Old Bailey Proceedings.
1st February 1836
Reference Number: t18360201

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Old Bailey Proceedings front matter.
1st February 1836
Reference Numberf18360201

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Taken in Short-hand,








On the King's Commission of the Peace,



The City of London,





Before the Right Honourable WILLIAM TAYLOR COPELAND, LORD MAYOR of the City of London; Sir John Vaughan, Knt., one of the Barons of His Majesty's Court of Common Pleas; Sir John Williams, Knt. one of the Justices of His Majesty's Court of King's Bench; George Scholey, Esq.; Anthony Brown, Esq.; Matthias Prime Lucas, Esq.; and Charles Farebrother, Esq.; Aldermen of the said City of London; the Honourable Charles Ewan Law, Recorder of the said City; Sir Chapman Marshall, Knt.; John Price, Esq.; Thomas Wood, Esq.; and John Humphery, Esq.; Aldermen of the said City of London; John Mirehouse, Esq., Common Sergeant of the said City; and William St. Julien Arabin, Sergeant at Law; His Majesty's Justices of Oyer and Terminer, and Goal Delivery of Newgate, holden for the said City, and Judges of the Central Criminal Court.


First Jury

Thomas Hyatt Mansfield

William Oates Saunders

Henry Morris

Edward Horton

Joseph Hoare

Joseph Moss

William Wainwright

George Miller

William Edward Williams

Stephen Davis

Joseph Beaumont

Richard Cheshire

Second Jury

George Balalne

John Britten

John Mason

William Merritt

William Henry Mills

William Henry Miller

William M'Cash

Thomas Maples

Henry Nicholls

Petter Marson

Edward Morris Morgan

Charles Halson

Third Jury

William Martin

Henry Wright Palmer

William May

William Werritt

Henry Mills

Richard Mills

William Bridges

John William Martindale

William Moore

Charles Moody

William May

John Taylor

Fourth Jury

Alexander Morrison

Robert Smith

Daniel Mills

Edward Morely

Phillip Moss

Henry Matthews

John Bowen

Richard Thomas Corbold

Charles Herring

James Marshall

Berry Moses

John Mayfield

Fifth Jury

Peter Martin

George Marshall

James Benbow

Thomas Buckney

Thomas Meredith

Robert Alford

Edward Dean

William Morris

John Mousley

William Atfield

Henry Hedge

John Renshaw

Sixth Jury

Daniel Evans

James Dean

Alexander M'Donald

William Archer

Edmund Jones Hower

Thomas Manning

John Elmore

James Mason

George Sadler

Thomas Payne

William Moore

John Mapp



A star (*) denotes that the prisoner has been previously in custody—An obelisk (†). that the prisoner is known to be the associate of bad characters.


Second jury, before Mr. Justice Vaughan.

1st February 1836
Reference Numbert18360201-397
VerdictGuilty > unknown

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397. JAMES ROGERS was indicted for that he, on the 29th of January, at St. George, Middlesex, in and upon Martha Rogers, unlawfully, maliciously, and feloniously, did make on assault, and a certain pistol loaded with gunpowder and a leaden bullet, unlawfully, maliciously, and feloniously did attempt to discharge at the said Martha Rogers, by drawing the trigger of the said pistol, with intent thereby, feloniously, wilfully, and of his malice aforethought, to kill and murder her.—2nd COUNT, stating his intent to be to main and disable her.—3rd COUNT, stating his intent to be to do her some grievous bodily harm.

MARTHA ROGERS . The prisoner is my husband, and is a carman. On the 29th of January I lived at No. 1, Bett-street, Ratcliffe-highway, in the parish of St. George in the East. I have not lived with my husband since the 28th of July, we have been separated from that time—I have been living there, I do not know where he has been living—I keep a green grocer's shop—I saw my husband on the night of the 29th of January, about half-past seven o'clock—I did not see him till he spoke in the shop—I had been serving a customer, who I think went out at the door as he came in—I was behind the counter, having been serving a customer, I was putting the money in the till, and in a moment Rogers spoke—I did not see him till he spoke—he was then stretching his hand towards my face—when I looked at him he was holding his arm across the counter, towards my face, and something went off like a pistol—I did not observe anything in his hand—when he stretched his hand out I put up my hand and threw myself back, and then something went off like a pistol, and a flash of the came into my face—he made use of a bitter oath, and said. "You bl----d b----h I will blow your brains out. I have long threatened to do for you; I don't mind going to the gallows if I can get my ends of you. "He then turned and went out of the door into the street—I tried to get round the counter to shut the door—he had gone out, but the came in again and met at the end of the counter, he then put his hand round my waist, and began to beat me about the head in a dreadful manner—there appeared to be something heavy in his hand, and as he struck me it appeared to cut me, he then called me a bl----d b----h three or four times over, and said, "I don't mind going to the gallows if I get my ends of you"—he then went into a little room adjoining the shop by the side of the counter, he began to throw and knock the

things about and break them—I recollected that I had a basket of linen in the little room which was not my own, I stooped as well as I was able, and pulled it out of the room with my left hand—I dragged the basket out, and I went to the street door—he was in the little room when I dragged the basket out—a neighbour, Mrs. Dinker, came into the shop, and I have no more recollection of it—I think I fainted, but I have no more recollection—the blood was streaming both from my head and hands in a dreadful manner—I had several wounds at the back of my head and on this hand—I had several on my hand and different parts of my head—I have been married to him eleven years next month, I lived with him till the 28th of July—I have no family by him—I have heard him say he is about 36 or 37 years old—I shall be 41 next month.

Q. How long before this had you seen him.? A. I had seen him go by on the other side of the way, on the Thursday; but I never spoke to him then—it is a fortnight last Saturday night since I spoke to him; nor have I been near him.

Cross-examined by MR. PAYNE. Q. Had you and your husband been living together in this same house ever since you were married? A. Yes—he was a carman, and was out in the day-time in his business—we had differences a great many times, arising from a feeling of jealousy—complaints have been made before the Magistrate, not on that account, but through his ill-treatment.

COURT. Q. Have you gone before the Magistrate on account of his ill-treatment? A. Yes—he has threatened to kill me and murder me several times, hundreds of times, I may say.

MR. PAYNE. Q. Was that after the differences arose from jealousy? A. No—I had not been married three months before he knocked me down—the jealousy was about nine months ago.

COURT. Q. What was the jealousy about? A. He used to go with other women, and come home and ill-treat me—I was not exactly jealous—we had often words concerning that.

MR. PAYNE. Q. Had you had him taken into custody a short time previous to this which you charge to-day? A. Yes; I think a fortnight before this he was up before the Magistrate—he went before the Magistrate on the 28th of July—he had come out of prison, I think, three weeks before he tried to shoot me.

COURT. Q. When did you last have him before the Magistrate? A. A fortnight ago last Saturday, I think.

MR. PAYNE. Q. After came out of prison the first time, did not he come to the house, and you refuse to let him in? A. Not the first time—it was the second time he came out—he was in custody twice—he came to the house, and I refused to let him in—I was afraid to live with him, as I was convinced he would kill me—we had words almost every time he came—sometimes I have hardly spoken to him—I very seldom called him names—I never made use of any bad words to him—I used to persuade him for his own good: I coaxed him like a child—I abused him very little indeed, but I have done it.

Q. On your oath, was there no conversation between you before he lifted his hand with the pistol? A. I had not spoken to him—I did not see him till he spoke—I will swear nothing passed between us before he held the pistol to me—there was nobody in the shop at that time, or any where, to see the pistol—I do not know whether he was sober—I cannot say, for I scarcely looked into his face—I do not know whether he was intoxicated.

for I was so frightened that I cannot swear—I screamed out violently, and Mrs. Dinker was the first person who came, a person, named Hearn, was the next—Dinker was the first that entered the door—I think she heard me scream—I did not see any ball—the fire came into my face.

Q. If nothing struck you coming out of the pistol, will you swear he did not hold it over your head to frighten you? A. It was towards my face—I did not see the pistol—I am convinced it was pointed towards my mouth—I was standing up at the till—he was on the other side of the counter, and he was reaching across the counter towards my mouth—I saw something like a pistol go off, and a flash of fire came into my face, but nothing hit me.

