JAMES GREENACRE, SARAH GALE, Killing > murder, Killing > murder, 3rd April 1837.

917. JAMES GREENACRE was indicted for the wilful murder of Hannah Brown; and SARAH GALE as an accessory after the fact.

MESSRS. ADOLPHUS, CLARKSON, and BODKIN, conducted the Prosecution.

SAMUEL PEGLAR (police-constable S 104.) On Wednesday, the 28th of December, I was on duty in Edge ward-road, and about ten minutes past two o'clock in the afternoon Robert Bond came to me—in conesquence of what he said, I went with him to a pathway near the Pine Apple-gate, Edgeware-road, about eighty yards from it, on the side near London—on the left-hand side going from London—I observed a large flag-stone in the path-way—I there found this sack— (producing it) I found it contained the trunk of a human body, without a head, and do legs or thighs—I found all these things by the side of it—they are rags and a cord—a part of this cord the arms of the trunk were tied with across-the bag bore the impression of a string or cord on the upper part of it, as if it had been tied at the mouth, but the string or cord recently cut—me of the rags were lying close to the bag—other pieces were lying by the side of it, and other pieces further from it, but ail within a foot of the bag—the stone laid with the upper part against the wall, and the lower part about thirteen inches from the wall—to the best of my recollection the stone was more than four feet long, and rather better than three feet wide—the bag was about a foot from the stone—it was not under the stone when I arrived—the stone laid aslant, the upper part of it resting against the wall—I procured a wheelbarrow, and carried the bag and its content, and the rags, to the Paddington poor-house—I examined the bag, and observed in it appearances like those of mahogany scrapings, such as would be thrown off from a piece of mahogany which had been recently planed—I have seen a steel instrument applied to mahogany after it was planed—they were scrapings—on Monday, the 27th of March, in consequence of hearing of the apprehension of somebody, I accompanied Inspector Feltham to No. 1, St. Alban's-street, Lambeth—I examined the back room on the ground floor, and found this child's frock—it is twilled jean—it is patched with nankeen, as one of the rags I produce appears to be patched—it is one of the rags I found with the sack.

JURY. Q. Is the shade of the nankeen in both the same? A. The quality is.

MR. CLARKSON. Q. Does the frock found at the house appear patched in the same manner as the remnant of a frock found at the side of the bag appears to be patched? A. It does. (These articles were here handed to the Jury.)

JAMES WHITE . On Wednesday, the 28th of December, I was in Edgeware-road, near the Pine Apple-gate—my attention was drawn to a stone there, on the left-hand side going from London—it was leaning against wall—I observed a bag there, with something in it—it was lying on the ground behind the stone—the sack was corded round three or four times—

I do not remember whether the mouth of the sack was corded up—I sent for Pegler of the officer.

EZEKIEL DICKENS . Pegler the officer drew my attention to a stone lying against the wall near the Pine Apple-gate, on the 29th of December—I had been to that stone on the 24th, at half-past two o'clock in the afternoon, for the purpose of placing a small piece of wood, which the employed on the improvement of the path had dug up—I placed the wood behind the stone—at that tine there was no sack, or any thing whatever, under that stone.

MATTHIAS RALPH . I am lock-keeper of the Begent't canal, and live at Johnson's Lock, Stepney. On the 6th of January last, I believe, about half-past eight o'clock in the morning, I had occasion to abut the gates of the canal, and found something impede their shutting—I was called to by a bargeman, who told me there was something in the gate—I immediately went with a hitcher—I found the gates would not come to—I put the hitcher down, and pulled it along to the middle—I said, "It is a dead dog; case the gate"—they eased the gate—I pulled it up, and, to my surprise, I found the head of a human being—as soon as I pulled it from where the gates met, the gates joined, and then I pulled it straight up—I saw the ear first—that made me know it was the head of a human being—the water was about five feet deep there, or it might he five feet three inches—sometimes it is more, and sometimes less—when I got the head first to the surface of the water, it went down again—the hitcher let go of the hair—it was very long hair—I put the hitcher down again, and could not feel it mysef—a man was with me, and I said, "Bob, take hold of the hitcher" at took it, and carefully drawed it along—he said, "I cannot pull it cut—he gave me the hitcher on the gate—I took it, end landed the head the ground—I untied the hitcher from the hair, and examined it—the hitcher brought it up by the Bait alone both times—I examined it, and food the right eye to be knocked out by a stick, or some other weapon—I found the flesh in a perfect state, not sodden—the left jaw-bone was broken, and penetrated through the skin—the bone itself was through the skin—Iobserved that the left car had been pierced, and had had an earring torn through in youth, and there was a seam—in the right ear there was a hole, which was perfect—in the left ear there was a seam grown up where it had formerly been torn—it appeared thai the slit had grown together again—from its appearance, I should suppose the head had been in the water four or five days—I cannot exactly say, because sometimes bodies will change in a short time, and sometimes not for a long time—I cannot speak nearer than to four or five days—I have frequently picked them out in two days, and they have looked worse than others which have been in ten day I did not observe the back of the head—there were no ears—I laid the head down, went to my house, and fetched a cloth, wrapped it and took it to the bone-house, and locked the door.

Cross-examined by MR. PRICE. Q. Were you the first person that took head out? A. Yes, and the only person that handled it on the lock—severall others saw it, but no one bandied it—the man who was with me said "I am done," when he was bringing it to the water's edge—he was I believe—he went and cast afterwards, and the other one, when he took hold of the hitcher, said, "I cannot do it"—they were so alarmed—in the lock, I have every reason to believe it would have been more freah—the wound—the mark would have been mow fresh—I cannot tell how

long it had been in the lock—perhaps three, four, or five days—I cannot—sometimes we pick bodies out of the canal—I have picked out several, and sometimes one that has been in the water three or four days will great deal worse than those which have been in ten days—picked them out when they have been in overnight— (the hiccher was here produced)—I put the hitcher down, and drew it along, and drew it up.

COURT. Q. By which part? A. The hook; and when I got it to the top of the water it disappeared—it was held by the hair—I scraped for it the second time, and when I found it, lifted it up—I did not into it—the hitcher was never off the ground—the bottom of boarded in that part—I did not dig after it—I was more particular it up the second time, because I did not know at first what I had got.

MR. PRICE. Q. You say the wound in the eye had not been done the lock, because it was not a fresh wound? A. It would have been more fresh—I did not examine any other wound, except that in the jaw, that did not appear fresh—not quite fresh—that might have been done the gates, bat I cannot say—I cannot say whether that might not have been lone by a stick, or iron instrument—I have every reason to gay the wound in the eye could not have been done in the lock, or part of the eye would hare been hanging to it—I could not perceive that more than one jaw was broken, but I did not examine or perceive any other bruise or mark—I did not overhaul it to feel it, as medical assistants would have done—I examined it carefully, as far as I did examine it, but I did not examine the back part of the head, as medical—I examined it as far as I could see, for about two minutes—the flesh was perfect—I put my hand to it—it was not like what we pick out of the water, when it has been there perhaps a month—not sodden or rotte—the wound on the eye was rather rough—the first parts of the head I saw in the water was the ear and the hair—the head only went down had not much trouble in getting it up—the weight of it was nothing to lift—I wrapped it up in a piece of old sack, which I left at the bone-house along with the head, wrapped up as I did it—I cannot sty it was coarse or fine sacking—it was a piece I had lying by me—it was a coal-sack or what I cannot say—it was quite sufficient to cover the head—I left the head at the bone-house—I did not delivered to body—I locked the door, and returned the key to the grave-digger.

MR. CLARKSON? Q. You did not examine the back part of the head; if I understand you, the back part of the head had long hair to it? A. Yes, that would prevent nay observing it.

JURY? Q. Could you have broken the jaw-bone with the hitcher? A. No; I am confident the hitcher could have hurt nothing—I perfectly certain I did not injure the head by dragging it up.

MR. PRICE? Q. Was the head floating? A. No, it was down bottom of the water.

MR. CLARKSON? Q. Did you afterwards see the head any where else? A. I saw it in the course of the afternoon at the bone-house—Mr. Goulding and one of the police inspectors were present—I cannot say on horseback—there were a great many people there—it was the head I had brought out of the water, and which was taken care of by the police.

JAMES PAGE . I am a labouring man. On Thursday, the 2nd of February, I was working at an osier-bed in Cold-harbour-lane between Camberwell and Brixton, and found a sack among the bushes—there was a

hole in the sack, and I saw the part of a knee through the hole—I did not open the sack—a young man who was there pulled it open in my presence—it contained the legs and thighs of a human being—they were taken to the station-house by a policeman, whose name I do not know, who came there while I was there, and they remained there till after the inquest.

WILLIAM WOODWARD (police-constable P 157.) I went down to the osier-beds, and assisted in carrying the legs from there to the station-house, where they remained till after the inquest—I afterwards conveyed them to Paddington police station-house, and from thence to the poorhouse at Paddington.

EVAN DAVIS . I am a cabinet-maker and upholster, and live at No 45, Bartholomew-close. I knew the deceased, Hannah Brown, for five years last February—shortly before Christmas I heard she was going to be married—about a day before Christmas, I was, called down from my workshop into the sitting room, and saw Mrs. Brown there, and the male prisoner—he was introduced to me by Mrs. Brown as her beau, as her intended husband—she was about forty-seven years of age—I think they staid there together about three quarters of an hour at that time—she did not introduce him by any name at that time—the prisoner and I went to the Hand and Shears public-house together, and drank—no conversation passed that evening about his intentions—he had a deal to say about America, and said he bad a large farm there of 1000 acres of land, at Hudson's Bay—he said he had been away from there about four months, and that he was going back three weeks after Christmas—after this we went back to my house, and had supper together, and they left about ten o'clock—on Thursday, the 22nd of December, Greenacre came again to my house, I believe it was between six and seven, o'clock, with Mrs. Brown—they took something at my house, and after that, I and the prisoner went to the Queen's Head and French Horn—he was in conversation about America, the grand place it was, and the rail-loads there, and his farm, which bo described as a beautiful place—after having a pint of ale, he said he was in a hurry to go home to my house, we went back there together, and supped together at nine o'clock—after supper he sat at the right of Mrs. Brown, and Mrs. Brown on his left, on the sofa—I sat opposite to him, and my wife opposite to her—he said, "Well, we may as well tell you our intentions, (as we are not children,) before you, and we intend to get married on Sunday morning at St. Giles's church, and it is agreed that you shall be the man to give her away, and your eldest daughter to be the bridesmaid, and you being kind enough to offer us dinner on that occasion, we shall accept of it"—I had offered to do so—we then began to talk about meeting on Sunday morning, and it was agreed that we. should meet at the Angel public-house, near the church, at ten o'clock—they went away toast a quarter past ten o'clock, and I walked about a hundred yards with them—from that time I never saw Hannah Brown again alive—on good Friday I saw a head at the Paddington Workhouse-the forehead, I observed, was flat, and the eyebrows straight, not so much in a circle as persons generally are—the eye was grey, and the two upper teeth were precisely like Mrs. Brown's—I did not observe any thing peculiar about the ear, for I had never seen her ear when alive.

Q. Did the appearances you observed of the head at the poorhouse correspond with the appearances of Hannah Brown's head in her lifetime?

A. It did in my opinion—I could not swear to it, but the appearances of

the forehead, the eye, and the teeth, corresponded with her appearance, and I believe it to be her head—her eye was grey.

Cross-examined by MR. PRICE. Q. You accompanied the prison and Mrs. Brown part of the way; did the make any proposal to you? A. They told me to be to my time, and I said I would.

Q. Did the ask him to step into any houses as you went altar and have something to drink? A. I do not recollect—I cannot recollect it—I do not recollect her asking lor something to drink more than once, and its being rejected by me and the prisoner—it is no use to go and falsehood, and I won't do it—she did not say any thing of the sort, to at recollection, nor any thing that would lead to such a matter.

MR. CLARKSON. Q. You knew the deceased, Hannah Brown, five years; were her habits those of a temperate, sober woman, or of a drunken and dissipated one? A. There was not a more sober woman, I believe, in London, nor a more pleasant and agreeable woman—if I had been pressed to go into two or three public house during the hundred yards I walked with them, I should think I should recollect it.

CATHERINE GLASS . My husband is a plasterer, and we live in Windmill-street, Tottenham-court-road. I was acquainted with the deceased, Hannah Brown—I remember the 24th of December last, (Christmas eve,) very well—she came to my house as near twelve o'clock that day as I can recollect—I knew perfectly well that the was about to be married next day, for she was to have slept with me—I knew that a week before—it was arranged before that day, and on that day also—it had been spoken of several times during the week, and on the 24th, nine o'clock, was the hour named for her to come—to the best of my recollection, she was not above half an hour with me that Saturday—she had no appearance of black eye or bruise about her face at that time at all—I never saw her again alive—the was a woman of very sober habits—she appeared quite in her usual health and spirits when she left me—I have not seen she head.

COURT. Q. Did the come foot to you? A. Yes—I live very near her—she lived in Union-street, Middlesex Hospital.

Cross-examined by MR. PAYNE. Q. What are you yourself? A. I keep a mangle—I had known Hannah. Brown nearly two years—I cannot tell how often I saw her—I did not alwaya see her once a week, and some times I saw her as often at throe or four times a week—my business kept me very much at home, and so did hers—I knew the time for her leaving her lodging in Union-street was not up—she occupied the kitchen below stain.

MR. BODKIN. Q. Where used you to see her? A. She sometimes would call on me, and sometimes I called on her—I have seen her in the evening as well as morning, and at different times—the always appeared a woman of sober habits.

HANNAH DAVIS . I am the wife of Evan Davis. I knew the deceased Hannah Brown five years—I saw her last on the 22nd of December—I have seen her in company with the prisoner Greenacre—they came to our house together twice—they said they were going to be married, that they were asked at St. Giles's church, and were to be married on Christmas morning—this was on the 22nd—we were to meet them at a public-house, I do not know the name, close by St. Giles's church—I was to have provided dinner for them—Greenacre said they were going to Hudson's Bay, and he would be very glad to see us over there, and our family, fur there we could

have a home and welcome—he represented that he had a great deal of land there—I cannot recollect whether he mentioned how much—it was a good deal, and if we came over we could have a home there—I have a daughter—on Christmas eve, the 24th, became to our house, as near as I can recollect, boat eleven o'clock at night—he asked me if Mrs. Brown had been—I said, "No"—he immediately said, "She said she would not come"—he said he thought proper to let me know, as I was so kind at to ask them to dine with on the day, that the marriage was not to take place, in regard that he had made a close investigation with respect to property, and found that she had none—he did not add any thing more—I asked him to walk in—he said, "No," and, I wished him good night—this conversation took place at the street-door.

Q. Did he say any thing about poverty? A. He said it would not do for them to plunge into poverty—he seemed very much agitated—I had known Mrs. Brown five years last February—line had rather a high forehead and longish features—she had very good teeth, short, thickish, and even—she had a slit in one of her ears—I had observed it—it was an open slit, but it had healed each side of the ear, and a second place was bored above for the ear-ring—never saw her afterwards—we made a great deal of inquiry about her—I did not go to the workhouse to see the head—her hair was a sort of brown, neither dark nor light—it had been light, and it was intermixed with grey—she had a fair complexion.

JURY. Q. Was it very long hair? A. Yes—very long—the front was as long as the back—she was a tall fine, genteel, respectable-looking female.

Cross-examined by MR. PRICE. Q. Have you been intimate with Mrs. Brown for the last five years? A. Most of the time—she was never longer than a few months together without coming to see us—I did not visit her very often—I should think she had lived in Union-street about a year and a half, as near as I can say, or a year and nine months—she came there from Mr. Perring, the hatter, in the Strand, who she had lived with about two years—she was like house-keeper there, to Mr. Perring—before that lived with Mr. Oliver the anchor-maker, at Wapping—I cannot exactly say for how long, but I should say very nearly twelve months—the last time I saw her she talked of getting a little shop—I think that was September, about Bartholomew-fair time—she called in at our house she intended to sell fruit and pastry—she told me where she intended to take it, but I cannot now tell the part—there was some widow-lady was going to give up the place—it, was near where she herself resided—I do not know Mrs. Glass, of Windmill-street—I never knew she was an acquaintance of Mrs. Brown's—I never heard of her—I was not much acquainted with Mrs. Brown's acquaintances—my daughters used to go to her friends with her, both of them—Mr. Davis's sister lived in a family, and that was the way I became acquainted with Mrs. Brown—I cannot tell what family it was—it was some where, in the City—it was only a short time they were together—that was the origin of ray acquaintance with her—my sister-in-law has been dead three yeaxs the 28th of next June—from two to three months was about the average of Mrs. Brown's isiting us, and sometimes oftener, as it suited her.

