on Friday morning, and received this receipt. (13th February. Received of George Herriott 10l. for a brown horse, W. Page, to be exchanged if it does not suit.) I used the animal

on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, and then told him I thought it would not suit me—it kicked if you pulled up short—I have been a driver for nearly eight years—it was no use for me—I would not give 6l. for it for my own use—I returned it to the Pages on the Monday, and they lent me a little grey mare, and said he would want 3l. in place of it, and would find me something in case it would not suit—I saw him in a four-wheeled cab a few days after.

Cross-examined. I buy a horse and hire my cab—on Wednesday, about nine p.m. I met the two Pages, first in Sloane Square, driving the horse in a cart—I was standing by the side of my cab, which had a horse in it—I gave them a decided answer on the Thursday next day that I would buy it, and I paid for it on Friday—William Page wrote the whole of the receipt on the Friday.

The prisoners received good characters.

GUILTY .—Recommended to mercy by the Jury.— One Month each without Hard Labour.

Before Robert Malcolm Kerr, Esq.

451. JOHN BURTON (22) , Burglary in the dwelling-house of Robert Mayo, and stealing three pieces of meat and a cloth.

MR. PELLEW Prosecuted.

ROBERT MAYO . I manage a butcher's shop, 54, New Road, Battersea, and live on the premises—on 29th January I shut up the house at 10.30 p.m., fastened the doors, windows, and shutters, and went to bed about 12.45; about 1.15 I heard a noise in the shop; I did not get up, but a quarter of an hour later I heard another noise, and got up, and went into the shop, where I found the shutter lying on the ground, and missed some meat and a cloth, which were safe when I shut my shop up—a policeman came, and I went to the station and identified the meat and cloth as Mr. Lacey's property—the shutter was one large one, fastened by a bolt through the middle with a pin on the inside—I observed footmarks in the shop.

WILLIAM MOUNTFIELD (Policeman W 135). About 1.25 a.m. on 30th January I was on duty in New Road, and saw the prisoner and another man turn into Sterndale Road, New Road—the other man was carrying something white under his arm—I ran on my toes towards them, and got near them; they turned round and saw me—I said to the prisoner "Burke, what have you got?"—he stooped his head down—I said "I know you," and took the other one, Penman, who was sentenced here last session. (See page 753.) This man escaped—I found the meat in the cloth that the other man was carrying—I saw the prisoner in custody on another charge at Wandsworth on 25th February, and took him in custody on this charge.

The Prisoner's Statement before the Magistrate. "I have only got to say I was not there at all. The constable has made a mistake."

GUILTY . He then PLEADED GUILTY ** to a conviction of felony in May, 1883, in name of John Burke.— Five Years' Penal Servitude.

452. THOMAS COX (42) PLEADED GUILTY to burglary in the dwelling-house of Walter Thomas Smith, and stealing an album and a coat.— Twelve Month's Hard Labour. And

453. JAMES MEARMAN (36) to unlawfully obtaining by false pretences from Edward Gregory four dozenbottles of eau-de-Cologne and fourteen pounds of tartaric acid, with intent to defraud, and other goods from other persons with a like intent, also to forging and uttering two requests for the delivery of goods, with intent to defraud.— Twelve Month's Hard Labour. [Pleaded guilty: See original trial image.]

Before Mr. Common Serjeant.

454. DAVID EVANS (47) , Feloniously having in his possession a mould for coining.

MR. GOODRICH Prosecuted.

HARRIET ENGER . I am a widow, and live at 17, Clipston Street, Fitzroy Square—on the 2nd December a woman named Mary Young took a lodging at my house, and came next day with, I believe, the prisoner—another woman was with them, but she did not live there—I did not see them arrive—after about five weeks the prisoner went to the Infirmary—on January 15th I put in the brokers, as no rent had been paid—I kept possession of this box (produced) till January 19th, when it was given to Detective Scott.

Cross-examined by the Prisoner. Mary Young said that her husband had the key of the box—she had told me that you had gone away because you were very ill the week before—you lived as man and wife—I never had any conversation with you, and only know you by your voice and your cough, as I heard you quarrelling with Young—you were muffled up when I saw you.