COURT. Q. Were you in good health before this time? What is your present illness owing to, from the injury? A. From the injury I received and the loss of blood—I was not ailing at the time—I have been ill before through his ill-treatment—I was in very good health at that time.

MARY DINKER . I live three doors from Mrs. Rogers. On the 29th of January, I was sitting in my front parlour with my children at work—I heard a dreadful scream of murder—I jumped up and threw my work out of my hands, and ran to the assistance of Mrs. Rogers—when I came to her door I saw her bleeding from the head and hands—she said, "Oh, Mrs. Dinker, he has shot me"—I saw the prisoner in the little room adjoining the shop—I ran into the shop, and went between Mrs. Rogers and a little counter, and rushed toward the little room—I saw him at a table where Mrs. Rogers had been ironing—he then rushed forwards with something bright in his hand, and as he came out of the door towards Mrs. Rogers, I caught him by the two shoulders of his waistcoat, and said to him. "You shan't".

Q. Shant's what? A. Not strike her—his hand was lifted, and he had something bright in it—I caught him by his two arms, and thrust his arms down, and as I pushed them down, something fell out of his hand—I thought when it was in his hand, that it was a flat iron, it fell between the side of the door and the little counter—he rushed out of my arms again into the little room, and was knocking the things about in the little room—I turned round and Mr. Hearn came in and passed me, and I ran to the station-house—that was all that passed while I was in the shop—I left the prisoner in the little room—when I came from the station-house, I saw the policeman coming running, I told him, and he came back with me—he took Mr. Rogers from beneath the counter, and took him away—I stopped till the doctor came, and on the back of Mrs. Rogers' head were four cuts, which appeared to be that length (about two inches)—they were bleeding very much indeed—she lost a great deal of blood—it was just exactly as if you turned a bullock's heart out—I never saw such a thing in my life—I am certain I could see the bone of one finger, and every finger—there was not one I could see but what was cut, and there was a large cut on the back of her hand.

Cross-examined. Q. Did he appear to you to be sober? A. He appeared to me the same when I saw him on Saturday at Lambeth-street, as he was that night—he did not appear intoxicated—he pulled the things about in the room, but I have seen him do that several times when solid, and have heard him say time after that he would murder her—I never was in the habit of having conversation with him at any time; but he did not appear otherwise that night than when he was at Lambeth-street—by solid I mean sober—there was no difference in his countenance—I will not

swear he was not drunk, for I don's know whether he was in the habit of getting drunk.

COURT. Q. Have you often seen him in a morning sober? A. Yes—I did not observe a bit of difference in him—I always saw him to be a rose kind of a looking-man—a spiteful looking-man.

MR. PAYNE. Q. You laid hold of his arms, and something fell out of his hand—how long was it before he got away from you? A. It might be two minutes—he may be much stronger then me, but I had he power—God Almighty ordered that power, that I should hold him.

Q. If he was not drunk, but in full possession of his strength, how could you hold him for to minuets? A. I can't say—I should have done my endeavours if I had known he was going to do murder—I can't swear he was not intoxicated, but he did not appear to me so.

JOHN DEDRICH HEARN . I work at a sugar-house, as carpenter and brewer. I was sitting up in my room about half-past seven o'clock on the evening of the 29th of January, and heard a dreadful scream of murder—I live nearly opposite Mrs. Rogers—I did not notice it at first—I stopped a little while; at last my wife looked out of window, and told me it was Mrs. Rogers—I went to the house, and found Mrs. Rogers outside the door, on the pavement, with a basket of clothes in her hand, and she was all over blood—It ran down at the back of her head, and from her hands—I asked her what was the matter—she said, "Rogers has shot me"—I asked her where Rogers was, if he was in-doors—she said, "Yes," and I went in-doors—I found Rogers in the little room adjoining the shop—he was throwing the things about—(her furniture and a bed)—he laid himself down behind the counter—he was lying there for a minute or two—a policeman came in, and asked me where Rogers was—I told him he was lying behind the counter—he looked for him, and I told him to take him—a boy, named John Tingay, a cousin of mine, stood close against me—I had let him into the shop—he stooped down, and picked up a pistol in a passage between the little room and the shop—I saw him pick it up—I took it out of his hand, and gave it to the policeman.

Cross-examined. Q. Was the prisoner sober? A. I can't swear that—he seemed to me as if he was sober—I have been lodging with him in his house for three years—I swear I saw boy pick the pistol up.

COURT. Q. Then you were in the habit of seeing him sober? A. Yes—he did not appear different.

MR. PAYNE. Q. Have you seen him drunk? A. Yes—he seemed quite different when drunk—he was always swearing and quarrelling with his wife when he was drunk—he seemed to me as if he was sober that night—I have seen him throw things about when he was sober—I saw him next morning, and saw no difference in him as to sobriety.

COURT. Q. How near was the prisoner when the boy picked up the pistol? A. He was at the station-house—we had been looking for the pistol a good while, as we could not find it—the counter is about two feet wide, and the passage is about two feet wife—the pistol was about four feet from where he had been lying—there were a good many girls and children there, but I did not see any more men.

JOHN COX . I am a policeman. I went to the shop about half-past seven o'clock—the last witness and the woman came to me, as I was running to the house—when I got to the shop there were three or four women there—they said Rogers had been and shot his wife—Rogers was lying

under the counter—I told him to get up, he did so, and went down with me to the station-house, and as he was going, he said that he had purchased two pistols—I had said nothing whatever to him to induce him to make any declaration or confession—he said that he had purchased two pistol—one to shoot her, and one to shoot himself—he then swore d----his eyes and limbs if he should not go to the gallows happy if he had shot her—I left him at the station-house, and took a lantern, and went back to the shop in search of the pistol, and while I was looking round, a pistol was given to me by the last witness—I now produce it—I gave it to my sergeant—the cock was down, and the pan up at the time—it appeaed that something had been fired off—the pan had the appearance of having had powder in it which had ignited—I gave it to sergeant Penny in the state in which I had received it—I saw him unscrew the barrel with a wrench—while he was unscrewing it, I happened to step out into the yard as the prisoner was hallooing out about something, and I saw no more of it—when the prisoner was going from the station-house the next morning, he repeated as before d----his eyes if he had shot her be should have been satisfied.

Cross-examined. Q. Did not he, at the time he said he bought the two pistol, say that he was tired of his life, owing to the unhappiness between himself and his wife? A. He said he was tired of life—he did not say owing to the unhappiness between himself and wife, in my hearing—I made no memorandum of what he said—he did not tell me he had been drinking—he did not appear to me to be drunk—he walked along as steady, and spoke as correct as any man could do—I never noticed that any thing violent happening would have the effect of sobering a man—I have been a policeman six years—fright will make a difference in a man—he never told me he had been drinking before he did this.

WILLIAM PENNY . I am a police sergeant. I remember Cox bringing me a pistol about half past seven o'clock on Friday, the 29th of January—the cock was, down, and the pan open, and all over sulpher—some of it appears now—it appeared as if powder had ignited very recently—within a very few minutes—I examined the barrel immediatley—I got the key of the pistol from the prisoner's pocket, and unscrewed the barrel—I found the bed of the barrel full of powder, and a ball lodging on the top of it.

Q. Have you any means of accounting why it had not discharged? A. It was a new pistol, and might be foul with oil in the touch-hole—I had some conversation with the prisoner—I said nothing to induce him to make any declaration—as soon as he was brought to the station-house, I ordered a man to assist in searching him—a bullet-mould, the pistol-key, and a loose ball were found in his pocket—I sent the officer to the house to look for the pistol—he brought it in three or four minutes—the prisoner said there were two pistols, but he had lost one—he said he had purchased a pair of pistols in the Minories, and the night before the occurrence he was drunk in the street, and lost one, that a prostitute took it out of his hat—he then said that he was very sorry that he had not blown her brains out, and likewise his own b----brains out, which he would do.