Q. When Mrs. Brown and Greenacre were at your home on the 22nd of December, was there not every appearance of cordiality between them? A. Yes, very much, as it should be with persons about to be married—my husband and I were friends of Mrs. Brown—we told her to be cautious

about going abroad, we did not wish to part with her—Mrs. Brown told me she had a daughter—she did not speak of her very often—I never saw her—she spoke of her daughter at Norwich, and told me she was a straw hatmaker—she did not say whether she was in business for herself—Mrs. Brown told me that Greenacre lived at No. 2, Carpenter's-place, Camberwelltd—I was never there—Mrs. Brown invited me there to spend the day there, some day after the marriage took place—she said it before Greenacre, as well as in his absence, and that I was to excuse them not being very nice, because they were going away soon to America, and it was only a temporary matter—that was in the way of apology for the state of the house—they left our house about ten o'clock, on the 22nd of December, as near as I can recollect—it was as late as ten o'clock—they went away together.

MR. ADOLPHUS. Q. And your husband accompanied them a little why? A. Yes—Mrs. Brown told me she became acquainted with Greenacre, through the Wards of Goodge-street, Tottenham-court-road—during the five years I knew her, there could not be a more sober, well-conducted woman—I never saw her child—she mentioned that she had a daughter, and that is all I know of it.

MR. PRICE. Q. Do you know the Wards at all? A. No, I do not.

ELIZABETH CORNEY . I am the wife of John Corney, a shoemaker, who lives at No. 46, Union-street, Middlesex Hospital. I knew the ietttiti Hannah Brown in her life time—she lodged at No. 45, Union-street, she occupied the front kitchen—I do not remember the day she came there—she was there a year and a half—she got her living by washing and mangling she had a mangle—I saw her last on the 24th of December—I understood she was going to be married—she had quite sufficient furniture and things for herself—she sold them before the 24th of December—she told me they were not required, that Mr. Greenacre wished her to sell them for pocket money—she disposed of her mangle—she left the house between the hours of twelve and three o'clock on the 24th of December—I observed a hackney coach waiting for her, and saw her in it—she took her bores and things with her—I had only seen the prisoner Greenacre on one occasion previous to that—that was a few weeks before—I believe it was him that went away with her in the hackney coach—he and the coachman helped her out with the boxes—I cannot say the hour' they went away, nearer than between twelve and three o'clock—I cannot remember whether I had dined when they went away—the coach had not staid any time—there was a key to the room she occupied—I asked her if she would leave her keys with me, or send them to me when the week was up—she went away before her time was quite up—she answered me, she would come on the Monday, and bring her man with her, pay me the rent, and give me the keys—that was in the presence of Greenacre—he might have heard it, or he might not—he was in the passage, and so was she—I cannot say exactly how many boxes or trunks were put into the coach—whether it was three or four—I never saw Mrs. Brown again alive—I did not see Greenacre again, till I saw him at the police-office—Mrs. Brown did not return on the Monday—the keys were sent to me on the Tuesday—her person was in nowise disfigured when she left on the Saturday—she was not wounded, but just as usual—there was no injury about her eye—no blows, or any thing whatever—on the Tuesday following the Monday on which she was to have come with the keys, I received the keys from one of the lodgers—I did not see from whom the lodger received them—I forget the lodger's name Mrs. Brown had paid the rent up to the Tuesday before—I have not received the

rent up to the following Tuesday—that was part of the object the deceased had then she said the was coming on Monday to pay me—on Friday, the 24th of March, I saw a head in Paddington poorhouse—I noticed the teeth and the colour of the hair of that head, and they corresponded exactly with the teeth and hair of, Mrs. Brown—I noticed the colour of the eye—it resembled hers.

Cross-examined by MR. PRICE. Q. Were you very intimately acquainted with Mrs. Brown? A. Yes—my husband and I occupied the front parlour next door to her—I was in the habit of seeing her every other day or so—she got her living by washing and mangling—she was very much at home, occupied with her business, the whole of the day generally—she had nobody to assist her—she generally did all her work self—I have seen the prisoner Greenacre—I do not remember when I first saw him—it was some weeks before he took her away—I believe he came frequently to see her, but not being in the same house I did not see him—was not present when be used to come to see her—the lodger's name is Mrs. Hawksworth, from whom I received the key—Mrs. Brown told me that the reason she did not give me the key was, she had some few things in the room which did not belong to her—she had a right to occupy room till the Tuesday—there was only one room—she said she should return on Monday, and then only to give up the key, and pay the rent—did not receive the rent till Wednesday—my husband was the first person who went into the room—he is here—I went in with him, and found nothing in the room but an empty birdcage, of no value—it belonged to Mr. Brown—she had offered it for sale for a trifle—I am quite certain there was nothing else in the room.

MR. CLARKSON. Q. You did not jive in the house where Mrs. Brown resided? A. No—it was on the Wednesday after the Saturday she left that I received the key from the lodger—any one who had the key could have gone into the room without my knowledge, and taken any thing out—while I knew Mrs. Brown she was a very sober woman.

WILLIAM GAY . I live in Goodge-street. The deceased was my sister—just before her death we were not on friendly terms—I saw her the Thursday before her death, at my mistress's shop—I am a broker, doing business for a lone woman, who keeps a broker's shop, No. 10, Goodgestreet—it was there I saw my sister on the Thursday—she was alone—I know the prisoner Greenacre—I do not remember haying seen him before Christmas—I saw him on the Tuesday night after Christmas, about seven o'clock or so—it was candle-light—he came to my mistress's shop—I was not exactly in the shop—I came from the low kitchen—my mistress was it the shop when he came—I heard him speaking to her, and telling her the wedding was put off, that he had investigated into the character of Mrs. Brown, his intended wife that was to be, and she had no property; and he thought that she had, by the report that he had heard from some people, and by what she had said about taking a shop in London, instead of going to America—he said that Mrs. Brown had run him in debt at the tallyshop and they had had a few words, and were not going to be married after he had said this, he said Mrs. Brown would not go to tell the people who had provided the dinner, that they were not going to be married, whereby he said he went, I think he said at eleven o'clock, that Saturday night, and told them, because she would not go—his, expression was, they had had a few words—of course be meant on the Saturday night—I never saw him before in my life, not know him—he was not acquainted with

my mistress—my sister Hannah was acquainted with my mistress from her childhood—my mistress's name is Blanshard—I do not believe that Greenacre knew I was Hannah Brown's brother—I believe my sister never told him—my mistress said to him, "This is Mrs. Brown's brother-wont you walk in?"—I had come up then, and stood and heard them talking said nothing—he said, "No, I am in a hurry," and the countenence of the man changed, and he walked off saying something which I could not understand—I do not think he stopped two minutes after my mistress said was Mrs. Brown's brother.

Q. Do you knew that your sister, Mrs. Brown, had met with accident with one ear? A. Yes; the left ear was torn where it was pierced for the ear-ring—I had heard her say a fellow-servant had torn it is play, and the ear was bored higher up—it had healed up, but was still perceivable, like a cut—I have seen it in that state—I have since seen a head at Paddington workhouse—I looked at the left ear, and found a similar appearance, there as that I had Noticed in my sister—I noticed the eye in that head, and it resembled fiefs—I also noticed the hair—I took a lock of it from the workhouse—it was light hair mixed with grey—her hair corresponded with that I saw at the workhouse—I believe it was my sister's head, and no one else's—I told the overseer fit the poorhouse he need not go any farther, for that was my sister's head—I never heard of any child of hers at Norwich—there is a sister's child she took to London who was with her for twelve months or two years, and she went down to Norwich, and got a situation there—she always termed her her daughter—she is now living in Dean-street, Soho.

Cross-examined by MR. PAYNE. Q. How long had you been dost stairs before you came up and found Greenacre with your mistress? A. I cannot positilvely say, sometimes I am up and down in an hour, per haps, five or six times—it was dark at that time, and I came up as I could not see—I cannot tell how long I had been down; all I know it, I cum up at the time he was there—I have always given a similar account of to conversation, as I have now—I cannot speak for a word—I belief Iii, not mention to the Magistrate the conversation about America, or taking the shop—I never was at such a place before, and perhaps my feelings would not allow me, in the agitated state I was in, to recollect ever thing particularly.

Q. Have you had any conversation with any person since, to refresh your memory as to what took place then? A. No—only respecting talking to each other—mistress and me—my mistress and I talked abort my sister being absent, but not about this conversation, which I have stated—I cannot tell how long the man had been in the shop before I came up—I do not suppose above a minute or two—the conversation lasted it might be five or eight minutes after I came up—I cannot swear exactly to the time—I know, from my own knowledge, that ths child at Norwich was called the child of the deceased—it was my other sister's daughter next to me, or I next to her—she is not dead—the deceased termed it her child, because she brought it to London in her childhood, and she had the care of seeing after it—the deceased never had a child of her own, to my knowledge—I often saw my sister, though we were at variance.

Q. Have you ever told any body before today a single syllable about the countenance of Greenacre changing when he was told you were her brother? A. I have told my wife so—that is all—I have had no conversation with any body else about his changing colour—I hold very little

conversation with any one—I cannot recollect whether I mentioned it to any one but my wife—to cut it short, if you ask me questions I shall not—I hare lived with Mrs. Blanshard, I believe, two years this month I never measured the height of my sister—she was a tall woman—a middle-proportioned woman—not the stoutest nor the thinnest—I cannot tell whether she had a round face or a long face—I cannot say so much about her face about her features—it was not a long face, certainly.

Q. How many times had you seen her within six months before Christmas-day? Q. I had seen her several times, but what time I cannot name I did not speak to her when I saw her—I had been at variance with her from about ten weeks after I came to London—I never quarrelled much with her—I have been in London two years this month—she often came to my mistress's house, but I never spoke to her all that time—I should think my sister was forty-seven years of age, or about that—the was much older than me—I am only guessing at her age—I do not know my own age—it was near the conversation that ray mistress said, "This is Hannah Brown's brother."

MR. BODKIN. Q. Do you know whether the child you speak of was brought up to any trade? A. No—I do not know that—she had been in service.

MARIA GAY . I am the wife of the last witness. I knew the deceased, Hannah Brown, quite well, for about seventeen or eighteen years—I should think she could not have had any children—I made observation of such facts which made me think so—she was a tall woman, with a very delicate skin, and very high chested, much more titan most women—and she had a large hand, and long fingers—the ear-ring had been torn out of her left ear by her fellow-servant many years ago, and that had left a slit in her ear—the part next the face hung a little lower than the hind part—the fond was closed up, but still that part hung long—there was a hole bored above its second time—I was not present at any conversation that my husband had with the prisoner in the presence of his mistress—I remember hearing the reports about the body and head being found—my husband made inquiry, and he came and told me, and I went myself to the Paddington workhouse, on the 24th of March—I saw the head, which was preserved there, and I thought by the time I saw it, which was a very small time, that I could draw the visage of her down the nose, and the features about there—from the very short time I had to look at her, it appeared at though I could draw it was the from each side of the nose—she had a very flat nose—her hair was light, and intermixed with grey, like the hair of the head I saw—I noticed the left ear, and it was as my sister-in-law's was.

Cross-examined by MR. PRICE. Q. How long have been married? A. About eighteen years—I first saw Mrs. Brown at Wyndham, in Norfolk—she lived about two miles distant, with her mother and father—I have been in London two years this month—my husband was at variance with his sister—I think for about three weeks or a month—they had rather differed—she had been that time with me before we had words—that was about two years ago—after she came to town—she came to live with me the week after, in Goodge-street, where I live now—she lived with me a very short time—the variance took place while she lived with us—that was the reason we parted—I met her several times afterwards in the street, but she never spoke to me—I had a very imperfect view of the head at the time I saw it, and will not be positive it was the head of Mrs.

Brown—I should be sorry to swear to it—I should think I might do it, from the view I took of her—it was greatly changed, but it appeared at if I could draw the resemblance—her nose was very much flattened, and it was then still more flattened—one of the eyes, I believe, was knocked out—the lower jaw was very much fractured indeed—she had a very nice set of teeth when alive, and it appeared to me as if she had but very few in fat of her mouth—but with all those differences of appearances, I still thought I could draw a likeness—she certainly had teeth out then, and I do not suppose she had a tooth out when I saw her last time—the teeth were very much like hers—she was a tall woman, much taller than I am, and her skin was delicate—I should not say she was a very weak woman—she earned her bread by very hard labour—a mangle requires power—she continued her daily occupation up to the last time I heard any thing of her, to my knowledge—she was a woman of much more power than I am—a somewhat unusually strong woman, much more than I am; but I should reckon there were many women as strong as her—I cannot tell what strength she had, by her look—her work was very hard—it requires more strength than I have to turn a mangle.

JURY. Q. Will not constant use enable a person to perform that labour better than one stronger but not accustomed to it? A. She was stronger than me I know.

MR. PRICE. Q. You have said she was very high-chested? A. yes, and her hands were very large—I never put her hand against any other—it was a much larger hand than many women have—she was a stronghanded woman, I should suppose—I should think the strength lies in the bone, and not in the flesh—I never saw her naked—she was flat I call a stout woman, not a small woman—she was larger than I am great deal—there are stouter women than she a great deal in the world—her sister is larger than her—she was high-chested—I know she would like to have shown her delicate neck, hut she could not, being higher than many women are—I should not think that bad any thing to do with strength—I never visited her in Union-street—I was not present when the prisoner called on Mrs. Blanshard—my husband came home and told me of the interview between him and Greenacre at his mistress's—I cannot bring the particulars to my recollection—he certainly said Greenacre had been, and said his sister had run him into debt in the Strand—but nothing else particular that I can bring much to mind—he did not make any observation on Greenacre or his mistress, that I recollect—he merely said he heard Mr. Greenacre complain to his mistress that she bad run him into debt in the Strand, and he said he thought if she had done it before marriage she would do it afterwards—I recollect those words—I have no particular reason for recollecting them, they made no impression on me—it was no more than what I thought would be, from what I had learnt and hard of him from my husband's mistress—I thought the man's intentions were not so kind as they ought to be to her—I do not recollect my husband making any observation to me about him—he did not express any thing of the appearance of the parties during the conversation—I am sure at that think I recollect his saying he thought Mr. Greenacre seemed in a very agitated mind and state, after his mistress stated that ray husband was the brother of Mrs. Brown—it seemed to him that it gave the man a great change of his countenance—I am not able to say the time my husband mentioned this to me, but to the best of my knowledge it was the same

night that Greenacre was at the shop—I saw my husband about half-past nine o'clock, I think, that night.

Q. Did not that communication about Greenacre's agitation make an impression on you when it was mentioned to you? A. No, not the least in the world—I did not remember it just now—it was quite immaterial in estimation at that time—my husband did not make any other observation that I can recollect—he did not tell me why he suffered Greenacre and his mistress to talk to long together, without interfering himself in the conversation—I did not ask him that—my husband generally leaves work at nine or half-past nine o'clock—I have stated all the conversation that passed that I recollect—I do not know Mrs. Glass, of Windmill-street—Saturday the first of my having any acquaintance with her—her door is not a minutes walk from mine, but I never heard of her before last Saturday.

SUSAN DILLON . I am the wife of John Dillon; we now live at No. 6 Carpentrer's-place, Windmill-lane, Camberwell. I know both the prisoners—I knew the female prisoner by the name of Greenacre—no other name—Greenacre is my husband's landlord—he lived in the house, No. 6—the same house we now live in, the the prisoner Galo lived there—we were not then living in the same house with then, but about twenty-four yards off on the opposite side—I think Greenacre came to live at No. 6 sometime in August twelvemonth—I did not see the female prisoner till about the latter end of October twelve month—she came backwards and for wards—whether she lived there, I do not know—I remember Christmasday last—it was on a Sunday—I saw the female prisoner on the evening of boxing-day, the day after Christmas, in Greenacre's gaurd, about seven o'clock—I cannot say to a minute—she came from Greenacre's door, and the child was crying violently after her—I had seen heir every day nearly, but I saw her that night in particular—I did not see her come out of the door—I saw her approach from the door, in a direction from the house, and the child was following her, she was in the front garden—it it only a narrow path—it is no street—the child was following her, crying—the gardens are in front of the houses, and a passage runs through, separating the garden of the houses on each side—the houses on each side have gardens in front—this was about seven o'clock on boxing night, Monday.