HILDA ENGER . I am a daughter of the last witness—I saw the prisoner arrive with two women on December 3rd—he had a white muffler on—I saw him five times while he was there, and spoke to him each time—I failed to recognise him before, but I am certain of him now—they had a small box with them, which is here, and a large bundle—that was all their luggage—Young told me that that was all she had—on the 15th January a broker's man took the box into my mother's room, and on the 19th January a constable broke it open—the prisoner had whisker3 and a bushy moustache when at our house, which have been cut off.

Cross-examined. I recognise your eyes—I never saw the other part of your face—if I had met you in the street I should have believed you were the man—I could have picked you out from a number of men.

WILLIAM JAMES (Detective Sergeant L). On January 13th I went to this hospital, and said to the prisoner, "I am a police officer; I shall take you in custody for being concerned with Mary Young for knowingly having in your possession a quantity of instruments for the manufacture of counterfeit coin"—he said, "Oh, very well"—I put him in a cab and took him to the station—on the way he said, "Well, if people will be such fools as to get into trouble they must get out of it"—he afterwards said, "I am not going to tell you anything; if I do you will use it in evidence against me"—that was not in answer to any question.

Cross-examined. When I mentioned Mary Young you said "I don't know such a person."

WILLIAM WILLIAMS (Detective L). On 13th February I was at Brixton Station when the prisoner was brought in—I showed him a photograph of Mary Young, and he said "It is all through that drunken b—all this has happened; had it not been for her drunken habits none of them people would have got into trouble"—I said "You should not speak so

disrespectfully towards your wife"—he said "She is not my wife, I was only living with her."

Cross-examined. I did not go on and speak of the Wilsons saying that she had uttered counterfeit coin and given her landlord counterfeit coin, and though I was a policeman I would have given 10l. to see the old fellow get off.

Re-examined. The Wilsons were convicted at this Court of uttering counterfeit coin at the February Session (see p. 639).

JAMES SCOTT (Detective W). On 19th January I went to 17, Clipston Street—this box was shown to me by Harriet Enger in the front room, first-floor—I broke it open and found in it these four double moulds for half-crowns, three double moulds for florins, and two triple moulds for shillings, some plaster-of-Paris, a portion of a battery, some clamps, sand, bottles, and acid (produced)—no keys were found on the prisoner—Young was arrested on 16th February, no keys were found on her which opened it.

MARTIN MCNULTY . I live at 3, George Court, Oxford Street—I was a patient in the Cleveland Street Asylum in January and February, and on 14th January the prisoner was admitted, and occupied a bed opposite mine—he had a beard and moustache when he came in, but they were shaved off in a week by the barber at his request.

Cross-examined. You had a very bad cough, and used to spit—you had to wash yourself in bed.

WILLIAM JOHN WEBSTER . I saw this box two Sessions ago—all these articles are used in making counterfeit coin; the moulds are very good.

The prisoner in his defence complained that he had not been placed with other persons to be identified. He stated that the articles found were not his, that the box was Mary Young's, and he did not know the contents, and when he went to the Infirmary he determined to have nothing more to do with her; and if the moulds had been his he could have broken them up before going away; and that he had his beard shaved off as it was an encumbrance when ill in bed.

GUILTY . ** He had been sentenced to Five Years' Penal Servitude and Fifteen Years' Penal Servitude for offences connected with the Mint , and was still on ticket ofleave.— Twelve Years' Penal Servitude.

Before Mr. Justice Lopes.

455. THOMAS BARHAM (44) was indicted for and charged on the Coroner's Inquisition with the manslaughter of Daisy Frances Blackney.


WRIGHT Defended.