Cross-examined. Q. Where did he say this to you? A. In the station—Cox was not there—part of this conversation was between eight and nine o'clock the next morning—he did not tell me he was tired of his life—there was nothing in the pistol to account for the ball not having been discharged but what I say—I have been in the army twenty-five years, and have had a new gun, which has missed eight or nine times running—I

cannot tell why the ball was not discharged—it could not arise from the unsteadiness of a drunken man's hand, for it was properly loaded and primed right, and he had cut the ball smaller with a knife from a larger one, instead of making it with the mould—he did not appear under a great deal of excitement—I know the man well—I have had a great deal of dealing with him—he was in a violent passion no doubt.

COURT. Q. Was he under the influence of passion, or liquor? A. Passion—he had been drinking—I could smell the liquor, but he was perfectly sober.

MR. PAYNE. Q. Do you swear you smelt the liquor, and yet he was sober? A. Yes—a man who has been abroad can take a good deal—I know him well—he has been in the army—in the Second Queen's, I believe.

Q. Do not you know he was very much distressed in his mind by the unhappiness between himself and his wife? A. No—he was ordered by the Magistrate to keep away, and allow her so much a week—the woman has got money in the Bank, and he got the book from her, and got it out, and I believe he wanted to have more—I have no acquaintance with his wife—I know nothing of her, but her coming to the station, and booking the charge—I pitied her—I did not know the prisoner in the army—I have had no quarrel with him—I never spoke to him in my life—only in my duty—I never struck him at all—I never saw any policeman strike him—we were generally obliged to have six or seven men to take him to the station-house—he was fined 5l. the other day, for violence to our people—he is a powerful man—he would kick and injure a man; and when he was brought to the station-house, the last time we had him there, he was hanging by the window, and would have put an end to himself—that is a long time ago—it might be eight or nine months ago.

Q. Has not his conduct for some time been that of a man labouring under excitement and delusion? A. I cannot say—I have seen him thousands of times, but I never spoke to him, only when brought to the station-house—that may be three times I have had to take the change—and several times I have persuaded him to go home to his lodging.

COURT. Q. What did he do eight or nine months ago? A. He attempted to commit suicide in the cell when he was in custody about his wife.

MR. PAYNE. Q. Did he at any other time attempt it? A. Not to my knowledge—I never heard of it—I never bothered about him—I have known him brought to the station-house a great many times, but only locked him up three times—he has been brought fifteen or sixteen times, but I have only detained him three times—I did not take him but he was brought to me—I never had my hand on him in my life myself—a policeman apprehended him and brought him in—he was always like a mad fellow at those times. but I cannot sat what he was labouring under.

COURT. Q. He appeared sober though he had been drinking? A. Yes—I could smell rum or some kind of spirits.

Q. You say that before he was under the excitement of passion; did you ever see anything about him to lead you to believe that he was not in his proper senses, or was he rational, so as to be perfectly responsible for what he did? A. I always considered he knew what he was doing—It was a very fine gunpowder—it appeared a full charge—the powder was good—I put some of it in the fire—he was always a mad outrageous fellow—he

would kick whoever came near him first—he is very violent—one of the worst men that was ever brought to the station—I have been in that situation six years, and believe he was the worst that I saw there—when brought in custody he would make his escape by kicking and being very violent—a medical man examined the prosecutrix's wounds, he is not in attendance.

Prisoner's Defence. I have been married now going on eleven years to my wife, and have been a hard working man—I have earned a great deal of money, and have taken home from 28s. to 30s. a week, and I think that is a man's duty, and as much as a labouring man can do—I was working for Mr. Allen in Bett-street, and he was a good master, and I had a good mistress—I used to have to go to put the chaise harness to the horse to drive my mistress down to meeting—there was my wife used to kick up a row, "Why should I do this work on a Sunday more than any other man?"—I used to have to go to the house and clean my master's boots and shoes, at his house, and I had for a length of time—she got jealous of the servant-maid—the servant-maid used to laugh and talk with me, and she then swore I knew as much of the servant-maid as I did of her, and that was the first beginning of her jealousy—Mr. Allen took and sold the concern up to Gray's-inn-lane—I walked backwards and forwards to Gray's-inn-lane night and morning for three years, besides going out with my dray, and took from 19l. and 20l. to 30l. a day—I never robbed my master of a single farthing—one malicious chap happened to go home—(I went home every night, except three nights, when I was at a bean-feast)—she happened to meet him, and she asked him where I was—he replied and said, "I believe he is in the hay-loft, and is sleeping along with another woman; so there was another kind of a jealousy then arose up between us—she came up on the following morning—there was my master as I was just coming out of bed, where I was intoxicated over-night—my master would not let me go out with the dray in the morning—he said I was not fit, and he would send another man out—so he did—I was in the shed, washing the casks which he had set me to do—she happened to to come up, and began to abuse my master, because I had slept there—my master then told me, "Rogers, I do not like to see your wife come up in this manner, why did you not go home?"—I told him how it was—I said, "You know how it was, I got intoxicated, I went up in the loft where I slept, because I would be in time for work in the morning"—he said, "Well, I shall send you down to Golden-lane"—that was at the time the intermediate beer came up—I was earning good money, and took her home good money—I went to Golden-lane, and had to sit up brewing—I had to brew in the night, and go out with the dray in the day-time, which I did for three nights, and had not hardly a bit of bed, except on Sunday, when I had a resting-day—I had to go there on Sundays, to draw the beer at dinner hours—she began to kick up a row with me, and swore that I had no business there, "Why did not master employ somebody else to draw the beer, and put a person, and keep there regularly?" but I was obliged to do what my master ordered me, and what he bid me—master and I had a few fallings out, and I left him, and went to Mr. West of Hoxton—there I got 30s. a week standing wages, and 1s. for every customer I got—I could make up my money then to very near 2l. a week, and I used to give her, (that wretched woman, I used to give her,) so help me God, 28s. or 29s. a week—I kept myself out of the remainder—I used to have to treat my customers, to keep them together, and gain customers for my master—well, master left off at this time as porter fell, and I did not

expect the would be good enough to give the customers—I left them, and went into Mr. Hanbury's employ, where I had worked before—I was a trounce once—before the clerk told me, if I had a mind to come, I might, as a regular trounce—I went to him, and had nine tons that day, and they gave me 9s.—I was going out with four hogsheads of stout to the Catherine-wheel, in Bishopsgate-street, right opposite Spitalfield's church—when I came there, I happened to tread on a piece of cabbage-leaf, which flung me down, and the wheel was within a very little of going over me—I had to catch hold of a lamp-post, and I caught the toe of my shoe against the curb—I wrenched my knee, and went down—it was eleven o'clock at night, and I could not go at one o'clock, which I ought to have done, for my knee was swelled, and was so bad—I sent to let the clerk know about it—in the room of going to the clerk, she went into the yard, and Mr. Hanbury gave her an order for me to go into the hospital, and I was there eleven weeks before I could get my knee well—she swore she would not work—if I did not turn out to work, she would not keep me, after all the money I had been earning for her—I never strove to go into a brewer's house any more—well, I went and worked for Mr. Bryant, in Prince's-square, and worked for him six years—I did the very same with Mr. Bryant that I did at the others, cleaning shoes, knives and forks, for him and the servants—I had orders to do so, and I did do it—my master would give me a character from that day to this, and a good character, till there was three or four rascally fellows—one's name was Will Mitchell, the second James Withers, the third James Hall, and the fourth Jem Mitchell—this will went and told my wife that I had a very great concern with the servant-girl—which God Almighty knows I never knew or heard of, no more than a child just come from its mother's womb—he went and told her—he borrowed a coat of me on the Sunday, and said he would bring it home in the afternoon, which he did at the time I was gone to chapel in Wellclose-square, (to parson Smith's)—when I came home, she asked me where I had been—I said, to chapel—"Chapel! no," she says, "you have been out with that d—nasty stinking w—, and if I meet her, by G—I will murder her"—those were her very words—if not, may God strike me dead—I asked her what was the matter—she said, "You have not been to chapel; you have been with that stinking W—"—I said, "What stinking w—do you mean now?"—I said, "If you had gone to chapel with me, you would have seen if I had been with a w—or not"—I said, "Take and dress yourself, and go out and be comfortable with me on Sunday like another woman; let us be comfortable with one another"—but in the room, of that, she stops at home—well, this villanous fellows told her that I knew as much about the girl as I knew about her—well, soon after it came to master's ears, and he said, "Rogers, have you been making a b—W—Y house of my house?"—"A b—w—y house?"—"No," says I, "I never made a b—house of your house"—he said, "Have you not been along with the servant-girl?"—"What?" said I—he said, "But every time I am out I understand you are always in my house, and you have made a b—w—y house of my house in the middle of the day"—"In the middle of the day!" I said, "Who has told you that?"—he said, "I have heard it"—" What day was it on?" said I—he said, "the day you cleaned the windows" I had been ordered to clean the windows outside, and the cook said to me, "You must come and clean them inside, for I must get the fenders and fire-irons, cleaned"—and I did, and the nursery-maid came down with the children to dressed to take them out: as soon as she came down—she