Cross-examined by MR. PAYNE. Q. How do you know it was boxing evening in particular that you saw the woman and child? A. Because I went to a particular place I was never at in my life before—I had seen the woman About there many months, and had often seen the child—it was in habit of playing with my children—I now tare at No. 6, where Greenacre lived—I have not been in the house adjoining.

Q. Is it not possible to hear a conversation, if it is loud, in the house No. 6, taking place in the houses No. 7 or No. 5? A. It is—I cannot say whether the partitions are thin, but we can hear persons in each house—if they speak any thing loud at all, I could hear what they say—it was very at seven o'clock in the evening about Christmas time—the house I lived in is about twenty-four yards from where I live now—my husband a person named Headlands were with me at the time I saw her—my husband is not here—I never knew Gale by any other name than Greenacre—I that was the man's name, and I did not know but that she was his wife.

MR. CLARKSON. Q. Was she known among your neighbours by the name of Grennacre? A. I do not know—there were many that knew her

by no other name—I never spoke to her till I took the house of her and Mr. Greenacre, which was, as near as I can say, about the 27th of January I then addressed her by the name of Greenacre, and she answered me by that name.

JURY. Q. Are you certain it was about seven o'clock on boxing-day that you saw Mrs. Gale? A. I am satisfied, for I went out to know the time, thinking it later than it was—I was going to spend the evening out, and it wanted a few minutea to seven o'clock—it was very dark, and the snow was on the ground—she had not a light—she spoke to the child—their door was open, and the light shone from the door, I suppose, for I saw her, and I could see the child from the light from the door and the snow—I could see very well—the door opens into the room—only two houses divided ours from theirs—I was going out at the time, and I passed the gate of Greenacre's bouse—I did not observe this from my own house—I was close to her—the child was crying violently at the time—it had no bonnet on—it was a little boy—it was generally very nearly dressed—I never saw a hat on its head, to any knowledge—I should think it was about four years old.

MR. PAYNE. Q. What it the distance from Greenacre's gate up to the house? A. I should think about twelve yards—from the door of the house to the gate of the garden would be twelve yards, I should think—she was inside the gate, near the path—the door of the house was wide open at the time—I saw her come from the door—it was kept open till she came close up to the gate.

CHARLES THATCHER . I have prepared copies of plans of the premises in questions; for the purpose of doing so I went to Carpenter-place Windmill-lane, Camberwell—I believe this is a faithful copy of the plan I hold in my hand—I believe these plan faithfully represent the situation of the houses on that side Carpenter's-place on which No. 6 is situated—they are fronted on each aide of the way by strips of gardens—the upper line here denotes she opposite side, Nos. 11 to 17—the red mark denotes the house No. 6—the front door of No. 6 opens from the garden into the room—there is no passage—the distance from the door of the front room to the garden gate is thirty six feet three; the front room is ten feet eight by ten feet nine—I would beg leave to explain, there is a recess underneath the cupboard by the fire on the side, which I have not taken into the measure, that would make it twelve feet four—it is a glass cupboard, but it does not decend to the floor—there is an opening underneath—the cupboard descends to about three feet from, the floor—the depth of the recces is one foot six—the distance from the fire-place to the back of the room opposite the window is exactly four feet; that is the distance from the fire-place to the division of the back room—there is a passage between the houses, on the side, and on the other at the end of the gardens—it varies in size and width—I think the average is about three feet seven.

Q. Supposing a table to be opposite the fire-place, and a chair on one side of the table where the front door is, and another at the side of the door leading to the back room, would it be possible from the size of the room to overturn a person in a chair on the floor of the room, or would they necessarily come against the wall of the room? A. It depends on the obliquity of the situation in which they sit.

Cross-examined by MR. PRICE. Q. Did you take this plan yourself? A. I did—I did not go into either of the adjoining houses—I cannot say whether they are the same size, but apparently they are—there is a door

opening from the front room into the back room—it descends a step into the back room, and lower than the front—the back room is seven feet eight by eight feet a person sitting on the right-head side of the fire-place would have their back towards that room door.

Q. A person sitting on the right of the fire-place in a chair facing the front window, if by accident a fall should occur and the back door should be open, would they fall headlong down that step? A. It depends on how they fall—it is possible—I cannot say that it is probable a person on the right-hand of the fire-placewould have their back towards the door of the back room if they sat in an oblique diretion—if she sat facing the fire-place, as a person generally does, she would have her chair at sight angles—the fire-place is three feet seven from the partition. which divides the two rooms.

COURT. Q. How far is the side of the door of the back room from the wall where the fire-place is? A. Four feet—the fire-place projects a very trifle into the room.

MR. PRICE. Q. I think you do not understand the question? A. I can give you the exact measurement, (looking at a memorandum,) though the plan may not be in proportion; the length is three feet seven—the back room of No. 6 encroaches a little on the next house, No. 7—a considerable proportion of that room is within the area of what should be No. 7—I think the partition of the front room dividing No. 6 front No. 7 is four and a half inches thick—the back room from the door to the corner is five feet three.

Q. It appears to me quite impossible that that part of the partition of the back room which divides it from the front room could be any thing like three feet—the larger proportion you will perceive is in the adjoining house, No. 7? A. 0ne foot four only is in the other house—I believe it is not more from the measure I have—the plan may be wrong from the suddenness in which it was done.

Q. What is one foot four? A. That portion of the room which you may call an encroachment on No. 7—the length of the remainder of the partition between the back and front roomis, I believe, three feet seven—the breadth of the door way is two feet four—the length from the left-hand side of the opening of the back door to the staircase it the front room is two feet six—the width of the opening to the staircase is two feet three—that is narrower by an inch than the opening in the back room—a person sitting on the right hand of the fire-place would have their back towards the back room door.

Q. Then it would be more probable than otheiwise that a chair falling back would throw the sitter with her head backwards through the door, and down a step? A. I cannot say that—towards the opening they would, but I cannot say they would come through the door-it is possible a person falling there might fall down that opening—I should apprehend the door was very old, and it was thin—it has a very imperfect bad latch to it.

Q. Now, whether the door was shut or open, was it not such a door, if so fastened, as that any body, say a stout woman, falling backwards in a chair against it would burst it open? A. I cannot say—the door open into the front room, and it shuts against the frame, hence there would be greater difficulty—I believe it opens into the front room—if it was open, if is possible a person might fall through it—any great noise in that house, I should think, must be heard in either or both the next house—a conversation such as we are now holding might be heard.

MR. CLARKSON. Q. Then, in your judgment, a fall with great violence

from one room through the door into the other, must have been heard by the next door neighbours? A. I should think it would—I should think the force of the fall would have carried away the door casing, against which the door shut, in order to fall into the back room, as the door opens in wards—that must have carried the door casing away, and I should think that could not be done without being heard next door—if the body fell against the door, I should think it must carry the casing away for a person to fall into the back room.

JURY. Q. Supposing you had been standing in the passage, and the door open, could you have seen a person in the garden very distinctly at night time? A. I could have seen them—I cannot say whether I could recognise them.

MR. CLARKSON. Q. Does not the door open, not only inwards into the front room, but next to the fire-place? A. Yes—the hinges are next to the fire-place—I cannot say that I noticed any appearance of the door, or panel, or casing being broken.

MR. PRICE. Q. Does not the door, if it opens inwards, open against the partition, and not against the fire-place? A. It opens towards the fire-place—only the partition divides the two rooms—I never saw the door so exactly open as to say it would fall against the partition, but I should think it would—I believe the back room floor is not stone—I rather think it is wood.

COURT. Q. We understand you to make the width of the back room seven feet eight? A. Yes, on one side—the distance from the left-hand side to the partition of the front room to be one foot four, and from that to where the hinges of the door are, three feet seven, and the doorway itself two feet four—that makes seven feet three—then there is the side of the door not taken in, and that would be about three inches on each side—it is a very old house, and there is a difference in the size of almost every portion of the room—there is a copper in the corner of the back kitechen—the privy is in the front of the house at present—it was formerly it the back—it was in the front when I looked at it, in the shed.

MRS. DILLON re-examined. It was in January I took the house, No. 6—I know the door leading from the back room to the front—it opens inwards, towards the fire-place of the front room—when the door is opens, you cannot place a chair in the situation it ought to stand—if I was going to sit by the side of the fire-place, I could not, if the door was open, place it in a proper situation—a table stands in front of the fire, and the door opens within about a foot of meeting the table—I am not very stout, but I must move the table or chair to pass.

Q. If the door was shut, in order to fall from the front room down the step into the back room, must you not carry away the casing of the door? A. Yes—when I sit in a chair to sit down and rock my child, without falling, I can save myself by the wainscot—when I sit by the fire, and the door is shut, I can rock my child to sleep, with the back of the chair striking against the partition between the two rooms—I fall with my head against it—the back room door has no appearance of being broken at all, nor the casing of the door—I never observed it—the floor of the back room is wood—the step is a very little one, about seven inches deep.

MR. PRICE. Q. Will not the back room door open against the wall, flat? A. Yes, quite flat, by moving it—I cannot say it will come quite close—I have always been in the habit of moving it to pass into the kitchen—I believe it will go quite back, flush with the wall—what I call the most

convenoient place for a chair, is where I can receive the most benefit from the fire.

Q. If two persons choose to sit, not on each side of the fire, but in front of it, of course there will be a considerable degree of space behind then, if they have no table in front of the fire? A. There will—there would not be room for a woman to fall back prostrate on the floor, unless she sat quite in front of the fire—if she did, she might fall back on the floor—I should not think there is room between the side of the fire and the wall to fall back prostrate, for as I sit I can rock my child, and fall back against the partition—I sit in a nursing chair, and it is lower than any other chair in the room—it has a high back.

Q. If the door was open, would it be possible for a person twinging herself back in a chair to fall into the back kitchen? A. No, I should think not—I do not consider she could fall into any place but the front room, if she was sitting by the fire—if she sat in any place, she ought to sit by the fire, aud she would not fall back into the kitchen.

Q. Is there no place where a person sitting in that room might not, by possibility, fell with part of their person into the back room? A. Certainly if she tat near the door of the back room, she might.

MR. CLARKSON. Q. When you speak of sitting in front of the fire, do you contemplate a table being opposite the fire, between the two chairs? A. No—if the table was in front of the fire, and the person, sitting so as to be comfortable, they could not be thrown into the back room—if she was sitting as she ought to sit, with the table in front of the fire, she might, but not if the table was moved from the firt—it if fold and uncomfortable to sit with the back to the door, if it is open I cannot sit with the door open even now.

Q. Then sitting in a chair on either side of the fire-place the table filing its ordinary situation in the room, is it at all probable, a chair being thrown over, she would fall into the back room? A. I should think she might if the table was where it is now in the room, and the back door open; the might be thrown into it.

MR. PRICE. Q. Suppose there is a fire in the back room, is there then any inconvenience in having the back room, door open? A. There was no stove in the back room when I took it, nor if there now.

HENRIETTA HEADLANDS . I live at No. 5, Windmill-lane, Camberwell—that is nearly opposite Carpenter's-buildings—I cannot see No. 6 carpenter's-place from my house—I known the female prisoner Gale perfectly well—I saw her in the neighbourhood about Christmas last—the last time I saw her before Christmas-day was on Christmas-eve—that was on Saturday, from half-past ten to half-past eleven o'clock io the morning—I cannot speak nearer—she was it the garden of the house No. 6, Carpenter-buildings, standing carelessly at another person might be—I had known her some considerable time before—I may venture to say near upon twelve months—I did not speak to her—the door of the house was open—I never knew her except as Mrs. Greenacre, until very lately.

Q. Have you ever addressed her by that name? A. I have never had consversation with her except, "Good meaning, it is a fine day"—she always passed by that name—I saw her no more that day—I saw her next on boxing day, Monday—I was in Mrs. Dillon's company, and her husband also, on Monday, and saw her from a quarter to seven o'clock till a quarter after, in the evening—it was quite dark—she was coming, in a, direction from Mr. Greenacre's door, down the garden—I am quite sure it was her

—her little boy was screaming violently—she came in a direction from Mr. Greenacre's door, and the door was wide open, and a great reflection of light passed from the house on to the garden—I noticed that she had a bonnet on carelessly—she took the child up in her arms, and the words the repeated were, "You naughty, cross child"—I saw no more of her—I pasted on—I saw her again on the Wednesday following, in the garden of the same house—I did not see Greenacre then—it was before dinner, between ten and eleven o'clock in the morning—nothing whatever passed between us—I did not see her there on any day that week, at the same time as Greenacre—I can undertake to say I have seen them there together both before and after Christmas, at the house—on the Friday week before Christmas I saw them both together—she had a dark, common print on when I saw her in the garden on the Wednesday—she had no bonnet on (*) Wednesday—she was dressed as a person would be it places where they lived—I remember seeing Greenacre carrying a blue merino bag in the Christmas week—it was after the Wednesday—it might be Saturday, but when I cannot say—I mean the week after Christmas day—he came down Carpenter's-place before me, and went into the house we call his, No. 6—they usually lived in the front room down staira—I noticed the shutters of that room being shut in the week after Christmas day, for three Off four mornings—they were shut at the time I saw Greenacre carrying this bag—I cannot say whether the shutter were shut on either of the occasions that I saw Gale there—this was a common merino bag, such as most tradesmen as most tradesmen are in the habit of carrying—it might be a little larger than this one, (looking at one as the table) and of a different colour—it was blue—when he got to the house with the bag, he took the key with his right hand from his pocket, and unlocked the door—he had the bag in his left hand—he let himself in—he took the key out from the front, and went in and shut the door after him—I did not see him come out—this was either Friday or Saturday sit Christmas day—it was in the Christmas week—after this the house was to be let—I went to the house with Mrs. Dillon to look at it—I cannot exactly say how soon after, but imagine it might be three weeks after Christmas—the house was fumigated from the top to the bottom with brimstone—it smelt as if it had been so—the prisoner Gale was in it, and her little boy—the fireplace was barricadoed up in the front room, except a small space—I thought I should not be able to put coals on the fire unless it was removed, though there was a fire in the room at the time—I could not see the hobs nor any part but the front of the fire—the boards came up as high as the chimney-piece—the boards reached from the hob to the mantel piece—not from the ground—Mrs. Gale had every appearance of living there then, and in fact she said she was.

Cross-examined by MR. PRICE. Q. Are you married, or single? A. Single, and live at No. 5, Windmill-lane—I knew Mr. Greenacre and Mrs. Gale as neighbours—I never had any conversation more that good morning and good evening—I had lived in Carpenter's-buildings previous to my living in Windmill-lane, with Mrs. Dillon—at that time Mrs. Dillon lived at No. 9, Carpenter's-place, on one side—Mrs. Dillon and I were intimate acquaintances—I was living at her house—I went to look at the house No. 6, to take it for her, and for me to be a lodger with her—I should consider that I stopped in the house from twelve minutes to a quarter of an hour—I went up stairs into the front and back rooms—they were furnished—there was a bed in each room, and chairs, and boxes, and the house smelt of brimstone—Mrs. Dillon made no observation about that—I made an

observation to her immediately I came out, but not before—I asked her if she smelt it, for I was coughing violently from the perfume—I have seen fire boards, but never saw one fitted in exactly as this was—there was a moderate fire, as poor people usually keep—the screen was wood I believe, but I was not near it—it was not burnt, because there was a place cut out, as if it was meant to replenish the fire—I did not know Mrs. Gale's name, farther than calling her Mrs. Greenacre, merely because she lived in Mr. Greenacre's house, and I always understood she passed as Mr. Greenacre's wife—there was a bill in the window for the house to let—the gate of the garden is generally shut—I cannot say whether there is a fastening to it—I believe there is a simple fastening—children play about there—I cannot say I ever saw them in the gardens, not in Mr. Greenacre's garden—there was only his own, child, and I suppose he did not like to be annoyed by other people's children—the garden was not in a dilapidated state—I consider Mr. Greenacre's was in the best situation—he had taken a great deal of pains with it—I saw it this morning—it is now in a dilapidated state—I was in the house this morning, with Mrs. Dillon—I saw Mr. Dillon there—we hare not been talking of this business, at all—I have mentioned it, because I went for Mrs. Dillon to come here—that is all I said about it—I had only a passing acquaintance with Mrs. Gale—that is all—we never had a few words together—the fire-place was barricadoed as I never saw one before, with the fire in it—what I mean is, I that there were boards before the fire—I thought it probable that the fire-place might smoke—the place smelt full of brimstone.