WALTER WALTERS . I am ostler at the Mitre Hotel, Tooting—on 26th February, about 5 p.m., I was standing outside the Mitre looking after a pony—there is a trough in front belonging to the Mitre—it is our property, a place for pulling up—I saw a four-wheeled cab coming from the direction of London across the water-course; the prisoner was driving; there was another man by his side—the horse was galloping—I saw a child coming along from school from London going towards Mitcham, the same way as the cab was going—I saw the shaft catch the child and knock it down—I went and picked the child up—it was about 11 yards from the'cab when I first saw it—I did not hear the prisoner call out; I

did not hear any voice at all—I should think the prisoner was going at about eight miles au hour—the hand of the child was injured where the wheel had beon over it—a policeman came up and took the prisoner—he had stopped then—I did not speak to him—he appeared to be the worse for drink; I thought so by the way he was driving, and I could see that he could not walk straight—there was nothing in his way to prevent his avoiding the child—there was a 22-foot space and a 30-foot space, besides the main road.

Cross-examined. Mitcham Road is a broad country road, and there is not much traffic at this time of the day—when I first saw the prisoner he was on the off side of the road, just coming in on the Mitre grounds—he was turning in to the water-trough—when the child was run over, he was in the act of stopping his horse—he pulled up in about 17 yards after the child was run over—I concluded that he was drunk by the way he drove up, I should not think any man would drive up like that; he walked in a peculiar way when he got off his box—I have seen him walk since, and I know he goes lame from hip-joint disease.

By the COURT. The child was walking on private property with her back towards the horse—there is no made footpath next to the Mitre—I did not see him slacken his pace before he struck the child, not until he got about 11 yards from me; up to the time the child was struck the horse was galloping.

JOHN SMITH . I lived at 2. William Villas, Tooting, at the time of her accident—I am a commission agent—on the evening of 26th February, about 5 o'clock, I was at the corner of Vant Road—I saw the cab driven by the prisoner coming along at a very fast trot—when he came opposite Vant Road he raised his whip and whipped the horse into a gallop—I saw him go on; I did not see him strike the child, the child was momentarily out of my sight; afterwards I saw it lying on the ground—when the prisoner pulled up afterwards I at once went up to him and asked him to give me his number and the cab number, which he refused; he said he would see me d—first, and who was I?—some man was sitting on the box with him—from the way he answered me after I asked him civilly for his number I was of opinion he was the worse for drink, I would not say he was drunk.

Cross-examined. I say he was drunk from the words he said to me and from his appearance after he got off his box—I saw he was lame—from his general movements I came to the conclusion he was not sober, not altogether from the way he walked but from his manner to me—I looked at him one or two minutes—he did not speak to me till after he got off his box—it was not till after he left the box I thought he was drunk—I did not know him before—I have seen he has a peculiar shuffling and a slightly rolling way of walking.

ARTHUR SEWELL (Police Sergeant). I made these plans; they are to scale and correct.

Cross-examined. I have known the prisoner for about 15 months—I have been in the habit of meeting him once or twice a day—I have seen him driving—my attention has never been drawn to him in any way—I know nothing against him—I have seen him walking many times; he walks in a very shuffling, rolling way; he has a peculiar gait.

JOSEPH THORNABY . I live at Tooting—on the evening of 26th February I saw the prisoner driving a cab from London towards

Mitcham about 200 yards before coming to the Mitre; he was driving from 12 to 14 miles an hour galloping the horse with all his might—he was standing up whipping the horse as hard as he could—I saw him going along the road towards the Mitre; I did not see the child knocked down, but I afterwards saw it taken across the road.

FREDERICK HEALES (Policeman W 97). On the evening of 26th February I received some information, and went up towards the Mitre—I saw the prisoner leaning against the luncheon bar entrance, four or five yards from the cab—I called him on one side to see what state he was in; he staggered a bit—I asked him if he was in charge of that hackney carriage—he said "Why?"—I said "Are you aware you have run over a child?" he said "Yes"—I told him I should take him to the police-station; that was about ten minutes' walk—from what I saw in taking him there I thought he was drunk; he smelt strongly of drink, and occasionally he stumbled, and I caught hold of him to prevent him from falling—I could see he was lame.

Cross-examined. I don't know whether he was discharged within an hour of my taking him to the station; I was not there—the charge I made against him was that of being drunk.