had no shawl or handkerchief on (this Mitchell was coming past with Miller and Hall) she sat the little dear baby down on the sofa, and said, "Rogers, mind the baby that it does not fall off the sofa, while I put my handkerchief and shawl on, for I am just going out"—of course, I did so, and these fellows went and rose the report that I had the girl down on the sofa in the middle of the day, and told my master so, as soon as he heard that, he discharged both me and the girl from the premises—she always said if she met the girl she would murder her—I knew no more about the girl than the Lord in heaven; and after I was discharged I made up my mind, being so hurt, that I would go to Gravesand along with the girl—I did, and we spend the day comfortably together—end yet I knew nothing at all about the girl—I knew I had got a wife and why should I go with the girl—it was a hard thing to get turned out of my place, and I went out of aggravation, and came home, but never knew any thing about the girl—it was her doing to kick up a row that caused me to be turned out of all my places—so then, of course, we had a few words—well, one Sunday night I had been out and came home—she was standing against the door—I had been to see a workmate or two of mine—it was about ten o'clock at night, I suppose—that was the first time I was given in charge—as soon as I went in doors—she was standing in the door, and a policeman with her, talking—she standing on one side, and the policeman on the other—she began with me, and wanted to know if I had been out along with my damsels again—I said, "No, I have been to see a mate or two of mine"—she said, "You are a liar"—I said, "I am not," and I said, "You are always saying it, I will give you a knock in the face," and I up with my fist, and gave her a push in the face—I only pushed her—the policeman was standing there—I did not strike her violently—she called out "Murder" immediately—the policeman came and took me—I was taken to the Magistrate, and he heard the case, and said, "Now my man what have you a mind to allow this woman a week, and separate?"—I thought we were to divide our things with each other—I was lawfully married—why should a man not have half as well as a woman?—what does a man marry a woman for?—he marries her to maintain her, and I always did, and always would, unto the utmost of my power—I always strove to keep a good house and home over my head, and got into a good club, and every thing—when I was taken, the Magistrate heard my case—I went back after my things—I brought a box, and took all my things out, and tied them up in an apron—I took them to the Magpie and Stump all higgledy piggledy—all flung out into the street, as if they were a parcel of old rags—I went to look to see if I had got them all right and found I had not—I went and bought a box, and came back again—I was rather in liquor I will acknowledge—after I got the box I wanted one shirt, three pairs of stockings, a pin which I wore in my shirt, and some numbers of the "Pilgrim's Progress"—I went back for them, and she sent for the policeman, who knocked me down—with his staff he knocked me down on the ground, just as a dog, and dragged me of to the station-house—there I was again hauled up before the Magistrate, and he sentenced me three months to the house of correction, and there I was three months—one fortnight I was picking oakum, and ten weeks at work in the open shed, and when I came out of the prison the governor gave me a character, said I was a worthy good man when I told him about it, and what it was for—well, I came, out and

and got some work, as soon as I got out—and was at work about a fortnight; I happened to go down Belt-street again—I went to the Euston Arms to get some supper, and who should come in but my lady—" Rogers said she—I said, "Well, what do you want?"—"Are you a mind to make up my allowance? she said, "What you made an agreement for, my half-crown a week?"—No," says I, "where you are, I will be, if you like to come with me I will maintain you; or, if you like for me to come with you, but not a farthing will I give you till then"—she said, "You, won't wont you? by G—I will make you up all the time you were in prison"—Will you says I—on the Monday week following my shoes had got dry, being laid up so long—I got into work and 1l. a week, and the soles came down right away from the shoes—I went to the saving's bank (I am not ashamed to say it) to draw 1l. 15s., and bought a bran new smock-frock, the waistcoat that I have on, and a new pair of high shoes, ready and fit to go to work—I went to Mr. Bryant, and stated the case to him—he said, "Jemmy, have you been home yet?"—I said, "No"—he said "Why don't you strive to go home and make up matters, and live with your wife comfortably?"—I said, "That is what I should like to do"—he said, "Well try what can do"—I was a little in liquor—I went home; and when I got near the door, she came and slammed it against me, and said, "You rascal, you shall not come here"—I went from the place again, and they came and dragged me off again like a dog, and took me before a Magistrate; and they took me to Clerkenwell—there was two months more of it—there was a poor devil—see how a poor fellow has been used—a man had better be dead than alive, ten thousand times—I went in, as soon as I went in the Governor gave me work to do—I did not starve—I had meat, and half a pint of beer, thank God; and when I came out the Governor gave me a character, and said, "You are a worthy man;" he persuaded me to go home, and said, "Now, try once more, and see if you can't make up matters"—so I did, and just the same occurred again—I made no more to do, but went to the officer at Lambeth-street to see the Magistrate—the officer said, "What do you come here now for, Rogers?"—I said, "For my case"—he said, "You were lawfully married to the woman, why not go to your house? I would tear it all to atoms but what I would go in—I would lug the house down over their ears, and knock the policeman's heads off, if they came near me"—I went to the house—there it was, "You shall not come in"—I went back again—I was ordered to taken an officer with me to see I went in without making any disturbance or any piece of work—I went and got the policeman 155, who was on duty, but whether he is here I do not know—I went in and sat a few minutes, when she made no more to do, but ran and seized me in a moment; but the policeman would not take me in charge—he said, "He is in his own house, stop there"—she made no more to do, but caught hold of me, and tore my shirt—caught me with her talons and scratched me down the face—what flesh and blood could put up with it?—no man living on the face of God's earth could put up with it—I would sooner take a dagger and stab myself then put up with it—I have been scandalously and brutally used—I would sooner be sent out of the country—I am strong and able, and can go to work—I do not care what work it is—I do not want to be in England again—my character is gone for ever, and what use is it for me to stop here—when I went again to the Magistrate—(there stands one, oh, you false swearing varmint, you undertaker ((pointing to a witness) the devil will have you some of these days—you have had a good many bodies, let

us hope you wont's have so many)—I went to the magistrate—the policeman after I went in, would not take me—she went away down to the station-house, and they took me there—one of the policeman came—I made no resistance, I went quietly, and Mr. Norman would not take me in charge—she came down, and swore that he should take me in charge again—what charge was there for dragging a man out of his house and home?—I only went for my things—only let me have them, and I would never have troubled her again in the world, and she shall not have them yet—I never troubled her—Mr. Norton told me the best thing I could do would be to go to the Magistrate at seven o'clock at night, and the there decide the case—well, I went there—there was Davis the officer, he said, "Come in poor fellow, you have been badly used," and I went in, and told the Magistrate—he said he would let me have the warrent—"But he is a poor fellow, he is just come out of prison, he cannot pay money for any warrant"—he then said, "Take and him out a warrant—we will let him have it, and let him have her up here on Monday"—there is that fellow who stands there, he came and swore I had a pair of pistols in my possession when I came out of prison—so help me God I had not—they swore murder against me then, and the magistrate ordered me to keep away—I then went and drew 8l., 9s., every farthing out of the bank—I drank to that excess I did not know what to do, I leave it now in your hands—for God's sake transport me—let me go out of the world, or out of this country at any rate—may my curses fall on her.

JAMES FINCH . I am gardener to Nicholas Charington, Esq. a brewer, and live in Globe-road, Mile-end. I have known the prisoner from his infancy—I do not know when he separated from his wife—he is a hardworking and industrious man—he is naturally of a good disposition—he is liable to he excited sometimes.

GUILTY . Aged 39— DEATH .

Second Jury, before Mr. Justice Vaughan.