FRANCES ANDREWS . I am the wife of Joseph Andrews, a shoemaker, I lived at No. 11, Carpenter's-place, till a fortnight last Saturday—I lived there for some time last Christmas, that is, on the opposite side to No. 6—I had lived there twelve months on the 14th of last December—I know the two prisoners—I knew the woman by the name of Mrs. Gale all the tine I was there—I had not known her before—our side of the way is better supplied with water than theirs—there is none on their side—our water is laid on—I was living in friendship with Mrs. Gale, getting my living by shoe-binding—she used frequently to come to my house for water, and sometimes I have fetched her when I have found the water was on—I remember her coming the week before Christmas—before the 18th—it was not on a Saturday—it was one day in that week—she came for water—I could not supply her at that moment—she did not call on me after that for water—she did not come to me for any thing after that; only on Sunday, the 18th, she came and asked me to lend her an iron—on that day I saw a female go to her house in the afternoon—she was rather broadish across the shoulders, and rather darkish—I saw her in the afternoon in the garden, and after that I saw her go in-doors—I saw her before the shutters were shut, but not afterwards—she had a pea-green gown on, and a cap on—I did not see her is a bonnet—I did not see her go there, but only saw her when she came out—she was rather stout and broadish across the shoulders—I rather think her gown was silk, but I was not near enough to know—she was not a short woman—before that, Mrs. Gale had said to me, if I had any water, she was going to wash a pair of sheets, as she had got a visitor coming—I cannot say what day that was—it was before the 18th—she said the was coming to stop two or three days—I asked her whose visitor she was—she said, "Mr. Greenacre's"—she said she was to sleep with her—I cannot say whether the woman who came on sunday, the 18th, went away at all—I never saw her afterwards—I saw

Mrs. Gale afterwards, in the course of the week, before Christmas day—I saw her little boy in the course of the week—nothing passed between us—I saw her on boxing day—I did not see her the day before Christmas day, to my knowledge, the day after Christmas day I did—I observed nothing particular about the appearance of the house on Christmas day—I saw the shutters shut, but that was not unusual, if they went out—the shutters were shut on Christmas day—I noticed them in the morning, but did not notice after—she had not been to me for water on the Saturday, to my knowledge—I did not see her at all on Christmas day—on the following day I went over and saw Mrs. Gale, but nobody else—I cannot say what time it was—it was before dinner—it was boxing day—the windows were a little way open, but not entirely—I taw Mrs. Gale—I took the little boy a bit of plum-pudding—I did not see the boy nor Greenacre—I saw Mrs. Gale—I said, "I thought you were out yesterday, by the shutters?"—she said, "No, I was not"—that Mr. Greenacre was gone out to dine where her boy was, but she was not inclined to go—I told her I thought she was out by the shutters being shut—we had this conversation in the house—I afterwards went to her about water, I think, on the Wednesday—the water was coming on—I had thawed my water—I went over, knocked at the door, and it was opened to me—Mr. Greenacre was striking a light—he opened the door—I did not speak to him—I said, "Mrs. Gale, the water is on, if you wish to have any"—Mrs. Gale was there, as well as Mr. Greenacre—she was putting some wood into the grate—I was coming back again, and Mr. Greenacre called me back again and gave me some whiskey—Mrs. Gale was present all that time—this was Wednesday after Christmas day, the 28th of December—in the course of that morning Gale came to my house, and asked me to let George stop with us, as she was going out a little way—that was her little boy—I do not know the time—I told her I would let him stop, and be frequently came and stopped—she left some bacon and bread for him, while he was there—I never heard any more about the visitor—Mrs. Gale came back for the boy in the evening, some time after dark—when she got him I cannot tell whether she went over to Mr. Greenacre or not—I left that place about a fortnight last Saturday.

Cross-examined by MR. PAYNE. Q. In that Christmas week, were there persons occupying the houses on each side that in which Greenacre lived? A. Yes; and they are occupied now by the same persons—Mrs. Folt and Mrs. Brigden lived on each side—I did lot know where Gale lived during the latter part of that Christmas week—I did not know she was absent from there—I do not know where she lived from the Thursday before Christmas—I never saw her sleep there at all—one of the persons who occupied the house on one side of her is outside now, waiting—I have not seen the other—I am positive that the conversation I have spoken of as occurring on boxing day, about Mrs. Gale being at home on Christmas day, related to Christmas day.

THOMAS CLISSOLD . I live at No. 1, Pitt-street, Camberwell, and am a shoemaker. I know the prisoners at the bar—I became acquainted with them on moving their goods, about a week after Christmas—I happened to be going down Bowyer-lane at that time—Greenacre was an entire stranger to me—it was between nine and ten o'clock in the morning—as I went down Bowyer-lane, Mr. Greenacre met me at the top of the saw tapped me on the shoulder, and asked me if I wanted a job—I told him yes—we went up Windmill-lane, and before we got to the top of

lane, we met a boy—he asked him if he would come to assist—the boy said yes, and we both went to the top of the court, and there we found a truck at the top of Carpenter's-court, down Carpenter's-place—he put the boy in possession of the truck, to mind it, while he and I went down to the house, No. 6—when I got there, I found every thing was packed up, boxes, bedsteads, and bedding, all packed up—I think there were three boxes—I am sure there were three—Greenacre helped me out with the large box, which was the first, a little to the end of the garden—I then put it on my shoulders, and carried it to the truck—I fetched two more afterwards, and put them on the truck—then the bed and bedstead, and two or three chairs—Greenacre assisted me to tie part of the things into the truck—at this time I thought he, Greenacre, trembled exceedingly—he was very much agitated at the time he was assisting me to tie the things in the truck—after the things were tied up, he said, "Now I am going to leave the country, all is right"—the woman Gale was by the side of him—when he made that observation, Gale exclaimed, "Ah! you have done for yourself"—I and the boy went on with the truck to the last turning before you come to the Elephant and Castle, at the left-hand side, along the Walworth-road—the two prisoners accompanied me—Greenacre on one side of the pavement, and the woman on the other—I and the boy were in the road—there is a turning on the left-hand side just by the Elephant and Castle—when we got there, Greenacre said he would dispense with our services, and he was going to part with part of his furniture there—the boxes, he said, he should take himself to the Docks, and the truck he, should bring back himself—we had then missed the woman—we had lost sight of her by York-street, in the Walworth-road, and I never saw her spin till she was in custody—he did not say where he had disposed of or sold part of his furniture—there is a kind of picture shop where we stopped, where they sell pamphlets—he did not go into that shop before he said he would dispense with our services—he gave me 3d. at first, and the boy 2d., but after some cavilling, as I was dissatisfied, he gave me 6d. and the boy 3d.—this was in the Christmas week.

Cross-examined by MR. PRICE. Q. Were you out of work at that time? A. Yes—I am not out of work now—two policemen called on me to attend here—my first examination was at Union-Hall—they called on me because there was a quarrel between two women in the street, and one went and gave information to the police that I helped to move the goods—I had nothing at all to do with the women—it was the mother of the boy who helped me who was quarrelling—I do not know where that boy is—he is not here to day—I have seen him since—he came to Marylebone, but he was not bound over—I know nothing about him now, no more than he is a neighbour living very near where I live—he may be here to day if he is called on—I was walking carelessly down Bowyer-lane, and Greenacre came out of Windmill-lane—he tapped me on the shoulder, and said, "Do you want a job?" and I said, "Yes"—I did not observe any agitation when he tapped me on the shoulder—the woman walked on one side the pavement, and the man on the other, and I and to boy in the middle of the road—when I had done the job, I quarreled about payment—he paid the money—I did not perceive any great agitation then—he seemed to be in a great hurry—the agitation was not so violent as to keep him from wishing to save his money.

COURT. Q. Is there not a furniture shop, broker's shop, close by

the place where the truck was set down? A. Yes—where old furniture is bought and sold.

THOMAS HIGGINS . I worked for a mangle maker of the name of Ward I know this sack—I know it by the string of my apron—sometimes I wanted a string to tie a sack of shavings, and sometimes I was short of a bit of cord, and I took the string of my apron, and tied it to the sack—here is the string of my apron in it now—I remember using that string with the sack—I should know the sack without the string, but I know it better by the string, and I know it by the holes in it, which I used to cut with the chisel—the sack does not belong to roe but to my employer—I said I could make use of it in taking shavings out to sell—I used it sometimes once a-week, and sometimes twice a-week, for the space of two years, constantly—there are holes made in it by my child—here is one, but it is torn now—here is another, which was cut with my teeth, when I could not get a small chisel to put into it—I made the holes to put the string through, to tie the sack shavings up with—there is nothing more by which I can remember it—the sack was kept down in the manger of Mr. Ward's premises, in a stable—I go through that to go to the workshop—persons coming to the shop must come into that stable before they come up stairs into the shop—I know the prisoner Greenacre—I have seen him come to Mr. Ward's, whose premises are in Chenies-mews, Chenies-street, Bedford-square—I have seen Greenacre go up stairs to the workshop—a fortnight before Christmas day I used this sack—in the Christmas week I wanted it, and found it was gone—I do not know the day—I looked for it, but could not find it—I had put it into the manger, when I had done with it, a fortnight before—I took no notice of it afterwards—I asked Mr. Ward where the sack was—that was at the time when I first missed it—I wanted it to sell some shavings in—I cannot tell what day it was that I spoke to Mr. Ward about proposing to take out the shavings—it was in Christmas week—I noticed Greenacre at Mr. Ward's premises the week before Christmas day—Mr. Ward has now gone away—I do not know where he is gone to—I see no shavings in the sack now—I used to carry shavings of beech in the sack, and some times birch, and sometimes African mahogany shavings—the shaving is not caused by the plane—we generally use a scraper to fine wood, and plane the coarse wood—I used to sell the shavings of beech and mahogany—I call it all shavings, whether produced by a plane or a scraper—that produced by a scraper is the finest of shavings—it is very thin scrapings, very fine—they are sold merely to burn—I sell the shavings to a baker to burn.

Cross-examined by MR. PRICE. Q. Let me see the sack; are there any marks about it of pots and kettles? A. I never knew any in it—Mr. Ward is a mangle-maker—he was an acquaintance of Mrs. Brown's—I think he had known her for a length of time—I cannot say how long—I have known her for four years visiting Mr. Ward, backwards and forwards, long before any thing was known of the prisoner—it was not her that brought the prisoner to Mr. Ward—Mr. Ward, I believe, recommended him to the deceased—Ward did not tell the prisoner in my presence that he was going to America, but Ward himself told me so—I do not know whether he is gone there—I never saw the sack in Mrs. Brown's possession—I cannot tell whether Mr. Ward gave it her to remove her pots and kettles in from Carpenter's-place.

Q. Was Mrs. Brown in the habit of getting shavings constantly from

Ward? A. When we had a boy we used to tend shavings up to Unionstreet I usually sent them in sacks—I cannot say that this sack was ever there for that purpose at any time—I never took her any shavings in sacks—this sack sight have gone to her with shavings, but it always came back again.

MR. BODKIN. Q. When you sent out shavings, was the sack always brought back? A. Brought back always.

HENRY WIGNAL . I live at No. 56, Portland-street, Walworth. I know the prisoner Gale—I know both the prisoners—Mrs. Gale came to lodge it my house on the 22nd of December—she took the buck parlour, unfurnished—my wife was there when she came in—she slept at out house that night—I first saw the prisoner Greenacre at our house the text morning, about nine o'clock—that was the 23rd—he brought a bundle with him—I was at work at the time—I saw him there on Saturday the 24th, in the morning—on the evening of Saturday Gale was out—the came home about half-past nine or ten o'clock—I cannot tell what time she went out—she slept there that night—the next day, Christmas day, Greenacre came to our house, between one and two o'clock in the day, it was Sunday—Gale was then at home—they dined together—they went out in the evening, but whether they went out both together I cannot say—it was towards the evening that they went out—I cannot say the time—Greenacre was at my house during the Christmas week—he slept at my place two nights, the 31st of December and the 1st of January, and moved on the next morning—the 1st of January was Sunday—on the 1st of January I was in my own room, up stairs, reading the newspaper—he was in Mrs. Gale's apartment—I was reading the newspaper that morning to my wife, and a friend of mine, and my sister—I read of the trunk of a body being found in the Edgeware-road.

Q. Did you read loud enough for the prisoners to hear you? A. They must have heard me read it—they had the door of their room ajar, and must have heard me—they staid there all day, and slept there all night—they did not say a word about this trunk that was found.

Cross-examined by MR. PRICE. Q. Mrs. Gale came to you on Thursday, the 22nd of December? A. Yes—she did not sleep in the home every night—she slept out of the house on the 26th of December, which was boxing-night—that was the first night she slept out after she came to live with us—on the Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, she slept at our house—they went out on Christmas day, in the evening—I cannot recollect when she returned, but I should say, as near as I can guess, about six or seven o'clock—I dare say they might have stopped out an hour—I almost forget—very likely Mrs. Wignal may know something about this—I know we were not out all day, only in the morning—Gale was not out very long—the slept in the house that night—we are very regular, early people in our house—Mrs. Gale was a very quiet, well-disposed person—I cannot say that I observed any alteration in her appearance or manner from beginning to end—we did not entirely approve of Mr. Greenacre coming to our house at all—that, and her stopping out on boxing-night, occasioned on giving her notice to quit altogether—boxing-night was the night after Christmas day—it was a particularly cold, sleet, and inclement night—Greenacre dined in Mrs. Gale's apartment on Christmas day—I was not in the room when the dinner was cooked—he came between one and two o'clock, to the best of my recollection—we dined ourselves about one o'clock—upon my word, I cannot recollect whether he came before or after

our dinner—Mrs. Gale went out to buy something for dinner—I believe it was part of a scrag of mutton, according to what my wife tells me, but I did not see it.

COURT. Q. You mentioned boxing-night, and then again you named the 31st of December and 1st of January, was Mrs. Gale there during the whole of that week you say she left on boxing-night? A. She slept out on boxing-night—I let her in about seven or eight o'clock the following morning, and gave her warning to quit for stopping out and leaving the child in-doors all night—whether she went out again that day I cannot say but the following Thursday she came up and paid me my rent, and then went down stairs and took her child, and was out all day and all night, and came home on Friday—I did not let her in myself on Friday.

SARAH WIGNAL . I am the wife of Henry Wignal. The female prisoner came to lodge with us on Thursday, the 22nd of last December—I myself let the lodgings to her—she described herself as a widow woman—she did not give me her name—I know the male prisoner Greenacre—he moved her in that evening—she came into the apartment in the daytime, and between six and seven o'clock in the evening he helped her to move in with another man, with a horse and cart—she slept in the house that night—die next day the male prisoner brought a sort of a bundle, it appeared in the shape of a quartern loaf, and appeared one—she slept at our lodgings that Friday night—on Saturday, the 24th of December, Greenacre came again, in the evening—I cannot exactly say at what time—it was towards evening—on Christmas day Greenacre dined with her—on the following day, which would be boxing-day, Gale went out in the evening—I cannot exactly say the time; it was between six and seven o'clock, or it might be eight o'clock—she had a little boy.

Q. What was done with the little boy? A. She took the boy with her.

Q. Did she come home that night? A. Yes.

Q. What, on boxing-night? A. No, she did not come home on boxing-night.

Q. Was the child left behind, or did she take it with her on boxing-night? A. Yes, she took it with her—no, I beg your pardon; she locked the child up in the room—she put it to bed between six and seven o'clock, and locked the door when she went away, she did not come home that night, nor till between seven and eight o'clock the next morning—on her coming home, I gave her notice to quit—she was to leave that day week—on the following Thursday she came up and paid the rent, and took her little boy away with her that morning at nine o'clock, and did not come back again any more till the next morning—I do not remember any thing about new year's day—Greenacre slept there two or three nights during the time she was at my house, in her room—she left for good on the Monday morning—Greenacre slept with her on the Sunday night, as she moved on Monday morning—Greenacre took her goods away for her when she left.