JOSEPH ASHLEY (Police Inspector). I was at the station when the prisoner was brought in—I heard the charge made against him of being drunk while in charge of a horse and cab, and running over a child—I read over the charge to him—he said "I don't think I am drunk"—I was satisfied that he was drunk, or I should not have taken the charge—his speech was very thick, and he was unsteady in his walk; he walked across the road; he smelt very strongly of drink—I saw he was lame—I kept him at the station for about an hour, then he was bailed and went away with his friends—a respectable man came to bail him.

Cross-examined. If his friends promised to take care of him I should let him go even if he was not quite sober—I saw him when he was bailed out, he was better then, he had partly recovered, but he smelt very strongly of drink.

CHARLES DAVID GREEN . I am house surgeon at St. Thomas's Hospital—on 3rd March I saw a little child about seven years old; it was admitted two days before, it had a wound on the left hand, with injury to the bones of the thumb—I did not anticipate any danger except to the hand—it remained in the hospital until the 5th, when it died from tetanus, which might arise from the cab going over it.

Cross-examined. I have seen the prisoner walk; to a nonmedical person his walk would convey the impression that he was drunk.

Witnesses for the Defence.

WILLIAM LUMSDEN . I am a hackney carriage driver, of 40, High Street, Lower Norwood—I was sitting on the box of the cab by the side of the prisoner on this afternoon, 1 rode from Streatham with him, about two and a half miles; he was driving, he was going about seven miles an hour—when you drive the horse at that pace he shuffles along, he can't trot at that pace, he makes a kind of shuffle of it, he like canters along—the cab was going at the rate of four miles an hour at the time of the accident, he was pulling up, trotting in to give the horse some water—it was a pure accident, we were pulling up—the child was standing with her back towards us about a yard and a half from the water trough quite still in front of us, looking towards Mitcham—the prisoner halloaed out,

but the child, instead of going away from the cab, ran into it and the cross bar of the shaft, and the hind wheel knocked her down and went over her hand—I jumped off the cab directly—if the child had stood still instead of moving towards the cab she would not have been knocked down—the prisoner was not drunk, he had had a glass of ale at Streatham; he was capable of taking care of himself and a horse and cab—he pulled up instantly after the accident, the horse's head had not passed the end of the trough towards Mitcham—I had had two glasses of ale that day—I went across to the doctor's along with the child—I know this road well.

Cross-examined. There was a man inside the cab who always goes along with the prisoner to help him with his luggage, because he is not able to lift it—he had not got luggage this day, but he had other business; to see a party that owed him some money, he was not looking out for a fare—I weut along with him; I had been with him about an hour.

Re-examined. He called to the child before it moved—I have known this horse about three or four years—I will dety any man to drive him seven miles an hour—you are obliged to touch him with the whip if you are in a hurry.

WILLIAM LAURENCE . I live at Grey House Square, Streatham Common—I was inside this cab—I go about with the prisoner to help him—before the cab got into the draw-up towards the Mitre I should think it was going at about six or seven, miles an hour—I did not see the accident, but all at once I found the cab slacken—that was when the accident happened—the pace slackened as the cab turned in towards the Mitre, and all at once I found it stop—it was going at about four miles an hour after it turned in towards the draw-up—the prisoner was not drunk, and he was not to say quite sober—he had had two or three glasses of beer, but he was a long way from being drunk—I was eating a bit of bread and a saveloy inside the cab—I have known this horse about six years—it was rather an old horse when we had him—I used to look after him six years ago—I know he used to go very quietly then, and he has not got faster since—it could not gallop if if tried—if you hit him very hard he would only canter.

Cross-examined. I did not have any drink at Streatham—the prisoner had a glass of ale—they were drinking at the public-house about a quarter ot an hour—they had not been to a public-house before.

REV. FRANCIS REED . I am Vicar of St. Anselm's Church, Streatham—I have known the prisoner nearly three years—during that time he has driven me and my wife—I have had a good deal to do with him—I have had opportunities of observing him as a driver—he is rather a favourite in the neighbourhood to take the people out—many of my parishioners take his cab in preference to others—I don't know how many years he has had a licence—I never heard of any complaint against him—I consider him a sober man.

GUILTY .— One Month's Imprisonment without Hard Labour.