1st February 1836
Reference Numbert18360201-398
VerdictGuilty > with recommendation; Guilty > with recommendation
SentenceDeath; Death

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398. JAMES BALDWIN and WILLIAM MORETON were indicted for burglariously breaking and entering the dwelling house of Thomas Ulyate, about the hour of seven in the night of the 15th of January, at St. Ann, Westminster, with intent to steal, and stealing therein 2 printed books, value 3s., 1 box, value 1s.; 1 purse, value 1s.; 2 crowns, 3 half-crowns, 1 shilling 1 sixpence, and 1 silver penny; the goods and monies of George Gibson the younger.

MARTHA GIBSON . I am the wife of George Gibson, and live at No. 6, Chapel-place, Soho, in the parish of St. Ann. About ten minutes before seven o'clock, on the evening of the 15th of January, I locked my room, door, and went up to my landlord, and almost immediately heard my door open, and I came down with a light in my hand—my room is below—I heard the door move and went down with the light—I had locked it—I put the key into the lock but it would not open it—my landlord came down and tried it—his name is Thomas Ulyate—he pushed the door but could not move it, and at last put his shoulder to it, and found the door give a little—John Hughes came, and they thrust the door open; there was somebody in the room—we got a light but it was put out several times—I could clearly distinguish two persons in the room—they were secured and kept in the room till the policeman came, which was very soon—I grasped hold of one of them before the policeman came,—that was Baldwin, he tried to make his escape—they were both secured—when the policeman came, and I could get into the room, I found they had taken a silk

purse out of the drawer, in the room, with 19s. belonging to my son, and a prayer-book—there were two crown pieces, three half-crowns, one shilling, and a sixpence,—and there was a silver penny in a puzzle-box which was taken out of the drawer and put on a work bench—I saw both the prisoners searched in my room—I believe 17s. 6d. was found on Baldwin, half-a-crown and a penny was found on More ton—a prayer-book laid on one end of the table, and a pocket-book on the other, I had left the pocket-book and pryer-book in the same drawers as the money was taken, from, the policeman found the purse under the grate with the money taken out—I am quite sure I left the room, door locked.

Cross-examined by MR. PAYNE. Q. On what floor of the house is your room? A. The ground-floor—there are two street doors—the half door was always kept, bolted, and I bolted it before I went up—half the street door was open, and half shut—my landlord lives up one pair—I am quite sure I locked my door, and tried it before I went up—I put the key in my pocket—I was gone five minutes—I did not go with the intention to stay long—I knew Moreton before—he lived in the neighbourhood when he was a child—he was brought up in St. Ann's School—I did not wash for him—he was never in my room before—there is very little distance between the street-door and my room-door—the passage is very small—when I got down stairs, and the door was opened, a good many neighbours came in after we got into the room, and prisoners were secured—I could get the key into the lock but could not open it—when I went in the fire was alight—I had left the fire there—there was a candle—I had not left a candle burning when I went up stairs—when I came down I had a candle—when I could get into the room, I could see who was in the room—the candle was put out before I got into the room—when I first got into the room, there was nothing but the fire to give light—it was a low fire—I could see there were two persons in the room—two or three light were put out—but there was a light by which I could see there were two persons—the candle was put out two or three times—there was a light taken into the room at the same time as me—I cannot be certain who had the light in the confusion—some neighbours came in, almost immediately after I got into the room, before the policeman came—Baldwin stood almost by the side of the door, and Moreton by the side of the fire-place when I went in—my landlord went in first, Hughes followed, and I next—I swear that when I first went in, there were two persons there, besides Hughes and the landlord—the house is in St. Ann's parish—I believe it is St. Ann's Soho.

COURT. Q. How long before this had you been to the drawer? A. I had been to it the course of the day—a very little time before indeed.

GEORGE GIBSON . I am the prosecutrix's son, and live with her. I left the pocket-book and prayer-book in the drawer at two o'clock that day, I am certain—when I left the room the money and purse were there also—the purse is mine, and the 19s., and silver penny—I came home at eight o'clock—after it was all over.

THOMAS BAILEY . I am a policeman. On the 15th of January, I went to No. 6, Chapel-place, in the parish of St. Ann, Westminster—I arrived there about five minutes to seven o'clock—I went into the room, and found the two prisoners standing together—the witness, Hughes, was holding Baldwin by the handkerchief, to prevent his going out—I tied the two prisoners together with my handkerchief, and began to search them—Baldwin put his hand in his waistcoat pocket, and took out some money—he

refused to give it to me, saying it was his own—by that time sergeant Stone came into the room—I had hold of Baldwin's hand—he said he would not give it to me, but would give it to sergeant Stone, which he did—it was two crowns, two half-crowns, and one shilling—I then went to search him, and in the same waistcoat pocket as he took the money from, I found two sixpences, one of which was cut through the middle—as I went to put my hand there, he said, "There is another sixpence there," but I found two—I then searched Moreton, and found on him one half-crown, two halfpence, and a latch-key—I found a puzzle-box on a work-bench in the room, and a silver penny in it—I found the purse, which was taken from the drawer, under the grate, empty.

Cross-examined. Q. How do you know it was taken from the drawer? A. Only by what Mrs. Gibson said—I believe the parish is called St. Ann, Westminster, to the best of my knowledge, by the adjoining parish being called St. James's, Westminster—I cannot be positive—I have heard it called St. Ann's, Westminster—I think I have seen it so in print on St. Ann's church-door—I have seen bills with St. Ann, Westminster—I do not know St. Ann's, Soho, unless this is that name—it is close to Soho-square—I cannot say how long it was after the commencement of this that I went into the room—I did not the puzzle-box, silver penny, or purse, on the prisoners.

GEORGE STONE . I am a police-sergeant. I went to the house about seven o'clock, and saw the two prisoners and the constable in the room, and several other persons—Baldwin gave me from his hand two crown pieces—two half-crowns, and one shilling—I produce them—he refused to give them to the other policeman—I produce also a prayer-book and pocket-book, which Mrs. Gibson gave me.

Cross-examined. Q. What is the name of the parish.? A. St. Ann—I think I have seen a bill on the church, calling it St. Ann, Westminster.

MRS. GIBSON re-examined I know this pocket-book and prayer-book—they were in the drawer with the money when I went up stairs—they belong to my son—I know the purse and the puzzle—it was in the same drawer—the silver penny was in the box.

Cross-examined. Q. When had you see the box last? A. In the drawer, when I put some clean things in, just before I went up—I did not rummage the drawers about to look for the things—when I went into the room afterwards, I found the drawer open—I put my hand in at the corner—I knew the purse had been in, and missed it.

GEORGE GIBSON . re-examined I know the prayer-book and pocketbook, and other things were in the drawer when I left home—they belong to me—I noticed a cut through the sixpence that morning.

Cross-examined. Q. Do you mean to swear to the sixpence from that little nick in it on the head? A. Yes—I never noticed one with a similar mark before—I did not tell the Magistrate I could not swear to any of the money—I do not swear to any of it—I do not swear to the sixpence—I have an doubt of it; but there may be more like it.

COURT. Q. What is Ulyate's Christian name? A. Thomas MR. PAYNE. Q. How do you know his name is Thomas? A. I know no more than what he tells me—he always told me he had but one name.

MRS. GIBSON, re-examined. Thomas Ulyate is my landlord—I have heard him say he never had any other name—I pay my rent, but take no receipt—I am a weekly tennant—I know him by the name of Thomas Ulyate.

Cross-examined. Q. Did you every say "Thomas Ulyate" to him? A. Yes—I always call him Thomas Ulyate—he is confined to his, bed, and is not expected to live.

JOHN HUGHES . I live next door to the house; and about five minutes before seven o'clock I was called in by Mrs. Ulyate to the assistance of Mr. Ulyate, because they could not get admittance into the room. Ulyate. was turning the key backwards and forwards, and they found there was somebody inside resisting their admission—I said, "Push"—Mrs. Ulyate gave me a candle in my left-hand, and I helped to push the door open—I found the prisoners both behind the door—I had candle in my left-hand Ulyate secured Moreton—Baldwin came and blew out the candle, and I secured him.