Cross-examined by MR. PRICE. Q. The notice to quit proceeded from you I believe? A. Yes—the woman did not leave of her own accord—I was dissatisfied with her stopping out all night, and with Greenacre being there—when I gave her notice to quit Mr. Greenacre came and fetched her away—she was in the habit of dining at home every day—she used to go out occasionally, to get things in—she slept at home every night until Monday, boxing-day—she always conducted herself as a quiet, orderly peaceable woman—she was a woman living very abstemiously and sparingly

—she bad a small dinner on Christmas day—it was boiled turnips and a scrag of mutton, about one or two pounds, with her child—that was all her dinner—Greenacre dined with her that day—he came at dinner-time, and dined with her—I cannot say positively whether she went out at all on Christmas day in the evening—Greenacre came between twelve and one o'clock, or it might be two o'clock, about the time we were getting our dinner ready—between one and two o'clock—Greenacre stopped all the afternoon, I believe, till about nine o'clock, or between nine and ten o'clock, then he went away alone, leaving Gale in our house, where she slept that night—I cannot say whether Gale left the house at all, after Greenacre came there, on Christmas day—I cannot say whether she did or did not—I have no recollection on the subject—I was at home all day—one or the other was there the whole of that day—I cannot say whether Mrs. Gale left the house in the course of that evening or not—I do not think she went out at all.

Q. Supposing she had left the house then, Greenacre would have been left behind? A. I do not think she went out at all.

MR. CLARKSON. Q. Whether she left with Greenacre, or without him, or at all, you cannot say? A. No—I knew her only eleven days—she represented herself as a widow—she slept out the fourth night that she came, and he slept with her two or three nights.

Q. It that what you mean by being a peaceable, orderly woman? A. She was a person we did not approve of—there were two pounds of a neck of mutton and turnips between her and Greenacre—I cannot say exactly—there might be a pound, or a couple of pounds—there was but a very little bit—on the evening of that day Greenacre left, about nine or ten o'clock—I cannot say whether Gale went with him.

COURT. Q. What was the age of the child? A. Three or four years—it was a boy—on boxing-night the child was left at home when she went out—I did not see it in bed, but heard the child crying "Mother, "about eight o'clock, after she was gone, and several times during the night, the child cried out "Mother."

JURY. Q. The child, on the evening of boxing-day, slept at home at your house, you have no doubt? A. Yes, on boxing night I know it did, because the child sung out "Mother" in the morning the moment she came in it the door.

COURT. Q. What time did Mrs. Gale go out on boxing-night? A. Between six and seven o'clock in the evening, after putting the child to bed—I do not recollect whether she had been out before that with the child—I do not know where Carpenter's-buildings is myself.

JOSEPH KNOWLES . I am a pawnbroker, and live in Bolingbroke-row, Wilworth. I produce some articles which were pledged at my shop on the 17th of January—I took them in myself, of a female—I have seen the female prisoner before, and have every reason to believe her to be the person I took them in of—I believe her to be the person—she gave me the name of "Mary Stevens, 9, East-lane, Walworth"—I believe I have seen her before, but I have no recollection of her having been a customer—I produce a pair of shoes, two veils, and a handkerchief—they were wrapped up in an old silk handkerchief—I have got that handkerchief—I examined it after the inspector called to see it—in folding it up I perceived several stains of what I think to be blood on it—these holes in it appear to me to burnt—they are where the stains are which I conceive to be blood.

Cross-examined by MR. PAYNE. Q. How much did you advance on

these things altogether? A. 2s.—they are worth about that sum—then is something among them worth nothing at all—the marks are where the holes are in some part of the handkerchief—those marks are on the hand kerchief now—any body that has got eyes can see them.

GEORGE FELTHAM . I am an inspector of the T division of police. On Saturday 25th of March I received a warrant for the apprehension of Greenacre, and proceeded with it to the neighbourhood of Kennington—I went to Carpenter's-place to make inquiry, and on the Sunday I went with the warrant to No. 1, St. Albanstreet—I got there about half past ten or a quarter to eleven o'clock at night—the door was opened by the landlord of the house—in consequence of what he told me, I went to the parlour door, which just inside the street door—I knocked at the door, and called "Greenacre"—a voice from within said, "Yes, what do you want?"—it turned out to be Greenacre—I said, "I want to speak with you, open the door"—he said, "Wait a bit while I get the tinder-box and get a light"—I did not wait—I heard him moving in the room, as if he had just got out of bed—I lifted the latch of the door, and, it not being fastened, I went in—the root was dark—I found him standing in the room—the door fell back towards his elbows—he was standing in his shirt in the room—I laid hold of him by the arm, and he said, "What do you want?"—I said, "I have a warrant to take you into custody for the wilful murder of Hannah Brown"—by this time a light was brought from down stairs by the laid-lord—when the light was brought, I read the warrant to him, or partly so—I then said, "Do you know a person of the name of Brown?"—I said, "Do you know Hannah Brown"—he said, "No, I know no Hannah Brown"—I said, "Were you never asked in church to a person of that name?"—he said, "Yes, I was"—he was then putting on his stockings—I said, "Where is she now?"—he said, "I don't know, and you have no right to ask me those questions"—I said, "I don't mean to ask you any more questions, and I caution you what you say to me, for, whatever you do say to me I shall be obliged to repeat elsewhere"—I then searched his trowsers, which laid on a box by the side of the bed—I had not noticed Gale at that moment—just about the time I took the trowsers off the box, I saw the woman Gale in bed in the room, while I was in the act of taking out of his pockets whatever might be in them—I said, "What woman if thay? "—he said, "Why, that is a woman that comes to sleep with me"—I said, "She must get up alto, and dress and go with me"—as I was speaking thus, I saw, or rather heard, the rattling of something in her hand like a watch and I said, "What is that you have in your hand? let me see it," and she handed me this watch—I put my hand towards the bed, and she handed me the watch—in so doing, I saw that she had two rings on her finger, and I took them off at the same time—she then got out of bed and dressed herself—I then turned my attention to Greenacre's trowsers pocket, from which I took this pinchbeck watch in a leather bag—he had this purse with one sovereign in it and a cornelian stone, and there was a half-crown loose in his pocket—the cornelian stone bears a crest and the initials J. G., as it appears to me—I also found this bunch of keys, eight in number, a spectacle-case, and a pencil-case—Gale got up and dressed herself—she had put on her pocket, and I said, "Stop, what have you got in your pocket. I took from her pocket these two duplicates, these two ear-drops, which are cornelian set in gold, 2s. 5d. in money, and these keys—one duplicate is dated 17th January, 1837, for two veils, a handkerchief, and a pair of shoes, pawned at Mr. Knowles's, 19, Boling broke-row, Walworth

in the name of Mary Stevens—the other duplicate is for a pair of shoes pawned on the 9th of April, 1830, for 1s. 6d.—I found a third duplicate in this pocket-book, which I took from Greenacre's coatpocket—it is for two silk gowns pawned on the 6th of February, 1837 for 14s., At Franklin's, late Harrison, Tottenham-court-road, in the name of William Green—after they both had dressed, I sent for a coach, and as they were both coming away the female prisoner said, "Oh, there is my child in the next room"—I said, "Child?"—"Yes, said she, "I cannot go without my child," and the male prisoner requested to have a great coat out of a box which was corded—I at first refused to open the box for it—he seemed anxious for it, and I uncorded it, and gave him the coat—I did not bring the boxes away then—a coach came, and we got into the coach together—I locked the rooms, and took the keys with me, and drove to Paddington station-house—before we left the lodging, after he was dressed, and had put on his great coat, and while the child was being dressed, he said it was lucky I had come when I had, for he should have been on the quay to morrow, for he was going off to-morrow morning, at nine o'clock—he did not say where he was going—I went to the lodging again at six o'clock next morning, having kept the key the whole time—I started from Paddington at six o'clock that morning, and went to the lodging—I unlocked the boxes which I found in the room—four of them were locked and corded—one which stood by the side of the bed was not locked nor corded—the bed was on the floor, not on a bedstead—I unlocked the several boxes, and took out such articles as I thought probably belonged to the deceased, and among them was this boa, and this silk cloak—they were both wrapped together in a bundle—this shawl and this white dress I also found, and this saw I found in one of the corded boxes—there were many other things, but I only took what I thought material—I did not find any thing else then—I could not stop longer—I went again on the Tuesday, the day following, in company with the friends of the deceased; her own brother, Mrs. Davis, her sister-in-law, and three or four persons, witnesses, who have been here—I then unlocked the boxes, and found some articles—this handkerchief was in one of the boxes, and this collar laid on a recess, with some glasses, by the side of the fire-place, and this handkerchief I found in one of the boxes—it appears to have a stain of blood on it—it is a handkerchief which females wear on the neck; and this small crape shawl I also found, which was identified—in the back room, (which the male prisoner said was the female's room, on the night of their apprehension,) I found in a box this box of cards, and another box with some bits of ribbon and trivial things in it—I also found a trunk in the same room—it is a wooden trunk covered with paper—there are some pieces of huckaback in it—I should say some of the things are new, and some have been used—on the Tuesday, in the box which stood by the side of the bed, I found this pistol, in a till at the end of the box, (the box was not locked,) and the ball was in it—it has a percussion lock—I also found this French knife in the same box, and across the box laid this stick—it was too long to lay along, and it laid corner ways—it is a sword-stick—found some bullets which had been very recently made, and were made very roughly—that was all I found—I brought nothing else away at that time—I have fetched the whole of the property away since that, and it has been lodged in the station-house—the things I found were produced to the friends of the deceased at the next examination, and they pronounced their

opinions on them—they have been in my care ever since, unaltered and untouched by any body—(producing them).

Cross-examined by MR. PRICE. Q. You received a warrant to apprehend the prisoner; it was obtained on your own application, was it not? A. It was—I am not aware that I have ever given a different account of this transaction—I am quite sure the expression I used when I entered his room was, "I am come to apprehend you for the wilful murder of Hannah Brown"—I should not think I said "I am come to apprehend you on suspicion of a murder"—I have never said that I did say so—I am sure of that—quite sure—I never said that to any person whatever, on any occasion, that I am aware of—I do not think I could have said so—if any person should say so, they would be mistaken—my words were distinctly "For the wilful murder of Hannah Brown"—I read the warrant to him—I turned my head when I first saw the female—I heard the watch rattle—she had it apparently in her hand, and I heard the trinkets rattle against the watch—it was a silver watch and appendages—I demanded it, and she gate it up—this is the small pinchbeck watch that I took from the male prisoner's trowsers, which he put on and wore to the station-house—there are some stains on this blue handkerchief, apparently like blood—they appear to me to be so—I cannot say they are like any other stains—it appears as if blood had been on and wiped off—they are the colour of blood—it is a crimson colour—as though blood had been on it and wiped off with a silk handkerchief, a cotton one, or something else—the stain is not exactly crimson—it is that sort of stain blood would leave—I do not know that a gooseberry tart would leave such a stain—I will not undertake to swear what the stains are—I thought they were blood when I first saw them, and I still retain that is pression—they appear to me the sort of stains that blood would leave—port wine might leave such a stain—I got this paper box out of the back room, called the woman's room—there was another box in that room—that is at the station-house—I have kept the articles I received from the women separate from those I received from the man—I believe the huckaback was in one of the corded boxes—these two small boxes were in the wooden box covered with paper—the other was not empty, but that was nothing in it which the deceased's friends thought material—there was some children's wearing apparel in it, and a woman's gown—it was nearly full, I believe—the contents of that box are now in another box—I have kept them separate, so as to distinguish them.

Q. Now, after having been to St. Alban's-place, did you go back again to Camberwell? A. Yes, and I searched the house, in the absence of the prisoners, at Carpenter's-place—I had been to Carpenter's-place before, but not to enter the house before—I did not get information that the man had gone to St. Alban's-place, from any body at the house—one of these watches has been identified as the property of the deceased—that is the pinchbeck—I am not aware of the value of that—it is a common, rather oldfashioned watch—the pistol I have produced has no powder in it now—I had—I cannot tell what quantity there was in it when I found it, for I took off the cap and put it into my pocket—when I first examined it I perceived there was powder in it—that was when I got to the station I discovered a small quantity in it then—I should say one third of a charge—it is a percussion lock—I did not examine my pocket to see if there was any powder there—there was not a full charge in the pistol certainly, when I examined it

MR. ADOLPHUS. Q. Have you, in the course of your life, seen stains of blood on silk or linen? A. I have these stains appeared to me to be blood when I first saw them, and I am of the same opinion still—I am rather of that opinion—I have seen stains of fruit and port wine and many things—on silk and linen—I should think I could tell the stain of port wine on silk of that colour—I searched the house at Carpenter's-place when I went again—I did not find or bring any thing away from there—I looked at the room and shape of the place—my first object in going was, expecting I should find some stains of blood or something—I went to examine the house—I should not think that taking the percussion cap off would enable the powder to escape from the pistol, because the cock was down—whether it had been actually full I cannot tell.

MR. PRICE. Q. Were there other carpenter's tools there besides the saw? A. There was a coarser saw, and other carpenter's tools, but they are not here—I did not think it right to bring them.

COURT. Q. Did you find in some of the boxes several other carpenter's tools? A. I did—I could bring them to-morrow, if they are wanted.

REBECCA SMITH . I live with my husband, James Smith, at Wyndham, in Norfolk. The deceased, Hannah Brown, was a sister of mine—her maiden name was Hannah Gay—I know this paper trunk—(looking at it)—I knew it in my sister's possession—I believe this card-box was hers—I saw it last October two years—my sister was then living at Mr. Perring's, and I was stopping there a fortnight with her, and the card-box stood on the table in her room, where I slept with her, and I saw her use it of a morning, when she put her things on—(looking at Mary Ann Bale)—I know that young girl—she is the daughter of my sister, Sarah Gay—whose name is Bale, now—that girl has been living in Norfolk, latterly—my sister Hannah used to call her herdaughter—she stood god-mother for her—the girl's father died nineteen years ago—he was killed on the 9th of February—the was very young then—her mother was in the family way, and she left about a month after her father was killed—this girl was always noticed, and called as Mrs. Brown's child—she has since been in service—I never heard of my sister Hannah having a daughter, or any one she called her daughter, except that one—I never heard of her having a child of her own.

Cross-examined by MR. PAYNE. Q. Had you ever seen the trunk before you came to London to your sister? A. Yes—at different times—I speak to it by a particular mark and some work that is in it—it was seen with some waxend—it was broken by the luggage being on it when she came down into the country, and we put it together with some waxend, and plastered it together with paste—I have seen that box, and examined it within the Iast fortnight—(looking at it)—I know it by the hinges and this part here—it was done four years ago last Michaelmas—I saw it at the place the policeman took me to, and examined it there minutely—I have never expressed any ill-will against the prisoner—I never saw the man but twice.

Q. Now, with respect to your niece, where does your sister live, whose daughter she is? A. I cannot say the name of the place, but it is within eight miles of Yarmouth—I cannot say how long the girl had been with her aunt Hannah, because I was not in London—I have not been in London since last October two years—she lived with her mother a good while, and she went to service—my sister Hannah was then in London—the girl was at service at Wyndham—I do not know how long she was with my

sister after she was up here—I know nothing about that—the girl was always in service.

HANNAH DAVIS, JUN . I am the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Davis, who have been examined. I knew Mrs. Hannah Brown—I was to have been bridesmaid at her intended marriage—she had such a shawl as this—(looking at it)—I think she had it on the last time she was at our home, on Thursday evening, the 22nd of December—she had such a boa as this—I do not remember whether she had one on that night—she used to wear it in general when she came to our house—I saw her in it a short time be fore Christmas—she had such a collar as this—of this pattern—I know the pattern of the work—I remember that—I do not remember whether she had that on on the 22nd—I have seen her wear it often, and generally when she came to our house—she had such a white gown as this—it is made of jaconet muslin—this is the way it was made—she wore it when she used to go with us to Gravesend—I have seen her several times in it—she had a white veil, but I cannot swear to this—this black veil is like hers—she had a black lace veil like this—it was dotted exactly like this, and there was a tear in it, which is here—it has been mended—that enables me to recollect it distinctly.

Q. Now, did you, after the marriage had gone off, at any time go to Paddington workhouse? A. I went on Good Friday, and saw the head of a female there—it resembled that of Mrs. Brown's—the hair was like hers in colour, and the eye was like hers—I had seen her frequently in life—I believe it to be the head of Mrs. Brown.

Cross-examined by MR. PRICE. Q. That is a very common boa, I believe, is it not? A. No; I do not think it is—it is a good one of the sort, there are different qualities—there is nothing uncommon in it—she had one like it—I never saw but one collar like this, and she used to wear that repeatedly at our house—I had known Mrs. Brown for five years—I believe she was a healthy, strong woman—she was tall and stout, and of a vigorous frame—she was a very hard-working woman—I remember her living at Mr. Perring's, the hatter—I do not remember seeing that covered box among her things, but I did not take particular notice of her boxes—I have seen her several times at her house—I slept with her once in Union-street, and I visited her very frequently.

Q. Did it not occur to you as extraordinary, that you heard nothing more of the marriage? A. Mr. Greenacre came and said it was put off—I had no curiosity to know any thing about the reason of its being put off—I did not see him, my mother saw him—I made an attempt to find Mrs. Brown—I went once to Mrs. Blanshard, in Goodge-street, Tottenham-coot road, where her brother lived—I only went once to inquire after her myself—we thought that she was ashamed to come, on account of her great disappointment in not being married—I do not know Mrs. Giass of Windmill-street—I never heard Mrs. Brown speak of her—I knew some of Mrs. Brown's friends and acquaintances—I knew Mrs. Blanshard and Mrs. Ellener—Mrs. Blanshard was intimate with her—I have not seen them much together, but I believed them very intimate—her brother lived as servant to Mrs. Blanshard—I did not know they were at variance—I had heard they had had a few words, but did not know exactly that they were at variance then—I did not know that they did not associate—I heard nothing of that from Mrs. Brown herself—I have heard her talk of it, but did not know they were it variance at that—I do not know how Mrs. Brown came to visit Mrs. Blanshard and not her brother—I have

been to Mrs. Blanshard's with her—I do not think her brother was in town when I went there—I went to tea there once, before he came to town.

Q. When you read the account in the papers of a person missing, did—it never occur to you that it might be Mrs. Brown? A. No—I first learnt that Mrs. Brown was missing, on the Sunday before Easter Sunday, from the brother who went in search after her at Camber well.

SARAH ULLATHORNE . I am the wife of Thomas Ullathorne, a baker in the Strand. I knew the deceased, Hannah Brown, from a child—I knew her well and intimately; we lived close to one another in the country, before we came to London, and we kept up our intimacy all our lives—she used to visit me up to Christmas last (looking at the cloak)—I have seen her wear a cloak like this about once—it seems the make, and like the cloak the had on at that time, for I looked at it particularly when she came to my house—it is a black silk cloak—it might be five weeks or a month before Christmas that she called on me with it on—it was the last time I saw her, I think—I have seen her wear a shawl like this, many times, and have seen her wear this boa, or one like it, frequently—this black veil is also like one I have seen her wear.

Q. Now, taking all these things together, if they were found in a room or any where, should you pronounce them to be Mrs. Brown's property? A. I should; the shawl particularly, but not the other things so much—the shawl I had particularly noticed, because I wanted one like it, but could not get one—I cannot speak to the boxes—she was staying with me at one time, which enabled me to notice her things.

Cross-examined by MR. PAYNE. Q. Is there any thing particular about that cloak, or is it a common black silk cloak? A. I should not particularly know the cloak—I should know the shawl if I saw it any where else—it is a particular pattern, which I never saw before—if I had seen it twenty miles off in the country, quite unconnected with Mrs. Brown, I should have thought it was the same pattern—I do not speak with any confidence to the boa—the shawl is the only thing I can speak to with confidence—my intimacy with Mrs. Brown continued up to within about the last month of her death—I saw her, perhaps, once a fortnight or week.

Q. As you yourself got up in the world, did your acquaintance with her discontinue? A. No; I was on the same terms of intimacy with her as I was before—I never made any difference—she mostly visited me—I did not visit her in Union-street—she was a strong, hearty woman—she got her living by keeping a mangle.

MARY PAINE . I am the eldest sister of the deceased Hannah Brown—this Pinchbeck watch was my sister's—I have had it in my possession for three or four months together—I cannot be positive to these ear-drops—she had some very nearly like them.

CATHERINE GLASS re-examined. I have seen this cloak—Mrs. Brown had one exactly like it—I had not seen it very often—I noticed the make of it, because she showed it to me, and asked me how I liked it—I examined it on her—it corresponds exactly with the one she showed me—I have seen her wear a boa exactly like this, and she had a shawl exactly like this—I have seen it very often—I remember the pattern—I have often noticed it—it is exactly like the shawl she wore.

Cross-examined by MR. PRICE. Q. It appears to be an ordinary cloak, is it not? A. Yes; very commonly worn about the street—I last saw her in it, a fortnight before Christmas, at my house—I have seen her wear it at her own house—she usually dressed very respectably—the boa was

not a recent purchase—the cloak, I believe, she had recently—I know she had not had it long—I cannot tell how long she had the boa; I believe as long as I have known her—I cannot exactly say I know the white dress—I know she had one, but cannot say whether that is it or not—I never visited Mrs. Brown, except at my own house—we have gone out together—I did not know any of her friends—I knew her nearly two years, but never knew any of her acquaintance—she never slept at my home before—she told me she should sleep with me on Saturday night, because all her own goods were out of her own apartment—she told me she had been to Mr. Greenacre's—she has called on me when she has been going there—she never said she was going to stop there—she was a stout, strong, muscular woman.

MR. BODKIN. Q. Did she say any thing to you about Mr. Greenacre inquiring about her property? A. No—she told me whatever her goods sold for, she was to have for herself, because Mr. Greenacre did not want any money, he had got plenty.

MRS. DAVIS re-examined. Mrs. Brown had a collar like this, and she has been, I dare say, dozens of times to my house with such a collar—I had noticed the pattern and work of it, and directly I saw this collar I knew it—I saw it at Lambeth, at the house where it was found—I accompanied the officer there—Mrs. Brown had a boa like this, but I do not know any particular mark on it—I know she had cornelian drops, but cannot say these are them—they are like them as far as I can see.

EVAN DAVIS re-examined. I remember that Hannah Brown had similar ear-drops to these, but I cannot say they are the same.

WILLIAM TAYLOR . I am parish-clerk of St. Giles-in-the-Fields. I produce a book of the publication of banns—I find the banns of marriage between James Greenacre and Hannah Brown published the first time on the 27th of November, the second time on the 4th of December, and the third time on the 11th of December—they were completely out-asked before Christmas—I officiated, and know they were published by the minister—I entered them in the book, banded it to the minister, and he published them.

ELIZABETH CORNEY re-examined by MR. PRICE. Q. On the evening of Mrs. Brown leaving your house, do you remember her packing up her things? A. Yes—I am not aware that she had any kettles, or any thing of that kind—I believe she sold every one of them—I have only a belief of that—I never saw this piece of sacking till I saw it in the policeman's possession—I do not believe she had that sack among her things when she went away—I never saw it—I did not observe the things she carried away very attentively—I do not know that she carried away any cooking things—I do not believe she did.

MICHAEL CARROL BROWN . I am a police-sergeant. On Sunday, the 26th of March, I was at the station-house at Paddington, on duty, and the two prisoners were brought into my custody by Feltham, about half-past eleven o'clock at night—about ten minutes after Greenacre was brought in Feltham read the charge to him, and I put the prisoners into separate cells—there were no other prisoners with either—Greenacre was visited by me about twenty-five minutes after twelve o'clock, in his cell—I found him lying on his back, with this silk handkerchief tied into a noose round his right foot, and the other part of the handkerchief tied round his neck—I first cut this part off his neck, and then I cut the other—he was stiff, and apparently dead—Mr. Girdwood came and bled him, in five or seven minutes, and he recovered

in about three hours—the first word I heard him say, as I was in the act of putting his foot on the fender by the wish of Mr. Girdwood, was, "I don't thank you for what you have done—I wish to die—d the man that is afraid to die—I am not."

Cross-examined by MR. PAYNE. Q. Were you examined before the Magistrate about this? A. No; I was in attendance to be examined, and was not called—Mr. Girdwood, Feltham, and a police-inspector, were present when this conversation occurred—I did not make a memorandum of the words—I have mentioned the words over several times since—I have talked about it to many people—I do not know whether I have done so to my brother policemen—perhaps I have, but I cannot charge my memory—I might have done so—I am quite clear that I am correct in the words I have mentioned.

THOMAS TRINGHAM (police-constable T 187). I was in the cell with Greenacre, at the police-office at High street, on Saturday morning, the 1st of April—he began talking first about people coming in to look at him—he said, "This affair has caused a great deal of excitement; more, I believe, than any that has transpired in London or the country for some time"—he said, "Many people run away with the idea that this was moved in a cart"—I said, "What, you mean the body?"—he said, "Yes; but it was not; it was moved in a cab"—I said, "Was it on the same night that the affair happened that it was removed?"—

MR. PRICE. Q. Had you said any thing to him before this conversation took place? A. I cautioned him before it began not to have any convenation with me, as perhaps I might name it—I said nothing else—he did not send for me—I was placed in the cell with him after the occurrence, and he began to talk to me voluntarily.

MR. CLARKSON. Q. You said, "Was it on the same night that the affair happened;"what said he? A. He said, "No, it was not; it was in the morning"—I said, "The morning of the same night?"—"No, "he said, "on the Monday morning, I believe"—I said, "Was it after daylight?"—he said no; be believed it was between the hours of two and five—he then said, "There is a great deal of mystery about the head—they have run away with the idea that it was thrown over the tunnel at Maida-hill, and they don't know to the contrary—there is no proof to the contrary—but I don't want to satisfy the minds of public curiosity"—I repeatedly, in the course of the conversation, cautioned him not to talk to me so much—he said, "As for what I say to you, is nothing"—he then began asking me if I knew whether a person was coming forward, whose name I do not recollect; Captain some-body—he did not say a Captain of what—I said, "I don't know"—he said he had been informed that he was—"Well, if he does, "he said, "I will provide myself with some questions to ask him"—he then commenced writing—after he had been writing some time, he read over some sentences of that he had been writing—questions he intended to ask this captain—it was about a ship that this captain took to America with a cargo of goods—he did not name what goods; but he sold them, and defrauded his creditors—he said he had also sold the ship, and cheated the owners, and came back and returned it as a total wreck—he asked me repeatedly, while he was writing, if I had got a knife to cut his pencil—I said I had not—he asked me several times for a knife.

Cross-examined by MR. PRICE. Q. When did this conversation occur? A. On Saturday morning, previous to the second examination—I found

him very freely communicative—I am quite certain he said the body was removed between two and five o'clock in the morning.

MATTHIAS RALPH re-examined. I conveyed the head I found in the lock, to the bone-house—I locked the bone-house up, and gave the key to the gravedigger's wife at his own houses—I believe her name is Sarah Matthews—(looking at her)—that is her—I left the head in the bone-house in exactly the same state as it came out of the water, wrapped up in what I carried it.

SARAH MATTHEWS . I am the gravedigger's wife. I received the key of the bone-house from Ralph on the Friday—I delivered it to James Barrett the same day—I kept it till I gave it to him—I did not let any body in in the meantime.

JAMES BARRETT . I am a bricklayer. I received the key of the bone-house from Mrs. Matthews, and went there with it—I saw Mr. Birtwistle the surgeon there—he saw the head that was in the bone-house—I opened the door and let him in—several people went in at the time I went in, because I could not keep them out—they went in at the same time I did, on my opening the door—I went a good many times that morning to get the boards out—no one went with me—strange people came in and looked at the head, but nobody interfered with it at all—they did not touch it—I let Mr. Birtwistle in about the middle of the day, and several more gentlemen went in at the same time.

Cross-examined by MR. PAYNE. Q. When you went for the boards, did you take them off to another part of the burial-ground? A. I locked the door when I took the boards out—I did not go away and leave the strange people in the bone-house—I took the boards outside, and locked the door after me, and had the key in my pocket—I took all the set of boards out at one time—I suppose I went six or seven times before I went with Mr. Birtwstle, and every time I came out I locked the door.

JAMES FELL . I am clerk at the public office, Marylebone. I attended the examination concerning the two prisoners—I have a statement here which was made by the prisoner Greenacre—nothing was said by the Magistrate, or any person, by way of promise or threat, to induce him to make that statement—it was his own voluntary statement—I took it down—I did not read it over to him at that time—I did afterwards at a subsequent examination—he then acknowledged it, and signed it—the female prisoner also made a statement in her behalf—I read it over to her, and she signed it—she very well understood what it was—these are the statements—(read)

"The prisoner Greenacre says: There have been many direct falsehoods given—the key I have had twenty years—I did not tell her brother that we had had words—I told him distinctly that we had no words on the subject—I questioned her about the property, and I found that she was a loose woman—she had put up two silk gowns to me at a tally-shop—there had been duplicity on both sides—there are many coinciding circumstances that may perhaps cost me ray life—one of the witnesses has stated that I helped her to move her boxes on Saturday; that is true—I had this female lodging in a room, and she washed and cooked for me—I gave her notice to leave previous to Mrs. Brown's coming home, and she left—Mrs. Brown came down to my house on Saturday night—she was rather fresh, from drinking in the morning—in treating the coachman she had made herself fresh—then at night, being Christmas eve, she insisted on having some rum, and had a great deal to her tea—I thought that a favourable opportunity to press her for a statement of her circumstances, and she seemed

reluctant to give me any answer; and I told her that she had often dropped insinuations in my hearing about hating property to go into business, and she had said that she could command 300l. or 400l. at any time—I told her I had made some inquiry relative to her character, and I had ascertained that she had been to Mr. Smith's in Long Acre, a tally-shop, to endeavour to procure silk gowns in my name—when I put those questions to her, she pat on a feigned laugh, and retaliated, by saying she thought I was deceiving her by misrepresenting the extent of my own property—during this conversation she was reeling backwards and forwards in her chair, which was on the swing; and, as I am determined to adhere strictly to the truth, I must say that I pot my foot to the chair—it was just after we had concluded tea, and she went back with great violence against a chump of wood that I had been using of, and that alarmed me very much—I went round the table, and took her by the hand, and kept shaking her, and she appeared entirely gone—as it regarded my own feelings, it is impossible for me to give any thing like a description, from the agitation I was in at the time—during this state of excitement I deliberated, and came to the determination of concealing her death is the manner it has been already laid before the world—I thought I might be more safe that way, than if I gave an alarm of what had occurred, because if I had, I thought I might be considered her murderer—no other individual had the least knowledge of what I have now stated—this female, who is here, I perfectly exonerate—she was away from the house—this took place in Carpenter's-buildings, Camberwell—some days afterwards, when I had put away the body, I called on this woman, and solicited her to return to her apartment Again—as regards her things and her trunks, I told this woman that, as she had left them there, we would pledge them—the whole of them fetched about 3l.—I do not knew any thing more that I have got to say—she had eleven sovereigns and two or three shillings—that is a true statement of the facts—It was Christmas eve it happened—we had tea about seven or eight o'clock, and it was that evening I called on Mrs. Davis to stop their going to church—there was no quarrel at all.

The prisoner Gale, says, "I have nothing to say—I know nothing about it—I was not at Camberwell at that time—those two rings that was taken from me, one of them I gave 5s. 6d. for in the City, twelve months ago, and the other, my little boy, who was digging in the garden, found, with a half sovereign, two half-crowns, and a five-shilling piece, and sixpennyworth of halfpence—the ear-drops have been my own for this seven or eight yean—in regard to the shoes, Mrs. Andrews gave me the ticket, and the other ticket I found in the street near our own house—Mr. Greenacre told me I must leave hit house a fortnight before Christmas, but I could not suit myself with lodgings till the Wednesday or Thursday following—I returned back on Monday-week following the Thursday—he said the correspondence was broken off between him and Mrs. Brown, and he wished me to come back again—That is all I have to say."

The prisoner Gale says nothing.