Cross-examined. Q. Did you examine the lock of the door? A. Yes—the key moved backwards and forwards properly—the resistance was from somebody pushing inside—I cannot tell whether the lock was broken—I did not examine the box of the lock—I can say nothing about that; but we forced forced the door open.

Baldwin's Defence As I was going up Crown-street, I heard a cry of murder, and saw a great crowd of people. I went to see what it was, and went with other people into Mrs. Gibson's room—Mr. Hughes collared me, and accused me of robbing the place.

(Catherine Parrick, the wife of a shoemaker, Little St. Andrew-street, Seven Dials, deposed to the prisoner, Moreton's good character; and Mary Downes, of Tooley-street, and Ann Moore, widow, Great Wild-street, Lincoln's Inn-fields to that of Baldwin's

BALDWIN— GUILTY [Recommended to mercy by the jury, on account of their good character. See original trial image.]— DEATH . Aged 20.

MORETON— GUILTY [Recommended to mercy by the jury, on account of their good character. See original trial image.]— DEATH . Aged 22.

Recommended to mercy by the jury, on account of their good character.

Before Mr. Justice Williams.

1st February 1836
Reference Numbert18360201-399
VerdictGuilty > unknown
SentenceNo Punishment > sentence respited

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399. WILLIAM BONE was indicted for a robbery on John Mills, on the 5th of September, at Friern-Barnet, putting him in fear, and stealing from his person, and against his will, 1 pair of scissors, value 2s.; 1 pair of spectacles, value, 1s.; 1 tobacco-box value 4d.; 1 knife, value 1 d.; 3 shillings 1 sixpence, and the sum of 2 1/4 d. in copper; the goods and moines of the said John Mills.

JOHN MILLS . I am a drover, and live at No. 5, Broad-yard, Turnmill-street. On the 5th of September last, about a quarter before six o'clock in the morning, I was at Friern-Barnet—I was coming out of the park, between Whetstone and Barnet—it is a field adjoining the road, called the park—I had a lot of beasts there—before I was pulled down I saw a whole lot of people standing against the gate—I knew none of them but the prisoner—I have known him by sight for twelve months before—I had just crossed into the middle of the high road, and was thrown down five or six yards from the gate—I had passed the man, and the prisoner followed me, took me round the neck, and threw me down right in the middle of the road—by threw me in the road, and held me by the neck while the others undid my things—he came from behind—I am certain he is the man, from seeing him before—he blinded my face—I saw him as he caught hold of me, and I saw him as I lay on my back—thirteen or fourteen of them came round me—the prisoner knelt on my neek, and held his hands over my eyes, while the others ransacks me, he choked me so, that I could not breathe scarcely—mythings were all pulled down, and my breeches turned right over

my heels—it was after they had done the mischief to me that they unbuttoned my breeches and stripped them down all over my feet—that would prevent my running—I had 3s. 6d. in silver, and 2d. 1/4., 1 knife, a pair of scissors, and a tobacco-box, about me—I lost every thing; my from my breeches pocket, and the other things from my jacket pocket—I had no smock-frock on—I felt them fumbling in my pocket, and every thing was taken—nothing was left in the road; they even took stick which I was minding my cows with—my neck was as black as it could be for a fortnight afterwards, with their kneeling on it—I never heard them speak at all—I got nothing back—I did not see the prisoner again till last Thursday, when I saw him in the New Prison, Clerkenwell—he was not shown to me—he was among a number of other prisoners, and I picked him out—the prisoners were all put in a line, thirteen of fourteen, and I picked him out.

Prionser Every thing he has sworn is false—he says it was in Friern-Barnet; and it was in Barnet, in Hertfordshire, where he was robbed. Witness I know the place very well, but do not know which county it is in—it was between Whetstone and Barnet, very little way from the tenth milestone on the high North-road—I do not know Fryern-Barnet.

Q. When you speak of Barnet. do you mean the principal Barnet? A. It was in the bottom, against the tenth mile-stone—I was quite sober—it was a fine morning—I had been watching the cows all night, and was going to call the rest of the men up—it had been daylight for a long time—it was about a quarter before six o'clock in the morning—there was no fog nor rain—I gave a description of the prisoner to Smith, the officer, the same morning—I was very much frightened—I had observed the prisoner standing at the gate as I came through it—I was not frightened till I was thrown down—my money was loose in my pocket—I am in the service of Mr. Biggs, at Holloway—I have worked for him, on and off, eight or nine years.

JOHN SMITH . I am a horse-patrol on the northern road. I know the park and the gate the witness speaks of—the parishes join there—I am not certain whether it is in one parish or the other just there—it is in the high road—the prosecutor gave me information on the morning this happened, and complained of robbed—he particularly described one man, and another as short chubby man, besides—in consequence of which, I gave him information of the prisoner being in custody—last Wednesday I went with him to the New prison, and told the Deputy-Governor my business, and a line was formed in the yard—the prisoner was near about the centre of the others standing with the other prisoners—as soon as the prosecutors saw him, he said, "That is him, the tall man in the smock-frock"—he picked him out directly—the prisoner did not hear what he said that I know of—he might be twenty yards from him—it was a little after one o'clock in the day.

Prisoner If he had a description of me, it is strange he could not find me—I live in the place he is patrol of, and I have never been from home. Witness I knew the prisoner, but did not see him for more than two months after—he is a man I seldom saw, and I have seen the witness but once since—I did not know where to find Mills—I understood he was a job drover—I did not know he was Biggs' regular employ—but when I searched the prisoner on another case, I found a knife in his pocket, which I suspected was the prosecutor's, and I went to Biggs' men to inquire where he could be found.

Q. If you saw the prisoner two months after, why not tell the prosecutor sooner? A. I did not know where to find him—I took the prisoner into custody on another case, on the 25th of January, and found a knife in his pocket, answering the description of the prosecutor's knife.

Prisoner. He has seen me three or four times a week. Witness. It is false—I did not see him—he is a man I don't believe I have seen a dozen times since I have been on the road—I did not see him for two months after—I did not know where he worked, for it is seldom he is in work.

Prisoner I worked for Mrs. Ramsay. Witness. I know there is a house called Mrs. Ramsay's—I did not know he was in her service till he told me so, when he was apprehended.

Prisoner's Defence I worked there for the last seven months—I was at work there at Barnet fair time, and ever since—this man has seen me three or four times a week—he will swear any thing—it is all false what the prosecutor says—I am as innocent of the charge as a child unborn.

JOHN MILLS re-examined. I never spoke to the prisoner before the 5th of September—I have seen him passing and repassing in the road between whetstone and Barnet for twelve months—I have seen him ten or a dozen times.

GUILTY. Aged 27.— Judgement Respited.


OLD COURT, Monday, February 1st.

First Jury, before Mr. Recorder.

1st February 1836
Reference Numbert18360201-400
VerdictNot Guilty > unknown

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400. AARON MORGAN was indicted for a misdemeanor.


1st February 1836
Reference Numbert18360201-401
VerdictGuilty > unknown

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401. JAMES COOK was indicted , for feloniously and knowingly sending to George Thomas White, Esquire, a letter, threatening to accuse him of a crime punishable by law with death, with intent to extort and gain money from him—2nd COUNT, for delivering a like letter.—2 other COUNTS, calling it a writing instead of a letter,—4 other COUNTS, stating his intention to be to procure an acceptance, by the said George Thomas White, of a bill of exchange, to be drawn upon him by the said James Cook, for the sum of 50l.—8 other COUNTS, a stating the intent to be, to charge him with a crime punishable by law with transportation.

MR. BODKIN conducted the Prosecution.

JOHN HASLET . I am clerk to Mr. White. I have seen the prisoner at Mr. White's chambers very often for the last two years—in the first instance Mr. White generally saw him, but not latterly—I learned from the prisoner the object of his visits to Mr. White; it was respecting a woman and a child—he said he had done something for Mr. White—he has often said he came for money—I received three letters, one from a boy and two others—this letter came to my hands, it is dated the 31st of December—it must have been then that I received it—I have seen the prisoner write—I believe the whole of this letter(marked A) to be his hand-writing, and the address—it is not the letter named in the indictment—the prisoner came to Mr. White's the day after this letter came, the 1st of January—he brought this letter. (B) delivered it to me, and desired it

to be given to Mr. White—I am sure it is in his hand-writing, the whole of it, and the address—I received this letter(C) from the prisoner on the 2nd of January, and this also(D), I cannot say on what day—it bears no date—it was since the other letters—I could not say that that is the prisoner's writing, it does not appear to me to be like the others.

Prisoner. Q. You tell his Lordship that Mr. White has not seen me latterly, what do you call latterly? A. I should say two months—this letter (D) does not appear like your hand-writing—I am positive as to the others.

Q. You said, I said I had done something for Mr. White? A. You told me you had procured abortion—I cannot say when you told me so, it is within six months—these letters were not enveloped to me—Mr. White was on the Midland circuit—I remember his receiving one letter then, but cannot say I remember two.

SAMUEL STANILAND . I am an attorney. In the course of last year I was consulted by Mr. White on this matter—I was present, on the 9th of December, at Mr. White's chambers, when the prisoner and his attorney and Mr. White were present—I produces a release that was executed on that occasion, I saw the prisoner sign it, this is it—4l. was given to the prisoner on the execution of that release, and and acceptance of Mr. White's for three months, which is not due yet—the prisoner did not state that he had any other claim on Mr. White—I saw the prisoner again, on the evening of the 11th of December, at my office—He said he came to me as the attorney of Mr. White, and requested me to ask Mr. White to let him have 50l.—he said he had an opportunity of getting in to business in London, and he wanted this sum to buy the fixtures—I told him I was surprised at the request, and refused to be the medium of communicating that to Mr. White—he then asked if I would request Mr. White to give his acceptance for 50l., which I refused to do—he came again the following evening, but I would not suffer him to come into my house—he came again on the 30th of December—he came into my room—I immediately arose from my chair, and said, "I can have no communication at all with you," and made him go out of the house.

Prisoner. Q. Do you remember the day of the week, the 11th of December was on.? A. No, I do not exactly recollect the day, it was between nine and ten o'clock in the evening—you said you had taken a house, and wanted 50l. to buy fixtures—you brought a medical bill—I advised 30l. to be given you, if your release was given.

COURT. Q. Did you understand that an action had been brought against Mr. White? A. Yes, for 60l.

Prisoner. Q. Was it not for medical attendance on that female? A. I don't know—you had a letter when you came on the 30th of December, and said, "Allow me to show you this letter," which you had in your hand—I said, "No, I won't see your letter"—this was about seven or eight o'clock in the evening—the prisoner did not state to whom the letter was addressed—I stopped him from proceeding—I turned him out.

Q. Do you recollect when this release was signed, my applying to Mr. White and yourself, with respect to the arrangement for the support of the child, he first promising 10s. a-week? A. It was arranged that Mr. White should pay 1l. a month—that was on the 9th of December, when the release was given—you did not deliver a message to me on the 30th of December from the party, to request Mr. White to pay her

monthly—I was never at Huish-court in my life—I did not send there to Mrs. Dixon, to prevent her from coming here.

HERBERT JOHN WARD . I live in Water-street, Bridewell. In December last, the prisoner was treating with me for a house—he referred me to his friend, George White, of Essex-street, a barrister—the fixtures were to be included in the rent—there was a treaty about some furniture which came to 50l.—he first referred me to Mr. White as to his character, and proposed to take this furniture at 50l. and to pay me by an acceptance of Mr. White's to that amount—I objected to make any application to Mr. White—the prisoner was to do so—I called on Mr. White on the 28th in consequence of the prisoner's direction for the acceptance—It was to be drawn by the prisoner—he refused to give it, and stated he had informed Mr. Cook he would not—I wrote to the prisoner on that day, and he came to me the day following.

Prisoner. Q. Did you not have an interview first with Mrs. White? A. No—she came into the room before I left—Mrs. White said, "You will certainly not accept a bill, not recommend that man"—but I should say that Mr. White had declined the acceptance before Mrs. White came into the room.

Q. Did you not tell me, that Mr. White was indisposed when you first called, that there was no fire in the first-floor office, and Mrs. White came and asked you up stairs, and she would introduce you to Mr. White? A. Not one item of what you have stated is true, she did not do so, nor did I tell you so—the servant introduced me up stairs—this is my hand-writing—(read)" 2, Water-street, Bridewell Precinct, December 22nd, 1835. Sir, Mr. Leblanc, who is the superior landlord of the house, No. 2, Tudor-street, has this day made inquiries of Mr. White, and is satisfied with his statement as to your respectability, and I have therefore directed the notice "To let" to be taken down, Mr. Leblanc is going out of town on Thursday, in the middle of the day, it is therefore desirable, with a view to immediate possession, that the agreement with his as to rent, fixtures, &c., is completed at the latest on Thursday morning. If you can come to down to-morrow(Wednesday)I think it will expedite the matter.

"Yours, respectfully. H. J. WARD. "

"Directed to Mr. Cook, Surgeon, Ilford Essex. "

Prisoner. Q. I believe you had twelve months more to expire? A. Yes, I had—I handed your reference to Mr. Leblanc, he being in the profession I thought him more likely to make inquiry—he told me he had made inquiries—I remember your signing a document in Mr. Leblanc's office—I gave possession to Mr. Leblanc—I was not present when possession was given to you—my late brother was a tenant of Mr. Leblanc.—I am his executor—after the reference was stated to be satisfactory I proposed to you to take this furniture.

GEORGE THOMAS WHITE , Esq. I am a barrister, and live in Essex-street. This letter(A) came to my hands on the 31st of December last, this one (B) on the 1st of January, and this one(C)on the 2nd of January.

Prisoner. Q. Do you remember my applying to you at the latter and of November, 1834, to inform you of the health of a young woman whom you had been cohabiting with, to whom you had administered medicine of a serious description? A. On several occasions I remember your calling on me, you told me you had been to the overseers of the parish of St. Dunstan's, about the woman's child.

COURT. Q. Did he mention her name? A. Yes, Mrs. Cook.

Prisoner. A. Do you remember calling at her lodging at one o'clock the following morning? A. The morning I called at her lodging I think was the latter end of October—I found you, and her, and her child in bed together between one and two o'clock in the morning—I think it was some where out of the York-road—I have never seen it since—you had the appearance of a man coming out of bed—you had your coat and trousers on—I said, "Here is a sovereign for Mrs. Cook"—I went up stairs and saw the lady and her child in bed together, from which you had come shortly before, no doubt—I do not think there was any thing the matter with the woman—I did not give her any medicine—under any pretence—you did not tell me there was a disease in the uterus.

Q. Do you recollect asking me if I would be kind enough to procure a more convenient lodging nearer to you, and if I would let you know where it was you would feel obliged? A. I never said any thing of the kind, I believe you brought the woman to the neighbourhood of my chambers for the purpose of extortion—I did not meet you night after night in the street—I went to meet you one night at the corner of Earl-street, I did not find you there.

Prisoner. I met him every other night, and he handed me from 2 to 3l. a week for the purpose of carrying this poor woman through her abortion.

Witness. It is utterly false—I did not visit her with you in the character of a physician—I do not remember your calling in a Mr. Hart, a surgeon accoucheur—you once sent me a prescription which I could not read, not understanding medicine—I burnt it—I remember on the 1st of last March giving her 7l. 10s. to convey her home to her mother in your presence—I said I would pay 5s. a week for the child, not 10s—I did not advise you to try and get an appointment under Col. Evans, you said you were going to Spain, and I wrote to him—you did not call and say you would go if I would furnish you with the 50l. and the 60l. for the medical bill.

Q. Do you remember accepting a bill for 30l. which not being honoured I was arrested on? A. I do not believe you were arrested—I told the attorney you were not worth arresting—you told me the writ was issued—I remember writing a letter to Mrs. Woodhouse—I promised when the bill was cashed to remit the difference—the document I indorsed was for 22l. 10s. I believe it became due on Saturday—I believe it was presented—a man of the name of Wettenholm came to me to accept for 100l. or 150l. for you, and to take your counter acceptance—of course I refused. I would not have accepted the 50l.

COURT. Q. Had you in point of fact been under any promise or engagement to furnish the prisoner with money to the amount of 50l.? A. I was under no engagement—I had made no promise—I had determined never to do so after the 9th of December—he never had any legal demand against me—I became acquainted with the female by meeting her in the Stand, she was standing looking about—I went to a house of ill-fame with her—I saw her once afterwards.