MR. JOHN BIRTWISTLE . I am a surgeon, residing in Mile-end road. On the 6th of January I saw a human head at Stepney Churchyard, which was afterwards removed to Mile-end workhouse—it had been drawn from the canal—when I saw it—in the dead-house I partly examined it, but not

KELLY Mayor. minutely—I examined it enough to know that it was in the same unaltered condition, when I examined it more particularly on the following day the 7th—it had not been altered in the least—when I examined it on the 7th, in our workhouse, I found it had received a blow in the right eye, that the coats of the eye were ruptured, and the humours consequently let out——round the eye was ecchymosisy which means the pouring out of the blood from the rupture of a vessel—that effect was produced when the body was alive—that is my opinion—the appearance of it was what I should call tremendous black eye—the face was cut in various places—this appear ance of the eye was caused before death—that is my opinion—after death, 1 think, a blow on the eye will not produce that effect.

Q. Was the eye totally displaced, or did it remain void of its humours? A. It remained void of its humours—there were several lacerations on the face—one a sort of crescent-like laceration on the cheek, and a contort wound on the lower jaw—the crescent-like wound, I conceive, was pro duced by incision—the one on the lower jaw, by being jammed—both the lower jaws were fractured—my opinion is, all the wounds I have described, except on the eye, were inflicted after death—on the top of the head there was a bruise also, which had occurred after death—I did not observe any other wound on the head at the time I am speaking of which was at our workhouse, on the 7th of January—I examined the neck at the dead-house, and found the body of the fifth cervical vertebra had been sawn through and disarticulated at the transverse processes—that is it had been disjointed about five of the bones of the neck down.

Q. Would such a saw as the one produced, effect the severance of the head in the manner you have described? A. I think it would—I have seen this saw since applied to the two bones, and it fits exactly—I kept the head in our dead-house until night, and had the key of it my self—I then went over with the policeman, and it was removed to my house, which is opposite the workhouse—I then packed it in a small hamper myself, tied it up, and put my own seal upon it, and gave it to two policemen, a sergeant of the K division and a common policeman—it was taken from my house that night to Paddington workhouse—I saw it again there about half-past ten o'clock next morning—the hamper was then as I had left it, with my seal untouched—I then examined the bead more carefully, in company with Mr. Gird wood—I was present when be ex amined it, and appearances were then made obvious which were not appa rent before—the right ear had a notch in it—I think it was the right ear—the head is here—we examined the wounds which I have described, and, came to the conclusion that the wounds I have said were inflicted after death were so, and that the other, the eye, was inflicted before death—we then proceeded to open the head—there was a wound on the back part of the head—I could perceive that, on opening it—there was no bruise on the outside—it was an effusion of blood—there was no bruise on the outside but an internal wound, which I could only discover by opening the head—it was between the integuments and the skull.

Q. Were you able to judge whether that wound had been inflicted before or after death? A. I think, from its appearance, it had been inflicted before death—I cannot say whether it had any necessary union or concurrence with the blow in the eye; but I should think if a blow was struck in the eye, and the back part of the head came in contact with any thing, it would produce it—I applied the head to the body that was at the workhouse, and the one fitted the other exactly—it appeared tome that he throat had been cut—the head was perfectly bloodless—all the blood

was perfectly exhausted—I had nothing to do with the body, but the bead was entirely free from blood—the were entirely free from blood—I do nut think that effect likely to have been produced if the throat had been cut after the subject was dead.

Cross-examined by MR. PRICE. Q. How long after death will the blood flow 10 as to empty the vessels of the blood—how long after sudden death? A. It would depend entirely on the cause of death—I think if a person died from the effect of lightning, the blood would flow some time after death—I cannot say as to the case of a broken neck—I never witnessed a case—blood will flow while the body is warm—I should think in to case of killing by a contused blow or bruise, or any internal injury proceeding from a blow or fall, that warmth would remain in the body for an hour or two.

Q. Daring that time would the body be capable of ecchymosis, a perfect body? A. I have never made any of those experiments, and therefore cannot speak decidedly on them—there are gentlemen here who can, but I am not prepared to enter into these matters—I am a member of the College of Surgeons—I was admitted in 1827—I have examined many bodies recently after death, but not immediately after death—I have had no opportunity—Mr. Girdwood attended the examination with me—I think him a gentleman of great experience—I mean by a bruise, any thing that has contused the part—there cannot be contusion on a living body, I think, with—I out blood being on the surface of the skin—nor immediately after death also—there is a distinction between the words bruise and contusion—it appears to me that there is—I think in a contused wound, you would not find the same appearance as in a bruise—a contusion may not produce blood on the surface, but a bruise always produces blood on the surface—a bruise always produces ecchymosis—the neck was not ex amined internally by me—I was not present at every examination—it has been examined many times since—the first examination by myself was on the 7th of January, and the second examination was on the 8th, by myself, Mr. Girdwood, and others, at the Paddington workhouse—I was present the whole time with Mr. Girdwood—on that occasion, the neck was not opened—the part cut was examined—that is, the anterior part of that portion of the neck, which had been divided from the trunk—the cervical column was taken out by disarticulating it from the head—Mr. Girdwood art down upon the first vertebra—he introduced the knife through the flesh—he then cut the neck down—he took the bones out entirely, and left the toft parts—he then cut down the neck from the first vertebra to the remainder of the fifth, in front, and behind—he removed the flesh from the column on one side, but the flesh remained—he then severed the column fromfrwn the head with the knife, preserving the whole of the fourth and fifth vertebra—that column was not dissected longitudinally in my presence—I do not know whether it was dissected at all—I am not aware that we made any observation on the neck, during the operation of direction, except on the retraction of the muscles—I mean the muscles were less, they were retracted—I am not aware of any other observation on the neck—Mr. Girdwood has that column now—the body of the verte bra was sawn through—from the jagged appearance of the bone, I should say it was not cut through with a knife—from the rough appearance I would say so—it appeared to be done with a saw—it was rough all through—I do not think a notched knife would have done it—I think this saw would have done it—I did not observe whether there was any spinal marrow in the filth vertebra—I made no remark on it whatever.

Q. In what part of the skull in the corresponding integument was it you found the internal bruise? A. This part, (pointing to hit own head) just, on the occipitis—rather more at the left side than the centre of the head.

Q. Supposing that to proceed from a blow on the back of the head, might it create a suffusion of blood within the head? A. I cannot give an opinion of that—it might or it might not.

MR. GILBERT FINLAY GIRDWOOD . I am a surgeon of the parish of Paddington—I am not a member of the College of Surgeons—I passed my examination at Edinburgh—I have been practising as a surgeon twelve years—I examined the head of a female at Paddington workhouse, on Sunday the 8th of January—Mr. Birtwistle was present at the time, alio Mr. Lucas, and some other medical men—there are three published doc* ments, which I drew up at the time—they are copies of my original notes—I have not the original notes with me—they have all been published—the first was made at the inquest—that was before I examined the bed—it had reference to the trunk only—I published an account of the appearances of the head on the very day it was examined, on Monday, the 9th of January; a note of it was given to the churchwardens and to the newspapers—i saw it afterwards in the newspapers—I saw the head on Sunday, the 8th of January, at Mile-end workhouse, and examined it very cursorily—on the 9th, between nine and ten o'clock in the morning, I went into a more detailed examination—the bead was brought to the work-house during the night—upon examining it on the 9th, the head had the appearance of being that of a female—the nose was slightly flattened about the centre, and it had a slight twist of the tip to the right side—there were several wounds and bruises—there was a large wound on the left cheek, in the shape of a crescent, commencing a short way under the left eye, and terminating on the same level as the mouth, and about a inch or an inch and a half from it—it was an incised wound—it was merely superficial—it entered into the cellular membrane and the fat underneath-in my judgment that wound was inflicted after death—there was under that wound, a large contused wound over the lower jaw—the jaw was there fractured—that injury, in my judgment, was inflicted after death-on the other side of the face there was another contused wound, at the right angle of the lower jaw; there, too, the bone on that side was broken—on that side, too, there was a wound, partly contused and partly in-incised, and which opened right through into the mouth—(those two lit ter injuries were sustained after death)—it opened right through into the mouth, and by that means made the mouth larger, continuing the moots along the cheek; several of the teeth of the upper jaw were forced out and the tongue was crushed between them—that appeared to me all part of the same injury—the right eye had received a blow—there was a wound in the eye itself, above the pupil, which had entered into the eye, and occasioned the escape of the humours of the eye around the eye, above-below, and there was a mark, a round ecchymosis, surrounding the eye; presenting the appearance not of an ordinary, but of an extraordinary black eye; as to its severity—it was of the same species—I might call it what would follow a black eye, but to a considerable extent—within the area of this bruised appearance there were three small superficial wounds; was external to the orbit of the eye, one was superior to the orbit of the eye, and the other was situated on the side of the nose, and exposed the bone of the nose.

Q. In your judgment, was the injury you have described to the eye, inflicted during the life of the party, or after death? A. I believe the wound in the eye, and the bruise around it, to have been inflicted during life, and I believe also the three small wounds I have alluded to, to have been inflicted after death—the circumstance of the eye being ruptured would imply great force—it might be the result of a blow with the fist of a person—I think it could not be referable to a blow with a dull weapon—there was no mark on the surface of abrasion—abrasion is more likely to follow a blow by a bludgeon than a blow by a hand—I mean abrasion of the skin—it is almost impossible to say whether it was inflicted with a fiat or instrument—I could not form any definite opinion—a blow struck with the violence I judge this to have been inflicted with, would certainly deprive the party so struck of sense for the moment, and at the moment, for a time—the length of time it would do so depends entirely on the individual—one person would bear a blow very differently to another—it depends on the effect produced on the nervous system, on the vital energies of life—this being a female subject, it is very possible the blow would deprive her of senses, so as to enable further injury to be given to her during that period of insensibility.

Q. Supposing, on the blow being struck in front, the back of the head was to be driven in contact with any thing, would that tend to increase the period for which insensibility would follow? A. I think it very likely—there were two appearances behind, which I have not yet described, on the crows of the head—it was a large contused wound—that is all—it was two wounds together—there were two bruised surfaces coming into one another continuous—they had been done'after death—it was a semilunar wound, having two tail, as I may say—on turning back the scalp, which we cat through from ear to ear, by cutting a little and exposing the upper part of the skull, on the pos—I tenor surface on the left side in the cellular membrane, underneath the skin, and in those muscular fibres called the occipilo-frontalis muscle, existed an ecchymose appearance—I opened the head, and found an internal injury corresponding with the outside—on the outer covering of the brain, called the dura mater, there existed a slight redness, an unnatural redness, not visible any where else—that was opposite to the place where the ecchymosis appeared—that was so far a serious injury that serous effusion on the dura mater indicated a disturbance within.

Q. Now, was there, in your judgment, any connexion between the injury in the eye and that at the back of the head? A. I could not but think that the one was the result of the other—that the appearances behind were the result of the injury in front—that is on the supposition that the head, when struck in front, came in contact with some resisting body—there was this relation between the two injuries, that it was on the opposite side of a round body, and a round body struck on one side, if opposed by striking against something, will show that something has struck there—the external appearance of the skull would not be caused by the blow in front, sup posing it did not strike against any thing at all—the internal derangement which was presented, might have been the result of a blow in front, supposing the back of the head did not come in contact with any thing—by the derangement, I mean the slight redness on the dura mater, as well as the disturbance which that intimated—the appearance in the eye could not possibly be caused by a blow struck at the back of the head—whether that injury was by a "blow, a fall, or any other means, it could not have

caused the appearances in front—I afterwards proceeded to examine the throat—the head had been separated from the trunk at the fifth bone of the neck, which was sawn through—not entirely, but partly—I have fitted the saw produced, to the bone, and it appeared to me to correspond—the greater part of the anterior portion of the bone was sawn through, and the other part of it appeared to have been broken off—the posterior part—it was sawn nearly through from the front, and then broken off—there was no appearance of discolouration of the neck—the fleshy part of the neck appeared to have been cut with a sharp instrument—such an instrument as this (looking at the knife) would be adapted to the purpose—it is something in the form of a surgical knife—it has a spring at the back which makes the blade firm—the muscles where they were divided were very much retracted—the muscles do retract for some time after death—as long as warmth continues, or until the rigidity of death begins.

Q. Supposing a person to meet a violent death suddenly, being in good health at the time, how long would that state of the muscles which would cause them to retract, continue? A. I cannot speak from experience, but I should say it would continue some time of course—in all states after death, this retraction of the muscles will continue some time—certainly some hours—but the retracting power, which is often very strong at the moment of death, gets less and less every hour, and at last ceases—it would be less, too, if much blood was lost at the moment of death—the retracting power would continue for a shorter time, inasmuch as the body would sooner get cold and rigid—I found all the large blood-vessels of the head empty, and the same as to the trunk—there were other wounds about the neck, independent of that which severed it from the body, but they were all part of the same attempt in cutting the neck—the superficial cut was very ragged.

Q. We have not yet got to that—independent of the cutting of the neck, did you find some superficial cutting about the neck? A. Yes, the tomination of the wounds which were carried round and round the neck—the neck was evidently cut in front at first—the first incision commencing on the left side, in the fold which exists where the bead joins the neck, high up, exactly here (putting his finger uider hit ear)—it passes along the fold in front of the neck, behind this ear, and terminates on the right side—that cut was not continuous round the neck—the continuation of the cut appears to have been jagged on the right side—the division of the muscles becoming now deeper and deeper, and at the same time lower down the neck, so that the incision which has cut through the windpipe, is full two inches under the first superficial incision which I have already described—this cut through the windpipe has cut also through the carotid arteries, and it is on a level with the division of the vertebra—there is a superficial cut high up in front, not penetrating the windpipe; and two inches below that, there is the main cut, which separated the head from the body—there is thus left a flap of skin in front adhering to the trunk—that would have supplied the space between the two cuts, and then the posterior cut of the skin coming round on the right side leaves a flap, about two inches long, adhering to the neck.

Q. Do these circumstances denote that there was an attempt to cut the throat, and inflict a slight injury, in addition to the main cut which divided the head from the body? A. I cannot form any opinion positively on that point.

COURT. Q. What was it the appearance suggested to you? was it that

an unskilful man had attempted to separate the head after death? A. The suggestion I formed, having seen a wound in the eye which might or might not prove mortal, was, that the cut in the throat certainly must have proved mortal—the cut above was certainly the first cut; and the cut must have been inflicted during life, or very shortly after death.

Cross-examined by MR. PRICE. Q. You have described to us now all the wounds you perceived, both externally and internally, on the head? A. As far as I can recollect—I do not recollect having omitted any thing—I examined the brain, but I have not been asked to give any account of its appearance—there were two large bruised wounds on the outside of the head, which I have mentioned, and one partly bruised and partly incised; and there was the large double wound I have mentioned on the top of the head—bruise and contusion are synonymous terms—it depends entirely on the force with which a bruise or contusion has been given, whether they will show ecchymosis—bruise and contusion being synonymous terms, if either one or the I other is inflicted with sufficient force, they will produce ecchymosis—a contusion after death will not produce the appearance called ecchymosis—a contusion or bruise might effect a lodgment of blood within the head, or it might not—it would not under the bone—a blow on the back of the head may cause a lodgment of blood within the head—it may do so under the bone, but not a great lodgment of blood know no means how it could escape, except by absorption—blood, when dislodged, is not obedient to the law of gravitation in a living body, not to any extent—it is subject to the law of gravitation as far as the law of gravitation can be allowed to have its effect in a living body—a living body has the means of disposing of a lodgment of blood, which the dead body is without—in any part—you are not alluding to the cranium—I beg leave to say, a lodgment of blood in the cranium could not take place to any great extent—an internal effusion of blood, caused by a blow on the back of the head, would be likely to find a lodgment either in the dura mater or in various parts of the brain—it entirely depends on the peculiarity of the individual, wherever the vessel happened to give way which effused the blood—I never knew a blow on the skull inflict a wound exactly on the opposite side of the skull—a blow on the back part of the head might produce injury exactly opposite, within the skull, a contre coup, but not the eye, which is without the skull—the venous portion of the eye would not be the natural position for blood lodged in the cavity of the brain to escape—a blow received behind, will inflict injury in front—the cause of that injury in front would be, as to its effect, in a mechanical manner—if you strike one part of a circle, then the whole of that circle will be dis turbed, and it will occasionally produce fracture of the skull in the oppo site part; but in most cases the fracture is received behind, as blows generally are given in front.

Q. How long will the head of a human being, after death, generally speaking, be capable of ecchymosis? A. I have said, you cannot produce the phenomena of ecchymosis on a dead body—it is impossible to do so, although warm—a blow given half an hour after death, would communicate avidity on the surface—I am speaking from experiment, from my own knowledge of the fact—you will have a discolouration of the surface—I did not describe the black eye as discolouration.

Q. What is the difference between lividity and a black eye? A. in a black eye, you have a phenomena of ecchymosis which you do not

have in the dead body—the ecchymosis of a bruise or contusion consists in having blood effused in all the tissues which have been interested in the blow—there is also the existence of blood throughout those membranes, in the minutest blood vessel (by membrane, I mean tissue) which in health do not contain this red blood—there is also the existence of swelling—there are some other phenomena, but these three are the important ones—there is at times a yellow colour round the external edge of the ecchmosis what we call a black eye will sometimes not be apparent at first—then in a black eye which will not assume that appearance, until a considerable time after the blow—I never saw a black eye that did not immeadiately afterwards assume that appearance I mean the puffiness—the outer skin va ries a little in different persons—a blow on the chest of a person who has considerable flesh between the muscles and the cuticle, might not be ecchymosed—if the skin be thin, ecchymosis may be almost instantaneous, but you are supposing cases which I have not seen.

Q. With respect to the neck, I think you have elsewhere described, that the section which removed the head proceeded across the neck anteriorly through the skin, immediately under the fold formed by the junction of the chin with the neck? A. Not immediately, but under it—I am the author of the report of the examination of the head of the female, in the medical Gazette—I do not wish to correct that statement—there is no correction necssary—what I have said here is but a different mode of expressing the same thing—the posterior cut of the neck was exactly on a line with the section of the vertebral column.

Q. How long in your opinion will blood generally flow after immediate death? A. There have been experiments to show that blood will flow for many hours after death—I think blood will flow for several hours from a vessel divided after death—there is an experiment to prove what you wish—I think it is sixteen hours—I am not quite sure; I talk only from memory.

Q. Then during that time, the blood vessels of the head might be emp tied by severing the head from the trunk? A. The large vessels—it might or might not—but that would depend on the death of the party, the ok time the blood coagulates, and a variety of circumstances—I have no experiment to prove in how long the head might be emptied by severance after death; I cannot speak from experience—I cannot say whether the wound which occasioned the division of the head from the trunk, was done in great haste—I really cannot judge of haste.

COURT. Q. Was it done as a surgeon would do it in any experiment? A. Certainly not.

MR. PRICE. Q. You are quite of opinion that the fifth vertebra was sawn through? A. I am quite sure of that—I have them to show that fact—I divided the portion of the cervical column, which was left on the head, the bones called the vertebral column, that is, the cervical vertebra which is attached to the head, the four and three quarters which is attached to the head—the fifth was sawn through—I did not myself divide it—it was done by my orders, in my presence, and I think I assisted—we took it off at the atlas—I am not certain that that now forms one end of the portion of the column I have here—it may or may not—it may have been removed, but at the time it was severed, 1 think it did—I think the dentatus processus is still attached to the column—I think that portion of the column was left perfect, but I have not examined it since—I have never taken the trouble to divide the column longitudinally nor transversely.

Q. Then you can give us no account of the state of the spinal marrow? A. No,

not in that part of the column—we looked into the spinal marrow—I have the means of knowing if the spine was injured—I saw the marrow at the end of the column where it was sawn across—but I have not traced it through its course—it is now lodged in the column of the body—I do not know whether any thing has been done with it, and the bones that were removed—the cervical spine has been sawn through—I have examined the bones externally, and had there been any injury inflicted by any external cause, it would have produced some injury in the bone.

Q. Is it possible for the spinal marrow to be injured without leaving appearances on the bone? A. When you talk of possibility, it is possible, for instance, a needle might be introduced to the spinal marrow—there was no injury that I am aware of to the spinal marrow—it could not receive any injury that I am aware of to occasion death—there was not the slightest injury in the parts—an accident creating pressure on the spinal chord would occasion death certainly—T should ascertain that fact by exmining the marrow, but I might not ascertain it by doing so—by examining, I may perceive an injury, and I may not perceive it.

Q. A person might die from injury to the spinal marrow, and leave no trace behind? A. In a locked jaw there is no appearance whatever—there would be an appearance of fixedness—there are no appearances, that I know of, in persons dying of hydrophobia—there might be this injury to the spinal marrow, or nervous system—I mean injury to one of the nerves of the thumb, which sometimes will occasion a locked jaw—a locked jaw is an injury to the nervous system—there might be pressure on the spinal chord, and death not ensue; but it might so happen that death may ensue from it—an injury of the spinal marrow might produce death, or it might not—an injury to the spinal marrow in one part might product instant death; but I do not think it could be produced without producing tome effusion round it, which would be of a bloody character, or of a serous character—I mean around the spinal marrow externally—if the spinal marrow was injured at its juncture with the brain, a small injury might occasion instant death; but if you examine that body after death, I think you will find perhaps a very small blood-vessel, or effusion of blood, or you might have the spinal marrow itself shortened or slackened—I exa mined the neck on Monday the 9th of January—I had seen it before, but I examined it anatomically on the 9th.

Q. You have said that the external appearance would be slight—is it possible that the immersion of the head, and its remaining in the water for eight or ten days, would have rendered the detection of that injury more difficult or not? A. I do not think it would make any difference—you are alluding to the injury of the spinal marrow, taking place where I have named—I should think it would be necessary to examine the marrow itself, to be able to say positively that a person died of injury to the spinal marrow—a blow on the back of the neck might be capable of killing, but it depends entirely on what the blow is—any blow may be capable of killing which at all shakes the vital spark; not that shakes the spinal marrow—a blow on the stomach might cause instant death—I have said almost all blows of any great severity may be mortal—it all depends on whe ther they affect a vital part—I think it very possible that a blow disordering he spinal marrow, would occasion death, but I cannot imagine a blow being given in such a case without having external appearances—I cannot imagine a blow to have occasioned such an injury to the spinal marrow as to occasion death, which would not show it after death—I certainly have

no right to infer things are not possible, because I have not met with them—I am talking generally from what I have observed and experienced—I cannot conceive violent muscular action of the neck, capable of causing death—I do not see where the injury could be effected by the muscular action of the neck—violent muscular action of the neck will not disorder the os coccygis—I never knew the thigh broken by the action of the nuclei.

Q. I will suppose a case of a man balancing on a chair, and losing his equilibrium, might not the muscular operation of the neck in endeavouring to recover itself, inflict an injury on the neck of the person so as to cause death? A. I cannot imagine such a case—I am not at all aware of any thing likely to produce such a circumstance—I cannot conceive a case of the sort—I know no case at all like what you describe—it might injure a fibre or ligament—the muscle confining the dentatus processes is a very strong one—if that ligament was ruptured, it might occasion death—if it permitted the spinal marrow to be injured, in all probability it would occasion death—the dentatus processus is not the next vessel to the spat, it is the axis on which the head turns.

COURT. Q. Supposing what the learned gentleman has supposed to take place, would it leave any external appearance? A. In the spinal marrow it would, but not on the surface of the skin—that injury had not happened—if it had, I should have detected it in examination.

MR. PRICE. Q. Then you do not think such an injury could occur, so as to affect or injure the spinal marrow, without leaving an appearance on the external part of the bone? A. Certainly not—the termination of the spinal marrow was examined, where it joins the brain, and there was no appearance—I am now speaking of the dentatus processus—I have been confining myself during the whole examination to that exact part.

Q. Are there not other parts of the spinal marrow from the atlas don to the seventh vertebra, the injury of which might occasion death? A. I have said an injury to the spinal marrow may or may not produce instant death—it is not very likely it would produce instant death, if it was not at the place I have described—many cases are on record where injuries haw been inflicted in that place, where paralysis of the lower parts hare taken place, and where instant death has not followed, where in fact they ban recovered—I have already said I believe all sorts of accidents may be fatal—it depends on the state of the nervous system.

COURT. Q. What do you mean by all sorts of accidents? A. Affecting vital parts—injury lower down than the part alluded to, may produce death, as it may so strike the nervous system as that death may immedi-ately follow.

MR. PRICE. Q. Even though it should be with reference to that part which, with this particular spine, was still left on the trunk? A. I have said there was no injury to that—injury might happen to that portion of spine left on the trunk, it by no means follows that death would ensue; but it might take place by its effect on the general nervous system—pulsation ceases instantaneously after death—it is one of the three great links that connect life together—death cannot be instantaneously detected—to constitute death there must be no pulsation; but that does not imply that you have discovered that death exists—if I was Called to a dead body, I should not like to decide on that person being dead until I had examined other things than simply pulsation.

Q. But may not an ordinary person detect death as soon as it has taken place, and that by detecting the cessation of pulsation? A. Certainly not;

it would be no proof—I should not myself be satisfied by that symptom alone—I should not be satisfied that the body was dead after the pulsation appeared to have ceased two or three minutes, nor in a week after, by simply examining the pulse—I mean the pulse at the wrist—how I should ascertain pulsation ceasing, would be to apply my ear to the region of the newt—it would be there I should be able to detect the indication of the smallest pulsation—it could not be ascertained by applying the hand to the heart—is a medical man, I should advise no one to be satisfied by applying the hand to the heart—I do not think it right to determine that death has taken place, without applying the ear to the heart—I examined the trunk of the body on Thursday, the last week in December; I think the 29th; the day after it was found—I came to the conclusion that the parts had been cut away shortly after death, by the very great retraction of the muscles of the neck—the bloodless state of the body was one of the causes which led me to conclude that the mutilation had taken place shortly after death—by mutilation I mean the cutting of the neck and legs—I believe nobody mis—I understands the phrase—that would not be applicable to amputation—that applies to a living subject—amputation is a thing done for the advantage of man; mutilation has an adverse signification—but I did not use it with that motive—if a surgeon were said to have mutilated a member, it would found reproachfully to men of science—but it has several signiflcations—it depends on the way in which it is used.

COURT. Q. It may be used in a good sense or bad? A. yes; it nay be used to explain a fact without reproach.

MR. PRICE. Q. If a patient's arm should be severed by a sabre, the phrase "mutilation" would then be proper? A. One man might sty it was mutilated, another that it was cut off—mutilation' does not convey the idea of suffering pain to my mind—I did not examine the internal part of the stomach—I looked into it—I opened it—I did not cut into it—I opened the orifice—the stomach was removed from the body—I simply looked into it, and ascertained that there was no injury done to the internal coat—I found some undigested food in the stomach—I think I smelt it, but I really forget—I think I did—I have said it had a spirituous well—I was satisfied with a very cursory examination—I think I smelt it, and said, "There seems a little smell here, "I only satisfied myself of the existence of the undigested food—it was then closed up, and tent to Dr. Hunter Lane—I did not remark of what spirit the stomach smelt—I have seen, at different times, all the parts of this body—the hands, for a female., were large—she was nearly five feet eight inches high—that is a random guess, by comparing her with two other women—I find now she was about an inch and a half shorter—I believe that is some-where about the middle height of women—I believe five feet four is about the middle height I should say she was a well-formed, perfect woman, externally—a woman of strength, and capable of vigorous exertion, and, as far as I could judge, in perfect health and fine condition.

MR. BODKIN. Q. You have been asked about lividity and eechymosis; are they clearly distinguishable from each other? A. Clearly—using the pharse lividity as the appearance of a dead body, and ecchymosis as what will sometimes exist in a bruise on a living body—I am quite certain the appearance on the eye was the result of an injury inflicted during life and not the result of livor after death—I use the phrase livor as express-ing after death—I found the swelling in this case which I have spoken of as one of the symptoms of ecchymosis—there was a thickening of that

part, a puffiness of that part which presented the bruised appearance-that would certainly not follow any injury inflicted after death.

Q. If there had been any lodgment of blood from an injury to the back of the skull in this particular case, would that blood have been effused into the eye, so as to have caused ecchymosis? A. Certainly not; it is impossible—I have particularly specified there was no appearance on that part of the bone next the brain, and which is over the eye—there was no injury sustained to the brain on that part; but on looking through the very thin bone which covers the eye, there was a sort of dulness, which I considered coagulated blood, within the orbit of the eye; and a subsequent examination proved that opinion correct.

Q. Would that appearance in the orbit of the eye be one of the conse quences of a violent blow in the eye, as you have spoken of? A. Certainly—the spinal marrow is subject to disease, the same as all other parts of the human body—disease may arise spontaneously, or be occasioned by some powerful effect on the nervous system, as a whole—I vever knew, heard, or read of a case in which sudden death was produced by in-ternal injury to the lower part of the spinal marrow, without some ex-ternal marks accompanying it—on looking at the subject, on the whole there are two facts which immediately struck roe—in the first place, there was a very severe blow inflicted on the eye, during life; and that blow has a corresponding bruise on the back part of the head—there was on the dura mater a little serous fluid or blood existing—this group of facts is such as to lead me to say that such an injury might be mortal; but, certainly, if that had not been so, the cutting of the neck would have been neces-sarily mortal—I allude to the whole group of facts—from the external and internal examinations—I say, the blow in the eye, and the injury behind, the flowing of serous matter, these, together, form such, as would occasion death; but if not, the cutting of the neck would necessarily do it.

Q. Is that on the supposition that the injury at the back of the head was the consequence of the blow in front? A. It is certainly—I delivered the stomach to MR. GUY.

DR. JAMES HUNTER LANE . I am a Physician, residing in Euston-square—I also lecture on chemistry and forensic medicine. The stomach of the deceased was brought to me by Mr. Guy, a student of the school—he is in attendance—I proceeded to examine and analyze the contents—on opening the stomach I found it to contain a quantity of mat, which I supposed to be either pork or beef—it was preserved pork or beef, potatoes and pastry, also a quantity of fluid; the whole mixture having a spirituous smell—the stomach in its appearance was healthy; at one part there being a slight redness, which generally accompanies the process of healthy digestion—with regard to the attempt to distinguish what description of spirit it was, we could only come to the general conclusion of negative evidence, that it was not whiskey, and it was not rum—my reason for coming to that conclusion is this, that on exposing whiskey or rum to the atmosphere, they still have their odour for some time; but with regard to gin, that is not applicable I put this circumstance to the test, whether by exposing those liquors to the at-mosphere they would leave any portion of smell behind—both whiskey and rum did, while gin did not—it was but a small portion of spirit, in conse quence of the small amount of fluid contained in the stomach—I should say it was certainly not sufficient to cause intoxication—I should conceive that the digestion was about half completed only—I made no other observ

ation, except the question whether the individual could have died presenting those appearances, from drunkenness; and in consequence of the absence of all morbid appearances in the stomach I conclude she could not—and there being no portion of poison in the stomach, in the absence of all de-struction of the stomach, or morbid appearance, we came to the conclusion she had not taken poison—as far as the stomach is concerned, I conceive death must have been sudden, and while the individual was in possession of cool health, as there was evidence of digestion still going on.

COURT. Q. Was there any appearance of tea in the stomach? A. There was no smell of tea, and there was no appearance of milk.

HENRY GUY . I am a student in medicine. I received the stomach of the deceased from Mr. Gird wood, and took it to Dr. Lane as I received it.

DR. LANE Cross-examined by MR. PRICE. Q. You have confined your-self to whiskey, rum, and gin? A. Those are the three experiments I made in reference to this particular case—I have not tried brandy—there is a very considerable difference between the evaporation of spirits in the stomach and in the open air—in making an observation of that sort, I must give my reasons for stating what I believe to be the nature of the difference—in the stomach it will necessarily be considerably less than in the atmosphere—its being mixed with tea will not make any difference in the delay or expedition of evaporation—it will have the effect of destroying the odour of gin completely—green tea, if used in considerable portions to gin, will completely cover the odour—it will not have the same effect with rum—it would cover the odour of gin in proportion to the quantity—I have no means of knowing whether any of the spirituous matter bad been ejected from the stomach—the presumption is, and the direct evidence, that none had been vomited—the stomach was not full, by any means—I cannot say what quantity had been digested—I cannot undertake to say the stomach had not been full—I believe it was about ten or twelve days after the 24th of December that I examined the contents of the stomach—that was long enough for the odour to have con siderably escaped, but not wholly to escape—I speak advisedly when I make that assertion.

(Mr. John Freeman, stone-merchant, Millbank-row, Westminster, deposed to the prisoner Gale's good character, from November, 1883, to January, 1834, when she was a wet-nurse in his family.)

GREENACRE— GUILTY— DEATH .—Aged 42.

GALE— GUILTY .—Aged 35. Transported for Life.


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