Prisoner. Q. I believe you stated your circumstances to her, that you were poor, but would introduce your friend, Mr.——, of——, to her, who was very rich, and you did not mind going with a female to whom he had been? A. I never uttered such an expression—I don't know that he was rich.

Prisoner. Do you remember her telling you that she had had a child by

Mr. Cook, the surgeon? A. I don't recollect that, but the name of Cook was mentioned afterwards.

Prisoner. When I returned from the country (I was at Maidstone)—I found the party in question was pregnant—I asked her by whom—she said, "Mr. White, of King's-Bench-walk, Temple"—I requested her to make him acquainted with her situation.

MR. BODKIN. Q. You have stated that this man never had any legal demand on you? A. Never for any purpose whatever, on my solemn Oath—I never had any transaction which could occasion a debt—he has abtained money from me in large sums, and down to a shilling, and once 26l., on an absolute promise that I should never hear any more of him or Mrs. Cook; and in a short time he came, and said he had his pocket picked of the last 7l.—I saw the woman once in the Strand, and once afterwards I did not again till after the circuit, when she came in a state of pregnancy, and said, "You are the father of this child"—I then got Mr. Power to interfere—I asked him whether I had better submit, to avoid publicity.

COURT. Q. Do you happen to know when she was delivered? A. On February the 7th, 1834—I was told so by the prisoner; and before the end of that month I made a contract to pay them 30l.—in that case they should keep the child—I said, "Rather than have the thing made public, or go before the parish officers, I will pay 30l. "—and before I left for the Spring circuit of 1834, I paid the prisoner the balance of the 30l., and he promised I should never hear any thing more of him or the child—In March, 1835, I paid 7l. 10s., on the representation of the woman and the prisoner, that she was to return to her friends at Aylesbury—and that 7l. 10s. was to enable her to do it.

Q. What money in all has the prisoner got from you? A. Not less than 120l. in hard money.

MR. BODKIN Q. To whom did you pay the 7l. 10s? A. To herself in the prisoner's presence—I was going out of town the same day (the 1st of April), and had another application—shame at the connexion I had with the woman, and, above all, shame at the connexion I had been forced into with this man, occasioned my giving the money.

Prisoner. Q. Do you remember asking me, when it was over, whether I would bring the fœtus to you? A. No—I did not say whether it was a dog or a cat, I did not want to see the little b—.

COURT. Q. Had you any connexion with the female after the birth of that child, in February, 1834? A. No—I had not.

Prisoner. Q. Had you not two days before taken her to No. 56, Shoe-lane, and said, "Say you have been out for a pound of candles"—and did you not, after the abortion, take her about in a coach? A. I had nothing to do with the child she was bearing, when you said she had an abortion—I have not said I had no connexion with her after the birth of the first child—I went to 36, Shoe-lane, and had no connexion with her—I did not go there two or three times—I don't recollect what I gave her—I think it was a sovereign—I don't recollect telling her to pay for the room out of it—I did not tell Mr. Staniland that I was the father of the first child—I offered the 5s. a week as the price of peace—I did not say I would give 50l. independent of the medical bill.

EDWARD FLETCHER . I am an officer. I took the prisoner into custody on this charge in the street—I accosted him, and said, "How do you do, Mr. Cook? "he said, "My name is not Cook; my name is Humphrey"—I said, "Never mind, you are the man I want"—I took him into custody.

(The letters were here put in and read.)

(Letter A.) Addressed to "G. S. White, Esq., No. 39, Essex-street, strand"—"Sir, I have a great right to express my surprise at you conduct, after the statement made to you by Mr. Ward. If you had not felt disposed to assist me, you need not have given Mr. W. your attorney's address. It appears I am to fall, for want of a proper reference, which you engaged to do, and which you have not done. I can only observe, in the event of my falling, you must also. It is true that, as regards my claim for debt, I might have had it settled, and a release signed in the presence of your solicitor as well as mine; but, as regards the criminality, for the benefit of the community, I fell compelled to bring it forward; and I do not hesitate to assert, that my respectability will stand equal with yours. I will leave you to your own conclusions, without expressing any thing until I receive your answer. I remain, Sir, your most obedient servant, "JAMES COOK".

(Letter B.) To, "Mr. White, 39, Essex-street, Strand, January 1st, 1836".—"I this day gave notice to Sir F. Roe, of a circumstance of a very serious nature, which has preyed so strongly on my mind, that I am determined to bring it before the public. G. T. White, Esq., special pleader, 39, Essex-street, Strand, employed me to procure abortion, he, G. T. White's remedies having failed, introduced a probe into the uterus of a girl, and G. T. White attended her with me in the character of a physician, The girl's health is ruined in consequence. My address is, Mr. Cook, surgeon, Ilford, Essex. "

"29, John-street, Holland-street, Blackfriars".

"Mr. White, Sir, If you wish to save your neck, you must and shall comply with my request, as I am determined to hand over to justice the copy of what I have written; I will teach you to give me a reference and then retract, and forfeit your word. I will cure you of your obstinate fit, you will then know whether you should take your own, or your wife's advice. I am Sir, your humble servant, JAMES COOK. "

(Letter C.) "Sir, Before I proceed further in the unfortunate affair, I have one request to make; will you give me your acceptance for 50l. at three months. I will take it up when due, and you shall never have cause to repent; If not things must now take their course. I went yesterday to Mr. Vickery, who declines acting, in consequence of being acquainted with you. I have been this morning to Fitzpatrick, in Clement's Inn, who is not aware of my writing to you; his advice it, to let the girl apply for a summons for an assault of a peculiar nature, your answer to this will decide.

"2nd of January, 1836". Yours, &c. J. COOK".

(Letter D.) "Sir I beg to remind you of the bill, which you were kind enough to endorse for me to Mrs. Woodhouse becomes due on the 30th of this month, which I hope for her sake, it will be honoured; at the some time return thanks to you, for your kindness in putting me under the care of the governor of Newgate, but however, must beg the loan of a sovereign, which I will repay you the first convenient opportunity; thanking you for all favours, particularly the last. I remain yours faithfully, "JAMES COOK, Surgeon, Newgate, late of Ilford. "

(The release was here put in, and read, dated the 9th of December, 1835)

Prisoner Defence I will prove by a witness (a respectable female) that I had the promise held out by Mr. White a long time before to give me 50l. the reason I did not mention it at the time of the release was, that

it was a confidential communication—I can bring those witnesses forward which I consider essential to me, and must abide by my Lord's and your decision.

SARAH HARRIS I am sister to Mrs. Woodhouse, with whom the prisoner was connected. I came to London with the prisoner, and remember going to Mr. White's chambers in Grange-walk, for the endorsement and acceptance of a bill for 22l. 10s.—it was the latter end of September—I saw him write, but not on that occasion—I remember the prisoner being about to enter into business with my sister, and 40l. or 50l. was wanted—Mr. White said he would pay the money—that was at the latter end of Sepetember—he promised to pay 40l. or 50l. to my sister, Mrs. Woodhouse—he wrote a letter to that effect, which was returned, and she declined accepting the offer.

ELIZABETH ADNUM . I first became acquainted with Mr. White my meeting him in the Strand, near Somerset House—I was just returning from Kennington, where I had left my little girl, which Mr. Cook is the father of, in care of an aunt of mine—he asked me where I lived—I did not give my address—he asked me to go and take some refreshment with him—I went with him, and took wine and gin, and remained, till near two o'clock in the morning—he told me that he was married and gave me his address, No. 9, Buckingham-street, Stand; and likewise his chambers.

Prisoner. Q. Was I in town when you first saw him? A. No—it was the latter end of May or the beginning of June—I saw him the next evening about nine o'clock, and was with him till the same time, about two o'clock—he wished me to leave you, to leave my friend, as he was poor, and to have himself and his friend—I took a letter to Mr. Carvill, the overseer—Mr. White visited me in the character of physician—he wished to do that to take off suspicion—he used to send me from 2l. 10s. to 3l. a week for my maintenance—he has given me 2l. himself—after I recovered my health I went with him again—he took me in a coach.